Murder in Greenwich Village Read Online Free PDF Page A

laughed. “Lung cancer. Works better than bullets. He was arrested for a B and E and they took him to a hospital. Died before he said anything.”
    â€œTry Carl Randolph. He’s the one who served time for possession of stolen weapons.” She went back to the proposal. “Somebody working at the armory had to be in on the theft of the guns,” she said to Defino.
    â€œI bet they kept that quiet as long as they could. The Feds never want city cops nosing around.”
    â€œBut Bowman knew the number, so it became a matter of record.”
    â€œIt became a matter of record when they raided the crib and found the three weapons. When the guns took a walk, those jokers conducted an internal investigation and came up with nothing, so they kept quiet. Trust me.” He was right on that. “And if they ever locate the guns, they’ll make a big public splash as if they’d been working on the case every day for ten years.”
    â€œThey won’t locate them. They’re waiting for a miracle. Let’s see if we can make it happen.”
    â€œRandolph,” MacHovec said, “Carl J. You know what, girls and boys? He just got himself arrested a couple of weeks ago.”
    â€œWhat for?” Defino asked.
    MacHovec pressed keys. “Possession of pot. They still smoke that stuff? I thought it went out of style.”
    Jane smiled. “Where is he?”
    â€œHe couldn’t make bail.” MacHovec whistled. “I guess they’ve got his number. Judge set half a million. He’s in Rikers. Looks like he’s in the Bing. Strong stuff for possession.”
    â€œMy favorite place on earth,” Jane said under her breath. “We can do that, huh, Gordon?”
    â€œI’ll drive in tomorrow, pick you up.”
    â€œI’ll be downstairs at eight. I like this.”
    Defino picked up his phone and called his wife. From the sound of the conversation, she could do without the car.
    Jane went back to the list of half sentences, pulled over another piece of paper, and started to shape them into readable English. Then she thought of something. “Sean? There was a third guy. What happened to him?”
    â€œYou’re not gonna believe this.” He was looking at his screen, shaking his head and grinning.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSal ‘Lucky Dog’ Manelli, forty-seven, nice little rap sheet. Looks like he’s settled down in a love nest on Minetta Street. I make it about two blocks from Waverly Place.”
    Defino was out of his chair as fast as if he’d gotten word of a 10-13, the code for an officer in trouble. “Let’s go,” he said. “Anything’s better than paperwork.”
    Jane stopped at Annie’s office and told her where they were going. They they dashed down the stairs. A couple of subways got them to West Fourth Street, Jane’s usual station. From there they walked to Minetta Street, a short, narrow, tree-lined street of residential buildings that angled northeast from Sixth Avenue and Bleecker. Hidden from the traffic and chaos of those streets, it was a secret oasis. They found the brownstone Manelli used as his address halfway down the block. Upstairs they rang several times and listened at the door; no sound was audible.
    â€œGo down a flight,” Jane said softly to Defino. “I want to ring a bell.”
    Defino went down and she rang the bell across the hall from Manelli.
    An eye peered through the peephole; then the door opened. An old man on a single crutch stared at her.
    â€œHi,” she said cordially, not showing her shield. “I’m looking for Mr. Manelli. Sal?”
    â€œOver there? I haven’t seen him for weeks.”
    â€œHe move out?”
    â€œCouldn’t tell you. She’s there, though. She’s been there since World War Two, or her mother has. Maybe her grand-mother. They all look the same.”
    â€œYou know her name?” The name at the