The laptop at his side, in front of where a car stereo would normally be, beeped loudly a couple of times in response. "Nothing like a homicide to spoil my day," he said. But it wasn't a homicide. Tony read the message that came in from the dispatch on the monitor:

"37 - There's a Code 23 at Harbrook and Juniper." Thirty-seven was Tony Mallone's police cruiser designation, and a "Code 23" was cop-talk for "suicide attempt".

Tony periodically looked up from the screen, out over the top of the steering wheel, to make sure he didn't hit any cars in front of him. He continued reading:

"Suspect - Daniele Mastrioanni."

"Dammit! Why does that idiot keep getting into trouble?"

The transmission coming up on the monitor blinked its standard request, "Unit Respond," and with his free right hand, Lieutenant Mallone typed in the confirmation of the order, sped out of the noise-free community he'd been travelling through, and hit the switch atop the dashboard to start the siren.

The Illinois State Lottery ticket would have to sit comfortably in his breast pocket for a while, until he got back to the precinct.

Eight minutes later, Tony navigated his way through two fire trucks, an ambulance, and a group of rescue workers who craned their heads to the sky. He jumped out of his police cruiser, and because he was in civilian clothing, he had to flash his badge at a rookie cop, who tried to restrict his entry into the condominium. Captain Salazar met him when he entered the lobby. "There's two vice cops already on the roof, but they're not having much luck."

"Who?"

"Riggs and Monaghan."

"Crap. Why'd it have to be them." He continued down the lobby again, past the fake indoor plants.

"Oh, and Mallone?"

"Yeah, Cap?"

"The elevator's out."

"You've gotta be kidding."

"Hey, cutie, how're ya doin'?" asked the thirtyish brunette, when Tony reached the eighth floor in the stairwell.

"Outta breath."

The woman's eyes lit up, primed for making her next move. "I'll take that as a compliment!"

The prostitute showed him a little leg, the lieutenant showed her his badge, she recoiled, and he kept climbing.

Tony tried to burst through the door to the roof, but unlike most other doors, this one was much heavier. "Damn! Stupid door!" His shoulder echoed those sentiments.

There, at the edge of the roof, stood Tony's nephew, Danny Mastrioanni. The two vice cops flanked him on either side, a number of steps away. "Daniele!" shouted Mallone.

The young man turned around. "Holy jeez, Tony...you almost made me fall!"

"Isn't that the point?" Tony walked past the other two cops, and told them to back off a little. He strode right up to Danny.

"What are you, stupid?"

"What're you talking about?"

"Every time a guy's gotta commit suicide, the first thing he does is find the nearest building? Didn't your old man ever teach you anything?"

"They're trying to kill me, man!" said Danny.

"Who's trying to kill you?"

Danny looked at the vice cops, then at Tony, and motioned for him to come closer. "You know who," he half-admitted in his uncle's ear.

"Look, Danny...they're not gonna touch you. Your father, he protects people, right?"

"Yeah, but I fucked their boss' daughter! They said --"

"No, no, I don't care what they said," interrupted Tony. "They ain't gonna touch you. It'd start another war, and we don't need none of that crap. Now get off the ledge."

"But you don't know --"

"And I don't wanna know. Quit screwin' around, and get offa there. You're not gonna jump, anyway."

"But --"

"Don't worry, your pop'll take care of everything."

Reluctantly, Danny jumped down from the ledge. When he landed safely on the roof, Tony slapped the right side of his nephew's face. "You fuckin' idiot!" the lieutenant shouted. "Why can't you ever mind your own fuckin' business, and stay the hell outta trouble?" He pushed him to the ground, and continued his verbal assault.

"The things I could tell your mother! How do you think she'd react if she heard you were trying to kill yourself?"

"She'd probably be crying..."

"No, you cornuto, she'd be kickin' the shit outta ya! I ran up fifteen friggin' flights of stairs, just to hear you cry about boffin' some chick."

Riggs and her partner Monaghan chose this moment to move in and restrain Daniele Mastrioanni. The Irish vice cop spoke into his shoulder CB, "We've got the lad, Captain."

"Bring him downstairs."

"Okay, Danny, you heard the Captain," said Mallone. "Lemme show you a fun way to get down fifteen floors..."

"That's enough, Lieutenant," said Angela Riggs. Her short-cropped blonde hair caught Mallone's gaze.

"Whatever you say, honey. Hey, we still on for tonight?"

