Tough Enough (Tough Love Book 3)

by Trixie More

  “For what?”

  “For putting all this in action. You shouldn’t have spent your life as a babysitter and landlord to them.”

  “Doug, you were doing what you always do, taking care of us, the best you know how.”

  “Yeah, but if I hadn’t stepped in, if I’d just let things take their course, you would have left, maybe married, had some kids...” his traitorous throat closed up. In the window, he watched the man in his reflection swipe his forearm across his face.

  “Oh, fuckity-fuck. You have no clue what would have happened. You did way too much thinking in that place.” He didn’t have to ask what place she meant.

  The thought of Alice with children of her own, towheaded little ruffians were all he could imagine her having, brought to mind his strange conversation with Marley. “Hey, do you remember me ever calling you about a pregnant waitress?”

  “Is this the lead up to a joke? Don’t tell me you got a waitress pregnant?”

  He didn’t bother to answer that. “Her name is Marley, she was the waitress I liked at Mastrelo’s. This would have been sometime at the beginning. I was probably high as a kite.”

  Neither one had to ask what the beginning was. It was his rise to wealth and power in a city that overthrew its kings daily.

  Alice clucked. “Dude, I deal with kindergartners disguised as adults. My brain is mush. I can’t remember Lizzy’s current beau’s name, never mind what we talked about back in the day. Why?”

  “She told me when she was pregnant, she waited on me. She said I gave her a check big enough to cover her hospital stay.”

  “Nice. So?”

  “I wondered if you told me to do that.”

  “Doug, when have I ever told you what do with your money?”

  He was silent.

  He could hear Alice’s smile in her voice, even all the way from Naples. “Face it, Doug. You’re a good guy.”

  Lunch was served at a little restaurant in Bayonne. Both men ordered soup.

  “Okay, so here’s all I need you to do. Just make the house we discussed disappear.” Marco smiled at his own sardonic tone.

  “Don’t think a disappearing house has been created yet,” Samuel said between relentless scoops of soup. The man was plowing through his food with determination.

  “Then, the next best thing. Call in a tip on it and make sure that cybercrime knows about it,” Marco replied, putting his spoon down, his chicken noodle soup no longer appealed to him. Samuel kept slopping the meal into his gaping mouth.

  “Okay. Can do.” Samuel said, face as calm as a frozen pond as he lifted the bowl to his lips.

  “Right, and whatever you do, don’t get any fingerprints on the damn freezer.”

  Macro rose and put some cash on the table, enough to pay for the soup and maybe a motorcycle. “Decide how much the tip should be, and you can keep the rest.” Samuel remained seated, demolishing a packet of crackers with one hand, pocketing the money with the other.

  Outside, the day was still bright. Somewhere up ahead, the woman he hooked up with last night was prowling through shops. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t sent her packing, but he would. There was no room in his world for her.

  He thought about Doug Lloyd. If Doug had found Samuel, then he was way too close. Worse yet, he was sleeping with Ms. Moss, who lived with the brother of the man that Jacob had killed, in Marco’s driveway, and that was the key. Jacob had crossed the line and committed murder in Marco’s front yard. Marco had thought that if Lloyd could be tied to the mechanic’s death, he could solve both his problems, but that hadn’t happened. How in the hell had Lloyd’s lawyer figured out that Lloyd was in jail when the guy was killed? The guy had gone missing before Lloyd went inside.

  Fuck. In trying to solve the problems, instead of bagging two birds with one stone, Marco now had multiple leads that could tie him to either crime. Jacob, because Jacob had been the one to move the money off of Colton Gerrimon’s server, about five minutes before Samuel had held the motherfucker’s greedy face under the water. Lloyd because if he didn’t actually kill the mechanic, then he’d been set up. Kretlow because he’d stood right there and watched.

  I gotta get rid of Lloyd, he thought. No, it was just too risky. Lloyd disappearing now would cause people to look into the current accusations, and even if Jacob went down for the murder of the mechanic, it was still too close to the family. The damn mechanic had borrowed from Marco’s father. Worse yet, it might cause people to look into Lloyd’s concerns about the money and that was going to be way worse.

