Slice of the Pie

by Maxwell Miller

  Mario slammed a fist down on his desk. Rearing back in his seat, he heaved out a breath of air as he looked away. “That has to be Flavio. Has to be. He’s the main west coast guy for the Cosa Nostra. Oh, THAT Flavio!” he said.

  Stunned by the outburst, Becca nonetheless couldn’t help but feel it was comical. It seemed like something plucked from a bad movie script. She’d told an almost blatantly obvious, bald-faced lie that she couldn’t possibly back up if grilled, and, yet, there Mario was, so consumed with his own suspicions that he rushed to confirm them at the first possible opportunity. She knew better than to interrupt a good thing. Thus, she waited quietly.

  Which was a good thing, since it practically took all of her energy from bursting out laughing.

  “How did they find me here? That is the question. I’ll have to send my men out to look into this. He must be staying at a hotel in the area. I mean, he has to be staying SOMEWHERE, right? Man has to sleep and eat,” Mario said. Then he grunted. He slammed his fist down again. “Oh, if my nephew allowed that… if he allowed that Flavio to eat HERE, I will gut the boy myself,” he said.

  “Seems a little harsh, Mario. Especially when family is everything,” Becca said.

  Mario blinked. Then, slowly, he smiled. He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “You’re a businesswoman. A shrewd one. What matter is it to you? One less employee just means my margins get bigger. Leave my affairs to me,” he said.

  “Well, since we’re on that topic again, let’s go ahead and take a look at those financials. I would love to see how much money you’ll be making me,” Becca said, adopting her best sharkish smile. “I have to say, from how quickly your staff cleaned up your office, I’m growing more confident in your leadership style,” she said.

  Mario smiled. “Flattery,” he said, waving an expressive hand in the air. “It’ll get you everywhere in life. Anyway, thank you. It’s fear. That’s what’s lacking in America. All these business schools, they teach about carrots but not sticks. You have to treat people like family. But you discipline your kids. Right? Sometimes when they talk back, you let them know that their disrespect will not be tolerated in your house. Once you establish that, even a young boy with no experience could lead. An organization can run itself,” he said.

  “Fascinating,” Becca said, mostly to fill in the void. It was just a filler word designed to keep the man talking. The more he spoke, the more he revealed about himself and his organization. Which just meant the easier it would be to destroy his small criminal fiefdom.

  “You ever need lessons, you just come on over. Even though you’ve been, well, a bit of a challenge, you’ve done a great service to me and my family. A Calabrian never forgets a friend. Nor do we neglect to repay a favor,” Mario said.

  “Okay, well, I appreciate all of that. I mean, having your gratitude and trust means a lot to me,” Becca said.

  “My trust? No,” Mario said, wagging a fat finger. He smiled. “I don’t trust anyone. Not even myself. No, but I do have gratitude. THAT, I do have. And the gratitude of a powerful man can be a very nice thing to have. It gives you leverage. Life is about leverage. No one owes you anything. They won’t give you anything. You have to TAKE it. Seize it,” Mario said.

  “Speaking of which, how about I take those papers and head on home?” Becca said.

  “You want to take them with you?” Mario asked.

  “Well, naturally. I mean, I do my best reading and thinking in my home office. You know? So, yes, I would like to take the financials with me,” Becca said, again forced to think quickly. She, of course, couldn’t reveal that she wanted to have physical possession of the documents so that they could be used as evidence against the man.

  “That seems reasonable. I guess that’s okay. But it does raise suspicions,” Mario said, speaking slowly.

  “You know where I live, where I hike, who I sleep with,” Becca said, trying not to be too testy. A shiver ran down her spine at the acknowledgment. She didn’t like living her life, knowing in the back of her mind that every activity she engaged in was being secretly monitored by the likes of Mario. “Just send one of your goons over to threaten to murder my family if you think anything’s gone wrong.”

  Mario, far from being angry at the comments, took the observations as a compliment. As an open acceptance of his power. He beamed. “You know, I like you,” he said.

