Chapter 1

It was just another day in a string of endless days. Sean got up, exercised, took the subway to his office, and worked late. It was a Wednesday night in May, about 8:30 PM. He left his office at eight, and now thirty minutes later, he was in his Queens neighborhood. Yeah, he loved the work, but things had been ‘insanely busy’ for far too long, and it was wearing on him. Sean walked the short distance from the subway to Tommaso’s Italian restaurant. A hole-in-the-wall destination in Queens located two short blocks from his apartment. The Tuesday special of shrimp and pasta had his belly calling for Tommaso’s all day, and by 6 PM, he was ravenous. When he walked through the door, the aroma hit him and it was fabulous, garlic, basil, oregano, and tomorrow’s tomato sauce simmering. Tommaso’s had great food and the bonus of having two beautiful daughters serving the fare. He would have been happy with takeout, but he spotted two empty tables of the nine in there and quickly planted himself in one.

The older daughter was there in what seemed like a minute. “The usual Sean, the special, spicy with a tall glass of iced water?” “Yes, please.” She returned immediately with some fresh bread, butter, and oil.  He knew her name was Isabella, and I also knew she had mesmerizing dark hair and eyes, pouty lips, and a flawless complexion. Although he doubted there was an ounce of fat on her, still, she had ample curves in all the right places. Tonight, she was looking especially gorgeous. She was one of those lucky ladies who would look beautiful in a potato sack.  

On another visit, he had overheard her dad bragging about how she was about to finish her master’s in literature at NYU. Sean had a soft spot for intelligent women. Amazingly, her younger sister Maria, also at NYU, was a carbon copy of her. The fact she remembered his order surprised him. The fact she knew his name had him a bit intrigued. However, he had no illusions of hooking up with either of these young, dark-eyed, long-haired beauties. Tommaso, an old-style Italian, expected his dutiful Italian daughters to date and marry Italian men. Sean’s mom was Polish, his dad was Irish, the Irish DNA won out, and with a name like Sean Doyle, with green eyes, he knew he had zero chance. Plus, he felt he would be “boxing well above his weight class”. He thought they were stunning, and he felt ordinary, and tonight he was just plain tired.

Sean was 31, single, and didn’t want to be. A nasty breakup two years earlier had left him a bit gun-shy. He owned a software business that employed nine full-time people and should employ twelve. He also had roughly twenty freelance developers from several countries working for him. Recently, he made some much-needed investments in the firm’s website and marketing, and his revenue had tripled. Yeah, he knew it was an excellent problem to have, but the firm was far too busy. That’s why it was 8:30 PM, and I hadn’t had dinner and was exhausted. With the new hire Robin as his #2, Sean was hoping to get her up to speed so he could have some breathing room in his schedule to focus on expanding the business. He also owned the 8-unit apartment building where he lived. He bought it from his retired parents at a highly discounted price. His apartment is number #2 on the first floor. Thankfully, his super, Mrs. Gresten, and her husband, Ed, managed the building for him.

He had not been waiting long and looked up from his iPad and bread when a well-dressed guy of about forty walked in and sat at an empty table. Their eyes made contact, and the older gent gave him an obligatory nod that Sean returned. He might have passed on the greetings if he knew he was exchanging hellos with Tony, “two dogs” Cipriani of the Cipriani crime family. Sean’s dinner arrived, and he forgot about him. At least I did for about ten minutes until another gent walked in and promptly, without hesitation, shot Tony twice in the head. The little pop, pop told him it was a low-caliber weapon. Sean’s brain screamed mob hit. (He had a passion for old movies.) He averted his eyes as “Mom didn’t raise any idiots”. The shooter kept his head down and briskly headed for the door. At least until he collided with Tommaso’s oldest daughter, carrying a tray full of dishes.  

