“That’s the cab company’s mascot. Henrietta,” I lied, but it sounded good.
If I couldn’t find a job, I guessed I could open a taxi business. After all there wasn’t one in Walnut Grove. Kitty Kab, Cat Cab, all sorts of names formed in my head.
“Keep it away from me.” He curled his thick nose, making his cheeks fatter than they already were. “I can’t stand cats. Don’t trust them.”
“Feeling is mutual,” I muttered.
Trigger was unusually silent for most of the trip. He clicked away on his phone like he was texting someone. A few times Henrietta popped her head up and looked directly back at him as if she was keeping her eye on him too.
Trigger let out a few groans and snarls during his ride, but he never said a word until he got out at the Airport Hotel and gave me instructions to pick him up at nine a.m. the next morning.
I agreed only because that was part of my job as a newly employed undercover agent for the FBI.
As soon as Trigger had gotten out of the car, Henrietta got up and jumped down onto the passenger seat with her paws on the door. She loved putting her nose out the window, so I reached over and rolled down the window before we headed back to Walnut Grove to Gia’s house.
I was starving. And I couldn’t wait to tell her about my new job.
“It’s about time you got here.” Gia stood in the doorway on her small stoop with her hands on her hips. “I’ve been calling your phone and it’s dead.”
“Literally,” I grumbled under my breath and clipped on Henrietta’s leash.
“Do you think I come from a line of crazies?” I asked when Henrietta and I walked up to her house.
“What do you mean?” she asked and picked up Henrietta.
Immediately Henrietta purred because she knew Gia was going to give her a good ear itching.
I followed them into the small ranch her father had given her when she got married to Carmine. He even had a fancy interior decorator come down from Louisville to help her make it exactly like Gia wanted.
She was modern to the core. All leather furniture, even leather kitchen chairs, stainless steel appliances and countertops, fancy Italian stoves (two) and bamboo flooring. Her walls were all sorts of color blocked brights from yellows to black. Gia, hands down, had the best decorated house in Walnut Grove.
We plopped down on her couch in the combo kitchen and family room. I pulled the orange bolster pillow into my lap and hugged it. Henrietta darted off to find the cat scratch stand Gia kept there just for her.
“You know where you come from.” I bit my lip. “I don’t. What if my parents were some sort of loons and I become some sort of loon?”
It was a valid question.
“What are you talking about?” The lines between Gia’s brows creased.
“I have this stomach thing. I wonder if I have an ulcer or something worse.” I pushed on my gut.
“Have you asked Trixie? I bet she knows something.” Gia shrugged. She sat down and reached over and put her hand on my leg.
“No. She always acts so offended when I ask her. Like she didn’t take good care of me, when she did.” I inhaled deeply before I let out a big worry sigh. “And she says I’m a hypochondriac with nothing to worry about.”
“Why are you worried? Is it the stress of losing your job?”
“No. Well, maybe since I am working undercover for the FBI.” I tried to contain my smile.
It was so cool to even think I was undercover.
“Okay. You might be a little stressed.” Gia didn’t seem as excited as me. She stood up and reached for the cordless phone on the coffee table. “I’m going to call my mom and see if she can get you into her psychiatrist like tomorrow.”
I jumped up and grabbed the phone out of her hands.
“You can’t do that! You can’t tell anyone. You are sworn to secrecy.” I held onto the phone for dear life.
“We aren’t in sixth grade, Laurel. You seriously need some help.” Gia took a deep breath. “Okay.” She sat back down and patted the couch for me to sit. “Why do you think you are working for the FBI?”
“Jax Jackson. He really isn’t here on business with the Underworld Music Festival. In fact, he didn’t even know about the festival until I spilled my guts to him the day I first drove him to the Windmill. He is here because they are keeping tabs on Trigger Finger Tony Cardozza.”
“What is the mob doing in Walnut Grove?” Gia asked.