  No, rather than remove Lloyd, he should remove the people between himself and both crimes. That meant that Kretlow needed to be taken care of too. First Jacob, then Kretlow.

  Next question, who could he get to bring the house down around Jacob’s ears? Marco’s brain flashed back to Kretlow. He smiled, struck by a terrifically plausible explanation for all of this fucked-up mess.

  Of course, Tommy had access to the materials to frame Doug. Of course, Tommy would be concerned with the head of the cybercrime unit, given that Tommy had stolen from Doug. Marco laughed. To anyone investigating, the obvious answer was that the two were using each other and wound up killing each other and themselves in the bargain. He had a laptop and freezer, enough to get them both into the same building at the same time. All Marco had to do was move his money out of the way before the fireworks started.

  He turned around and jogged back to catch Samuel before he left.

  Chapter 18

  The tip came through from dispatch at three in the afternoon. Sophia was at her desk, researching precedents for one of Jacob’s cases when she got the call.

  “Sophia?”

  “Hey, Adam,” she said.

  “Gotta person on the line who wants to speak with you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “He’s not giving a name. He says he has information about the Camisa family.”

  Sophia sat forward, her eyes on the phone. “Put him through, make sure you’re getting any information you can about where the call is coming from.”

  “Sure thing,” Adam replied and released the call.

  Sophia clutched the phone and searched the area visually, turning in her chair. Where was Jacob?

  “Is this Prosecutor Moss?”

  “Hi, yes. Who’s this?” She spun her chair. There! Her boss was engrossed in a conversation with one of her peers. She started waving her arm.

  “You don’t know me by name, but you might remember me from the subway.”

  Sophia froze. Question with a question, she reminded herself.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Have you figured out who this is?”

  “Why don’t you tell me.”

  “You were following me.”

  Sophia started waving her arm again, rising from her chair.

  “You said you had information about the Camisa family.”

  “I do,” the man said. His voice was soft and low. “I work for them.”

  “Do you need help?” Jacob was staring at her now; she started to gesture to the phone and to him, twirling her finger near her free ear. He was in motion immediately, pressing past her coworkers and weaving between the desks, moving closer to her.

  “1347 Howard street, Elizabeth,” the man said.

  “What’s there?”

  “The mechanic.”

  The line went dead.

  “What?” Jacob had reached her and was mouthing the words silently, and she already regretted getting his attention. This wasn’t about cybercrime or Doug’s money. This was about George Connelly. She put the phone back in its cradle, shaking her head.

  “I have no clue what that was about.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. The guy told Adam that he had information about the Camisa family.”

  Jacob’s eyes widened. “And? Who was it? Did he give a name?”

  She shook her head. “No. He said I might remember him from the subway, b
ut I’m not sure what he meant by that. He gave me an address in Jersey.” Sophia handed the Post-it she’d scribbled it on to Jacob. “He said there’s a mechanic there.” There was no point in withholding the information. The call was recorded.

  “A mechanic?”

  Sophia stared at her boss. She did not want him to take this lead away from her. There was no way out of this. She had to acknowledge George, or he would become the elephant in the room. “I only know one mechanic and he’s dead.”

  Jacob gazed back at her, unblinking. Then he looked down, shoved his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on his heels. He exhaled and looked her in the eye. “You think this has something to do with your family?”

  “I have no idea. I’d like to go check out that address, though.” What else could she do? If she didn’t admit to that, he’d guess she was withholding and planning to go later.

  “Not a good idea, Sophia. That’s not our job. We’ll get a team to go over and check it out.” Jacob took a quarter turn away and then looked back at her. She tried to appear disappointed. It wasn’t difficult. “Do not go there on your own time,” he said.

  Sophia sat down in her chair. Damn.

