The House at Hull

by Karl Tutt

  Chapter 11

  She came back glowing.

  “I pulled the female thing on her. Shasta was tight-lipped at first. I thought I might need hearing aids after she slammed the phone in my ear, but she didn’t. Chalk it up to my soothing, caring, entreating tone. It slowed her down a bit. She began to listen. I told her Billy had her #1 on suspect list, even though I, of course, was sure she was as pure as new fallen snow. I let it slip, rather casually, that he knew about her family’s financial difficulties. I asked her to meet with us.”

  “And she said . . . “

  “At first it was no. Then I told her I knew what an asshole you could be, but you were only searching for the truth, and I thought she could convince you that she had no part of it. I guess that sparked the actress in her. She could play the sweet, beautiful, innocent, young girl whose only concern was the welfare of her devastated fiancée. Who knows --- maybe an Academy Award . . . or least an Emmy. I think she’s got you pegged as an incurable romantic. Not too far off on that one.”

  “So . . . “

  “Eleven-thirty tomorrow morning at Shacky’s Deli. We’ll get there early, take that little table in the back. It’s private and quiet. I’ll take the lead until she loosens up. You keep your mouth shut and try to look sympathetic, if you can pull it off. Then I’ll hand it to you.”

  “You, my dear, are a damned genius, or maybe just real good at sneaky.”

  “Maybe both,” she said and manufactured a phony leer. Then she stuck her tongue out at me.

  I decided not to call Billy unless we had something. Eleisha went back to the computer. I watched the silky black tresses shift from one side to another as she groaned, ahhed, and cussed the ever changing screens. I often wondered if she got some kind of orgasm off that damned machine. Now, she stomped her bare foot on the floor. It sounded like a bomb going off. She twisted her shoulders violently, sighed and her fingers began again in a whir. The clicking had about driven me off the deep end, when a spate of triumph exploded from her lips.

  She turned and looked at me like she was holding the last slice of pizza.

  “Guess what, Mr. Dombroski? No, don’t. Let me break it to you gently. Shasta’s mother, she of the diamonds and designer dresses, was a Ferrara.”

  “So she had a Ferrari? Who gives a shit?”

  “Listen, asshole. F E R R A R A. She was a Ferrara. That was her mom’s maiden name. I’m still not sure, but Lute was at least a distant cousin, if not an uncle. You know the Italians. They’re all related in some way. Cousins, aunts, uncles, friends of uncles. They need Fenway Park for a family reunion. We know the Ferraras are part of the Family. Old man’s a bookie, son is an enforcer. Who knows? Maybe Momma recruited hookers.”

  “Nice work, Miss. It certainly gives us one more card to play.”

  “Speaking of playing games, how’s your belly, big boy? You can lie still. I’ll do most of the work and I’ll try not hurt you, at least not much.”

  She nodded toward the bedroom and took my hand. Her black eyes flashed like a Cadillac on the showroom floor. She tipped the silky eyelashes just for me and we vanished from the living room into the darkness of what became her mystical cave. Corny? Damned right, but it was damned good.

  It was a quiet morning. I sat with the Boston Globe and a cup of strong coffee. No drive-bys, just a few armed robberies, both parties in congress still hated each other, and a lot of people thought the president was a schmuck. What ever happened to real news?

  We showered together, making absolutely sure that every single part was scrubbed nice and clean. I changed the bandage on my stomach. It was already closing up neatly. Then we dressed and headed down to Shacky’s. Eleisha was right. We got there early and settled into the back booth. More coffee and some of that homemade Danish they’re famous for. I wanted a hot dog, but they didn’t serve them for breakfast. My bun was peach, while the lady opted for apple. We both slathered the rolls in butter. I waited patiently while the golden dribbles slid over the dough and pooled on the plate.

  Shasta was prompt. She looked just a few bucks short of a million, but her blue eyes were watery and lifeless. Blond silky locks hung over her ears, a touch of blush, and heavy lip gloss on her full pink lips. The top was conservative, no cleavage, but the light fabric bulged and pulsed with a vibrancy-- even an urgency -- that screamed youth and sexuality. Eleisha had her own great stuff. I’d confirmed that last night, but I detected just a hint of jealousy in m’lady’s posture and her expression. Shasta sat. She hung her head slightly and eyed me through half-closed lids. Eleisha sat up and assumed her least threatening pose. She even smiled a little.

