14. Nik

CHAPTER 14

Nik

The conference room feels like a confessional tonight, all dark wood and heavy silence. Frank Colombo sits hunched at the massive table, looking older than I’ve ever seen him. His usually steady hands tremble slightly as he adjusts his cuffs. I position myself by the door, where I can watch both him and the entrance while keeping Brie in my peripheral vision.

“I truly never meant for you to shoulder this burden,” Frank says to Brie as he rises respectfully at her approach, his voice rough with what sounds like genuine regret. “And yet I’m sorry I kept it from you, Breezy. I was just trying to do what I thought Terry would have wanted, under the circumstances.”

I expect Brie to respond with the ice queen act she’s perfected, but she surprises me. She’s good at that—keeping everyone, even me, on their toes.

“Sit down, Frank,” she says gently. “Let’s think this out together.” A power move wrapped in kindness. Pure Brie.

Frank’s face crumples slightly, age lines deepening. “You’re too good for this world we live in,” he says, shaking his head. “And here I let Larry ride roughshod all over me, with Vince in tow like some hyena…” Self-disgust colors his words.

“You have the good of the Family at heart,” Brie cuts in smoothly, settling into her chair. Frank left the head of the table for her, choosing to sit at the side. Probably from habit, taking his usual seat from when Terry Colombo was still alive.

But also…maybe a good sign?

“Now I need you to tell me everything you know about the day Terry was murdered,” Brie goes on.

Frank is still fussing, so Brie glances at me with an apology in her eyes. “Nik, would you mind…” She tilts her head toward a sideboard where there are tea and coffee supplies.

I manage not to pull a face. “Sure. How do you take it, Mr. Colombo?”

“Just black, thanks.”

I make up a coffee for Brie as well, the way I know she likes it. She mouths a thank you at me as I bring it over. Frank lifts the coffee placed before him with trembling hands and sips. The porcelain cup rattles slightly against the saucer as he lowers it again. “Where should I start?” he asks.

“Let’s start with the will,” Brie says firmly.

“Terry called me in that afternoon. He was…different. Angry, it felt like, though I don’t think it was at me. I asked him what was wrong and he said it was nothing—but he wanted me to know he was making big changes in the Family. I told him yeah, I knew that, we all did. About bringing in the new folks not, well…” He glances at Brie, hesitating.

“Of Italian heritage?” Brie supplies dryly, one eyebrow arching. “Go on.”

“Yeah. Then he told me flat out that he wanted you to be his successor. When I protested—sorry, Breezy, but?—”

“It’s fine,” she says, though her smile has tightened with impatience. “I get it, Frank. Just tell me everything.”

“I said the men would never allow it, and he just scoffed. Said he’d be easing them into it, though he’d need my backing. That he didn’t plan to die for a long time, but when he did, you’d be the one with the keys to the kingdom. He said he was planning to devote the rest of his time on earth making sure you had all the learning and knowledge you needed, since nothing else mattered.”

I study Frank’s face as he speaks. His regret seems genuine, but I can see he still thinks the whole idea was crazy. And…well, he’s not entirely wrong about that, based on the reactions of Larry Caruso and Vince Sabatelli.

“Nothing else mattered?” Brie echoes. “What do you think he meant by that?”

“I guess he meant…well, because you two had no, uh…”

“Children?” Brie guesses. I can tell Frank’s constant primness and hesitation to speak plainly must be driving her crazy, but she’s doing pretty well hiding her frustration. Only the white knuckles around her coffee cup suggest anything other than complete calm.

“Yeah, kids,” Frank says gratefully. “Then he mentioned changing his will, said he’d put it down in black and white. Asked me to witness it. That’s when he called for Sophie Johnson.” He pauses to sip his coffee. “Terry wanted us both to witness his signature. But like she said, he had the whole thing covered up except the last page for signing. After that, she left. And I told him again it was a bad idea. He said maybe it was, but he’d stick with it anyway. Then he said he wanted to be alone. Said not to disturb him.” Frank’s voice drops. “He wasn’t angry anymore. He seemed…real sad, actually.”

“About what?”

Frank throws up a hand. “Who knows? Maybe thinking about his own mortality got him down. Anyway, later, after I’d had a few drinks down at the bar with Phil Reynolds, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I decided to try talking to him again.” His body language shifts subtly—shoulders hunching, eyes dropping away. He wanted to talk Terry out of naming Brie as successor, obviously.

But more importantly, he’s just confirmed his location that night without realizing Brie was fishing for his alibi. We can both talk to Phil and check the cameras for the casino bar to make sure Frank was where he says he was.

“Go on,” Brie encourages, her voice neutral though I can see the tension in her shoulders.

“It was after midnight by that time. But I knew he was still there—he always let me know when he was done for the night.” Frank’s hands shake harder, coffee threatening to spill. “I knocked several times, then shouted I was coming in anyway. And there he was…sprawled in his chair, blood all over his shirt, dead as a—” He catches himself. “I apologize for being so blunt. Just shook me up to see him like that. Never thought?—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Brie says, openly impatient now. “Was the gun still there?”