“I don’t know. The FBI doesn’t seem to know.” My brows rose. “They just know that wherever he goes, trouble follows and he’s good at covering his tracks. But he gets dropped off at the docks and picked up by me every single day. Which makes me think that if someone is going to Porty Morty’s about the Underworld Music Festival, maybe Trigger has something to do with it.”
“What did Jax think about that?” Gia was getting all into it. I could see her wheels turning up in her head.
“We haven’t discussed it. He is all secretive and stuff.” I leaned back on the couch. “We are meeting up tomorrow to discuss what all the FBI wants me to do.”
“Oh God, Laurel.” Deep worry settled in Gia’s big brown eyes. “You can’t go putting yourself in danger.”
“He promised I wouldn’t be in any danger.”
Gia snapped her fingers. “Carmine said chopstick girl was there again today. When I told him to investigate the music festival, he said that there wasn’t anything on the account. I mean nothing on any accounts.” Her brows rose in curiosity. “Do you think chopstick girl could be part of all of this Trigger stuff?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a good question to look into.” I made a mental note to tell Jax.
“Carmine said that he thinks Morty is having money problems.”
“Money problems?” That didn’t make sense. Morty had had a ton of events on the books before I had left. “That’s too bad.”
“So back to Jax and this crazy FBI idea,” Gia coaxed me along.
I went ahead and told her everything from the cash, Trigger Finger Tony and the real finger I had tripped over in the tall grass on River Road.
Her face contorted all around along with a big long, “Ewww.”
“I know,” I agreed.
“Let’s see if any of this is on Google.” Gia went to the stove where she took the casserole out of the oven. “Chicken and rice. You’ll love it. While it cools, we can search the Internet.”
She turned the oven off and opened the laptop that was sitting on her kitchen table. She pushed it toward me.
“Go on. Search.”
“Anthony Cardozza.” I typed in his name and hit send.
“Jesus, Laurel. There are thirty pages of Google on him.” She reached around and used her long fingernail to move the mouse to the images button.
It didn’t take any time for a page full of Trigger Finger Tony to pop up, staring right back at us. The crooked grin in most of them. There were some pictures of him in floor length fur coats, stacks of jewelry, and women dripping off him.
“That’s him,” I confirmed. “The ring.” I pointed to all the pictures. “Every single person surrounding him has the same ring. Just like Jax said.”
“Who is she?” Gia pointed to the scantly-clad woman who dripped off Trigger like his gold necklaces.
“I don’t know. He just pays me to drive him back and forth from the docks to the Airport Hotel. We don’t talk personal life stuff. Really we didn’t talk at all tonight. He just told me to pick him up at nine a.m. tomorrow.”
I went back to the Google search screen and typed in Jax Jackson.
“There’s nothing here.” My eyes scanned down the screen. I put my finger at the top one and went down. “Surely I missed something.”
“Hmm. Click the images.” Gia pointed to the image search.
I clicked.
A ton of pictures turned up but none of them stood out as him.
“He doesn’t look like any of these people. Do you think he’s lying to you?�
�� Gia asked a good question, putting a little doubt in my head. “You know I have a really good bullshit meter. And I have to say it dinged a little when I was around him at the bowling alley.”
“Well, he has been really secretive. He knew who Trigger was. He also didn’t want me to call Derek when I tripped on the finger.” I stared at a picture of a funeral on the screen.
All the men, dressed in black, were carrying a casket down the steps of what looked like an old church. I leaned down and looked closer.
“I need to make this one bigger,” I said.
“Click on it,” Gia said acting like I didn’t know my way around a laptop.
“Duh. I’ve been hacking computers a long time now. I know what I’m doing. Remember?” I reminded Gia of how we first met the day at the library. She was trying to check out a book but the librarian said she had to bring the others back first. Gia was so sad and cried. I followed her out of the library and told her that I could break into the library computer and wipe her library card clean. Of course she agreed. End of story.