  Outside the office windows, the sky was dark. Were they ever going to call Jacob back and tell him what they found in Jersey? She fidgeted. Finally, she broke down, bringing up the instant messenger on her desktop.

  Did they check out that address in NJ?

  On the desk, her cell phone vibrated. Sophia stayed focused on her computer. She watched as the little pencil icon wiggled back and forth. She felt like she should pretend to not be eager, but again, they would expect her to be on pins and needles.

  Don’t stonewall me, Jacob. This is my family.

  There, at least that was authentic.

  I asked the Elizabeth station to go check it out, and they said they would. Go home. If something comes back from them before I turn in, I’ll call you.

  She didn’t even have to fake her disappointment. She sighed and started shutting down for the night. She could watch for an IM from her hotel room on her laptop. She could work all night if she chose. The little power button on her computer blinked from green to red and the screen went dark. From the other side of the floor, she could see the lights were still on in Jacob’s office. Sophia slowly packed up her computer and her notes. There wasn’t much to do at the hotel. Soon, she’d have to decide where she was going to stay, either back at her parent’s or an apartment closer to work. Maybe that’s what she’d work on tonight. Sleeping didn’t seem like an option, with news of George possible.

  Her coffee cup, which was pale pink with a gold rim, sat on her desk next to her cell phone. A text waited.

  I have something to ask you.

  Doug. She felt her heartbeat pick up just looking at his name. Memories of the empty and lonely apartment and the immediate physicality of him flooded her. As soon as she was out of here, she’d reply.

  The evening ahead was slightly less bleak with the prospect of some virtual company while she waited for Jacob, so she headed to the break room to wash her mug out. Once the cup was clean and sitting on the drainer, she shut out the light in the break room and headed back to her desk. Jacob’s office had a large window, but the plastic Venetian blinds were drawn. A low murmur came from the office; Jacob must be on the phone. Sophia slowed her pace just a bit.

  “So that was you? Uh-huh. Well, something will need to happen because she’ll be waiting for an answer. Did you think she was going to run over there herself?” Sophia held her breath. “Yeah, well, that would do it.” Another pause as Jacob listened. “Just call the guy yourself.”

  To her left, the window, with its closed phalanx of plastic, sparkled in the reflected light of the fluorescent overhead lights. On the yellowing blinds, Sophia saw her own shadow. Could Jacob see that someone was outside his office? She picked up her pace heading away from the window and then circling back, the conversation fainter now.

  “...not going...myself...”

  She crept back, staying out of the line of sight.

  “Nobody puts me over a barrel. Just remember that the next time you need something.” Jacob’s voice was harsh and low. Silence. The conversation was over. Heart hammering, she hurried back to her desk, grabbing her laptop and walking swiftly to the coat rack. She was going to grab her coat and run out without putting it on when she heard Jacob’s door open. Damn. She always put her coat on before leaving, so she forced herself to set down her bag and pull it on normally.

  “Sophia. I thought you left,” Jacob called.

  She turned and faced him, putting on a smile she hoped looked normal. “Just finished closing up shop.” She buttoned her coat carefully, wrapping the belt around her and tying it. “I was hoping to hear back from the Elizabeth cops.”

  Jacob was leaning in his doorway, shoulder against the metal frame, looking at her speculatively. “Probably not until tomorrow, unless there was something really hot there.”

  She shrugged. “I know.”

  “He was gone a long time, been dead a long time.”

  “I thought you didn’t agree with the coroner?”

  “What? That Connelly was killed earlier and frozen?” He pushed off from the door, stuck his hands into his pockets. “Not really. He was just a guy who didn’t pay his debt. If the motive for killing him was to set an example for other losers, then waiting is counterproductive. Besides, it looks like Doug Lloyd killed him, why the hell would he freeze him and then let him float after he was out of prison?” Jacob crossed his arms across his chest. Sophia kept her face placid. He was fidgeting, not usual for him.

  She needed to put Jacob at ease so he didn’t guess her suspicions.

