Vicious Justice

by Tobi Doyle

  “You need to meet a good man while you’re still pretty,” she said.

  Translation: You’re going to end up alone and covered in cat fur.

  She got off at the next stop, and I thanked her for the advice. She nodded, one eyebrow quirked up, looking like a salt and pepper slug edging toward the fringe of her bangs. I was little worried she was giving me the evil eye, but Mrs. Galvez was too nice for that.

  Cat or Julio? I’d take fur.

  At work, Michelle and I folded towels and listened to the Channel 11 news.

  The anchor read from a teleprompter, his eyes following the lines and very little expression on his face. “A police officer who worked at the local high school was charged with sexual misconduct, harassment, and rape yesterday. The parents of five students met with the acting District Attorney regarding their daughters’ complaints against the officer and brought information that the previous district attorney, Gregory Herndon, refused to prosecute Officer Anderson. Acting DA Oro has promised to reinstate the charges and encourages people to come forward if they feel they were neglected by the previous DA. He has promised to file charges against Herndon for misconduct in this matter. The lead investigator has speculated that Herndon may have intentionally disappeared and not want to be found.”

  The anchor finally looked directly into the camera and began reading the next story, making me wonder if he had reading comprehension issues.

  “Wow.” Michelle patted my shoulder. “I bet you’re glad Herndon’s not coming back.”

  “Definitely.” Knowing the search for Herndon was now aimed at the man himself, not the circumstances on the night he disappeared unkinked a knot between my shoulder blades.

  My fingers itched to text Alyosha, but that would be ridiculous. He wanted me to text only if I needed him. And I didn’t need him. That didn’t stop me from checking my phone between every client. And wishing for… something.

  Something arrived after lunch. A box of chocolate truffles arrived at my work with a simple card. “Adrianna, have dinner with me,” was written in perfect block print with a phone number underneath.

  I tucked the card into my purse and offered Kendra a truffle.

  “Who are they from?” she asked.

  I didn’t know what to say, or even if telling her would somehow bite me in the ass later. “A client.” I smiled and waggled my eyebrows, teasing her.

  “I hope it’s Thor and not Mr. Krautzer.” She studied me, but fortunately her next client stepped into the salon.

  I pulled my phone out, typed in the phone number and three letters–yes. The smile on my face was infectious, and my tips practically doubled.

  At four, Detective Gallo darkened the doorway, but I locked my smile in place. “Ms. DelToro.” He handed me a coffee from the shop on the corner.

  I took the coffee and offered him a truffle. “How can I help you today, Detective Gallo?”

  He twitched his fingers over the three remaining truffles, like he was playing eenie-meenie-miney-mo before selecting one. “I really shouldn’t, but these are amazing.”

  “They really are,” I admitted. I’d eaten three already. I closed the box and set it back at my station.

  “Is there someplace we can talk? A break room?” He looked around the salon and fixed his gaze at the laundry room.

  “Sure.” I waved him that direction and followed.

  He leaned against the dryer, set his own coffee down, and pulled out a notepad. He glanced at me, his eyes kind and patient. “I hoped you could tell me more about Gregory Herndon.”

  I peeled the coffee lid off and blew across the steamy top. My hand trembled slightly and I hoped he hadn’t noticed. “I honestly didn’t know him very well.”

  “I know, but the thing is…” He crossed one leg over the other. “My wife assures me that stylists know everything. So, even if he didn’t tell you, did you ever happen to overhear him on the phone? Did he ever mention friends or acquaintances? I’d really like to pin down where he could be hiding.” He kept his tone casual.

  I sipped my coffee and nodded. I really did hope he was hiding. I honestly didn’t know what happened to Herndon after Alyosha rescued me. And Alyosha had driven me home and then went to the charity event. But he knew what happened. I took another sip and thought about all the times Herndon had propositioned me. “I can tell you about the restaurants he offered to take me.”

  “Let’s start there.” He poised his pen over the notebook.

