“I’m sorry. I’m a little rattled that’s all.”
“If you don’t like the smell, maybe you should turn around,” the big guy suggested, obviously annoyed that someone would berate his farm.
“I’m sorry. But come on! Who would like that smell?” Claudia asked sincerely. She feared she’d ticked him off, but that smell was awful!
“The cows don’t seem to mind.”
“Well I guess if a couple of cows can take it, so can I.” Claudia Bertucci had fended off muggers, gangsters, hit men and Joey Angelucci in the fifth grade who wanted to kiss her with his tongue. She could handle the smell. What she didn’t know was if she could handle the big guy.
“She talks funny.” Again the girl giggled.
“I’m from Brooklyn not from Mars, sweetheart,” Claudia told her and smiled because the girl’s laughter was the most normal sound she’d heard in a long time.
That was questionable, Ross thought. She was about as misplaced as an Eskimo in Fiji. A black leather motorcycle jacket was tossed over her shoulders. Underneath he could see skin where her blouse should be and the edges of pink silk that barely covered her breasts. Her legs were encased in the tightest pieces of black lycra that he’d ever seen. Through it every muscle was defined. If she had any flab, he would have spotted it a mile away. She didn’t have any flab. Her feet were bare except for some black leather straps attached to three inches of plastic. Hair, sable in color with burgundy highlights, flew out from her head as if she’d just stuck her thumb in an electrical socket. Only Ross was pretty sure that she meant for it to look that way. He couldn’t tell if it was her ears or an excessive amount of hair spray that anchored her sunglasses above her hair. And the earrings! Huge gold hoops reached her shoulders. This was not going to work.
“This is not going to work,” Ross muttered aloud. So loud she must have heard him because she frowned.
MacCurdy joined them while the other agent switched to the driver’s side. He wore a huge, if somewhat insincere grin on his face. “Isn’t this great! I think you guys are going to really hit it off.”
Ignoring Farmer Ted, Claudia turned her attention to Agent MacCurdy. “Where am I?”
“I told you that is confidential. On a need-to-know basis only.”
“Yeah, well I need to know.” She needed to know that she was still on the same planet and that one of the roads leading off this farm led back to Brooklyn.
MacCurdy shook his head. “It’s for your own safety.”
Claudia smirked at him, then turned to the young girl. “Sweetheart.”
“Yes?” Rosa May responded.
“Where am I?”
“Sun Prairie, Wisconsin.”
“Oh, man!” MacCurdy groaned. “This ruins everything.”
“My dad always said I should tell the truth,” Rosa May answered plainly.
“Sun what?” Claudia asked, unbelieving that there truly could be such a place. “Are you kidding me?”
“Oh, man!” MacCurdy whined.
She guessed he wasn’t kidding.
“Thank you, honey,” Claudia told the girl first. Then she turned to the agent with the painful expression on his face. “Relax, all right. I love Antoinette. But the only thing I trust her with is scheduling nail appointments, and then only because I have someone check her work. You think I’m going to trust her with my life?”
At this point MacCurdy had no choice but to hope she wouldn’t.
“She won’t have access to the phone,” Ross told MacCurdy. “She won’t do anything that might jeopardize my daughter’s safety.” This he said to her.
Recognizing the threat in his voice and his eyes, Claudia did what came naturally to her. She mouthed off. “My name is Claudia or Miss Bertucci, not She, and I have no intentions of jeopardizing anyone. Least of all myself or your pretty little girl here. You on the other hand,” she stated pointing in his direction. “You look like you can take care of yourself.”
Ross wasn’t sure if that was a compliment.
This time the girl had to put her hands over her mouth to stop herself from all out guffawing. Claudia bent down to make eye contact with the girl. “Hey, gigglemeister, what’s your name?”
“Rosa May,” she said through her hands.
“Rosa May? Rosa…May? What a mouthful. I’m gonna call you Rosie. Capisce?”
“Cap…What?”
Claudia smiled. “Is that okay with you?”
She nodded her head.
Claudia nodded in turn. “Rosie, we’re going to have to work on your Italian. Now, if that big man over there, who I assume is your pop, will agree to this whole shindig, then I’ll take your hand and let you escort me to my room.”
