by Nic Saint
“I was wondering when you guys would finally show up. Cops, right?”
”I’m a cop,” said Blane. “This is Mia Rugg. Head of security at Charleneland.”
David Foster withdrew his hands from the sink and wiped them on a towel. Then he plunked down on a three-legged metal stool.
”So you were Steve’s teacher?” I asked.
“That, I was,” he said.
”And you had some sort of fight with Steve?” asked Blane.
“You could call it a fight,” the man admitted. “Though it was more the final nail in my coffin.” He heaved a deep sigh. The sigh of a man who’s already decided to tell all, and is glad to get a chance to do so. “Steve was big on pranks. And the favorite butt of his jokes were his teachers. Me, mostly. A week before Christmas he filmed me in the teachers’ room, kissing another teacher.”
Blane’s eyebrows shot up. “And this teacher wasn’t your wife?”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“He? As in, this teacher was male?”
“Yes, he was. Next thing I know Steve had posted the pictures on the school bulletin board. Nominating us both teachers of the year. So I got suspended, and so was my colleague. My wife kicked me out of the house and I’ve been living with my sister ever since. The school board is still debating whether I’ll be allowed to come back in September but I’m not hopeful.”
“You do realize that you’ve just promoted yourself to suspect number one in Steve’s murder, right?” asked Blane.
”I would never harm the kid,” said David. “It was my own damn fault. I should have kept my private business out of school. That was my mistake.”
“So you didn’t sneak into Charleneland and replace the bullets in Garrett Midway’s revolver?” I asked.
He raised his hands and dropped them in his lap. “I wouldn’t even know where to find the damn things. To be honest, I didn’t know Steve was working at Charleneland this summer. He never told me when he came to visit me.”
“Steve visited you?”
“Yeah. To apologize.” He paused. “And to borrow ten thousand dollars. Said he was in big trouble and could I please bail him out. I kindly showed him the door.”
“Steve was in debt?”
“Yeah, he had a gambling problem, apparently, and had dug himself into a sizable hole.”
“Who did he owe money to? Did he tell you?”
The ex-teacher crooked an eyebrow. “Does the name Alfie Saito mean anything to you?”
Chapter 31
“So who is this guy? Do you know him?”
“He’s pretty much the local Don Corleone,” Blane said, anxiously glancing out the driver’s side window at the pizza place we were staking out.
The pizzeria was called Alfie’s Pizza Place. I’d never been there, but apparently Blane had.
“So what does he do? Apart from loaning money to teenagers?”
“He’s rumored to have a hand in pretty much every shady business in this town.”
“You mean…”
“Drugs, prostitution, gambling. You name it, Alfie Saito has a finger in the pie.”
“I wonder if Steve’s parents knew about this gambling habit of his.”
“Probably not. It isn’t something he would advertise.”
The way I saw it was that Steve had figured he hit the jackpot when he started selling Charleneland tickets, even though in all fairness it can’t have been a goldmine. The number of people willing to buy tickets from some shady website is limited. But to a cocky kid like Steve it must have felt like a fortune. So he decided to roll the dice and add to his pile of gold. Only instead of winning he lost big time, and got in deep with this Alfie Saito character.
“I’ve never heard of a crime boss who has his victims shot when they can’t pay up. Don’t they usually simply rough them up a little instead?”
Blane didn’t respond. And when I followed his gaze, I saw that a limo had rolled up in front of the pizza place and a man was stepping out. “And here’s Alfie,” he said softly, then opened the door. “You coming?”
“Wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” And as we hurried across the street, I asked, “Do they still put horse’s heads in people’s beds? Or was that just Hollywood?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not the head of a crime family.”
“Maybe you should be. I hear there’s a lot of money in crime.”
“Cute, Mia. Very cute.”
We entered Alfie’s Pizza Place and it took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the gloom. They clearly weren’t open for business yet. Then a voice sounded from the rear, acknowledging this fact. “We ain’t open yet!”
”You’re open now,” said Blane, holding up his badge. “Where’s Alfie? We need to talk.”
The lights came on. I saw that the place looked like a regular pizza parlor: round tables with red-and-white checkered tablecloths spread across a room shaped like a railroad car—long and narrow. Wall sconces illuminated pictures of Italian tourist spots and movie stars. There was even a picture of Charlene, next to Sophia Loren, even though Charlene is not exactly of Italian descent.
“Get lost, cop,” said the same voice. When a man stepped in from the kitchen, I saw he was short and fat, with slicked-back raven hair, a prominent nose, and thick lips.
“You get lost!” Blane yelled, quickly crossing the distance between us and the man.
“You cops! You’re all the same! Harassing an innocent man at his place of business!”
The men now stood toe to toe, and tension was crackling in the room.
I fully expected them to come to blows any moment now. Or have an old-fashioned shoot-out. I just hoped Blane had thought to bring his gun!
And I was ready to duck behind a table for cover, when, to my surprise, both men burst into laughter, and threw their arms around each other.
“Blane! Looking good!”
“Looking pretty great yourself, Alfie! Like a well-fed wrecking ball.”