  Becca threw up a little in her mouth. She took a second before replying, tasting the bile as it burned her throat. “Um, thank you. It’s been a pleasure working with you,” she said. Of all the lies she’d told in her life, that one had to have been the absolute worst.

  Making a show of sliding a slim packet of stapled papers across the surface of the clean new desk, Mario sat back and clasped his hands as he waited for Becca’s initial reaction. He watched her with intense interest as he quietly bided his time.

  Glancing over the papers, she saw that the man reported a lot of cash transactions. Which, of course, is what one would expect from an operation dedicated to laundering money for a transnational criminal enterprise. From antipasto and spaghetti and meatballs all the way to expensive wines, Bend seemed to be chock full of people who enjoyed spending cold-hard cash on their elegant dining experiences. Becca suppressed a giggle when she continued to see the obvious signs of the man’s illicit activities. For a place with where most of the people struggled to get by and the averages were grossly distorted by a few doctors and ranchers, it seemed laughable that so many people would be exchanging their hard-earned Federal Reserve Notes on such meals and entertainment.

  “I’m assuming most of these sales are from tourists?” Becca asked, trying to disguise her true intent. She wanted to seem interested and engaged while also asking pertinent questions. After all, she was supposed to be trying to gauge the overall financial performance of the restaurant in light of her own profit motive.

  Mario hesitated a second before nodding. “Yes. Tourists tend to bring a lot of cash. Especially from overseas,” he said. “They don’t have the fancy restaurants in Sun River, all those places. Not even Sisters, really. So, yeah. Plus, there aren’t many upscale dining experiences in the area,” he said, suddenly adopting a more formal, erudite tone.

  Becca nodded. In the back of her mind, however, she felt the first faint twinge of worry. Mario was a smart man. And what he said actually made sense. It could take a dedicated team of forensic accountants months to uncover the laundering scheme if the man played his cards right. “No debt, good margins, great cash flow… I probably should take you up on that offer to learn from a master,” she said, sticking to the flattery.

  “You’ve entered into a partnership with a powerful man. Now it’s up to you to make good use of that,” Mario said. “Now, since neither of us likes one another, perhaps it’s best we stop wasting each other’s precious time. Go find Flavio for me.”

  Chapter 20

  Sitting across from Lawrence, Becca stared into her dense, dark dish. Bits of peppers and corn offered a bright contrast to the black beans and brown broth of the southwest vegetable soup. Warmth radiated up from the liquidy surface, bringing with it the comfortable aromas of a home-cooked meal. Having decided that the unusually cool temperature predicted for the evening dictated something stewy, Becca had whipped up a quick batch of the stuff from an old recipe for her meeting with the Sheriff’s deputy.

  She tried to act normal. As if a thousand different things weren’t plaguing her mind. Becca needed Lawrence’s guidance and steady hand. And that required working with him. Yet, she found it difficult to continue skirting around the issue of their personal feelings for one another. It made her uncomfortable. HE didn’t. But the entire situation did. And that unease exacerbated her tension.

  “Well, did you want to take about Emma first?” Lawrence asked, his spoon clinking against the blue bowl as he sat it down on the nearby coffee table. He cleared his throat and directed his gaze toward Becca.

  She began shaking. Spilling hot soup as she
tried to remove the bowl from her lap, she bit her lower lip to suppress a curse. Anxiety rippled through her. Becca wanted to just get up and leave. To flee upstairs and scream into a pillow for an hour straight.

  Taking a deep breath, Becca forced herself to focus on the fact that she was so close to a denouement in the case. A resolution hovered on the horizon, just waiting to be snatched up. All she needed to do was keep herself sane enough to reach the finish line. Which, of course, was proving to be a major problem.

  Sensing Lawrence’s concerned gaze, she smiled. “Sorry,” she said. “Thanks for not getting up and coming over to rescue me. I kind of need the personal space right now.”

  “I gathered as much,” Lawrence said, his tone husky.

  “Ugh. You’re just so… empathetic. I wish you could do something to make me mad right now. So I could have an excuse to hate you,” Becca said, fighting tears.