“Shoot me.” She put her hands in the air. “You said you were going on the straight and narrow. And this.” She made a circular motion with her finger at the computer. “This is definitely not the straight and narrow.”
I clicked on the picture again which took me to the website where the picture was originally posted. It was the obituaries in The New York Times.
The accompanying article read:
Federal Bureau of Investigation officer Lance McAllister was gunned down during a raid with known mobster Anthony “Trigger Finger Tony” Cardozza. In attendance at his funeral were other FBI agents, including McAllister’s long-time partner Jax Jackson.
“Here!” I tapped my nail on the screen. “It says here that he’s an FBI agent and that his partner was killed in the line of duty. The FBI believed that Trigger Finger Tony Cardozza’s cartel was behind the hit.” I held my hand up in the air with my pointer finger tucked under. “Oh God, Gia. He is undercover. I’m freaking working for the FBI and the mob!”
Gia squealed so loud, Henrietta darted through the kitchen and down the hall.
“This is so awesome! I’m so jealous!” She jumped up and down. “This means you need a gun.”
“Gun?” That was something I so did not need.
“You have to protect yourself. Even if you don’t load it, you got to have it to wave around if something goes wrong.” She cocked her brows and twerked her head back and forth.
She was right. I would be a real badass if I carried a gun. Not that it would be loaded or anything, but if Trigger tried to pull something funny, I might be able to scare him with it.
Gia leaned back over the laptop and looked at the article.
“I hope he has your back.” Concern dripped out of her mouth.
“He said he was going to protect me.”
“Just like he had his dead partner’s back? About that gun.” Gia had me there. She knew exactly the right buttons to push. “Since you have a little bit of cash to spend,” she eyed me suspiciously, “we can look on Craigslist.”
“Fine.” The idea didn’t set well with me, but I knew it was something I had to do. I was in no situation to be without protection.
I typed in “hand guns” on Craigslist and a slew of them popped up.
“That’s cute.” Gia’s eyes twinkled. “Oh God! Laurel, you are so lucky!”
I sent the seller a quick email and made sure I told them I could only respond to emails.
“Remind me again how I’m lucky?” I couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say. Just a few short minutes ago I was ready to check myself into a behavioral health facility.
“You get to go undercover with a cool gun and hot guy while I get to stay around The Cracked Egg and watch Louie Pelfrey gorge himself.” She smiled.
We busted out into laughter. That was one of the special things we did and I loved it. Gia was more of a sister than a friend. I wondered if I had a real sister. Hell, I’d even take a stinky brother for that matter.
“What?” She stopped laughing and looked at me.
“What?” I asked.
“All of the sudden you got a serious look.”
“Oh,” I blew her off. I didn’t want to get into the whole pity-poor-orphan-Annie act. I had accepted my fate a long time ago. I could do the research without telling anyone, that way, if I came up on the wrong trail, I didn’t have to bother explaining it all. “I wonder what Trigger is doing down at the docks. And if Morty has anything to do with it.”
“I don’t know, but I’m telling Carmine to be careful.” Gia drummed her fingers together.
“No. You can’t tell Carmine anything. I told you it was top secret.” I pretended to lock my lips like kids did when they were sworn to secrecy. “You agreed.”
“Okay. But promise me you won’t let yourself get into trouble.”
“Promise. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
In reality I wasn’t a bit hungry. In fact, since these whole crazy new twists of events after Morty fired me, I hadn’t had an appetite.
Chapter Eleven
After dinner I checked my email from Gia’s computer. The Craigslist gun owner emailed back and told me to meet near the docks at nine thirty p.m. It was just enough time to go check on Trixie and try to get a few questions answered about my past.
The stress of the situation I had gotten myself into had made me feel crazy and sick to my stomach which made me believe it was in my genes. Trixie had to know something. She knew something about every other kid in the orphanage. Maybe not who their parents were, but she knew where some of them were born and other little things. With my skills, I’d be able to take a small lead and find something, anything.
