Big Daddy Sinatra 3: The Best of My Love (The Sinatras of Jericho County)

by Monroe, Mallory

Eddie walked up to the front of his desk. “So what’s the verdict?” he asked.

  “Fired.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “What’s to be sorry about? His ass deserved it. He had the nerve to call you a token. You’re the token, a man with nearly twenty years of experience as a police officer, when his ass got hired in the first place only because his Granddaddy had connections. What a joke!”

  Eddie smiled. “As he was leaving, he was bragging about how he decided to quit rather than work under me. But everybody knew he was lying.”

  “He was.”

  “He was also out there telling the guys that you called his wife a whore. That’s a lie too. Right?”

  Brent didn’t respond.

  Eddie frowned. “Brent, you didn’t.”

  “We’re talking about Jo okay? Jo the ho? Was I lying?”

  Eddie laughed. “Hell no. But you can’t go around calling a man’s wife a whore and expect no retribution, boss. That’s a fact.”

  “And that man shouldn’t put that whore up as a paragon of virtue and expect no blowback, Eddie. That’s a fact too. She’s not qualified to sweep the floors in this department, let alone dispatch. And she was his wife too? I’ve been known to do some crazy things in my day, but hiring the wife of Clem Michaels was not going to be one of them.”

  “We’ve got more like Clem in this department, you know that? They’re more undercover with it, but they’re here.”

  Brent nodded. “I know. They’ll show themselves just like Clem showed himself today.” Knocks were heard on the door. “And I’ll get rid of them too. On that you have my word. They either shape up or ship out. Chief Joffee condoned their behavior. I don’t. Enter!” Brent yelled.

  A rookie police officer opened the door. “Sorry to disturb you, Chief, but there’s a Makayla Ross here to see you, sir.”

  Eddie looked at Brent. “Makayla Ross? Who’s that?”

  “Damn if I know,” Brent replied. “What does she want?” Brent asked his rookie.

  “Wouldn’t say what she wanted. But she did say she’s from the State Attorney General’s office, sir.”

  Brent was surprised. “Send her in,” he said, the officer left, and then Brent and Eddie exchanged a glance.

  “Attorney General’s office?” Eddie asked. “Whoa. What could that be about?”

  Since Brent didn’t know, he didn’t respond.

  And tall, curvaceous Makayla Ross entered his life.

  Brent’s big green eyes grew bigger as soon as he saw her. It was hard not to have a reaction to her. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, but had a sophistication about her that defied her age. She walked with purpose, with a gracefulness that demanded respect. And her remarkably curvaceous body on an equally impressive pretty face created a look so enticing Brent found himself staring at her. A woman among girls was his first thought. Nothing fat about her, but man was she stacked. And although he was not accustomed to a woman with the kind of hips and ass she possessed, and her body type wouldn’t be the type he would think about when he thought about a beautiful woman, she was redefining his thoughts before his very eyes. He would love a little taste of her.

  But he was also certain, given that stern look on her pretty face, that she was not here for any tastings. She was here to handle her business. And it had to be serious business. People didn’t just pop up in little Jericho from the state attorney general’s office unless something major was afoot. He rose to his feet as she began walking, literally marching, toward his desk.

  “Good morning,” she said jovially as she marched, her hand already extended. “I’m Makayla Ross. Chief Joffee I presume?”

  “Not any longer, no, ma’am,” Brent said, smiling too. “I’m his replacement.” They shook hands. “Brent Sinatra.”

  She continued to shake his hand, but he could feel a hesitation. Her big gray eyes stared at him. “Sinatra?” she asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Would you happen to be related to Charles Sinatra?”

  Eddie looked at Brent. What was going on here?

  Brent had that very same thought. “He’s my father,” Brent said.

  Makayla stared at him. And then released his hand. “Oh,” she said. “Now that’s interesting.” Then she looked at Eddie, who was staring at her. “Hi,” she said. And extended her hand. “Makayla Ross.”