  “Thanks, Shasta. I’m glad you’re here. You can help. Not only to take yourself off the list, but maybe direct us so we can nail the bastards that did the Bridgetons.”

  Eleisha reach over and patted her hand . . . a nice girl thing. Shasta nodded and clenched her teeth. Then the tension seemed to ease a bit and resignation began to take over.

  “I can’t believe the cops think I could do something like that. Todd and I have been together for over two years. I knew those people. They were kind to me. Cherie and I were first-class pals. Email, Facebook, Twitter. She’d tell me things, talk to me before she talked to her own mother. I loved the kid. She was like a little sister I never had. When I heard they were missing, I was freaked. Todd went nuts, wouldn’t even talk for days. He cried. That’s not like him. I know you don’t really know him. He maintains the front, tries to be macho, even works at it, but he’s a big teddy bear. It’s one of the things I love about him. His family was his anchor, even more than me. Now this.”

  I kept my mouth shut. Eleisha clicked her teeth, gave a sympathetic and reassuring nod. Then waited a minute, oozed concern, and went on.

  “Mo has talked to Detective Frye. I guess we know at least a little of what you’re going through. It must be endless torture, especially with a wedding just a few months off. But the police have a job to do. That is finding a multiple murderer. They’re looking at a couple of things. One is your family’s financial situation.”

  She hesitated, measuring a proper response. Then she sucked in a breath and seemed to cave in.

  “Okay, you know. . . Dad is a terrific businessman. He built Shipley Fine Foods from one truck into a multi-million dollar enterprise. But he’s also a gambler. I suppose there’s a streak of that in all successful business people. I’m not sure what happened. He used to be pretty good at it. He’d come back from Vegas, always had a little gift for me, diamond earrings or a gold necklace. ‘Throw of the dice’, he used to joke. Mom would be all giddy. Maybe a new fur, a bracelet from Tiffany’s, some Halston or just a Gucci pocketbook. She’d prance around like Giselle and model for us. We’d all laugh. It was harmless fun. Then I guess his luck changed. The gifts got smaller. He’d frown and lock himself in his office for days. I don’t get it, but it happened. And then the business. I was never privy to all that stuff. I still had my VISA GOLD and my Mercedes. Anyway, I was on campus most of the time.”

  “I understand your mother’s maiden name is Ferrara.”

  “Okay. I get where you’re going with this. Yeah, I knew Lute. Not well, but I knew him. Mom always said that part of the family was into things we didn’t want to get involved with. I didn’t know what she meant, and I didn’t really care. We just didn’t see them much. I know they found him in the harbor. I’m sorry. He was always nice to me when I saw him, but we didn’t attend the funeral. It just wasn’t part of who we are as a family. I think Mom sent some flowers or something.”

  I finally spoke.

  “Shasta, I appreciate you being honest with us. Everything you say makes sense, but is there anything I can tell Billy that will clear you, get you off his list? At least point him in some other direction.”

  She shook her hair off her face and bit her tongue while she licked her lips. She stared at the table for a moment, then looked directly at Eleisha.

  “If there was, I’d t
ell you. There’s not. I was with Todd most of that weekend, but not every minute. That’s the best I can do. Don’t call me again. Sorry, I have a one o’clock. Dr. Shirley is very tough on people who miss class, at least unless they’re dead.”

  She got up abruptly and headed for the door. Eleisha and I sat. I waved to the server for a refill on the coffee and considered another Danish. It wasn’t a Hebrew National, but it was pretty damned good.

  “So what did you think?” Eleisha asked.

  “We don’t know much more than we knew before we met with her, but I bet they have a dynamite drama program at Wellesley. I kept waiting for some kind of vibes, but it didn’t happen. What about you?”

  “You’re probably right about the drama program, but I don’t think she did it. I mean I don’t think she did it or arranged for it to happen. She wouldn’t make my list of favorite people. She’s still a bitch, but I just don’t see the cold, nor the cool . . . the deviousness that it would take to snuff out an entire family. I also gotta tell you, I bought the little sister thing. I think she and Cherie were close. What about you?”

  “I don’t know. Something’s missing. I want to go back to Hull. One more night in the house.”

  Eleisha shook her head and sucked a deep breath. Her shoulders slumped. She drilled me with those dark eyes.

  “Okay. Boston Blackie. You make the call.”

  I did.