  “Oh, I’m good at that. But, just wait. I think that’s an inevitability. My big mouth is destined to cause offense sooner or later,” he said. “Why do you think I can never get promoted?”

  Becca snorted. “You know, someday, you won’t be able to run away from the talk. You know, the one about commitment? About US? It’s really wreaking havoc on my nerves, to be around you and not know where we stand. Okay? I mean, doesn’t it freak you out? Knowing we slept together and have feelings for each other, and just kind of trying to do everything possible to avoid talking about it?” she asked.

  Lawrence paused to deliberate before he answered. Finally, he spoke. “Very good soup.”

  “Oh, joy. That’s it. Just avoid everything,” Becca said. She shook her head in disgust.

  “It’s just not relevant right now. Or, I guess I should say that I thought it wasn’t. I genuinely felt like it might be counterproductive to introduce such elements when you’re so obviously swamped and overwhelmed. You’re doing such a good job on this thing. I’m actually pretty proud of you,” Lawrence said.

  “You mean that?” Becca asked, raising one eyebrow. She wiped her eyes. Reaching out with one trembling hand, she slowly pulled a delicate spoonful of soup to her lips.

  “I do. I really do. You know me. Would I lie? I’m not the type to sugarcoat things. Life’s too short. I feel like people deserve the truth, even if it’s not always inconvenient,” Lawrence said. “Which just happens to be the primary reason I make everyone so mad and can’t ever get anywhere in life.”

  “Oh, Lawrence. I mean, you’re a great person. And you’ve helped so many people. I think you don’t give yourself enough credit,” she said.

  “Becca, let’s just try to take this one step at a time, okay? I promise, we’ll sit down, have a nice dinner- a date, even. We’ll talk about our feelings and our future together, whatever you want. Not because I particularly want to. But because it’s important to you. Okay? Is that fair?” Lawrence asked, his tone pleading.

  “Well, I sense a but there.”

  “There is a but. A big one. The but is that we need to act fast to solve this case. And you also need to tell me what it is you plan to do once that happens. Because, honestly, information is useless. It’s what we DO with that information that matters. Seems like you only have a couple of viable options here. You can tell Mario, the criminal, who killed his son. Or you can tell the authorities,” he said.

  “You are the authorities,” Becca said, smiling.

  “Get out of here. You know what I mean, smart aleck.”

  “Hey, did I tell you Mario gave me his financial reports? Only for the last quarter, but still,” Becca said.

  “You didn’t. That’s… that’s awesome. You know, that would probably be very valuable information in the hands of the organized crime task force I was telling you about,” Lawrence said. “How did you manage that?” he asked, his tone awestruck.

  “I didn’t, really. I mean, I kind of just stumbled on it. I was moping after our call earlier. You kind of made me furious. I got all hysterical with Denise while making pancakes, nearly burned myself. Then, out of the blue, here comes a call from the don himself,” she said. Then Becca remembered how sly she’d been. She figured a little tooting of her own horn was in order. “Hey, you’ll get a real kick out of this. I went in and told Mario that I’d seen some general character in the store on my surveillance video. He INSTANTLY starting slamming his fists around, kvetching about some Italian, Sicilian, whatever. Anyway, he is now convinced his son’s death was a mafia hit.”

  “Did he ask for the surveillance video?” Lawrence asked, his eyes widening.

  Becca laughed. She slapped her knee. “Oh, you’ll REALLY love this. I told him that I had my lawyer keep the tape in a secure location,” she said.

  “And he bought that? Oh, you are a clever girl, indeed,” Lawrence said.

  “I guess so. I mean, he seemed convinced. He did comment on that, saying he hadn’t expected me to be so cautious or whatever. I tell you, I was going CRAZY with anxiety. I just knew he was going to out me. But he never did,” Becca said.

  Lawrence took a break from the conversation to slurp some soup, a wry smile of amusement covering his face. He waited several minutes before speaking again. “So, that’s hilarious. But I’ve got to get on to work. Can we get on with this?” he asked.

  “Sure. Sure. Uh, I just remembered that I wanted David and Denise to be in here for the conversation. Do you mind?” Becca asked.

