Free Formerly Fingerman by Joe Nelms

at a time, gun drawn and ready for action.
    By the time he got to the second floor he was exhausted and still hadn’t quite figured out exactly where all units were supposed to go. He paused to catch his breath. It was then that the yelling from a floor or two above echoed down the cement stairwell. He turned to start back up when a man in a great hurry whipped around the corner and headed down toward him. Tom thought fast.
    â€œHey Buddy, have you seen a bunch of FBI agents around here?”
    â€œUh, no, sorry.”
    As Frank Fortunato tried to push past the charged-up agent, something clicked in Tom’s government-trained mind.
    â€œSayyyy. You’re Frank Fortunato.”
    â€œI get that a lot. Excuse me.”
    On a less excitement-filled day, Frank could have probably convinced Tom that he was his own distant cousin and walked away. But this particular time, Tom wasn’t having it. Better to play it safe and arrest the wrong man. He’d let the government’s attorneys worry about the legal ramifications. That’s how they did it on TV.
    Tom pointed his gun at Frank.
    â€œI need you to come with me, sir.”

Brad Gets Debriefed
    It would have been difficult to determine who was more relieved in the lobby two minutes later. Was it Brad finding out that he was no longer a suspect in a front page murder case he had nothing to do with? Or was it Brittany discovering her mission had been snatched from the jaws of bureaucratic death by the buffoonish police work of her least-favorite agent? Suffice it to say that each verged on ruining their underpants only moments before they found out the good news.
    Tom dragged a handcuffed Frank out of the south stairwell door at the same time Brittany and her hangdog crew were schlubbing their way out of the north stairwell door. Both sides froze at the sight of each other.
    â€œTom? Did you catch Frank Fortunato?”
    Tom beamed like he had found the afikoman.
    â€œThis is him for sure? I knew it!”
    Tom fist pumped the air. Yes!
    â€œWow. Gold star, Tom.”
    Brittany took a moment to make sure she had all the details of her amazing luck straight. Yes, Carmine had died, but he was a lowlife who was going to meet a similar end regardless of what Brittany did. The press would forgive that uncomfortable detail. But this. A mob boss caught fleeing the scene of the crime by her ace in the hole, Tom. It wasn’t an open and closed case, but it was a damn good one.
    Especially since she had an eyewitness.
    She turned to Brad and snapped at her crew. “Get those cuffs off him. And give him a Kleenex for God’s sake.”
    The agents scrambled to see who could get their keys out first, and then Brad was free.
    â€œSorry for the misunderstanding, Mr. . . .”
    â€œFingerman, Brad Fingerman.”
    â€œMr. Fingerman. I hope you understand we were just being careful. Now if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to give you a ride to headquarters and get a statement from you.”
    It took a second for Brad to readjust his point of view from pre-life-sentence-convict back to free-as-a-bird confused guy. This new perspective snapped into focus right about the time Frank launched a world-class scowl from across the room as Tom escorted him out of the building. Maybe it was directed at Brad. Maybe it was a more general reaction to getting caught. Could have just been that the handcuffs were a little too tight. Either way, it was hard to ignore.
    And then he realized what Brittany was asking him.
    â€œBut, I didn’t see anything.”
    An hour later, Brittany handed a still-shaking Brad a cold can of soda, one of the few amenities her tiny office could provide witnesses on short notice. It was a Pepsi. Not his regular drink. Brad was more of a Coke man. He held it between his legs. At least it was something to stare at besides his fingernails.
    â€œCan I get you anything else?”
    â€œNo. I’m fine. Really. Can I