“You sure do talk funny,” Rosa May said again. But she took Claudia’s hand with an acceptance indicative of her age and led her along the path toward the house. After a few steps she turned back. “It is all right, isn’t it Dad?”
For a moment Ross was silent. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like her. The way she spoke, the way she dressed. She would be a bad influence on his daughter. He should stop the whole thing right now before it got out of hand. My name is Claudia or Miss Bertucci, not She. Who the hell did she think she was?
He watched while she stood there. His eyes pierced hers while he waited for one more outrageous thing to come out of her mouth. Only she said nothing. And if he wasn’t mistaken, those eyes of hers held a measure of vulnerability.
As if she sensed that she was giving herself away, she reached up to pluck her sunglasses off her head to shield her eyes from his scrutiny. Only the frames got caught in a tangle of tease and hair spray, and she ended up leaving them stuck on her head at a lopsided angle.
Ross couldn’t suppress his grin. She acted tough, but he guessed that on the inside she was all cream puff. For that matter, so was he. That and a sucker.
“So what’s it going to be Ted?” she asked, her pointed chin lifted high.
“My name is Ross, not Ted.” Where had she gotten Ted from?
Rolling her eyes, she asked again, “So what’s it going to be, Ross?”
“Show her inside, Rosa May. Take her to the third bedroom on the left. I’ll bring her things in later.”
Her relief was palatable. “Wait,” she cried, dropping Rosa May’s hand. “I need my bag.” Running, if it could be called running in three-inch heels, Claudia stopped in front of the car and reached inside for a purse that was larger than one of his feed bags.
The bag draped over her shoulder, she sashayed back to where Rosa May was waiting for her and was led into the house. If Ross let his gaze linger a little too long on the sway of her hips, then no one was foolish enough to say anything. Certainly not MacCurdy.
“She’s a pistol, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, a pistol,” he repeated. One that was pointed at his head. “So what’s the story. You said she found a dead guy. Who was he?”
MacCurdy slapped his old friend on the back. “That’s my Ross. You can take the boy out of Quantico, but you can’t take Quantico out of the boy.”
“The story,” Ross prompted. He didn’t have time to stroll down memory lane. Cows needed to be milked.
“The dead guy was a drug runner. Nonunion if you catch my drift. And the mob has their own unique way of dealing with scabs. He was found in Rocco ‘The Bull’ Capuano’s apartment. Rocco is small fish. For all we know he wasn’t even the one who pulled the trigger. The real hit man was probably just keeping him on ice, literally, until he could dispose of the body. Anyway, the police couldn’t really hold Rocco. No one saw him do anything. He’s got fifteen cousins who can testify that they were eating pasta with him down at the local bistro at the time of death. The cops are harassing him, and we’re tailing him because we’re hoping he’s going to lead us to Grotti. Grotti is the big fish in New York these days. Public enemy number one. He runs numbers, blackmails the local shop owners, pimps prostitutes.…
“Deals drugs,” Ross finished. Not a
pleasant fellow he was sure.
“You got the picture. We’re hoping Grotti himself put the icing on this particular cake. So we’re keeping a tap on Rocco’s phone. Don’t know why the girl is such a hot item. Probably just a loose end they want cleaned up. Like I said, they tried twice, failed twice. More than likely they are done trying. Grotti doesn’t need the extra attention. The only reason we’re taking such precautions by bringing her to an unknown location is because they found her.”
“She says she never told the friend,” Ross noted.
MacCurdy bunched his shoulders and scrunched his face. “She’s not going to admit to being that stupid. Keep her off the phone and no harm will come to you, I promise.”
Ross merely nodded, but something in his gut shifted. Claudia appeared to be a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. Her eyes revealed a quickness of mind.
“So how long is all of this going to take?” Ross had already concluded that it was only going to take a few days for Claudia to throw his life into total chaos.
“Not long. Rocco is pretty close to the edge. A few more days of NYPD Blue heat, and he’ll run to Grotti for protection. Then we’ll get a tape on him and Grotti. If you want I can have Chuck—” MacCurdy pointed to the other agent in the car “—stay out here.”