  “Why in the world would we need them here?”

  “They’re part of my family. They already know everything. But, ultimately, if anything happens to me or we need help, maybe because our little confession thing goes wrong, it’d be good to have backup,” Becca said.

  Lawrence nodded. Placing a thoughtful finger on his chin, he stared off into space for a few seconds. “Guess we should just go straight to the point, then. I’ll fill you in on Emma later. Go get them and we’ll discuss how we’re going to approach extracting this confession,” he said.

  Without a word, Becca got up. She walked down the narrow carpeted corridor to the kids’ room, her chest tight and her heart racing. She couldn’t quite believe she was so close to finishing her first-ever investigation. The excitement she experienced at the thought of actually solving a murder was such that she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Pausing to gather herself outside their room, she listened to the hushed conversation between Denise and David. Smiling wistfully, she for some reason remembered how she and Beth had once huddled outside their parents’ bedroom, spying on them.

  Softly rapping on the door, she waited a few seconds before reaching for the bronze-colored knob and opening it. When she went inside, Becca widened her eyes. She smiled and shook her head. “You guys cleaned,” she said. Turning her head, she scanned the interior of the small space. Instead of food wrappers being strewn across the floor and an un-made, filthy bed, Becca was confronted with a clean-smelling, well-organized living area.

  “We wanted to surprise you,” Denise said. She looked at the ground and crossed her arms across her chest.

  “Well, good job! This is… this is really cool,” Becca said. She needed a moment to regain her focus. Seeing the unexpectedly clean room had jolted her from her mission. “So, we’ll try to celebrate later. But, right now, I need you guys to come out. Lawrence is here,” she said.

  “Oh, that’s right. Mom wanted us to hear their discussion. She’s going to get the neighbor to confess to killing that guy at Three Sassters,” Denise said, turning and looking at David.

  David furrowed his brow and looked from his soon-to-be wife to Becca. A confused expression shone in his brown eyes. “What is this? Why wasn’t I hearing about this until now?” he asked.

  Becca shrugged. “Sorry. Been a bit busy. Hey, c’mon. Lawrence has to get to work at some point,” she said. Without waiting, she pivoted and fled back to the living room.

  “Hey! You ate my soup, you pig,” Becca said, her tone shrill.

  “I’m sure you have more,’ Lawrence said, a guilty ex
pression covering his face. “I told you, it’s good soup.”

  “Ugh. That’s so rude,” Becca said, turning to glance toward the movement she caught in her peripheral vision.

  “He ate your soup? Not cool, homie. Not cool at all,” David said, plopping down on the couch next to Lawrence. He placed an arm around the Sheriff’s deputy’s back.

  “Do you think you could NOT do that? We’re not friends like that,” Lawrence said.

  “Well, then get up and make room for my sweetie. And go get Miss B another bowl of soup when you get up,” David said. When he smiled and exchanged looks with Lawrence, the gesture didn’t enter his eyes.

  Shaking his head, Lawrence quietly got up, muttering under his breath. He retreated into the kitchen, snapping up Becca’s bowl as he left.

  “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so compliant before,” Becca said. “You’ll need me to teach you your tricks,” she said.

  “Not sure you can teach that, Miss B. It’s a look you can only acquire when you see bad things. That and the whole thousand-yard stare. It’s all good, though. I harness my superpowers for the good of society,” David said, chuckling.

  “You have superpowers?” Denise asked.

  “Being dysfunctional and unpredictable and scaring people are about it,” David said. “That and maybe telling the tv screen when war movies are bad.”

  Lawrence promptly returned, bearing a steaming bowl of soup. He deposited it in front of Becca without a word and then took up a position beside her. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, he glared at David.

  “You guys, cut it out. We all need to work together,” Becca said, irked by the sudden tension. The last thing they needed was discord in their ranks. “Why don’t you tell us how we’re going to proceed, Lawrence,” she said. Picking up her soup, she blew on a spoonful and began eating it as she waited.

  “I mean, I think I need more information before I give you my advice,” Lawrence said.