  “Eddie Rivers,” Eddie said, smiling and shaking her hand. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

  “Captain Rivers is my second-in-command,” Brent said, as he noticed also how smitten his number two appeared.

  “Nice to meet you, Captain,” Makayla said.

  “Delighted to meet you,” Eddie responded. “Very delighted.”

  “I hate to break up the fun,” Makayla said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, as if her smile was more a tool than an emotion, “but could I possibly have a few moments alone with your boss? If you don’t mind?”

  “Don’t mind at all,” Eddie said, gave Brent a sly wink, and then he left, closing the door behind him.

  But Brent was still digesting what she had asked him. “What about my father?” he asked her.

  She motioned toward the chair in front of his desk. “May I?”

  “Please,” he responded.

  But instead of sitting back behind his desk, he walked around and sat down in the chair beside hers. He was a big man, with an overwhelming presence. She suddenly felt small beside him. An unusual feeling, for a big girl like her.

  She sat her briefcase beside her chair. “How long have you been chief?” she asked him.

  “A couple months now.”

  “No wonder we still had wrong information. It could take upwards to a year before we update our county records, especially records within our smaller counties.”

  “You mentioned my father,” Brent said again. He was not interested in any small talk. Not right now. “Why would the attorney general’s office be concerned with my father?”

  Abrasive, she thought. Brash. No pushover, and she liked that. “Actually, I’m not here about your father. I’m here about your father’s father. Your grandfather, Salvatore Luciano Sinatra. Better known as Luke?”

  Brent was confused. “But he’s in prison. He’s been in prison since before I was born.”

  “Life without the possibility of parole. I know,” she said. “Except there’s been a ruling.”

  “What kind of ruling?”

  “The prosecutor that handled this case when he worked in this jurisdiction has been indicted on corruption charges in a different jurisdiction. My office was task with reviewing his prior cases to see if there were irregularities in any of his previous convictions. This was one of the cases in this county that my staff red-flagged.”

  “My grandfather’s case?” Brent asked.

  “That’s right. The governor has ordered a hearing to determine if Mr. Sinatra should be granted a new trial, or, if the prosecutorial misconduct is determined to be injurious enough, be released immediately.”

  Brent’s heart pounded. “Released?”

  “Without delay is the exact wording,” Makayla said. And then she stared at him. “Are you all right, Chief?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  And he was.

  It was his father he was worried about.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Peter Jason, the young cop on scene, hurried over to Charles’s Jaguar as soon as he drove up.

  “Good morning, Big Daddy,” he said to his boss’s father as Charles opened his car door and stepped out.

  “Why did you call me, Peter?” Charles asked. “Don’t you have the vacate order?”

  “Yes, sir, I have it.”

  “Then what’s the problem? What are you wasting my time for?”

  “I know I’m supposed to force her out today, sir, but . . . Well, sir, she’s having an awfully tough time right now.”

  Charles looked at the policeman with an are you kidding me expression. �
��She’s what?”

  “She’s having a hard time, sir. Her boyfriend left her high and dry with the kids. She lost her job at the laundromat so no money’s coming in. It’s been really difficult for her.”

  “And what do you expect me to do about it?”

  Peter swallowed hard. “Well, sir, I thought maybe you could let her slide a little.”

  Charles couldn’t believe his ears. “Let her slide?”

  “Yes, sir. Until she can get back on her feet.”

  “And who’s supposed to pay the rent while she slides? While she gets back on her feet? You?”

  Peter didn’t see that question coming. “Me?” he asked, astonished.

  But Charles was dead serious. “Yeah, you,” he said.

  “Well . . . no, sir. I can’t pay her rent.”

  “Then get the fuck out of my face! If you aren’t willing to do what you’re asking me to do, then stop asking. She’s been evicted. She has not paid her rent for several months. She’s gotten all the breaks and slides she’s ever going to get from me.”

  “But she’s in an awful state, sir. She could harm her kids if you don’t help her.”

