“Too bad,” Flo said. “You missed the all-time fruitcake yesterday. The mayor’s consultant shrink.” She and Frank Murphy and Marty Keane were sitting in her office, finishing their coffees. “The mayor and the commissioner retain him,” she said. “So he’s ours to use, free for nothing, whenever we want. Mayor’s treat.” Frank rubbed his huge hands. “Can’t wait.” Flo smiled. “Comes with mass murder, Frank, especially before an election. Seven bodies, the mayor’s got a trophy here.” “And the families?” said Frank, placing those rock hands together almost as if in prayer. “When are the wakes?” “Reilly’s starts today,” said Marty. “Out by Our Lady of Angels in Bay Ridge. Sconzo Funeral Home on Fourth Avenue, a block from the church.” Flo turned off her computer. “We go now, pay our respects, and set up an appointment with his wife. Alone. Her husband was a professional, she’d expect nothing less from us.” “How long before Dangler sniffs him out?
