It’s been six days since I ripped Dutch’s face apart. He died the next day, and he died in pain, the way I wanted him to die. I was arrested, spent two days in the slammer, and then released. I had pled self-defense…Dutch attacked me with the broken bottle. The bottle was there as evidence. During the melee I had been cut, and explained how Dutch had come at me first. I had just responded to his attack, and happened to come out on top.
Matt had laid out the entire scenario at the barn to the District Attorney’s Office, bending the story as appropriate to minimize any charges against me. I ran down the story on the gambling syndicate that Dutch headed. Then there was the killing of Krasinski, the Voltesso scam, Chiulli’s murder, the bombing at the boxing match, and Bankoff’s supposed suicide. I continued with the story on Mr. .38 at the Red Hat, the three goons at my office, the car trying to gun me down in the street, Jaguar John being brought in to bump me off, and the trap of the “Bronxville Beauty.”
The Judge Advocate considered the degenerate scumbags involved, and the number of crimes I had just helped them solve. The D.A. looked past the flaws in my story, and gave me a lot of leeway regarding the tale I had spun regarding self-defense. It was clear in his mind that I had just done humanity a favor. The Prosecutors decided not to pursue the case, the D.A. accepted my testimony, and I was cut loose of any further charges.
Lola had spent two days in the hospital, and seemed to be recovering from her physical injuries. Knowing that her emotional scars would take longer to heal, I closed shop, and gave her the personal attention she deserved. We vacationed for two weeks. She healed well.
Some people call me NYC’s most violent private detective. That may be true. I don’t try to be. Things happen. I’m in a “tough” business, and survive because I’m a “tough” S.O.B. Some say I’m a MADDOG!