  “And if you would have done your job two weeks ago and evicted her when the order first came down, we wouldn’t be here today talking about harming kids and how can we help her live for free. You rent or own your home, son?”

  Peter didn’t understand the question. “Sir?”

  “Why do I need to repeat myself? You heard me.”

  “I’m buying it, sir.”

  “If you don’t pay your mortgage,” Charles asked, “will your bank let you slide, or will they kick your ass out?”

  “Your bank owns my mortgage, sir,” Peter said with a twinge of bitterness in his voice. “You own my mortgage.”

  “Then it’s for damn sure, if you don’t pay, your ass will be out of there. Just like she’s about to be out of here today.”

  Charles reached back into his car, grabbed the pistol he kept in his glove compartment, and began heading for the home’s entrance. Peter nervously followed behind him. He tried to speak up on her behalf just as he promised her, but she had to know how Big Daddy was. It was a fool’s try to begin with.

  When Charles entered the home, however, the woman, EllieMae Fusha, grabbed a butcher’s knife off of the kitchen table, grabbed her four-year-old daughter who was by her side, and put the knife to her throat. “Stay back, Big Daddy,” she warned. “I’ll take her away from here, I declare I will!”

  Charles pointed his gun at her. “And I’ll take you away from here,” he said. I declare I will.” If he had a dollar for the number of tenants who threatened to do him or somebody else bodily harm if he evicted them, he’d be Bill Gates. “Put it down.”

  Outside, Brent drove up in his big Ford F-150 4x4 pickup truck. He had gotten the call from Peter when it seemed like Charles was not coming and EllieMae could harm her child. But when Brent saw his father’s Jaguar, instead of feeling relieved, he became more anxious. His father had the kind of temper that was notorious for escalating an already tense situation. Nobody was dying today over some house dispute, not on Brent’s watch. He got out of his truck and ran across the driveway, up onto the porch, and hurried into the house.

  When he saw his father pointing a gun at EllieMae, and he saw EllieMae, a woman with whom he attended the same high school, with a knife at her daughter’s throat, he froze. “Good Lord,” he said.

  And EllieMae immediately appealed to Brent. “Tell your daddy to get out of here, Brent,” she begged. “Tell him to get out of here and leave me the hell alone!”

  “I’ll be happy to leave you alone,” Charles said. “But you’re getting out of my house.”

  “Wanna bet?” EllieMae taunted.

  Charles immediately fired his gun within an inch of her feet. “I don’t bet,” he said.

  Brent, Peter, and EllieMae were stunned that Big Daddy would discharge his weapon right in front of that little girl. Ellie, especially, was so thrown that she lost her balance, fell backwards, and the knife flew from her hand. Brent then grabbed the now crying little girl, and Peter grabbed the knife. EllieMae remained on the floor, crying too.

  Brent looked at Peter, who was just standing there. “Well?” he asked.

  “Sir?”

  “Cuff her.”

  “Cuff her, sir?”

  “Yes, Peter, cuff her! Arrest her. She had a knife to her own child’s throat. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I didn’t figure she did anything wrong,” Peter said, and Charles looked at him then. “She only used this knife to stop Big Daddy from kicking her out.”

  “So that makes it all right?” Charles asked the young officer. “Is that what you’re telling him?”

  “You shot at her. That’s wrong too.”

  “She had a knife to a child’s throat,” Charles reminded the officer. “What did you expect me to do? Hope for the best and wait and see if she was serious or not the way your ass was doing?”

  “Let me handle this, Big Daddy,” Brent said.

  Charles was surprised that his oldest child, a son he had when he was only seventeen, would use that derogatory term that he knew his father hated.

  And Brent knew he hated it. That was why he used it. He turned to his officer. “Cuff her, frisk her, and haul her downtown,” he ordered.

  But when Peter hesitated again, Brent exhaled. “Here,” he said, handing over the little girl and taking the knife from Peter. “Take her over to CPS.”

