Trouble Under Venus

by Autumn Piper

  “Oh. And you’re….okay with that?” But poor Grandma was going to get her heart broken. She’d be shattered, crushed.

  “Shit. He’s not after me, so what the hell do I care? Ma’s been havin’ the time of her life with him. I heard her on the phone with her sister. He’s a fun ride and a good dance partner. A sober driver. What’s she got to lose?”

  Her heart and your invention.

  “I’m not livin’ at Ma’s house because I need the money.” He looked down and scuffed his boot toe against the carpet. “I been keepin’ an eye on her so she doesn’t get sucked into this mess I’m in. Stu was the perfect solution. He’d make sure she was in the dark about all of it. He needed her in the dark.”

  “And you knew this, how? How’d you know he was a cop?” His cop-dar was not what he claimed, or he’d never have thought I was one.

  He shrugged. “There’s a reason I’m called Keen. I just knew. Trust me, I probably know more cops than anybody you ever met. Besides, he wasn’t exactly subtle when he came onto Ma.”

  I must’ve looked doubtful. I still felt doubtful.

  “Look,” he said. “I made your boyfriend as a cop the night we saved him from the locals.”

  “How?”

  There was that handsome grin of his again. “He was easy. When I got in the cop car with him, he had his own key he was trying to get his cuffs open with. Since those morons cuffed his hands in front of him, he’d dug the key out of his pocket.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake! So this entire time, you knew he was a cop? And he knew you knew?”

  “It wasn’t like we talked about it.”

  Unwilling to resist, I planted my hands against his chest and gave him a hard shove.

  He staggered back, mouth and eyes wide open.

  “You jerk! You knew, and yet you told him to keep away from me?”

  Out came the dad-finger again. Using it, he backed me into a corner, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “He’s a cop. Course I tried to keep you away from him. Who are the most two-faced, lying bastards in the world? Cops! It was a dirty cop got me tangled up with Rico in the first place.”

  “Mitch isn’t like that. He’s good and honest and—”

  “A liar. You don’t think so? What’s a cop do when he’s undercover? He lies about who he is, what he does, everything.”

  “D-Dennis. Come on. It’s for the greater good. It’s like, like spying for your country. And anyway, he’s not lying to me. You might as well know, we’re in love.”

  His eyes squeezed shut. “Not lying huh? So when did he tell ya I was onto him?”

  Yeah, when was Mitch planning to tell me that little tidbit?

  I’d make sure to ask him later. “So you, um, figured I was working with him.”

  “It was a guess. Off-base, I know. But I was tryin’ to make sense where nothin’ was makin’ sense.”

  He looked a little green.

  Had he read the journal? Maybe he was struggling with the concept of my being his full-grown daughter.

  “About that…my stuff. It’s all gone from the house. Do you know what happened, where it went?”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “I took it somewhere. Safe. Today, while I was wonderin’ if you were gonna come out of this dead or alive.” Those hands shook a little.

  “I’m fine. Really.” This time I gave him a hug. It might make it easier for him if I couldn’t see his face when he answered what I had to ask. “Listen. In my backpack, there was this notebook…”

  “Dinner is served!” Pilar called at the door.

  Crap.

  Dennis extricated himself from my hug and backed away, his upper lip curled. Or was it swollen?

  Dinner was a painstakingly long affair. Six courses, three hours. It felt like a week. And gave me plenty of time to ruminate over what Dad had told me.

  Rico’s guy must have interrupted the fight at the rink. And since they always travel in pairs, the other must have gone inside to nab Stu. Yet, I hadn’t heard them beating him in the office next door ’til, what? Some time after six. What had they done with him until then? Maybe Rico really was pissed at Stu for roughing me up. If I was his insurance with Keen, he’d be worried about Keen’s reaction to my injuries. What were we smuggling tonight that could mean so much to Rico?

  I couldn’t even make moon-eyes at Mitch during the never-ending dinner. He was seated on one side of me, dear old dad on the other. Once, Mitch managed to get his hand on my knee. The feel of his hot hand against my bare skin lit a burning ache to be alone in his arms, begging God to never separate us again.