The dishes went everywhere, and then Isabella did the unthinkable; She looked him right in the eye. It took the shooter a few seconds to process that the server got a good look at him, and then to decide his next move. He raised his weapon to leave no eyewitnesses, but by then, Sean was behind him and hit him square in the head with his iPad with as much force as he could muster. It made a considerable sound when he hit him. It had to hurt as he went down and dropped the gun. Sean snatched the weapon, but the shooter, who had a hard head, recovered, got back up, saw the gun in Sean’s hand, and ran out the door. Not long after, Sean dropped the gun and followed him out that same door. Everyone there thought he was pursuing the hitman. No, Sean was running home for his life.

Chapter 2

Sean quickly covered the two short blocks to his apartment and was inside with the deadbolt and secondary lock locked. A few hours later, he was sitting in the dark in his apartment and had finally stopped shaking. He put the radio on low and tuned to a news station to hear, “A lone gunman shot and killed Tony, two dogs Cipriani of the Cipriani crime family. A brave unidentified Good Samaritan saved Isabella Tommaso’s life by disarming the shooter”. Sean turned off the radio and thought, unidentified, that’s good, and shortly after that, exhausted, He fell deep asleep. Sean would learn later that old man Tommaso was a stand-up guy and no fool. Right after the shooting, he whispered in his daughter’s ear, “Isabella, you never saw that customer before. We owe him that.” She answered, “Yes, Dad, I know.”

Sean’s eyes opened as usual at 6:30 AM. He put on a pair of sneakers and shorts, hit the treadmill in his spare bedroom, and ran at a healthy pace for forty minutes. He put the coffee on, took a shower, and pondered whether to go to work or work from home. Not going to work was out of character, and he wanted nothing to appear out of the ordinary. So, He filled his travel mug with coffee and headed out the door. This would end up being a three-cup two-bagel morning. On the subway ride, Sean’s mind processed his immediate concerns. Was this thing over? Could any customers identify me? Did Tommaso have cameras? And finally, how did Isabella know my name? Then it occurred to him. I paid for my meals at Tommaso’s with my credit card. Sweet Moses, she could give me up. What about her, Isabella? Was she in danger? I thought, Am I crazy to think the shooter would be back to clean up his mess?

Across town, Vincent “Toothpick” Ricci was sitting across from his boss in a dinghy office of a warehouse. Tony Greco said, “You got the job done but left two loose ends. We can’t have this coming back to us. You understand?”, “Vinny answered, “Just bad luck, Tony” Tony said: “There is no bad luck, just terrible planning. Now you need to fix this. Now get out of my sight”. It would shock Vinny to know that the order to kill Tony, “two dogs,” was not about power, position, money, or anything Vinny understood. It was about sleeping with a man’s 19-year-old daughter. Vinny was one of the few people that didn’t know Tony “two dogs” never let his marriage impede “getting some.” Unfortunately, this time he chose the wrong young lady. The daughter of a rival mafia family, Capo.

When Sean got to the office, He focused and finished a few things. He took a break and googled, “when was the last mob hit?” Three years ago, the article read: “The torrent of gunfire that took down Francesco Franky Boy” Cali was the first major mob hit within New York City’s five ruling Mafia families in over three decades.” He thought I was just so lucky and went back to work. 

At 5 PM, despite a steady supply of coffee, the lack of a good night’s sleep the previous night caught up with him. He took a cab home, but only after he stopped by the store and bought a new iPad. He ate what he had in the apartment: tuna on a defrosted bagel. It wasn’t Tommaso’s, but there weren’t any gunmen in the apartment. About the time He was having the last of his early dinner, Isabella, and her sister Maria were heading home after Isabella’s last final. Tommaso had insisted Isabella not go out alone. Luckily, when they got close to the store, a neighbor stopped them to ask how they were after Isabela’s ordeal last night. Otherwise, Isabella wouldn’t have noticed Vinny sitting in a car down the block. She grabbed her sister and said, “We need to go.” 