I blinked, feeling a little out of my depth here.
Then Alfie turned to me, his arm still around Blane’s shoulder. “And who’s this? A new partner?”
“This is Mia Rugg.”
“Mia Rugg! You’re Charlene’s kid!”
“Granddaughter,” I corrected him.
“No way that Charlene is a grandmother already,” he said, then grabbed my hand and pumped it eagerly. He gestured to Charlene’s picture. “Do you know that she gave me that picture personally? That’s right. Charlene was my guest here. Said I served the best pizza she’d ever tasted. What a compliment!”
I gave the man a tentative smile. For a mobster he came across as pretty amiable. I just hoped this wasn’t a ruse and the shooting would soon begin.
“So you and Blane…”
“Me and Blane go way back. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
“We shared a school bench together,” said Blane with a grin.
“We were classmates from kindergarten on up to high school!”
“And besties.”
“Until Blane decided to become a cop. We haven’t spoken since,” said Alfie, then roared with laughter, punching Blane on the shoulder. “Just kidding! Blane is in here all the time. Isn’t that right, buddy boy?”
Blane spread his arms. “What can I say? Best pizza in town.”
“So what about…” I hesitated, figuring I better shut up now.
“What about what?” asked Alfie.
“Well… Blane is a cop and you…”
He gave me a curious look. “Spit it out, kid. Blane’s a cop and me?”
“Well, you’re, um…”
He drew himself up to his full height, crowding me. “What are you accusing me of, exactly?”
I held up my hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Nothing. I’m accusing you of nothing.”
Suddenly he clapped me on the shoulder so hard I almost buckled. His face split into a grin. “Just kidding! I’m just kidding!”
I breathed a sigh
of relief, Blane giving me a wink.
“In spite of what you may think, I run a legitimate business here, Miss Rugg. So I organize a little gambling on the side, and I have a stake in the entertainment industry. That doesn’t mean I’m a crook. Isn’t that right, Blane?”
Blane chose not to respond, instead changing the topic. “Look, the reason I’m here is that one of your customers was killed yesterday. Steve Geyser?”
Alfie nodded. “I’ll look into it. Though as far as I’m aware I’m still in the business of catering to customers, not murdering them. You know that, right?”
“I do,” said Blane. “But someone did.”
“I’ll ask around.” Then he gave me a wide grin. “You look hungry, Miss Rugg. Can I offer you an early lunch? Or a late breakfast?”
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“Great!” He hollered, “Mike. Whip up some calzone for Miss Rugg!”
Blane gave me a grin. “I hope you’re hungry. Cause you’re about to taste the best calzone in town.”
Chapter 32
I sat slumped in my seat throughout the entire drive back to Charleneland. We hadn’t learned much, but we’d been stuffed with so much calzone I was bursting at the seams.
”I don’t think I’ll ever eat again,” I announced, a hand on my poor stomach.
Blane laughed. “That’s the trouble with Alfie. You can never leave his place without eating your fill.”
”More than your fill.” I shook my head. “I don’t get it. You’re a cop, Blane. How can you be friends with a mobster?”
He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“I’ll just bet it is.”
“The thing is, as mobsters go, Alfie’s one of the good guys.”
“Is there such a thing as a good mobster?”
“Evidently there is. Look, without Alfie other criminals would jump into the vacuum, and they would be more dangerous and less easy to control.”
“You control Alfie?”
“Let’s just say we have an understanding.”
“He stuffs you with pizza and you turn a blind eye to his illegal activities.”
“Alfie is the lesser of two evils, if that makes sense.”
“Right now nothing makes sense to me, Blane.” We were quiet for a moment, then I asked, “So you’re sure that he didn’t kill Steve?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Alfie would never do that. He’s a little shady, but he’s not a cold-blooded killer. Not unless he’s got his back up against the wall. And I don’t see Steve Geyser being able to accomplish that.”
“So we’re back to square one.”
“Seems that way. Listen, um…”
My eyes were drooping closed. “Mh?”
“I like working with you, Mia.”
“And I like working with, Blane.”
“I mean, not just working together, but… I like you, period.”
I opened my eyes and fixed them on him. I liked his profile. It was a great profile. Then again, he had a great face, period. “I like you too, Blane.”
He cut me a quick look before facing forward again. “The thing is… We’ve never… talked about… us.”
“Uh-huh?”
He looked suddenly nervous, and I was wondering where he was going with this, and when he was going to arrive there. I remained silent.
Then he suddenly blurted out, “Mia, would you like to go out on a date? I mean, a real date—not just driving around and interviewing suspects?”
“But I thought this was our date? Sharing calzone with a representative of Sapsucker’s underworld.”
He glanced over, uncertain. “You really thought that this was a date?”
Now it was my turn to smile. “Just kidding. I would love to go on a date with you.”
His grin was so wide he looked like a kid who’d just been to meet Santa Claus. “You would? That’s great! Um, we could go this weekend, or…”
“Why don’t we resolve this Charleneland business first? I don’t think I’d be able to enjoy dinner too much anyway. Not with my family under siege.”
