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Who's Afraid of Joe Vincente
A Kenneth Hall Mystery
Author's Note: Gay, New York City Detective, Kenneth Hall, was introduced to my readers in my novella, Murder on the Hudson, which can be found on this website.
Chapter 1
Joe Vincente sequestered himself in his home-office, studied some computer printouts, and tried to prevent his blood from boiling over. Joe was the kingpin of a crime syndicate which was involved in gambling, prostitution, and drug trafficking in the tristate area. However, to Broadway producers, Joe was An Angel. He was Broadway's biggest fan of musical comedy. He had invested plenty of money, backing some of the biggest hits ever presented on The Great White Way. His Midas touch always made big bucks.
The reason for his anger was evident by the numbers on the computer printout. His receipts from his gambling empire were falling and falling rather rapidly. When he first noticed it, he hired a New York City detective to moonlight for him, and see if he could determine what was going on. Joe paid the detective well, and Marty Baker wanted a repeat performance, so he did an excellent job. He reported that two punk brothers, Harry and Jerry Parker, were horning in on Joe's territory. He presented Joe with their names and address. They lived together.
Joe hit a buzzer on his desk, and a huge beast of a man came into the room. Sal Galli was at least six feet, four inches tall, and weighed about 275 pounds. Everyone believed him to be Joe's bodyguard, which he was. He was also Joe's henchman, who took care of all Joe's dirty work.
Joe went over Sam Baker's report with Sal, and said simply, "Take care of this problem for me, will you, Sal? I'm going to the gym now. I'll see you in the morning."
"Your problem will be solved by tomorrow morning," Sal grinned. "I could help you out tonight, but I have plans. If you want, I can cancel them."
"Tomorrow will be fine," Joe said. "Enjoy yourself."
Half the New York City police force and a good many New York City politicians were on Joe's payroll. There was one clean cop that Joe could not buy, and he never tried. Joe knew Det. Kenneth Hall from high school days. They had been good friends back then, and they even belonged to the same circle jerk for a very short time. Although life put them on opposite sides of the law, try as he might, Ken could never get any concrete evidence tying Joe to crimes all over the city. Although they were old acquaintances, Ken did his duty, and he tried hard to put Joe in prison, but to no avail. As a result of Ken's dogged pursuit of Joe, their paths crossed often.
It may sound strange, but even though Ken did not compromise his responsibilities, he and Joe somehow remained friends. Ken didn't realize it, but subconsciously he hoped that he never got any dirt on Joe. He considered that he and Joe were friendly rivals. On more than one occasion, while Ken was investigating something or other which pertained to him, Joe insisted that he have dinner with him at a fine Italian restaurant he owned. Ken was particularly fond of the food in Joe's restaurant in Little Italy called Vincent's Copper Kettle. Joe dropped the `e' in his name to make the restaurant sound more eclectic.
There was one thing about Joe Vincente that Ken did not know, and Joe hoped he never had to use that information as an ace up his sleeve. Because of his connections, Joe was usually privy to hits which were ordered by other crime bosses. In the course of his detective work, Ken was unaware that a contract had been put out on his life on more than one occasion. As soon as Joe learned the disturbing news, somehow the hit men and their bosses disappeared.
The morning after Joe had `requested' Sal to do him a favor, Ken's cell phone rang one second before his alarm clock announced that it was time to get up.
"Hall," he said curtly.
"Ken, Lt. Morton here." Sam Morton was Ken's boss.
"What's up?"
"We recovered two bodies this morning from an alley in Chelsea."
"And you called me because ...?"
"The bodies have Joe Vincente's signature all over them. Besides a clean shot to the head, both victims had their knees blown off."
Ken's blood ran cold. Every time he investigated a murder that he believed Joe was involved in, the victim had been shot in the head, and both knees were blown off.
"Where are the bodies?" Ken asked.
"On the way to the morgue for autopsy. The boys are combing the crime scene for any clues. It would be nice if the autopsy guys found some forensic evidence."
"I'll be right down to the precinct," Ken said.
Ken wondered if Joe Vincente was to be the cause of all his angst for the rest of his career. He wanted desperately to solve the crime, but half of him hoped he could gather enough evidence to prove that Joe was responsible, and the other half of him prayed that Joe was innocent.
When he got to the precinct, Lt. Morton was smiling broadly. He spoke to Ken before the man had a chance to ask any questions. "Thank God for modern science," Morton said. "We have some excellent forensic evidence. It seems that there was some kind of a scuffle during the perpetration of the crime. We found human skin underneath the fingernails of one of the victims. Everyone who works for Vincente has a police record, so we have their DNA. The lab is working on a match right now."
Once again Ken found himself hoping that the DNA would not belong to Joe or anyone who worked for him. He hoped that the DNA would lead him to the real murderer. Even as he was conjuring up this scenario, he knew it was wishful thinking.
Several hours later the lab reported that the DNA retrieved from the victim's body belonged to Sal Galli. Ken knew that Sal was Joe's bodyguard. This still didn't prove that Joe was responsible. It only pointed a finger at Sal. Ken was devastated. He didn't realize how fond he had become of Joe. He was now torn between duty and friendship.
Ken suddenly realized that he had divided loyalties. He became extremely angry, not at Joe, but at himself. He took a silent oath to search for the truth as he would in any other crime, and let the evidence lead him wherever it takes him. Putting friendship aside, he became the investigator that he had once been proud to be.
