Page 35 of So Smitten

“Please!”

The Wolfman pressed the switch.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Garvey was in a wonderful mood as she and her officers booked the arrested gangsters. “This is the single biggest blow we’ve dealt to the Georgia Syndicate since I started with the department,” she said to the agents with a grin. “Aside from the dogfighting, we’ve arrested most of Harris’s old muscle, and Mr. Kerry is known as one of the go-to people for drug running in the state. He is to drugs what Harris was to prostitution."

“Congratulations,” Michael said with a haunted smile.

Faith’s heart went out to him. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about what he witnessed at the warehouse, but from the brief glimpse she had scene, it couldn’t have been pretty. In hindsight, it was a good thing she hadn’t gone in. She didn’t think she would have been able to keep her cool the way Michael did.

“Speaking of Mr. Kerry,” Garvey said, “he’s ready for you now. We have him in room three. I don’t know if you’ll get much from him, though. He knows better than to speak against the Syndicate.”

“I don’t need him to rat out his gang,” Faith said, “I just need to know if he’s our killer.”

“Well,” Garvey said, “good luck to you. Either way, he’s going to jail for a long time. Maybe you can use that. I’m pretty sure the DA will cut him a deal if he can tell us who the killer is. Of course, if he’s the killer, that won’t work, but it’s always worth a shot.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Faith said.

She, Michael, and Turk headed to interrogation room three. Roman Kerry was shackled to the floor, the chair and the table. No one was taking any chances with him, considering his size and obvious temper. He glared at the agents when they walked in and said, "So the coward has to tie me up to talk to me."

“If it helps you to think that way about it,” Michael said.

“Yeah, you’re so above it all, aren’t you?” Roman said, “You’re so much better than all of us lowly street types.”

“If you want to get into a pissing match with me, you can do it after we talk,” Michael said.

“I’m not talking to you,” Roman said.

“Not even if I use the word deal?” Michael asked.

Roman laughed. “Did that pretty little cop tell you they were gonna offer me a deal? No one’s giving me a deal, man. That’s just something cops say.”

“Well, we’re FBI,” Faith said, “We outrank the cops. If we say you get a deal, then you get a deal.”

"And I should trust you? You got me here because you lied to me. And hey, good job. The game recognizes the game. You got me. But I'm not going to help you get anyone else. Even if I was a snitch, talking to you only gets me killed, inside or outside."

“Well, how about this, then?” Faith said, “You don’t have to talk about anyone else. You tell us what you know about the deaths of Harvey Harris and Vincent Mariano. You tell us where to find the evidence we need, and as far as the world knows, we just figured it out ourselves.”

Roman shook his head incredulously at the agents. “All right,” he said. “If you two just need to hear the sounds of your own voices a bit, go ahead and keep talking, but this is it for me.”

“What do you think will happen when your bosses find out that you just screwed up an entire dogfighting ring because you got stupid?” Faith asked. “Not to mention that without Harris, they don’t have prostitution and without you, they don’t have drugs?”

Roman sat silently, staring contemptuously at the officers.

Faith looked down at Turk. She mouthed, "Be mean."

Turk lunged at Roman, snapping and barking in front of his face, glaring and snarling. The criminal paled a few shades but remained silent, even when Turk leaned forward so close their noses were almost touching.

Faith sighed and called Turk back. She and Michael tried different tacks for a half hour or so, but eventually, they had to accept that they weren’t going to be able to get him to talk. They left and met with Garvey behind the two-way mirror. Garvey nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, the street boys will usually break if you lean on ‘em hard enough, but when you get into management, it gets harder to get them to talk. The thing is, Roman's not wrong. His superiors will kill him if he talks. Even if he takes full responsibility for the murders, unless he does it with their permission, they’ll waste him.”

“Have you learned anything from the others?” Faith asked.

“Well, that pitbull the other organizers were talking about,” Garvey said, “Apparently, Roman killed it in front of people. Tied him to a stake and shot him, then gave a speech about not messing with his money. Typical tough guy crap. But we have him for animal cruelty, operating a gambling business without a gambling license or a business license, endangerment, and a bunch of minor charges. We’ll almost certainly get solicitation to stick too. Not sure about the drugs. People at his level usually make sure nothing’s traceable to them, but we have enough to put him in jail for fifteen years, at least.”

“All right,” Faith said, “we’re going to go get some coffee. If by some miracle he does happen to talk, come get us.”

“Will do,” Garvey said, “I wouldn’t hold your breath, though.”

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