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?
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