  Of course, first he’d need to explain why he’d kept me in the dark about Keen making him. And at some point I had to confess to lying about my journal and tell him Stu had read it. And probably my dad had, too. Then there was the issue about the funny money. Which was an innocent mistake. But surely we could get past all that.

  Keen really did have a sixth sense. Not only for ID-ing cops, either. I’d swear Mitch’s hand was only on my leg for seconds before one of those big hairy hands reached behind me and flicked Mitch’s ear. Not the smoothest tack to take, since it inspired Mitch to smack the table and swear. And then try to cover his erratic behavior by saying he’d bit his tongue.

  Tino was conspicuously missing from the dinner table. Furthermore, Pilar and Armando did not question his whereabouts.

  Made me nervous to think he could be lurking in the shadows anywhere, like the last boat ride we took together. All the more reason to stick close to Mitch.

  By the dessert course, I’d almost lost my mind trying to figure out if Mitch and Keen had settled their differences the night before. They joked and laughed like any two normal guys would. Keen obviously didn’t want me hooking up with a cop. Any cop. Still, several times I caught them making strange faces above my head. Seemed they were deciding on a particular door, for some reason. Were they going to meet somewhere to confer?

  Just how far out on the ocean was our rendezvous?

  And why in the hell was I always the last to know what was going on?

  Chapter 32

  I really needed to use the restroom. But fearful of a surprise attack by Tino, I held it. And held it. Until all the courses of dinner—and their accompanying wines—were over. It took a true effort to stand, and even then, I hunched over in agony.

  “Excuse me, I’m just going to, er, powder. My. Nose.” I tried looking meaningfully at Mitch, who I wanted to tag along for safety. Getting him alone seemed more and more important as the night wore on. I had so much to tell him.

  “I’ll walk you there,” Dennis said in a tone brooking no argument.

  It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes.

  But maybe he wanted to tell me he’d read my journal and knew I was his daughter.

  When we turned the corner down the hall, Mitch looked every bit as disappointed as I felt.

  Later. We had the rest of our lives to be together. Whereas my time with Dennis was nearly at an end.

  “I need you to talk to him,” Dennis said close behind me. He followed me into a stateroom with its own bath, next door to the one the ladies had used for the party. The door shut with a soft click behind him.

  “It’ll have to wait. I’ve really, really, gotta…” The closed door between us would impose a pause in the conversation. Or so I thought.

  “It’s gotta be tonight. I want in that Protect the Witness Program. I’ll help him get Rico and then I want outta here.”

  I really couldn’t wait any longer. He would have to.

  When I’d finished and washed up, I opened the door and gawked at him. He wanted in the Witness Protection Program. He’d be a state’s witness and go away someplace safe. And with Mitch’s help, I could know where he ended up. Who he ended up being. This was awesome!

  “Seriously?” I asked like a dumbass.

  “No. I’m joking. Of course seriously. Rico…Rico’s a loose cannon. And that kid of his is gonna be worse. Th
ey’re goin’ down, and they’re goin’ down tonight.”

  Uh-oh. Here’s where things would get sticky. I got a sinking feeling that had nothing to do with the rocking boat. “Um. Okay. You’ll need to like, let us have some time. Alone.”

  “You don’t need to go makin’ out.” His eyes squinted almost shut. “Just take care of business.”

  “At some point you’re gonna have to accept that he’s a good guy. Like, you know, when he saves your ass from being sunk in a set of cement shoes by a mob boss!” Which really had to happen. If Mitch saved him, Dennis would change his mind about our relationship. I might be older than him, but his blessing still mattered, for some strange reason.

  “Yeah. We’ll see. I’m not gonna hold my breath. He’d be the first cop that ever did me any favors.”

  Geez, what a lousy existence he must lead, working with and around so many cops all the time, and distrusting them all. But I’d turn it around for him. Make his life less bitter.

  Everything was grand. I had a lead on my dad’s future, a promising romance with Mitch, and an empty bladder.