“Yes. His usual one, from the top drawer.”

“Where is that gun now?”

Frank looks surprised. “Well, I—I took it myself. Put it in the safe, right over here.” He clambers to his feet, wincing like a man experiencing the beginnings of plantar fasciitis, and makes his way over to a portrait on the wall of the old Don himself. Then he glances at me.

“If you’re wondering if you should try to hide the fact that there’s a safe behind that portrait,” I tell him, “don’t bother, because you already gave it away.” Brie gives me a look , and I hold up my hands in apology. “I’m not going to say anything to anyone, Mr. Colombo. Brie trusts me. That should be good enough for you.”

He sighs and pulls at the portrait, swinging it open to reveal, as expected, a safe behind it. He shuffles around slightly so I can’t see the code, and then he reaches in and takes out a gun.

“Did anyone think to look for prints?” Brie asks.

“What do you think I am, useless?” he grumbles, taking it back to the table for Brie to see. “Of course I did. Got a guy in to check. He said the only prints he could find were Terry’s own.”

“May I?” I ask, and Brie slides the gun over for me. I remove the clip, check the sights, the barrel. “Did you or your fingerprint guy change the clip?” I ask Frank.

“Nope. What you see is what I got from Terry’s desk that night.”

Brie is already moving on. “Do you have any suspicions yourself about who killed him?”

Frank shakes his head helplessly. “None. I wish I did. If Larry or Vince had been in town, then maybe…but they weren’t. There were in Phoenix, like they already told you.”

“Have you found out anything about the hitman who was sent after me?”

Frank looks even more despondent. “Aw, he was some small-time crook looking to make a name for himself. He’d been sniffing around the Gattos, wanting to join up, but they wouldn’t take him.”

The Gatto Family is the only other Italian outfit in town anywhere near the Colombos’ status. And while there’s some jostling for power, Brie told me at the poker game already that the Gattos and the Colombos have learned to live together over the decades. It would be unlikely they were involved.

And they certainly wouldn’t have sent someone as incompetent as that fucker to take out a target.

After a few more questions that yield nothing new, we leave Frank to his coffee and regrets. In the elevator, Brie stands closer to me than strictly necessary, her presence both welcome and distracting.

“We need to talk,” I tell her. There’s something she needs to know about, which doesn’t seem to have occurred to Frank.

“Let’s eat at the restaurant and talk there,” she says quietly. “I want to be seen.”

I nod, catching on to her strategy. That restaurant is where she’s at her most visible to everyone—Family members, casino patrons, staff. A queen on display, unafraid.

And it will drive Larry Caruso crazy to hear that she’s living it up in full view of everyone.

We settle at her usual table. The dinner crowd is starting to filter in, mostly tourists for now, all glad to catch sight of the Golden Lady, even if she’s not quite as dressed up as usual. Brie orders a salad, I order a burger, and then she leans in close enough that her perfume makes my head spin.

“So what did we learn?” she asks. “Let’s debrief.”

“We got Frank’s alibi. We need to check the security footage for it, confirm he was where he said he was.”

“We’ll go to security after this.” She sighs. “I hope Holden’s a little less snappy by now. He’s been so prickly—but, I mean, of course he has, and that’s understandable,” she adds guiltily. “I loved Terry, but he and Holden were in love. I need to give him some grace.”

“Okay,” I say, not really in the mood to dissect the mental state of Holden Brooks, “but there’s something else we need to add to the list of priorities: we need to find the real murder weapon.”

She stares at me. “What do you mean?”

“That gun—if Frank and the random guy he got to fingerprint it are to be believed—is not the murder weapon. Clip was full. No reason for the killer to hang around and add an extra bullet after shooting it.”

Brie is still and silent for a moment, then lets out a long breath. “Holy shit,” she says.

“Had to be about the same caliber, though,” I offer. “Even Frank would’ve noticed the difference in a close-up shot if it’d been larger than a 9mm.”

She nods slowly. “Nik, there’s something else that’s been bothering me. It’s about Sophie Johnson.”

“What about her?”

“She gave me an alibi, and that was extremely helpful,” Brie says with an ironic smile. “But…that means I also gave her an alibi, as far as Frank and the others are concerned. So I’d like to hear from her own mouth exactly where she was during the time of Terry’s murder.”

“She also witnessed the will,” I say, slowly nodding as Brie’s words sink in. “So we know she was at least around during day. And didn’t Holden say that Don Colombo sent him away because he had a special meeting that night? What if?—”

“—it was with Sophie,” she finishes. “And what if it was about the missing money?”

“She’s a familiar face to everyone around here,” I go on. “People wouldn’t think it was strange if they saw her hanging around the offices, or walking down the hallway. They might not even register seeing her.”

Brie pushes aside her salad and pulls out her phone. “I’ll see if I can get hold of her.”