“No.”
Grinning, MacCurdy slapped his friend on the shoulder. “I didn’t think so. You always were the lone-wolf type. But it’s been a while. Think you’re still up for the job?”
Ross didn’t change his expression. He did, however, remove MacCurdy’s hand from his shoulder. “I’m up for the job. But I mean it, one hint of trouble, and she’s gone. If my stomach so much as twitches…”
“You and your gut. They’re still legendary down at the Bureau. Trust me. Everything will proceed without a hitch. You have my word.”
Ross didn’t say it, but he never once knew how far to trust MacCurdy’s word.
His ex-partner headed back to his car, popped the trunk with a key, and unloaded some luggage. Ross wasn’t paying attention, but when the Ford did a K turn in the driveway and the two men drove away, he was left facing five bags of luggage. Five! Actually four bags, and one trunk. His jaw dropped, and when he heard the beep, beep of the car horn, signaling its retreat, he wished all the ruts in the world upon MacCurdy.
Cursing under his breath, freely now because he knew his daughter was nowhere in sight, Ross grimly carried the luggage and the trunk into the house.
And he thought it was going to take a few days for her to throw his life into chaos? It was more like a few hours. As the sweat ran down his back, and he felt the muscles in his arm cramp from the weight of the trunk, Ross definitely decided, that this wasn’t going to work.
2
“THIS IS YOUR ROOM,” Rosa May said, stepping back as she pointed inside the third room on the left.
Claudia poked her head in first. Then she pulled it back. “Sweetie, you must be mistaken. This must be some kind of upstairs living room.”
Rosa May shook her head. “No, this is the right room. Dad said to give you the third bedroom on the left. His is the first. Mine is the second. This is the third. The one across the hall used to be my mom’s sewing room.”
Arching her brow, Claudia wondered. “Honey, where is your ma?” And why on earth had she ever agreed to let a strange woman into her home? Claudia was going to have to inform her that when one was married to a man who looked like her husband, it was best not to let other women invade her turf. Not that she was tempted by those broad shoulders or that massive chest. Naaah.
“My mom is dead. She died three years ago.”
Immediately, Claudia fell to her knees and wrapped the girl in a big bear hug. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she wailed.
Rosa May shrugged out of her embrace, her face beet red. “I’m okay. It has been three years.”
Claudia stared owlishly at the girl. She seemed so calm, so in control. “Honey, I lost my mother thirteen years ago, and I’m still not okay. Fathers are important, but nobody can replace a mother.”
Rosa May nodded in understanding.
“I mean, who’s going to paint your nails for the first time? Who’s going to yell at you when you shave your legs too young? Who’s going to tell you when you start to put on weight and remind you that you probably don’t need that third slice of pizza? Who’s going to go to the store with you for the first time when you need to buy feminine…oh never mind.”
“My dad, I guess.”
“Trust me on this, sweetheart, fathers are good for a lot of things. Intimidating boyfriends you want to scare off, paying for prom gowns, calling you princess. However, painting your fingernails is not one of them.”
Rosa May chuckled.
Happy to make the girl smile, especially when she had inadvertently reminded her of such sadness, Claudia poked her head in the room again. “You are sure this is my room?”
Rosa May nodded.
“Oooh, honey, I am in the Presidential Suite. A room this big in Brooklyn could house a ma, a pop, five kids and a grandma.” Claudia moved forward into the spacious room. There was a huge queen-size bed that jutted out from the wall. Next to it was a bed stand with a small clock and a lamp with a delicate handmade shade on top of it. There was a dresser located on the opposite wall. Walking to it each morning, Claudia mused, would provide her with all the exercise she needed in a day. In the corner adjacent to the dresser was an old-fashioned rocking chair complete with a quilt.
The chair called to Claudia. “I bet your mother used to rock you in that chair when you were a baby. She wouldn’t want to wake your pop, so she brought you to this room and she snuggled into that quilt with you in her arms, just the two of you, and sang to you until you fell asleep.”
Rosa May walked over and petted the quilt reverently. “The blanket was my mom’s. When it’s cold I sleep with it. It still smells like her.”
