Chapter 6 - LEO
Leo did not run.
That helped.
Not proof.
But helped.
He slowly placed his gun on the floor.
Then stepped away.
Gabriel stared at him.
Twenty-four years.
That was how long they had known each other.
Street fights.
Prison visits.
Funerals.
Leo had slept outside Gabriel’s hospital room after two shootings.
He had carried Gabriel’s father’s coffin.
Now Paulie named him.
Norah watched both men.
This was the moment people died in stories like theirs.
Gabriel’s hand moved.
Not toward a weapon.
Toward the bed rail.
He was still too weak to stand.
Maybe weakness saved someone.
“Explain.”
Leo’s voice came rough.
“I can’t explain what I don’t know.”
“Paulie said your name.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel looked toward the security officer.
“Take his phone.”
Leo handed it over willingly.
“Accounts.”
He gave passwords.
“Car.”
Keys.
No resistance.
Then Norah asked:
“Did Paulie say Leo willingly?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“What?”
“He hesitated.”
On video, Paulie’s eyes moved off-camera before naming Leo.
Maybe someone forced him.
Maybe code.
Maybe warning.
They replayed it.
Paulie said:
Vincent isn’t doing this alone.
Pause.
Leo.
Then his left hand tapped twice against the chair.
Norah noticed.
“Does that mean anything?”
Gabriel leaned forward.
Leo’s eyes changed.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“When we were kids.”
He swallowed.
“Two taps meant lie.”
Gabriel stared.
Paulie had been forced to falsely name Leo.
Then who was he trying to protect?
Or expose indirectly?
They replayed again.
Before saying Leo, Paulie looked right.
Toward someone unseen.
His left thumb pointed downward.
Leo whispered:
“Basement.”
“What?”
“Old crew code. Down meant basement.”
Maybe location.
Maybe name.
Too uncertain.
Then authorities found another clue in the garage.
A discarded catering invoice.
Company:
VINCENT HAYES FOUNDATION DINNER.
Too obvious.
Possibly planted.
The more evidence screamed Vincent, the less Norah trusted it.
“Someone wants you to focus on him.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Vincent arranged Paulie’s death certificate.”
“Maybe.”
“Rosa’s superintendent said Vincent visited.”
“Maybe.”
“His name is on the blue page.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
Norah looked at the wall.
“If a criminal accountant wanted to frame someone, would he leave the person’s name everywhere?”
Gabriel stared.
Leo almost smiled.
“She has a point.”
Gabriel hated that.
Good.
Then Rosa’s notebook provided another clue.
The letters beside names.
Not initials.
Categories.
V = verified.
S = suspected.
C = cleared.
They realized after comparing old entries.
Vincent H. had:
C.
Cleared.
At least according to Rosa.
Paulie:
V.
Leo:
C.
So what was Paulie verified for?
Not betrayal necessarily.
Maybe payments.
Then one name had no letter.
R. DALCA.
Gabriel’s face changed.
“Who?”
He looked at Leo.
Leo answered:
“Rafael Dalca.”
Gabriel’s chief financial officer.
Quiet.
Educated.
Never carried a gun.
The man Gabriel trusted to clean legitimate books.
Rafael had worked for him eleven years.
Norah asked:
“Why is he in Rosa’s notebook?”
Nobody knew.
Then Gabriel remembered.
Rafael’s mother worked as a bookkeeper for Michael Hayes.
His father.
History.
Again.
Gabriel called the penthouse.
“Where’s Dalca?”
No answer.
Then security checked.
Rafael had left the city two hours after Gabriel went to Benny’s.
Destination:
Toronto.
Gabriel’s eyes sharpened.
Too convenient.
Then hospital IT flagged something else.
Someone had accessed Gabriel’s private medical portal forty minutes earlier.
Not Vincent.
Not Leo.
Credential:
Rafael Dalca.
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Why would the CFO want Gabriel’s lab results?
Because whoever was starving him needed to know how close the plan was to working.
