by David Stever
“They’re good, Johnny. School’s at capacity. A lot of young families in the parish.”
“No kidding? That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah, evidently, Little Italy is the place to live. We’re now hip, cool, fashionable. Gentrification of the neighborhood. New restaurants, shops.”
“I heard as much but I haven’t been over here in a while. How are you?”
“Not bad. They keep me busy.”
“And you love it, right?”
“Of course. There are a few folks here I’d like to ship off to the Lutherans but other than that, everything is good.”
I took an envelope out of my pocket that contained twenty thousand in cash and handed it to him.
“What’s this?”
“Donation. In the name of Tony and Sammy Scarazzini.”
He peeked into the envelope. “I thought I heard your name on the news.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Too bad. I did Sammy’s funeral. Now we’ll have Tony. I guess you can’t live a lifestyle like theirs forever.” He opened the envelope again. “This is generous. You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“It wouldn’t do me any good to ask what happened, would it?”
“Nope. Like you said, you can’t live that lifestyle forever. Can you use that for the kids’ sports programs?”
“Absolutely.”
“Tony and Sammy would like that.”
“We’re not laundering dirty money, are we?” He winked.
“You never know, Padre. But I’ll let you get back to the garden.”
“You need to come by more often. I’ll even take you out to dinner. One of those new trendy restaurants we have over here.”
“You got a deal.”
We shook hands and he walked me around to the parking lot with his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger,” he said.
I got into my car and put the window down.
“I’m going to take you up on that dinner.”
“You’re a good man, Johnny Delarosa.”
“I only wish.” I pulled out of the lot and glanced back in the mirror to see Father Frankie standing there, waving to me as I drove away.
On my way back to McNally’s I called Jim Rosswell’s office. It took two tries before I got through to Jim. On the first call, the receptionist cut me off when trying to transfer the call. On the second call, it took two transfers before Jim’s assistant put me through.
“You’re not in jail, are you? I just got you out.”
“My life is your job security,” I said.
“Ha! You’re right. How can I help?”
“Wanted to thank you again, plus I have some work for you.”
“No need to thank me. What’s the job?”
“Kelly and I still own a house on Crescent Beach.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, long story, but I’m buying out her half.”
“A beach pad all your own.”
“Yep. Can you draw up the papers?” I asked.
“Sure thing. Send me an email with the details.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Stay out of trouble.”
“Now what fun would that be?”
Just as I ended the call a text message came in from Leah. “Are you okay?”
I smiled. I have good people in my life.
Chapter
52
I had a bottle of a California cabernet beside me on the balcony that evening, and I did a good job of getting halfway through the bottle. The Claire Dixon thing had taken a toll. She played us all; she got the revenge she was after by pitting Rosso and Tony against each other. I wondered what her plan was if Tony was dead when they got to City Salvage. Figure a way for me to kill Rosso? Or maybe she also gave Mouse a whirl on her merry-go-round and he was primed to finish things out for her?
I needed some Coltrane on this night of contemplation and the soothing sound of John’s alto-sax filled the condo. I left my screen door open to hear the music and my neighbors in the apartment below, two sixty-eight-year-old hippies from Greenwich Village, always thank me the next morning after an evening of Coltrane. They say his music enhances their sexual experience and I must admit, his Blue Train album and a good bottle of wine would amp up a night of romance. But, tonight I needed to sort through the last two weeks.
My condo door opened and closed. Katie came out to the balcony.
“Hi. Mike said you wanted to see me.”
“Yep, sure do. Sit down.” She sat on my spare lounge chair. I pulled my chaise up to a sitting position and swiveled around to face her. “You did a good job.”
“Hey, no problem boss. I told you I’d be good for you.”
“I never thought we would find the money and we did because of your persistence and hard work. I found myself a good partner.”
“Partner?”
“I mean, employee. I shouldn’t have serious discussions when drinking wine.” I poured another glass. “Want one?”
“Can’t. I’m on duty downstairs. Are you drunk?”
“Not yet.” I had an envelope on the small table and gave it to her. “Your bonus.”
