“Please mister, buy this painting so we can buy bread,” three dirty triplets begged. The billionaire mafia boss stared at the canvas, his heart stopping. The woman painted on it was the wife he mourned for years. With shaking hands, he pulled out a black card and whispered, “Take me to her.”

that sentence would have earned him a bullet between the eyes. Tonight, it earned him a federal indictment.

I popped the latches on the briefcase, flipping the lid to reveal stacks of non-sequential hundred-dollar bills. “The names of everyone who knew she was alive,” I demanded.

Greed flashed in Moretti’s eyes. He lunged forward to grab the cash. “You continue reading …