It was quiet in the attic, peaceful. Phil had come and gone, and she spent the next two hours going through her father’s old case files. One case held a special interest, an old drug case.
Her father worked on dozens of cases just like it, but this one differed from the rest. This one linked the low life scumbag, Carlos Rodriguez, to an even bigger drug kingpin. Her father kept tabs on Santiago Luis Polanco-Rodriguez, also known as Yayo, for five years. Yayo had been a major player in crack cocaine trafficking during the eighties.
According to her father’s case file, Yayo worked primarily out of Northern Manhattan, the Bronx, and Flatbush. In June of 1988, her father and his partner, Joe, caught a homicide off 207th Street and the University Heights Bridge. CSU pulled the floater out of the Harlem River. They later identified the man as a member of the Trinitarios, a rival gang to the DDP.
She didn’t know how or why, but her instincts told her Carlos Rodriguez was in some way connected to this case. But with the DEA sitting on him, and a real threat of prison, she would have to work it from another angle. That, and keep the DEA looking the other way.
Placing the file back down, she picked up her cell phone and paused. She needed help on this, the question was, who could she trust? She opened the contact list on her cell and thumbed down the list. When the number for Detective Daniel Davis of the Narcotics Division displayed, she paused and nodded to herself.
They dated for about six months, but it hadn’t worked out. However, they managed to stay friends and still saw each other from time to time. I’ll just feel him out and see how he reacts. I have to start somewhere.
She pressed the call button, held the phone to her ear, and waited for him to answer.
“Narcotics Division, Davis.”
“Dan, it’s me, Kelli. You got a few minutes to talk?”
“Uh, sure. What can I do for you, Kelli?”
“Well, it’s kind of a sensitive situation. I’m working on this case and it may involve one of the drug kingpins from the late eighties. Can I trust you to keep this quiet?”
After a short pause, worry knotted in her stomach. Crap. Did I say too much?
Dan cleared his throat. “You know, uh, maybe we better do this face to face. Can you meet me in say, an hour?”
“Yeah, sure, just tell me where.?”
“Central Park, 7th Avenue and Central Park South.”
“Okay, see you in an hour.” She didn’t know why he was being so clandestine. She hadn’t told him anything about her investigation, and he never asked. Maybe there’s more to this than I thought. He was never this secretive when we dated, so why now? And why Central Park?