: Giacomo Giammatteo
: Murder Takes Time
: Inferno Publishing Company
: 9780985030216
: 1
: CHF 3.70
:
: Belletristik
: English
: 450
: kein Kopierschutz
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB

A string of brutal murders has bodies piling up in Brooklyn, and Detective Frankie Donovan knows what is going on. Clues left at the crime scenes point to someone from the old neighborhood, and that isn't good.


Frankie has taken two oaths in his life-the one he took to uphold the law when he became a cop, and the one he took with his two best friends when they were eight years old and inseparable. 


Those relationships have forced Frankie to make many tough decisions, but now he faces the toughest one of his life; he has five murders to solve and one of those two friends is responsible. If Frankie lets him go, he breaks the oath he took as a cop and risks losing his job. But if he tries to bring him in, he breaks the oath he kept for twenty-five years-and risks losing his life.


In the neighborhood where Frankie Donovan grew up, you never broke an oath. 

CHAPTER 3

TIES TO THE PAST

Detective Lou Mazzetti pulled to the curb and got out of the car, his creased Oxford loafers splashing slush onto frayed pant cuffs. He buttoned his coat, positioned his hat to cover a bald spot, then went up the walk toward the old brick house. The house was still in nice shape—most were in this neighborhood, a community of predominantly Italian and Irish, but with a good mix of Poles and a smattering of Jews. Lou nodded to a patrolman stationed at the door as he climbed the steps. Today he felt as tired as he was old.

“How is it?” Lou asked.

“Neighbors didn’t hear anything, but they didn’t get home till late.” The patrolman shook his head. “Looks the same as the first one.”

Same as the first one. A disturbing thought, but as Lou examined the scene it proved to be true: dead male shot once in the head, once in the heart.And damn near every bone in his body broken. No shell casings, and he felt certain the crime scene unit would find hairs, blood, skin, and DNA from a wide assortment of people. Lou looked at the medical examiner, Kate Burns, a pretty girl with skin as pale and freckled as her Irish name suggested. “Anything?”

Kate shook her head, wrapped up her kit and tucked it into a bag. “I’m sure we got his DNA, but it’s mixed in with the rest.”

“Process it all.”

“I’ll process it, but unless you get something more, it won’t do you a damn bit of good.”

Detective Frankie Donovan stepped through the door and wiped slush from his Moreschi shoes using a monogrammed handkerchief. He unbuttoned his cashmere coat, hung it on a rack behind the door, then surveyed the crime scene with the hazel eyes he inherited from his father. Rumor was he got the Irish luck from his father, too, but that’s where the gifts stopped. The dark skin, bold nose, and brown hair came from his Sicilian mother, along with a birthmark on his neck, which his grandfather swore resembled a map of Sicily. It was a dark pigment, almost black, and it sat just below and left of a solid, square jaw that looked as if it might shatter. He’d had it hit enough times to know it wouldn’t.

“I just ran into Kate. She sai