The Coffey Files Read Online Free PDF

However, the tactic of scaring the restaurateur was working. Joe decided to press harder.
    â€œTell Ranieri he’s going to take the fall alone if he won’t cooperate. Tell him we have no interest in messing with the nephew of Funzi Tieri as long as we can nail someone for the murder,” Coffey told O’Connell.
    Driving out of the Bat Cave into the bright light of the warm April day, Coffey told Jack Cahill to head for the office of the Queens district attorney, where an assistant DA was putting together the Ladenhauf case for presentation to the grand jury.
    Cahill waited in the car while Coffey went upstairs to request a grand jury subpoena for Funzi Tieri. He did not really believe the old don had any knowledge of the Ladenhauf hit. From what he knew so far he did not believe it had anything to do with Mafia politics; it was more likely just a falling out of thieves. But because Crimi was throwing around his uncle’s name, it gave Coffey a legitimate excuse to subpoena the old man and a chance to annoy the cranky hoodlum, who would certainly be angry with his nephew for causing a cop to visit his home.
    Getting into the car, Joe told Cahill to stop at headquarters to pick up McGlynn and then “let’s go visit Funzi.”
    About one hour later Coffey and McGlynn rang the bell at the front door of the Tieris’ modest attached home in the pleasant middle-class area of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.
    â€œAn elderly woman I took to be Mrs. Tieri answered the door, and I fold her who I was. I said I wanted to see her husband. She was very gentle and polite and asked me to wait a minute. She closed the door in my face,” Coffey remembers.
    â€œA minute or two later Funzi himself opened the door and asked me to come in.”
    Funzi Tieri, in his late seventies at the time, was a diminutive man whose large, sharp nose and steely eyes gave him a hawklike appearance. A dangerous hawk to be sure.
    The don led the cops to the front porch, and they sat on padded patio chairs facing out to the street, where Cahill sat in the unmarked police car.
    â€œHe was wearing a giant diamond pinky ring which I’m sure cost more than his house. I was laughing to myself over this image of a saintly grandfather enjoying his retirement. I knew his mistress lived right around the corner,” Coffey says. The young woman was famous for singing the Star Spangled Banner at the opening of the annual feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy.
    Mrs. Tieri brought a tray with a cup of dark Italian coffee for her husband and McGlynn and a cup of tea for Joe. He was flattered to realize they knew enough about him to know he did not drink coffee.
    â€œSergeant, what brings you to my home?” Tieri asked, as he placed his cup to his thin lips.
    â€œIt concerns the matter of a man named Michael Crimi who claims to be your nephew and I believe is involved in the murder of a loan shark named Leo Ladenhauf,” Coffey replied, unconsciously adopting the formal pattern of speech Tieri favored.
    â€œOh yes, Mickey, he’s the husband of my niece. A nice young man but maybe he talks too much. I am surprised to hear you believe he is involved in a murder,” said the feeble Funzi, who had ordered hundreds of beatings and murders in a Mafia career that began when he was a teenager.
    â€œWell, I do not doubt it. Since he is making a point of reminding other suspects that he’s your nephew, I have a subpoena for you to appear at the grand jury on the case,” countered Coffey, enjoying every moment of discomfort he was causing the old killer.
    Tieri politely took the paperwork from Coffey.
    â€œThank you for your time. I’ll be seeing you again,” Joe said as he left the porch.
    â€œYou are welcome in my house any time,” was Tieri’s final remark.
    Joe and McGlynn walked out the front door, down the steps of the front porch, and back to the car, where Cahill sat waiting. An ear-to-ear smile