  “No!” EllieMae yelled. “They’ll take my baby away from me. You take my baby to my mama house!”

  Brent knew her “mama house” was a worse situation than her house. “Take the baby to Child Welfare,” Brent ordered. “Let them decided what’s best.”

  Peter nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. It was instructive to Charles that the little girl looked at her mother, but did not ask to stay with her. She looked relieved to be leaving there. She gladly left with Peter.

  Charles shook his head. “You’re hiring social workers or cops, Brent?”

  “He’s a good kid, Pop. He just needs a little more training.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Charles asked, unconvinced. “Is that what he needs? But that’s not my problem, you’re right about that. I’ll send a cleaning crew in here once she’s gone. I’m late for a meeting.”

  “You still want her things put out, or can your people put her stuff in storage?”

  Charles didn’t feel the tenant deserved that consideration, but he nodded. “I’ll order it,” he said.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Brent responded and Charles squeezed his son’s arm and began to leave. Then Brent thought about his visit with Makayla Ross this morning. “Oh, and Dad,” he said.

  Charles looked back, but kept walking. “Yeah?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I told you I was late for a meeting. Talk to me tonight at the family dinner. Can it wait until tonight?”

  Brent nodded. “It can wait,” he said.

  But Charles sensed he wanted to say more. He stopped walking and looked at his son. “You sure?” he asked him.

  In truth, Brent didn’t want to broach the subject at all. But he nodded. “I’m sure,” he said. “Go to your meeting. It can wait.”

  Matt Dellum looked at his watch again and then twirled another forkful of spaghetti. “Not very punctual people, are they?” He ate vigorously.

  “She’s usually on time, from what I’ve heard about her around town,” Steve Greene, his property manager, responded. He was not eating at all. “These townspeople, however, doesn’t view her husband the same. He was probably late for his own Baptism, is the way they put it.”

  “But she’s the one who owns the Inn, right?” Matt twirled another forkful of pasta. “She’s the one we have to convince?”

  “Her husband actually owns it,” Steve said. “He acquired it just before they got married, so it’s rightfully his. But she runs it. She’s the force behi
nd it. From what I’m hearing he turned the whole shebang over to her.”

  They were in the Marymount Restaurant on Jericho’s south side, at a booth near the window, and were waiting for Charles and Jenay Sinatra to finally arrive. Both Sinatras were very late. “So tell me everything I need to know about this woman,” Matt said. “About this . . .” He looked down at a sheet of paper beside his plate. “This Jenay Sinatra.”

  Steve opened his folder. “She got her start a little later in life than most,” he said. “She was like thirty before she decided to go to some vocational school in Boston. She ended up with a certificate in hotel management. Sinatra met her when she was at that school, found her attractive, and asked her to run his newly acquired Bed and Breakfast.”

  “The Jericho Inn?”

  “The Jericho Inn. Although everybody around here just calls it the Inn. And she’s run it well. According to everybody I talked to, she exceeded their expectations.”

  “What about her race?” Matt asked. “Is that a factor around here?”

  “It used to be when Charles first brought her to town. Mainly because she supplanted other local women who were a part of his life, and they didn’t like that. Why couldn’t he find a good white girl, that was how they felt about it when she first came to town. But now? No. Her race doesn’t appear to be a factor at all. She’s one of them now.”

  Matt didn’t like to hear that. “That could be problematic,” he said, “if she and her husband turn down our offer.”

  Steve didn’t follow that logic. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re going to need local government to agree to our plans.”

  “Hell that’s practically done,” Steve said. “We’ve paid off almost every councilperson in town.”

  “But they can only vote in committee to bring the measure up for a citywide vote. If this Jenay is against what we’re trying to do, then she and her husband may be able to turn the town against those plans too, and the citywide vote will fail.”

  “Her husband isn’t going to turn anybody against anything around here,” Steve said. “He’s universally hated around here. They even call him Big Daddy as a way to show their disdain.”