  I only remembered five of the restaurants Herndon had tried to bribe me with, and excluded Konstantin’s to avoid connecting Alyosha. The memory of Herndon whining about a weekend away flittered across my brain.

  “What was that thought?” Gallo asked.

  “He invited me to a weekend in the Caymans. He said he had a place on the beach.” I replayed the conversation in my head, trying to edit out Herndon’s sliminess. “I think on Grand Cayman island.”

  “You really disliked him,” Gallo murmured. I didn’t like the piteous expression on Gallo’s face.

  “He tipped well, and my boss liked having him as a client. But he was gross. He didn’t take no for an answer. Maybe he thought he was charming or that it was some kind of game to keep asking me out, but it felt…” I studied my coffee cup. “Threatening.” I added sweetener to my coffee and popped the lid back on.

  Conversation over.

  Gallo uncrossed his legs and sipped his own coffee. “He wasn’t well-liked in the office either.”

  “Did he harass the women there, too?” I asked.

  Gallo’s lower lip rolled out. “I’ll check. But I think his wife would have found out if he was doing that at work. Did he mention who he played golf with or anyone when he was here?”

  I considered that for a moment and shook my head. “Nope. In fact, I don’t think he ever checked his phone while he was in here.”

  “Did he have it with him?” Gallo leaned forward.

  “Yeah.” I explained, “I remember when Haley would check him out he’d ignore her and check the messages. I’d noticed that. If he’d paid any attention to any of the other women in the salon it would have been less creepy, you know?”

  “He targeted you.” Gallo nodded and leaned back against the dryer.

  Had he targeted me?

  “Did you ever bump into him outside of the salon?” Gallo asked.

  I chuffed. “No. I doubt he’d end up in my neighborhood and I certainly wouldn’t be in his.”

  “Do you think you would have noticed him at the grocery store?” Gallo’s question struck me as odd.

  Alyosha had followed me into the corner store and I hadn’t noticed him until he towered over me. “Probably not. Why?”

  “I’m wondering if he felt something special towards you.” His gaze flicked over my body, assessing but not creepy. Well, not overly creepy. “Just you.”

  I shuddered. “I really hope not, and I never encouraged him.”

  Gallo sipped his coffee. “I believe you. But I have to say, I’m confused as to why the man came in just to get his hair shampooed and leave, when you said he didn’t check his phone.”

  Fuck. Me. I blinked, probably a thousand times. I was a horrible liar. I knew this, and now, Gallo did, too.

  “You want to tell me what really happened that night?” Gallo’s voice was patient but the hard edge pushed against my chest making my next breath difficult.

  “He touched me,” I whispered.

  Gallo’s eyes widened a fraction but he remained silent.

  “I told him to get out and Kendra came in and he left,” I rushed the words out. They were true. Very true. I didn’t mention brandishing scissors because it didn’t matter. That’s not what made him disappear.

  “Did he hit you?” Gallo’s serious tone made me want to trust him, but I’d been through this kind of interview many times before.

  “No. He grabbed my waist while I washed his hair. I stepped back from his reach but he wouldn’t let go and he just got…”
I shook my head trying to erase the image of his face. “He asked me out again and wouldn’t let go.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I jumped back and told him to leave. To get out. If Kendra hadn’t have come in–”

  “He’d have hurt you.” Gallo pushed off the dryer. “It’s not your fault.” He put the notebook away and picked up his coffee cup and studied the lid. “I read your father’s file. I understand why you didn’t say anything at our first interview. I’m going to change our first interview to reflect that Herndon overstepped and you asked him to leave right before Kendra arrived. It’s the truth and it explains why he left before you cut his hair.” He studied my face. “Is that all right with you?”

  I nodded and released a breath I’d been holding. With it went the image of Herndon grazing my breast, the sound of his whiny voice, the feel of his fingers on my skin.

  Gallo pulled a card out of his pocket. “Call me if you remember any names or places he mentioned. We’ll check out the Cayman’s and I’ll interview the ladies who worked in his office.”