  His hand grasped the doorknob.

  “Wait! Would you please tell me what we’re going to pick up?”

  “Cubans.”

  “Like, refugees?”

  “Not quite. Certain people Castro’s shipping off to a safe place for a bit.”

  Whoa. Funny how he figured they’d be safe here in the U.S. “What’s Rico want with them?”

  He shrugged. “Not sure how Rico found out Armando’s transporting them. But he wants ’em intercepted. Wants to use ’em as leverage so Castro will grant his parents safe passage out of Havana.”

  “And you’re going to hand them over, these innocent people, to Rico?” All those thunks on the other side of the wall last night…I hated to think what Rico might do to the helpless.

  “Hell, no! But I am going to collect the twenty-five grand he’s paying me to hand them over. And the Cubans are going directly to the Feds.”

  “Where they become political prisoners?”

  He shrugged again. Water off his back.

  “And you think cops are two-faced! Do Armando and Pilar know about this?”

  “Armando knows he’s getting paid to pick up a handful of Cubans in the Gulf. And see them safely to shore in Miami. That’s all he needs to know. The Feds will ship the ‘refugees’ straight back to Havana, where Castro will find another means of protecting them from his political opponents. It’s not a big deal. Castro’s about to fall from power, anyway.”

  I couldn’t hold back a small laugh. “You think?”

  He pursed his lips, for once looking unsure. “Anyway. There’s a certain gift comes along with looking out for Castro’s family. In the form of about ten million in pure Bogota heroin.” My sucked-in breath caused him to frown. “…which Stu is going to intercept. You don’t think I’d put that kinda dangerous shit on the street, do ya?”

  “How the hell do I know? I thought we were transporting coke that first night.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “The sand. Just so you know, weed’s as far as I go, when it comes to moving dope. I’ve seen what drugs do to people.”

  Comforting. Though I still didn’t know whether he was a good guy or a bad guy. Maybe he was both. Maybe we all are.

  He reached for the doorknob again.

  “Wait!” I had one more question. “What am I supposed to be doing here?”

  “Nothing.” The devilish grin was back. “You’re along for the ride. I figured if you thought it was dangerous, you’d wanta be here. And knowing Rico has it in for you, here with me and Wondercop is the best place for ya.” He fairly strutted from the room.

  I followed, of course, paranoid about running into Tino.

  * * * *

  Alone at last. And in Mitch’s arms, if for only a few seconds before he started the inquisition. Where did Rico take me? How did I get away? Did I have any idea how worried he was when he found out I was missing? Who the fuck bruised my neck? Stu? Where was that weasel Steve, anyway? I did what! I let him loose? Oh, well, that made sense, but he didn’t have to like it.

  “Geez. Will you shut up if I kiss you?” My spirits were high. At last, a resolution to all my problems. Mitch could make nice with my dad by getting him into Witness Protection, dad would give us his blessing, I’d know where dad ended up. And I could safely return home, knowing I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do. No missing limbs.

  He responded by giving me the long smooch I so desired, leaving me hot and bothered and giddy.

  “God, I love you.” I sighed. “And this is almost over. And guess what? Dennis wants to turn state’s witness!”

  How could Mitch look so bewildered by this? He knew in all my wildest dreams, the best-case scenario, the most romanticized vision I’d created of my father’s destiny was that he’d turned state’s witness. “Babe. That’s not—”

  Oh, he was sooo not going to put a damper on this. We could do it. “Yes. We can do this. We just have to keep him from changing, like, mega history. We can.”

  But he shook his head.

  “Mitch, dammit. This is the perfect solution. To everything.”

  “Randi. If he turns state’s witness against Rico, that means Rico gets shut down. Which changes everything. If Rico was shut down, I’d never be coming back here from 2010. We’d never meet. Not to mention, after all the damage you’ve done, Dennis would definitely keep in contact with his daughter. So where would you be? We’d both end up pardoxes.”

  I couldn’t agree. Couldn’t. “Don’t you understand how important this is to me? You’re just like David!”