"In your dreams, Mallone." She grabbed Danny by the handcuffs, and moved him down the stairwell. Monaghan followed her, and a few steps behind, Tony pulled the door closed, still feeling the effect it had on his shoulder.

"Aw, come on, Angel, at least get my name right. It's 'Ma-loh-neh', not 'Ma-loan'. Whaddaya say? I'll swing by your office at six, when my shift's through."

"Pssh."

"Hey, Tony, how ya doin'?" asked Bruno, the sergeant at the front desk.

"How ya doin', Bruno," Tony acknowledged. "Hey, you pick up the paper this morning?"

"Yeah, yeah. Maria's got it."

"Thanks, man."

He headed toward the rows of desks, some of them occupied by on-duty police officers. An annoyed Italian youth was being escorted by one of the sergeants to a holding cell, but not before he had a few words with Tony.

"Mallone, that fuckin' nephew of yours is gonna pay for what he did to my sister!"

Tony looked at him noncommittally. "Yeah, whatever. Watch what you say about my nephew, stucazz'."

The lieutenant turned to Maria. "Please excuse me for not greeting you; I was trying to teach this punk some manners." The youth became even more aggravated, and the sergeant led him away.

"'Tonio...you're looking good today."

"Thanks, Maria, but I'd be even better if you gave me that paper you're looking at."

She handed him the newspaper, and stared at him, entranced, while he produced the lottery ticket from his pocket, checking the numbers.

"Son of a... I won twenty bucks!" he shouted. He picked Maria up from her chair, and kissed her out of excitement. Maria took it to mean more than it should have, and stood there, dreaming about how they would get married (something she thought about quite often), have a girl, and send for her mother, and brothers, and sister to come up from Cuba to live with them.

"Hey guys, I just won twenty bucks!" said Tony to the other officers present, as he walked away from Maria, who was still daydreaming.

"Good, go get us some donuts, then," said one of the wittier cops. His colleagues laughed along with him.

Another one said, "So what, you think that makes up for all the other times you didn't win?"

"Aw, you know what, guys? Here, I was gonna go down to the shop, pick up a couple dozen donuts, but Louie there had to go and say something like that. Oh well."

"Sure, Tony, sure," said Louie. "You're just such a nice guy."

"Both you and I know it, Lou."

He walked into Angela's office, and stood with his hands against the front of her desk. "Hey, Angel! I won a cool twenty!"

"Must be your lucky day, then."

"Oh yeah?" He leaned down to meet her at face level, with welcoming eyes.

"Yeah," answered Monaghan, her partner, who just entered the office, closing the door behind him. "You're real lucky." Tony straightened up, and turned around, tossing the Irishman an irritating glance.

"Why don't you have a seat, Lieutenant Mallone?" offered Riggs. "There's something we need to clear up."

When they weren't helping out the Special Investigations Unit to catalogue corpses, Riggs and Monaghan served in the station's Internal Affairs division, checking up on whatever questionable actions their fellow officers might have engaged in. This latest lockdown excited the now seated Mallone about as much as all the other interrogations he had to sit through.

The clock in the office chimed six times. "What do you want, Monaghan? No, lemme guess: you're gonna steal my lotto ticket, so you can grease the bouncer at the nudie bar later, huh?"

"Quit being a smart-ass, Mallone," stated Monaghan.

"It's about your family." The blonde woman on the other side of the desk got up, and walked around to sit in front of Tony.

"She's got great legs," thought Tony, as he looked her up.

"What about 'em?" he said aloud. "I've got a sister, a brother, and a shitload of nieces and nephews."

"We overheard some of the conversation with your nephew, up on the roof," said Angela. "Something about his father protecting him."

"Well, you know dads. They always gotta look out for their kids."

"Listen, Mallone, we know you've got ties with the mafia, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're in the thick of it," accused Monaghan.

"Mafia?" asked the lieutenant, innocently. "What's that?"

Five hours later, Tony was released from the barrage of questions, which led the vice cops no closer to where they wanted to be than when they started out.

Maria waited for him, at her desk, looking distressed.

"What's wrong, kid?" he asked.

"Oh, 'Tonio, it's your nephew, Danny... He was shot over an hour ago, outside his house."

Tony looked down to the floor for a second or two, cursed something in Italian which Maria couldn't quite hear, and began to walk away.

"I'm sorry, 'Tonio."

"You don't have to be sorry for me, Maria. I never liked the bastard anyway."

He walked outside the precinct to the parking lot where his car sat, and drove off to the nearest convenience store.

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