  I took the card. “If I remember anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Good. I appreciate your time, Ms. DelToro.” He nodded once and walked out.

  Haley popped up from behind the desk. “Adri, your next appointment his here.”

  Could it really be that simple? Was it really over?

  Chapter Nine

  Tuesday morning my phone chirped at the ungodly hour of six. Only Dima had balls enough to text me this early knowing I’d gone to bed only four hours ago. I needed to hire another restaurant manager, I was getting too fucking old to fill in and work eighteen hour days. I rolled over in bed and swiped the screen, revealing a text message from Dima.

  I’m coming up.

  I scrubbed the sleep out of my eyes and pulled on sweatpants, a t-shirt, and brushed my teeth. Insistent knocking at the front door interrupted me. I swung open the door. “What?” I muttered around a mouthful of toothpaste.

  Dima thrust his phone in my face.

  I blocked, turned, and sauntered back to my bathroom. He could wait. I rinsed and wandered out to the kitchen.

  Vanya stood in front of my refrigerator, in his running shoes, basketball shorts, and faded Stanford t-shirt, drinking directly from a gallon jug of orange juice.

  “Asshole, use a glass.” I pointed to the cabinet beside him.

  He flipped me off, the movement casual and expected.

  Dima pushed his phone at me again. Adrianna’s face was centered on the screen. “I got orders from my uncle last night to find this girl.”

  Heat churned in my belly. What the fuck did his uncle want with Adrianna?

  Dima swiped his thumb across the phone. “And look, there she is with you. What the fuck? I thought you weren’t going to see this girl again.”

  “That was from the lunch we had.” I pushed his phone away. I needed caffeine before I explained. I opened the cabinet that hid the espresso machine and slid it onto the counter because the damn condo hid everything behind doors. The realtor called the cabinet an appliance garage, like it was a feature rather than a pain in the ass. “And I may have a solution”

  “Make a cup for me.” Vanya put the now half-empty jug back in the fridge.

  “You want one?” I asked Dima.

  “Yeah. Explain your solution.” Dima leaned against the counter. He crossed his arms stretching the t-shirt across his bunched shoulders.

  “I’ll ask her to marry me.” My statement lacked the logical impact I’d felt last week after my conversation with Finowitz. I pulled three demitasse cups from the cabinet.

  “What the fuck?” Dima’s eyes widened, the whites bloodshot, and weary. “Why?”

  Dima’s displeasure chafed, and my body retaliated. I stood taller. My shoulders rolled back. “Spousal immunity.” Irritation added grit to my tone. “My wife doesn’t have to testify.”

  “Can she bring Misha over?” Vanya asked, already playing the mediator.

  “Yes.” Vanya’s question reminded me of Finowitz’s argument. “Marriage equals spousal immunity, citizenship, and a VISA for Misha.”

  Dima stroked his scar. His tell when he was deep in thought, strategizing, and considering all possible outcomes. It was what made him an excellent leader. “Misha could manage my club. Spousal immunity, how does that work?”

  Dima’s question, posed conversationally, didn’t lighten the warning in his eyes.

  She’s mine to protect, I glared back. “Any conversations, anything she saw me do, she doesn’t have to tell the police. Even if the police ask Adrianna about the attack, all she can say is I rescued her and then she passed out. But she’ll never mention Herndon’s presence in the alley, and she doesn’t know what happened to him. After we’re married anything she hears or finds out is protected. Like a priest.” I measured the espresso, added water, and turned on the machine.

  “You would marry this girl?” Dima mocked me with doubt, but his eyes flashed pure curiosity, liked he’d opened an oyster and found a ruby.

  “Adrianna. Use her fucking name.” The espresso machine growled, as if it also disagreed with Dima’s disrespect.

  Dima tilted his head, one eyebrow cocked waiting to shoot me down. “You like her.”

  “Yes.” Fuck yes, I liked her.

  “Has she told anyone about the attack?” Dima asked.

  “Adrianna told her sister she was mugged. She’s hidden the bruises under makeup and clothes.” She was tough, a survivor, I said with my eyes.