Claudia reached deep into the crevice between her breasts and removed a locket. “This was my ma’s.” She popped it open and showed Rosa May the tiny picture inicture i inicture inic quilt.
The chair called to Claudia. “I bet your mother used to rock you in that chair when you were a baby. She wouldn’t want to wake your pop, so she brought you to this room and she snuggled into that quilt with you in her arms, just the two of you, and sang to you until you fell asleep.”
Rosa May walked over and petted the quilt reverently. “The blanket was my mom’s. When it’s cold I sleep with it. It still smells like her.”
Claudia reached deep into the crevice between her breasts and removed a locket. “This was my ma’s.” She popped it open and showed Rosa May the tiny picture inicture inicture inicicture inicture inpicture inside.
“She was so beautiful,” Rosa May whispered.
“She was a looker,” Claudia admitted proudly. “My pop told me that the angels smiled on him twice in his life. First, the day they made my ma in heaven. Second, the day they introduced her to him.”
“Do you really still miss her?” Rosa May asked.
“Yeah. I’ll always miss her. But I have her locket. And I have memories. So in a way she’s never really left me.”
Rosa May hesitated, shuffled her feet, and pinned her eyes to her shoelaces. “I still miss my mom. I just don’t like to admit it, you know. I don’t want my dad to think I’m sad all the time.”
Claudia knelt before her new young friend. “Your daddy is a big boy. A very big boy! He’ll understand if sometimes you’re sad. Sometimes, I bet, he’s sad, too. Those are the times you talk about your ma. You bring the memories back. You bring her back.”
“I’m not sure who you are, or why you’re here, but I’m glad you came. Can I call you Claudia?”
“Sure.” She ruffled the girl’s bangs then smoothed them back into place. They were a little fuller now and highlighted the nice arch in her brow. With a little spritz of hair spray, she’d be good to go all day.
“Come here, Rosie,” C
laudia motioned for the girl to follow her to the bed. Removing the large bag from her shoulder, she undid the zipper and tilted the bag upside down, dropping its precious contents onto the bedspread.
Rosa May’s mouth gaped as lipsticks, hairbrushes, manicure sets, eye pluckers, cuticle scissors and some toothbrushlike item with a comb on one side, came tumbling out of her purse. She wasn’t halfway done, either.
More lipsticks, eyeliner pencils, tiny brushes of various thickness. A real toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a packet of floss. The contents were never-ending.
“Hey, cool. Like Mary Poppins,” Rosa May said.
Claudia ignored the reference, too intent in her search. When the bag had given up all of its contents, Claudia shook the bag and muttered to it that it was holding out on her. Finally, she reached her arm deep into the sack, and after a moment of battle, the bag relinquished one small spritz bottle.
Turning to Rosa May, she lifted the girl’s chin with her finger, then covered the girl’s eyes with her free hand. “Close your eyes, Rosie,” Claudia instructed.
Rosa May obeyed without question. A light sprinkling of water hit her forehead, then Claudia teased and tweaked her bangs.
“Perfect,” she announced.
Rosa May lifted her eyes high into her head to see the effect, but her bangs were too high for her to spot. Fortunately, a compact mirror was among one of the discarded items that had fallen onto the bed. Claudia watched as Rosa May smiled at her reflection. Her hair was still honey wheat, it was still tied in a braid in the back, but now the bangs were voluminous and mature, where only a minute ago they had been flat and childish.
“Thanks,” Rosa May offered. “Dad doesn’t let me buy…well, he doesn’t think I need, you know, beauty supplies. Hair spray and all that other stuff.”
“No hair spray! Ahhh! What kind of monster is he?”
Rosa May just laughed and so did Claudia.
Then she set about returning the discarded contents back to her bag. In explanation of her outburst, Claudia told the girl, “I used to do hair back in the days before I concentrated on nails, so this sort of thing comes naturally to me. I used to fill in for Suzie DeMarco in the hair salon because she was always pregnant and needed to stay off her feet. Only between you, me and the walls, I think she was just fat. I mean who stays pregnant for eleven months straight?”
The Doc's Double Delivery & Down-Home Diva Page 17