Chapter 4.2 - Matteo
1616 Words
A few minutes later, a guy in a suit shows up.
“Matteo Giudice. I’m detective Parker from the DEA.”
Detective? DEA??
He opens the cell and guides me to a room down the hall, not bothering to cuff me.
There’s a large table in the middle with two chairs sitting across from each other. One of the walls is made up of a giant two-way mirror.
“Why am I being interrogated?”
“Sit down.”
I take a seat on one of the chairs.
“Who does the bag belong to?”
Is he using slang to see whether I know it or not?
“What bag?”
“The cocaine.”
“I don’t know if that’s cocaine, I’ve never seen that bag before.”
And that’s not a lie; it’s not the same one he has in his staff room – that one is blue.
“You are Matteo Giudice, right?”
“I am.”
“Are you related to the real estate developer Lorenzo Giudice?”
Really? That’s how he’s known by the police in New York?
“I am, but what does that to do with anything?”
He looks like he just said something he shouldn’t have.
“He’s been…linked to other cocaine busts.”
“How exactly?”
“They were found on properties owned by his company.”
“Was he there or did he rent them out?”
“There’s a connection-“
“So? Is it his fault that he owns many properties?”
I’m hungry and definitely sober right now, and this guy is getting on my nerves.
He obviously doesn’t like my very reasonable logic and he knows I’m right.
“Speaking of my dad, I want to call him. The law says that I’m entitled to one phone call, and you failed to tell me that when you brought me in here.”
He huffs and puffs but brings me my phone.
“Was it Valentina Levin’s cocaine?”
I roll my eyes. “I already told you; I don’t know where it came from.”
I know that it wasn’t mine because I never carry it outside the club with me in f*****g baggies, and I also know that Valentina has brought her own before. It most probably is hers, but I’m not going to tell that to a detective.
My dad answers on the second ring.
“What happened?”
“I’m at a police station being interrogated because I was out.”
“Which one?”
“Near the club.”
“I’ll send someone. Don’t talk to anyone.”
He hangs up so I hand over the phone.
“What were you doing with her?”
“We were just talking.”
“About?”
“How is this relevant? Do I need to get a lawyer? Are you arresting me for something?”
“I could arrest you for breaking government-imposed curfew.”
“Then do it already, I’ve told you everything I know.”
Someone bangs on the door, and Detective Parker leaves the room. He walks back in ten minutes later, followed by Franco, Isabella’s father.
“You can leave, Matteo.”
“He had a bag of coke on him.” Parker tries to argue, but I’m already out of my seat.
Franco turns to look at the guy. “It was on the ground, was it not? Do you really think, beyond any reasonable doubt, that the only way that bag could’ve ended up on the ground in that alley is from my client?”
The guy stutters, and by the time I walk out the door he’s already accepted his defeat.
“Who were you with?” he asks me once we’ve climbed in the back of the car he came with.
“A friend from school, Valentina.”
“Is she Isabella’s friend?”
“Yes. The police have no idea about the party, Isabella’s safe.” I assure him.
The driver starts the engine as I turn to face him. “Wait, what about her? Is she still inside?”
“You’ve already been let go, but I can’t take care of her as well.”
“You can’t or you don’t want to try?”
“Both.”
“I can’t just leave her here; she had no part in this. She’s the innocent one in all of this.”
“And you’re not?”
“I was the one who asked her to come outside.”
“Doesn’t she have parents?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“They can come bail her out.”
“Was she arrested?”
“No, don’t panic.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not panicking.”
“She’ll have to take care of herself. Do you understand why you must let it go?”
I hesitate, but I nod. “I understand, but I disagree.”
“Then let’s go.”
The first few minutes of the ride are silent, and all I can think about is whether she even has someone in New York who could take care of her.
Franco must notice that I’m not satisfied with his decision. “She’s not your responsibility.”
“She is my friend. She’s your daughter’s friend.”
We make eye contact. “We can’t extend and overplay our authority with the police when it comes to the States. If we were in Italy-“
“It’s okay, I understand.”
I really do understand the technicalities, but I don’t agree with them on a personal level.
“I just hope she doesn’t have to spend the night in jail.”
“Do you trust her?”
“To do what?”
“To not say anything that might incriminate you or Isabella.”
“Yes.”
I’m not sure whether I believe myself or not, but I know it’s my only option right now. She didn’t answer me when I asked her if she trusted me about Luca; she didn’t even have time to think about it.
“Then she’s probably going to end up in jail overnight.”
“Why?”
“Because they won’t let her go tonight unless a lawyer comes. I know how these guys work; they threaten with jail and prison unless she gives you up.”
“Maybe she won’t spend the night.”
“If she didn’t, it means that she’s more powerful than you think.”
“It means that she knows someone in New York who can help her. That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I guess so.”
He takes me back to my new apartment, where my dad is waiting for me in my living room.
I tell him everything from start to finish, leaving out the part where she wanted to run away, because I know it would make her look guilty in their eyes.
“What were the drugs doing there?”
“They weren’t mine.”
“Were they hers?”
“I don’t know.”
He’s silent for a few seconds.
“You need to be more careful, Matteo.”
“Nothing happened though.”
“Until the government lays off the restrictions and people are back on the streets, you can’t go to parties any more. Nor host any.” He sees my face. “I’m serious, Matteo. The police won’t forget it and they’ll use it against you in one way or another.”
“Fine.”
“I mean it. This isn’t Italy. We’re guests here.”
“You do know someone on the police though.”
“Yes, but not someone who could do for me what we did in Italy with Romeo.”
I understand what he’s saying.
There are people in the game more powerful than he is.
“Are you telling me that Italy is more corrupt than the United States?”
He wants to laugh; I can see it on his face.
“No, we just don’t know as many people here.”
“Okay, I get it. I’ll be more careful with the police.”
“You need to be more careful in…general.”
“Do you mean being more careful with Valentina?”
The two of them exchange looks.
“She can be Isabella’s friend and not mine?”
“You can be friends with her, Matteo.”
His tone rubs me the wrong way. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“What were you doing outside with her?”
“I already told you.”
My patience is running thin and I’m tired.
“Where is Luca?”
I shrug. “Probably still at the club, I don’t know.”
“Did you invite him?”
“Oh, right. He thinks Boris Levin had something to do with Romeo’s murder.”
I realize that Franco might not now about the whole thing when it’s too late.
My father doesn’t seem phased. “What did he say?”
So, Franco does know.
I tell him everything Luca told me, including his intention of weaseling his way into Valentina’s life. I also tell them how we met Boris Levin at one of our security jobs.
“That’s good to hear.”
His response takes me aback.
“Why?”
“Because the closer he gets to her, the further he is from you.”
“And when he finds out it wasn’t her uncle?”
“Her uncle or her dad; either one really.” Franco butts in.
“He’ll have many reasons to believe it was one of them, if he gets close enough."
- Writer