Trixie’s house wasn’t too far from the docks.
She had always wanted a little vegetable garden and chicken coup for fresh eggs, so she bought the little two-bedroom cottage on River Road with enough land to have everything she wanted.
It was a nice out which meant she was doing one of two things. Either sitting on the porch with her nightly cocktail or weeding out her garden.
Luckily for me, it was the first.
“What is your pleasure or pain?” She held up the clear glass with nothing but ice in it. She wiggled the cup causing the ice to jingle against the sides.
“What do you have? Or did you have?” I snickered. Trixie was known to tip back a time or two. Henrietta used the full extension on her leash to smell around and roll around in something I was sure was some sort of chicken poop.
“Vodka on the rocks. Good for the spirit.” She winked. She got out of the rocker and made it over to the door. Her hair was still covered by her foil hat. She had on a denim mini-skirt and a jersey-styled top with the number twenty-nine printed on the front. The ice stopped clinking together but the bracelets that lined her wrist jingled.
“If you are sure you aren’t expecting company.” Trixie was far too dressed up to just be home alone. Most nights she laid around in her leopard print bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. “I’ll take what you have.”
“You never know who might pop over.” She flung the screen door open and disappeared.
The door slammed shut. Sounded just like a gunshot, nearly knocking me out of the chair. I was still so jumpy from all the turn of events from the last two days, I had no idea how I was keeping it together.
A few minutes later she was kicking the door open with her foot and handing me the ever-so-needed drink. Maybe this was all I needed for the stress.
“Cheers!” We clinked glasses.
My skin nearly melted off my body because she’d made the drink so strong.
“So,” Trixie eased herself back into her rocker. Her eyes on me. “What is wrong with your phone?”
“I think it’s broken.” I took another drink to avoid eye contact.
“Really? Because when I pinged it, it says that you are on River Road.” She leaned on the arm of the rocker with her elbow, hand and gla
ss in the air, with her pinky finger out. “I gave Clyde the coordinates and he said it was in a ditch somewhere. Do you know that I thought you were in a ditch? Dead.”
“Well I’m not.” I smiled and took another drink. Her coolness was evidence that she wasn’t approving of my responses to her questions.
“I know. Derek said he saw your big yellow car around town. So then I knew you were alive.”
“You have it set up so I’m pingable?” I wasn’t sure if pingable was a word, but it seemed to fit her crime.
“I like keeping tabs on you.” Trixie chugged the last of her drink and let out a big sigh. “Especially now, since there seems to be some funny business going on.”
“There is no funny business going on.”
Unless you wanted to count a mob boss giving me loads of cash to drive him around and the FBI asking me to be on their payroll to help bring down the aforementioned mob boss.
“Which reminds me.” I sucked in a big breath. “Do you know anything about my parents?”
She shook her head, staring straight ahead.
“Nothing? Not even where I come from?” I stuck my finger in my drink and twirled it around to try to mix it a little better or even hope the ice cubes would help water it down.
“Why you come from right here. Walnut Grove, Kentucky.” She didn’t look at me.
“You mean my parents were from here?” That couldn’t be right. Everyone was in everyone’s business and I would have heard some sort of tale if that was the case.
“Nope. You’ve been with me since you were a day old. I didn’t ask questions. Not my part.” She used the heels of her feet to slowly rock her chair back and forth. “You were cute. Did I ever tell you about the time—”
“Stop right there,” I interrupted. “Every single time I ask you about my past, you always want to tell me a story starting with ‘did I tell you’ and I need to know.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. I noted she never looked at me once. “All I know was that there was a note attached to you that said to take good care of you. I’ve done that, haven’t I?”
“Yes,” I said with quiet emphasis. That wasn’t enough to stop me. “Do you have the note?”
Checkered Crime: A Laurel London Mystery Page 9