  “That was a low blow. You know I’ve tried to help you all I can. But I can’t jeopardize the case, let alone our existence, to make nice with your daddy.”

  The case. Always back to the case. Maybe we could make a deal. “Speaking of the case, I might have some information you could use. If you were willing to make an exchange?”

  One brow raised. “Like what?”

  “Like, Rico’s trying to strike a pact with Steve to get Tino into the FBI.”

  “Tino!” He paced to the other side of the room. “Hmm. I can’t believe Rico’d actually sacrifice his own son. Clever. Right under the Feds’ noses. Of course he’d change his name. And what else? Hair? Glasses?”

  “No name change. Rico was adamant.”

  He shook his head. “There’d had to have been a name change. Obviously we’d know if Tino Romero got a position in the Bureau.”

  “What if Tino wasn’t his name? And have you forgotten the Hispanic tradition of using the mother’s last name?”

  Mitch rubbed his chin and stared out the window. “Might be worth looking into…If I had access to the TTR so I could have my partner look up the file.”

  “Mitch. His name is Valentino.”

  “Valen…Valenfuckintino?” He froze and stared at me. “No. It couldn’t be. But it could. No wonder…Randi, do you know the name of the current director of the Bureau?”

  “Like, current 1980 or current 2010?”

  “Jesus. Val Garcia. Who is bald as an ostrich egg, with a mustache and goatee…Jesus. All the time, right under our eyes. No wonder every time some agent gets close to figuring out who offed that Senator, he dies. Jesus.” His grin widened and he lifted me and swung me around. “Oh, babe. You helped me crack it! He’s the director of the goddamn FBI! Woohoo!”

  Seeing him so happy was awesome. Things were going to work out perfectly.

  “So, we have a deal?” I asked against his cheek.

  “Deal?” As if it were a word from a foreign language.

  “Yeah. Deal. I helped you solve your case, which you came here for, now you help me with what I came here for.”

  His expression fell.

  “Goodman?” Why wouldn’t he look at me? “No, seriously! You wanted my info, which I willingly handed over, which means you went for the deal. You cannot double-cross me, Mitchell. You can’t!”
>
  “I already told you why we can’t. And I never said I’d go for the deal.”

  “Just like he said. He tried to tell me all cops are lousy, lying, double-crossing…” I could think of no good words. “…louses! Just like he said. God! You’ve been lying to me for days, ever since he figured out you were a cop. And now you’ve got a chance to make it all right. To fix everything.” My dad had a chance to be a hero who sacrificed his contacts to his family for the greater good, and Mitch wanted to screw that up. “You know,” I stuck my index finger in his face, Dennis-style, “if he dies tonight or if I never find out what happens to him, I’m holding you accountable!”

  Mitch leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, breathed long and slow through his nose and stared off at a corner. And turned red, nonetheless. “Lying.” His heel tapped the wall. “Okay, look. It was embarrassing that Keen caught me in the act of trying to run from the cops and figured out I was one. I should’ve let them haul me in and then told them who I was. But after they started beating me, I didn’t want to spend the whole night dealing with them. It would’ve been morning before somebody with half a brain showed up at the station and listened to me. So I decided to make a break for it. I never imagined you’d con Keen into coming in for me. So yeah, after all your amateur sleuthing in Sedona, and laughing at me like I was some kind of goddamn beginner at this, I didn’t want you to know Keen made me on the second day of my assignment. Go ahead and persecute me for wanting to impress you.”

  Okay, his reason for keeping me in the dark was almost sympathy-worthy. “What the hell am I supposed to tell my dad?”

  He leveled me a look to rival the stern ones Dennis had given me earlier. “While we’re in confession mode, or at least, while I am, maybe you’d like to join me?”

  Uh-oh. He obviously knew something I didn’t know he knew, which didn’t bode well for my stance on the whole Witness Protection issue. “Dennis sorta went through my backpack. And you know all those counterfeit money stories on the news?” This must not be the part he knew, since he looked appalled. “Most of the money I got at the ATM on the way out of Sedona was printed post-1980.”