  “We could set her up somewhere. You don’t need to marry her.” Dima’s shoulders relaxed. “She could move to Arizona with a new identity.”

  “No. I’ll handle this. Was that the only reason you came over?” I poured the espresso into the cups.

  “Dima wants to box.” Vanya grabbed his cup from the counter.

  Dima’s muscles tensed under his t-shirt, and dark shadows under tired eyes indicated sleepless nights since Herndon’s death. Dima never admitted regret, but Vanya and I’d known him before the Beslan Massacre, before the weight of following orders crushed him, before we watched women and children burn at our hands. Now, he fought to release emotions. Sentimentality equaled weakness, and the weak were worthless. Boxing, a sport we all enjoyed, kept us strong and fast. Still, being his human punching bag could be unpleasant.

  “When was the last time you slept?” I handed Dima his espresso.

  He closed his eyes, inhaled, and rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder. “I don’t know,” came his quiet admission. He swallowed the espresso.

  “You want me to watch the club tonight?” Vanya tilted his cup back, finishing it.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Dima put his empty cup in the sink.

  “Tania’s father called me. A prosecutor called her, they’re proceeding with her rape case,” Vanya said.

  Dima exhaled, a smile relaxed the pinched look in his face.

  “That’s great.” Tania was the reason I’d been in the alley to talk to Herndon that night.

  “The prosecutor said the acting District Attorney has the office working overtime filing cases Herndon ignored.” Vanya grabbed water bottles from the refrigerator. “The police think Herndon is hiding.”

  “This should be interesting.” Dima face shuttered.

  Dima’s tone flickered unease in my gut. The consequences of Herndon’s disappearance and police investigation weighed on him. His loyalty to us and to his family would fracture him rather than end in betrayal. I hated his family for that, requiring blind obedience when his very nature craved control and strategy. He never wanted to be part of the family business, but he’d asked for a favor long ago, and payment required him to accept the role of enforcer. It didn’t fit the man he wanted to be.

  I grabbed my phone, keys, and gym bag from the closet, and followed them to the elevator, mentally prepared to bleed.

  Vanya pressed the elevator button.

  “You could get the marriage license today a
nd marry on Monday,” Dima said like it was a simple plan to complete.

  “What’s the hurry? Why does your uncle want her?” I asked.

  “He won’t tell me.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like it.” The elevator doors opened and Dima stepped inside. “Promise her money, but get it done.”

  “That’s why you are single, Dima.” Vanya pressed sixth floor button, for the building gym. “Women don’t like to be called whores.”

  “That’s never been my experience.” Dima’s tone practically swaggered in the air.

  “You only date your strippers.” I reminded him.

  “Fuck you. They’re dancers and they don’t complicate things. This girl wants something. Find out what it is and give it to her. Or would you rather I introduce her to my uncle Lev?” Dima raised both eyebrows, pinning me with his dark stare, his lips barely parted, but the threat was heavy and pressed on me.

  My hands grew slick, and I switched the gym bag to my other hand. “No. Just let me handle this.”

  “What are you going to do if she talks to the police before you get married?” Dima asked, probably playing nice before he attacked me with some rational possibility I hadn’t considered.

  “Finowitz can be present.” The elevator doors opened and I crossed the hall, opening the door to the gym.

  “If she doesn’t want to marry you, why would she want your lawyer?” Dima’s voice was ice, the chill tightening my shoulders. Dima noticed everything, strategizing his best attack. He never relaxed, never retreated, never relented. “My offer to help her disappear to Arizona stands.” He crossed the weight room to the large open area covered with black mats.

  “Dima, I need some time.” I hated to ask, not knowing how much pressure his family put on him to make Adrianna disappear.

  He nodded once. “You trust me on this?” Dima questioned me in a careless tone, but his shoulders squared, as if expecting a crushing blow.

  “Always, brother.” I reached for him.

  He faced me then, his eyes warm, and he clapped my shoulder. “Good.”