A Woman Was Tied to Train Tracks by a Mafia Boss — Then His Loyal German Shepherd Led the Detective to Expose the Deadly Plot
Chapter 6
Captain Reynolds emerged from his office, expression carefully neutral. “Mr. Moretti. Gentlemen. If you’ll follow me to an interview room.”
“Of course, Captain,” Moretti replied pleasantly. “Always happy to cooperate with law enforcement.” As they passed Marcus’s desk, Moretti paused and looked down at Rex, still growling softly. “Beautiful animal. German shepherd, right? I had one as a boy. Most loyal creatures on earth.” His eyes met Marcus’s. “They know who to trust and who not to, don’t they, Detective?” Then he was moving again, following Reynolds down the hallway, his lawyers in formation around him.
Marcus stood watching them go, mind racing. There was something in Moretti’s eyes he couldn’t quite read. Not fear. Not even concern. Something that looked almost like warning.
Interview room one was the largest they had, but it still felt cramped with Vincent Moretti, his three lawyers, and Marcus and Harper all crowded around the metal table. The recorder was running, the camera in the corner documenting everything. Through the one-way glass, Marcus knew Captain Reynolds and the assistant DA were watching every moment.
Moretti sat with the casual confidence of a man who’d been through this dance before and always won. Harper began the formal interview, then slid a photograph across the table — Sarah Morrison’s ID photo. “Mr. Moretti, do you know this woman?”
Moretti barely glanced at the image. “Sarah Morrison. She’s been a waitress at my club, the Velvet Room, for approximately eight months. Good employee from what I understand. Reliable, professional.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Three days ago, briefly. When I stopped by the club to check on operations. She was working her shift. We didn’t interact directly.”
“Where were you last night between midnight and three a.m.?” Harper continued.
“At home, in bed with my wife of thirty-five years. We watched the news together until about eleven-thirty, then retired.” Moretti’s expression remained pleasant, unbothered. “My security detail can confirm I never left the property, as can the comprehensive surveillance system I have installed at my estate.”
One of his lawyers, a sharp-faced woman named Victoria Chen, interjected smoothly. “My client maintains extensive security measures for his protection. The footage from last night clearly shows he never left his residence. We’ve prepared copies for your review.”
Marcus leaned forward, sliding the sketch artist’s rendering across the table. “Ms. Morrison has identified you as the person who abducted her two nights ago, held her captive, and then tied her to railroad tracks last night with the intention of killing her. She says you did this personally.”
For the first time, something flickered across Moretti’s face. Surprise. Anger. Gone too quickly to identify. “Detective, I haven’t personally engaged in violence in over twenty years. It’s bad for business, bad for my blood pressure, and terrible for my dry cleaning bills.” He said it without a trace of humor. “Ms. Morrison is either mistaken or lying.”
“She described you perfectly,” Marcus pressed. “Knew details about your club that only an employee would know. Heard you discussing illegal activities with associates. She heard you mention the captain, presumably a police officer on your payroll.”
Moretti’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly. “Detective Cain, I’ve run legitimate businesses in this city for thirty years. I own restaurants, clubs, real estate. Yes, I have a past. I’ve never hidden that. I grew up on the streets, made mistakes as a young man, but I’ve been clean for two decades. If Ms. Morrison heard conversations about business, she heard conversations about business.” He shrugged. “As for the captain, it’s a common enough title. It could be anyone.”
Victoria Chen cut in again. “Detectives, you have no physical evidence linking my client to any crime. You have the uncorroborated testimony of a single witness who admits she was working at my client’s establishment. For all we know, she could have her own motives for making these accusations. Has anyone investigated her background thoroughly? Her finances, her associations?”
It was a fair question, and Marcus knew it. He excused himself under the pretense of checking on additional evidence, stepping into the observation room where Reynolds stood watching, arms crossed, jaw tight.