  “We’ve been all through this before,” she said with a small grimace. “I’m just, I just want to get closure. For Ben. For Derrick. You know.”

  He nodded, his arms unfolding, hands returning to his pockets.

  He’s more comfortable.

  “It’s late,” she offered. “All of this will be here in the morning, and you’re right. It’s been a long time. One more day won’t change anything.”

  Jacob leaned more fully against the doorframe.

  “That doesn’t look like you’re getting ready to go,” she said, teasing. He was her boss, he was a bachelor with nothing to do, he’d been on the phone with a friend she repeated to herself and for a minute, everything was normal. She sounded normal. “Do you want me to come with you and get a nightcap? Just to get you out of here?” It was something she offered up when work went late and he didn’t stop. He rarely took her up on it but it often got him started packing. He pushed off from the door, turning back to his office.

  “Nah, but I’ll pack up and walk out with you.”

  He held the door open for her, and she exited, holding her head high, like a queen. Her stomach began to settle, and she let herself believe they were back into safe territory.

  “Oy. I think you’ve ‘ad enough, my friend,” the irritating, Aussie said.

  “You think I’ve had enough?” Ben repeated. He might have slurred that last word. Maybe. “I’m just gettin’ started.” He slammed his mug back on the bar. “Jus’ fer that, I’d like a shot of Johnny Walker and another Becks.” The words sounded tough. Too bad, the bartending ex-pat was all the way down at the other end of the bar, with his back to Ben. He banged his mug on the wood, which only succeeded in bringing Rose out of the kitchen. Rose and Angelo were Sophia’s grandparents, no spring chickens, that was for sure. It used to be Sophia behind the bar until she’d fallen so in love with her work that she didn’t have time for her grandparents or Ben.

  “Ben. Why don’t you tell me what the matter is,” Rose said, settling on the stool next to him. “Harris, bring us two coffees,” Rose said. Somehow, the bartender heard her.

  “I don’t want coffee,” Ben said.

  Rose shrugged, her shoulders were rounded, and from his vantage point, a dowager’s hump was starting behind R
ose’s neck. Getting old. They were all getting old.

  “You don’t want my advice either, but yet, you are about to get it,” she smiled at him. “Give thanks for what you are about to receive.”

  The Aussie plunked down the two coffee mugs. He followed it up with milk and sugar.

  “Give me a shot of whiskey to go with this,” Ben muttered. He fixed his coffee anyway. No more booze was coming his way tonight. Even in his very buzzed state of mind, he did understand that.

  “What’s wrong?” Rose asked again.

  He looked at the older woman. He didn’t want to air his dirty laundry to Sophia’s grandmother. “Nothing. Guess I just had a few more than normal.”

  Rose sat beside him for a while, but eventually, she settled for patting him on the shoulder and heading back to the kitchen. Ben finished up his coffee and put a couple twenties on the bar for Harris. He might not like the guy, he might have cut him off, but that didn’t mean Ben wasn’t going to tip him. Ben was blue-collar and blue-collar tipped, God damn it. He fished his denim jacket off the floor where it had fallen and pulled it on. Outside of Mastrelo’s, businesses were closing up. He looked next door, Allison’s Kitchen still had the lights on. He looked through the window, Marley was straightening shelves with her back to him. She had on leggings and running shoes. The tight material clung to her ass and toned legs.

  Thigh gap, he thought. That was one thing Sophia didn’t have. Marley had it in spades. He shouldn’t be thinking about Marley. She had a kid, and probably, some baby daddy out there who she was involved with. Probably. Except she never mentioned him. Not that Ben noticed.

  “Hey.”

  Marley had pushed open the door to the shop while Ben was waffling about on the sidewalk.

  “What you doin’?” she asked.

  “Um.” He couldn’t say checking out her thighs, could he? “Headin’ home.”

  “Yeah? I’ll be right out.” She ducked back into the shop, and the lights started shutting down. A minute later, she was pulling on her coat, grabbing her bag and coming right for him.