“No, of course. Sure, whatever you want.”
“Great. Oh, and Blane?”
“Mh?”
“Please don’t go popping up naked all over the place, will you?”
He started. “Why would I pop up naked?”
I told him the sordid tale of Kevin popping up naked in Charlene’s room last night and he laughed heartily.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to follow in Kevin’s footsteps?”
I smiled. “It’s a tempting proposition, but I think I’ll have to decline. One streaker in the family is enough. Besides, once Charlene sinks her teeth in you I won’t stand a chance.”
“Oh, you will. As impressive and charming as your grandmother may be, it’s you I’m interested in, not her.”
“Make sure you don’t tell her that, will you? She’s under the impression she can still get any guy she wants.”
“Oh? I thought she was done with the toy boy thing?”
I was going to say that Blane was past toy boy age but decided not to. Instead, I said, “At least you met my family already, so you won’t be scared off.”
“Why? Did they scare off some previous boyfriend?”
“Let’s just say that us Ruggs—Charlene in particular—are an acquired taste.”
He directed a warm smile at me. “Consider me a connoisseur—and an enthusiast.”
I had the impression he had a great deal more to say on the subject, but my phone beeped and when I took it out I saw Charlene had sent me a message.
‘Where the hell are you?! I’ve been waiting for ten minutes!’
Chapter 33
After Blane dropped me off in the parking lot, I jogged to the entrance, which was a little difficult to accomplish with my stomach full of Alfie’s calzone. Charlene was waiting for me, leaning against the hood of her Toyota Tacoma, and gave me a dirty look.
“What took you so long? I texted you over an hour ago!”
”I left my phone in the car and then forgot to check my messages.”
I didn’t mention that Blane and I had been wined and dined by a well-known mobster. Charlene seemed annoyed enough as it was.
She was dressed in form-fitting pink lycra pants and a tight white tank top and looked spectacular as always. She’d also pressed an indigo cap to her head, hiding her trademark blond curls, and a pair of oversized sunglasses.
Still, it was more or less impossible for Charlene to go through life incognito. She was a legend, more so here in Sapsucker than elsewhere.
”Get in,” she snapped. “We’re going to solve this sabotage business once and for all.”
“Why? You have a lead?” I asked, surprised.
She dropped her voice to a whisper, eyeing the small fleet of black Chevrolet Suburbans belonging to Fabrice Lynsey and his team, as if expecting them to have us both bugged. “We’re going straight to the source, Mia.”
“The source? We’re going to visit Phoenix?”
”Better!” she said, and slid into the driver’s seat.
I got in and immediately yanked down the seatbelt and clicked it into place. Charlene’s driving skills are the stuff of legend—with countless tickets for speeding, driving while on the phone, and running a red light. She firmly believes the traffic code was written for other people—not her. Unfortunately local police officers tend to disagree with that interpretation.
She put the car in Drive, then stomped on the accelerator. It was the way she always drove. She thought a car only had two positions: idle or full speed.
The large Tacoma lurched away, its tires spitting gravel and spraying the inspectors’ vehicles. Then the wheels got some more traction, the car sped forward, and soon we were crossing the empty lot at breakneck speed.
I was already holding on to the side of my seat, hoping I’d survive this trip.
“So where are we going?” I asked, hoping to distract my grandmother a
nd make her ease up on the gas.
“Leo, of course. This all started with me neglecting that man, and that has got to stop.”
Only Charlene could ever assume that the reason a person would kill and try to destroy an amusement park was out of unrequited love for her.
“I’m pretty sure this doesn’t have anything to do with you, Charlene.”
“And I’m pretty sure it does,” she said, her lips pursed.
I frowned when I focused on those lips. ”Did you… get fillers?”
She pursed her lips some more. ”Can you tell?”
”Yeah, I can tell. You look like a blowfish.”
Her eyes crackled with indignation. “That’s the problem with you and your sisters. You don’t appreciate beauty. Except for Maya, maybe.”
I shook my head. Charlene had undergone so many ‘minor’ procedures I sometimes wondered which part of her was still as God had created—if any.
“Look, I’m pretty sure that if Leo’s involved, this is a monetary thing. Phoenix probably promised him a big payday if he sabotaged Charleneland.”
“I’m going to prove you wrong—again. Leo has been in love with me his entire life. At some point he must have realized he was never going to get to first base with me, so he decided to destroy my life’s work. Men are like that. Sneaky. I blame myself, of course. If I had only given him what he wanted, he might have left well enough alone. Then again, why do I have to sleep with every idiot who lusts after my body? There are not enough hours in the day.”
I rolled my eyes. “Leo’s a good guy. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.”
“Of course there is. I just told you. He wants me. I don’t want him. He went berserk. Happens all the time. Not to you, of course, but to women like me.”
“Women like you? What do you mean?”
“Desirable women. Sex bombs.”
“Oh, please, Charlene. Give me a break.”
“I know you don’t like to think of me that way, honey, but all men lust after me. It’s a curse I’ve had to live with all my life. And now it’s going to destroy my family unless I put a stop to it.”
“And how do you propose that?”