Sean had showered and was in his favorite chair, reading with some soft music playing, trying to relax. The frantic buzzing of my intercom had him nearly jump out of his skin. He thought, dear God, what now? His video camera showed Isabel and her younger sister. He didn’t say a word, and I just buzzed them in. He opened my door and told them, “This way,” and they stepped in. As soon as Sean closed the door, Isabela said in a low voice, “he was there! Across from the shop. We, I mean I, didn’t know where to go.” He didn’t need to asked who was sitting across the street. He turned to her sister and said, “I’m Sean,” she whispered back, “Maria.”  

Sean had the answer to his question; This would only be over once the witnesses were gone. Sean knew living in fear wasn’t living at all, constantly looking over your shoulders. He grabbed his NY Giants hoodie, phone, and a baseball bat that he kept near his bed. He told the ladies to wait for ten minutes, then go home. When you see him call the police, and identify him. Isabella saw the bat and said, “What are you going to do?” He answered, “fix the problem.” 

It took five minutes to cover the distance to the restaurant. Sean spotted Vinny sitting in his car with his window open, smoking and intently watching the restaurant. He carefully put his hood up, and by the time Vinny saw Sean, it was too late. He used the bat pool cue style and poked him hard in the jaw. Before Vinny could recover, Sean opened the car door, pulled him out, saw the gun fall to floorboard and then landed a couple of hard rights to Vinny’s jaw. While Vinny was lying on the ground, he hit him twice on each knee with the bat with all the strength he had. The sound it made was unlike anything I had ever heard before. Vinny screamed in agony but after the second blow, Vinny went silent. Sean seriously considered moving on to Vinny’s elbows, but his inner voice said, “Enough.” He placed the gun on the car’s seat and left it untouched. He paused for a few seconds, used his phone to take two ‘close-ups’ of Vinny, and then dashed away. Sean quickly took a couple of pictures of a prostrate Vinny with his phone and headed home.  He never looked up or at anybody. Someone called the police, but Sean was already home by the time they got there.

The police arrived and called for an ambulance and recovered the gun. Isabella walked up and identified Vinny as the shooter from the other night. Several hours later, Vinny woke up in the hospital and discovered they had handcuffed him to the bed. A police officer was sitting a few feet away.

Chapter 3

The next day Sean stopped at Best Buy and bought a new iPad then walked to a nearby McDonald’s. As soon as he had connected to their internet, He used his new iPad and a bogus email account to send those photos to the District Attorney, Danny O’Brien, the Post, NY Times, ABC, The Mayor’s office, the Chief of police, and a host of other key NYC people. Sean addressed the email to District Attorney Blumenthal and said: This is the murderer of Anthony Cipriani, delivered to you on a silver platter. Don’t Screw This Up. I signed it CSQ (Citizens for a Safer Queens).

Sean’s money was on the Post, and they came through big time. The Headline in bold letters read “Don’t Screw This Up”. Besides Sean’s photos, the Post got a picture of Vinny handcuffed to a bed in a Queens hospital. The media speculated about the number of members, political affiliation, and subsequent moves of the vigilante group. They brought in and quoted vigilante and organized crime experts. The DA all but guaranteed a conviction. 

Sean spent the next two weeks ‘lying low’ and feeling pleased with himself. The police had not knocked on his door, telling him they had no leads. He did not throw away the bat but, he had thoroughly cleaned it with bleach. He read Vinny had “lawyered up” and wasn’t talking to the police while recovering from a double knee replacement in prison. There was good news, Robin, his new manager, was taking on more responsibility daily and seemed to enjoy the challenge. He left the office at 6:30 tonight, got off the subway, walked past Tommaso’s, smelled the food, sighed, and regretfully kept walking.

Sean wasn’t home for five minutes before my intercom buzzer went off. It was Isabella, with two large paper bags. She said, “Sean, please let me in.” I buzzed her in and held the apartment door for her. She stepped in, put the bags on his kitchen table, and then took off the light raincoat she wore. It occurred to him this was the first time He saw her in a proper dress, and he was speechless. She said: “You are not eating alone tonight, Sean Doyle.” He got a “thank you, that would be nice” out of his mouth, and she set the table while he washed up.