Using the DNA evidence and Sal's relationship with Joe, Ken was able to procure a search warrant for Joe's home. He stormed in with four cops, scaring Ken's maid half to death. Two of them cuffed Sal and took him to the precinct. Of course, Joe professed Sal's innocence, and Ken began to laugh.
"We're not in Chicago in the days of The Valentine Day massacre anymore. We have forensics now, and Sal's DNA was found on one of the victims."
"Ken, let's go into my office and talk."
Ken followed Joe into his office. Joe closed the door, and Ken knew that this was going to be serious. He vowed to stay alert.
"Listen," Joe said. "Here's what happened, and I have solid evidence of the old-fashioned kind."
"Okay, talk."
"Yesterday evening Sal was having dinner at Vincent's Copper Kettle with three other guys. His friends, every waiter, and the maître d' will attest to that. The two brothers came in, and Sal stupidly approached them and warned them to stop encroaching on my businesses, or else. Some sort of scuffle ensued, and one of them managed to scratch Sal. Sal, his friends, and several waiters escorted the brothers out of the restaurant.
"After dinner, the four men went to a hotel, where they were joined by two prostitutes they had hired. They were there with the girls all night. Every one of them will testify to that."
"Sure, why not. They all work for you."
"True, but I don't own the hotel, and security tapes will show Sal entering with the guys, and not leaving until eight in the morning"
When they came into the room, Joe had closed the door. Now Ken walked over and locked it.
"Give me a drink," Ken said, "so I'll have the courage to talk to you man to man."
Joe made Ken a scotch straight up and sat down at his desk. Ken sat down on a chair facing the desk. Joe looked at him and said, "Start talking."
"I swear to you, I'm not wired, Joe. Can you say the same thing to me?"
"Of course. What's going on? This is going to be really heavy, isn't it?"
Ken took a deep breath. "First of all, off the record, we both know that you ordered the deaths of those two low lives. I can only admire how well you have alibied for Sal. For what it's worth, Joe, I'm glad that once more I don't have sufficient evidence to arrest you."
"And here I thought that your mission in life was to lock me up, even if we are old friends."
"Let me go on. Your efforts were wasted, buddy. I was closing in on the brothers' illegal activities, and I was about to arrest them."
"I know," Joe smiled at Ken.
"You know? Then why did you do it?"
"Ken, they must have known that you had the goods on them. They put a contract out on your life. I had to order them killed to save you. For your information, this is the fourth time that I've prevented a hit on your life. But this time, I told you the truth. Somebody got to them before Sal did."
Ken was too shocked to talk. He started to sputter, and when he got himself together he asked, "But why did you try to prevent them or anybody from killing me? All I've ever done is hound you."
For a street-smart New York cop, you are one naïve jerk. I did it because I love you. It's okay for you to be open about being gay, but you must appreciate why I have to stay in the closet. I repeat; I love you. I wanted to tell you many times before today, but every time I got up the courage you were in a relationship with that Broadway star. There, I've bared my soul. Now it's your turn to start talking."
Ken couldn't talk because he was crying. He got himself together and said, "I've loved you since we were friends in high school. As for Larry, we split up twice. We can't seem to make it work. I'm single right now."
Joe came around his desk, and Ken stood up. The two men embraced each other and ground their erect cocks together.
"Where do we go from here?" Joe asked.
"To bed, I hope."
"My lawyer will spring Sal in another hour or two, and he'll come home. He's the only one I trust, and who knows how I feel about you, but do you think we could go to your place anyhow? I'd rather make love with nobody in the house but us."
"Sure we can, but it's not as posh as your home. New York cops don't make a lot of money."
"Do you think I don't know where you live and how you live? As soon as your two cops report that my place is clean, send them away, and I'll go home with you."
"As a cop, I look for confessions. Now I have a confession to make to you. I have wanted to tell you forever how much I love you, but I was always so scared. I have dreamt of this moment for years. I'll have to quit the force, you know."
"Why?"
"Because the policemen, who are not on your payroll, are all out to get you. If I stay on the force, it will be a conflict of interest. I love you too much to keep on trying to get you behind bars."
"That's nonsense. We can't live together, so nobody will know about our relationship. Stay on the force. Get the real bad guys. I swear, the only time I did something `bad' was when someone threatened you.
Just then there was a knock on the door. Joe opened it, and it was the two cops who came with Ken.
"Everything's clean," one of them reported.
"I suspected as much," Ken said. "Why don't you two guys go back to the precinct?"
As soon as they were alone in the room, Ken and Joe began to kiss passionately.
"Please," Joe said. "Let's take this to your bed."
As they started to leave Joe's house, Ken's cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. "It's my boss," he said. "I better answer it."
Ken," he heard Morton say. "We've had another murder in Chelsea. The victim had one bullet to the head, and his knees blown off. Sal Galli was locked up here, and you were with Joe Vincente. I think we have a serial killer on our hands; worse yet, a copycat serial killer."
"Did you identify the body?"
"Yes, it's Adam Carboneri, Joe Vincente's stockbroker."
"I'll be right down," Ken assured Lt. Morton.
"What's going on?" Joe asked.
"Sorry," Ken said, "our date will have to wait. There's been another murder. This time it's your stockbroker."
"Good God," Joe said. "We were good friends."
"You were telling me the truth about Sal. I'm sorry I doubted you."
"One thing you can count on, Ken, I'll never lie to you."
Ken slapped a wet kiss on Joe's lips and started to leave.
"So this is what it's like to be married to a cop," Joe lamented. "Call me when you're free. I'll meet you at the hotel where my guys had that little orgy."
To be continued...