Where Is Marty Ferris?
Wilmington, Delaware
Frankie tore out of the morgue parking lot, and called Nicky. It rang five or six times before going to voicemail. “Nicky, where are you? We need to talk. Now!”
A minute later, Frankie’s phone rang. He grabbed it off the seat. “Nicky?”
“Bugs, what’s going on? I heard about Bobby—”
“Where did you go after you left Teddy’s?”
A long pause followed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I went to play cards.”
“I went to the shop that night; you weren’t there. I went to your house, too.”
“Yeah, well I’m sure these questions came from Borelli, and it’s none of his business.”
“This is a murder investigation; it sure as hell is his business.”
Nicky paused and Frankie could almost feel those hawk eyes staring him down. “Let me put it straight