“Sean, I can never thank you enough. You saved my life.” He answered, “I’m just happy I was there to help.” While they ate, Isabella asked him about his work and what he did for fun. She asked if he was seeing anyone. He explained how busy he had been and how happy he was that Robin had taken some of the load off his shoulders. Isabella told Sean her family had agreed never to tell anyone who he was.

The food was always delicious, and he realized Isabela was even more so. Whitty, beautiful, engaging, a thoroughly wonderful young woman. He didn’t fool himself. He was more than interested, and she was very much a ‘catch.’ When the meal was over, He insisted on walking her home. The rain had stopped, and they walked the few short blocks on a beautiful, clear evening. The family lived in an apartment above the store. Isabella told Sean her father, Tommaso, owned the building. Sean looked up and thought, this is a very substantial building. He was about to say goodnight when Isabela kissed him, and it wasn’t just a peck. She said: “Call me, I put my number in your phone.” She then walked into her building. What Sean failed to appreciate is that Isabela had plans for him.

Before the episode at Tommaso’s, Isabella had tried researching Sean through her network of friends and relatives. Her big breakthrough came a few days before when she met Mrs. Gresten Sean’s apartment super. She learned Gresten was a big fan of Sean’s and a “talker”. Sean checked all the boxes, hard-working, successful, a building owner, and a very nice guy. Isabella was on a mission to get to know Sean better.  Mrs. Gresten surprised her with her parting comment “So you are interested Isabella, Sean is a catch, if I were single and 30 years younger”       

Chapter 4

Sean was confident the pictures he had emailed would take the heat off Isabella and him. There is no point in killing witnesses if there is overwhelming evidence. He had yet to appreciate that all that evidence now transferred the heat to Vinny. Vinny’s employers recognized him as the only thing linking them to the murder. He may have been a psychopath, but he knew he could expect a shiv in his back if he went to prison. 

It was the day after Sean’s impromptu dinner ‘date’ with Isabela. When he read it, he was on the subway on his way into the office. Vinny had escaped. Sean was fuming. He had handed them that murderous S.O.B. on a silver platter, and they let him escape.  

When Sean got to the office, he grabbed his iPad, walked to the nearby Starbucks, and shot those same people another email. However, this time, he included the Governor, the Attorney General, and the FBI. “You still managed to screw this up. You allowed a crippled mob psychopathic killer to walk out the door. Do we have to wonder exactly whose payroll you are on?” He then called for an investigation into gross police incompetence. He signed it (Citizens for a Safer Queens).           

Sean felt the Post had bested their previous headline, CSQ: You Still Managed to Screw This Up. The mayor read the headlines and nearly choked on his morning coffee. His chief of staff had to take away the phone forcefully from the Mayor, and demand that he regain his composure before calling the Police Commissioner. It was then that Geroge Westall; the Governor called the mayor. His first words were, “What the fuck are you idiots doing down there?” The call only got worse from there. The NYC morning news TV shows were having a field day. A highly placed Republican said, “We always knew they were soft on crime, but this appears to be something far worse.” Sean loved every word he read.

Isabela phoned Sean about noon. She was understandably upset, and he assured her Vinny was unlikely to return to our neighborhood. Then she said, “I have a favor to ask: My parents are throwing me a graduation party, and I want you to attend.” Then he realized he couldn’t say no to anything she asked. Sean asked where, when, and the dress code. She explained her relatives tended to “dress” for family events. 

On the way home that night, Sean stopped at Tommaso’s for the Wednesday special. He had decided not to let that murderer alter his life. Besides, he believed the family would not give him up to the police. He found a table and sat down and within a few seconds, Maria was there with a smile, a sexy hello, and some fresh bread, butter, and olive oil. Old man Tommaso came out and shook his hand and said, “Sono in debito con te”. Isabella, whom Sean hadn’t noticed behind him, whispered “he says he’s in your debt”. Sean said, “I am happy I was there to help”.

A few days later, Sean arrived at the venue,  the Tribeca Rooftop and   ….