Free Dead on Arrival by Mike Lawson Page A

first love. He’d met her when he was sixteen and she was fourteen. She’d been the first girl he’d kissed, the first woman he’d made love to. They’d dated throughout high school, broke up briefly when DeMarco went off to college, then connected again and married after he had completed law school.
    He had wanted kids. She hadn’t.
    Marie was, without a doubt, the sexiest woman he had ever known. She was pretty, of course, and an absolute knockout when she dressed up. She had big expressive eyes, large wonderful breasts, a trim little butt, and good legs – but it wasn’t just her looks that made her so desirable. Some women just ooze sex appeal. Take the young Elizabeth Taylor or Sharon Stone: There are dozens of Hollywood starlets just as beautiful as either woman, but nowhere near as sexy. Why? God only knew. Or maybe God had nothing to do with it.
    Sex appeal aside, Marie DeMarco was hugely flawed: vain, selfish, shallow – and unfaithful. DeMarco suspected, after the fact, that his cousin wasn’t the only man she’d slept with while they were married, but it was the affair with Danny that had hurt the most. Danny had been his best friend when they were kids, and Marie’s infidelity had shredded his ego and pierced his heart and almost destroyed him financially – and yet here the damn woman was asking for his help. She was unbelievable.
    She’d told DeMarco what had happened. Danny and a leg-breaker named Vince Merlino who worked for Tony Benedetto had been assigned to collect an overdue debt from a gambling junkie – and Vince had killed the junkie. Danny had been seen fleeing the scene by a witness and was now residing in a cell on Riker’s Island. The police knew Danny hadn’t killed the gambler; they knew it, but they wouldn’t admit it. Danny was primarily a fence, a man who was very good at moving stolen goods, more like a charming retail salesman than a thug. The cops knew he didn’t carry a gun, and he didn’t have any violence on his sheet. But Danny refused to give up his partner, so the cops had no choice: Danny was going to swing for the gambler’s murder.
    ‘So why the hell doesn’t he just tell them this Vince guy did it?’ DeMarco had asked his ex.
    ‘Because he’d be a rat,’ Marie had said.
    ‘He is a rat,’ DeMarco said.
    ‘And because Vince is Mr Benedetto’s nephew.’
    Oh, man, that wasn’t good.
    ‘So what in the hell do you want from me, Marie?’ he had asked her. ‘If you’re expecting me to pay for his lawyer or put up his bail, you’re out of your mind.’
    ‘I don’t expect you to pay for anything. They won’t give him bail and Mr Benedetto’s springing for the lawyer.’
    ‘So then what’s the problem?’
    ‘The problem is Mr Benedetto expects him to do the time, that’s what the damn problem is. The lawyer will get him the best deal he can, but if Danny gives up anybody, Vince or anyone else in Tony’s crew, Tony will have him killed.’ She had started crying. ‘They’re gonna put him away for fifteen years, Joe, maybe longer.’
    ‘But what do you want me to do, Marie?’
    ‘I want you to get Mr Mahoney to get him a pardon.’
    DeMarco had laughed out loud. He hadn’t been able to stop himself. ‘Marie’ – he almost added you fuckin’ moron – ‘first of all, the speaker of the House can’t give pardons to convicted criminals in the State of New York. And second, there’s no way in hell he’s going to ask the president to give Danny one.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘Marie, I hate you and I hate Danny, but even if I didn’t, you gotta believe me when I tell you there’s no way he’s gonna get a pardon, not from anyone, and there’s nothing I can do to make such a thing happen.’
    When he hung up, she was crying, and for some damn reason he felt bad. To hell with her, he said to himself – a phrase he’d used many times since she’d left him.
    At 8:30 A.M ., burping a bit from his corned beef hash and eggs – calories and