“A bonus? Oh my God.” She opened the envelope and pulled out the cash. “Are you serious?”
“This was a good payday. But listen to me.” She was counting it and I slapped my hand on the pile of bills. “Five thousand.”
“What? No way.” She came off her chair and threw her arms around me.
“Okay, sit back.” She sat down and doled out piles of bills on the table. “Put that back in the envelope. This is between you and me. I should give you a check but I’m not. So you can’t be flashing cash around. Stick it in the bank. Don’t tell your father. I don’t think he would understand. And don’t ever count your money in front of anyone. Ever.”
“Yes, boss. I understand. I knew this would be the greatest job ever. I wanted to work with you from the minute you rescued me.” She stuffed the money back in the envelope.
“This job was not typical. They never pay this well.”
“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that. But somehow—”
I grabbed her hand to make sure she was listening. “It paid well, but we don’t like it when people get killed while we’re working a case. You understand?”
She nodded, her blue eyes magnetic. A moment passed and I realized I was still holding her hand. I pulled it away and felt my face flush. If she noticed my embarrassment, she was considerate enough to not say anything. The problem was the moment was too easy and natural.
“You understand, right?”
“Of course I understand.”
“Good. Remember what I said about playing it cool.”
She nodded.
“If you want to grab a late dinner after your shift, I know a Chinese place. Your treat.”
“I would love to, but I promised to meet Mandy and some friends.”
“Any guys?”
“No, no guys. Besides, I decided I want to be a goomah.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep, so if you run into a rich, sexy Italian man who wants a mistress, keep me in mind.”
“Over my dead body.”
She waved the envelope as she went into the condo. “Thank you.”
“You earned it.”
She’s too young, jamook; she’s too young.
I stretched out on the chaise and poured another glass of cabernet. I couldn’t stop thinking about Claire. Where was she now? What was she doing? A woman like that wouldn’t stop pulling puppet strings once she’d gotten a taste for it. Who’d be the next Jimmy Rosso? The next Tony the Scar?
The next Johnny Delarosa?
All I could do: pray it was over. Pray that the next time Claire Dixon got a taste
for blood, she’d leave me and the people I loved out of it. Pray I was far away the next time she decided to carve a piece out of my town.
I raised my glass to the blanket of stars. I’d pray, all right. I’d pray every night if I had to.
Acknowledgements
Writing a novel is a solitary experience, but it takes a team of people to clean it up, comb its hair, straighten its tie, and push it out to the world. I am forever grateful to Tom Corson-Knowles and his team at TCK Publishing for all their hard work getting my book out to the world, especially Jennifer Crosswhite Vanderklipp for finding me, Jacob Steven Mohr for his expert editing skills that gave my words a shine, and Sarah Dyck for guiding us all through the process.
I am forever indebted to my parents, George and Evelyn Stever, for instilling in me a life-long love of reading. They are two very special people and the best parents a man could have. All my love and thanks to both of you.
A special thank you to my late, great father-in-law, Chester Hildreth, for a career’s worth of cop stories that will serve me for years.
I am proud to call Mark Stever and Matthew Stever my brothers. I have never met two finer men. Thank you guys for your friendship, love, and support.
My children give me an enormous amount of pride. Thank you to Brian, Kevin, Cassidy, and daughter-in-law Jessie, for your love, humor, encouragement, and friendship. And to my grandchildren, Lucy and Kent, who are the light of our lives and keep us all young and energized.
This book is dedicated to my wife, Helene Hildreth Stever, for her constant support, encouragement, friendship, and unconditional love. Thank you! I couldn’t have done it without you!
About the Author
David Stever is a novelist, screenwriter, and film producer. He writes the Johnny Delarosa private eye series, debuting with Scarlet Fever. He produced the feature film Coffin, starring Kevin Sorbo (Hercules) and Academy Award nominee Bruce Davison (X-Men) and is a member of the Private Eye Writers of America, the International Thriller Writers, and the Maryland Writer’s Association. He lives in Columbia, Maryland with his wife and family.
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