Natalie's Dilemma: a Frank Renzi crime thriller (Frank Renzi novels Book 7)

by Susan Fleet

  In other words, she was his prisoner. “Yes.”

  “If I am not here, you will wait until I am here, understand?”

  “Yes,” she said. But you can't make me stay here, if you're not around.

  Orazio said to Tommy, “Help your wife take her packages to your room. Then meet me in the garage.” His evil eyes returned to her. “Take the kid upstairs and wash her face. There is chocolate on her chin. From now on someone will guard the door to make sure you do not leave the house without my permission.”

  Her heart sank like a stone. She had to get away from this evil monster, but how?

  Not with security cameras outside, no lock on her bedroom door, Orazio in the room beside her, and a guard posted at the front door.

  CHAPTER 22

  Orazio strode down the hall, his fists clenched, unable to remember the last time he had been so angry. These foolish women would be the death of him. When he entered the kitchen, one of the maids was tending to something on the stove, the woman Tommy had flirted with yesterday.

  She turned and smiled at him. “Hello, Mr. Antonetti, can I get you something?”

  An attractive woman, big breasts and an ass big enough to grab with both hands. The look in her eyes told him she would be happy to earn a little extra money in the sack. But he had too much on his mind right now. Ask Silvano to have some soldiers guard the house. Make sure Angelo finished his work on the uncut diamonds quickly. Find a suitable property and complete the real estate deal.

  “Not right now,” he said, in Italian he realized. Sometimes when he was deep in thought, he reverted to his native tongue. “Sorry. I forgot that I am not in Venice. You are most kind to ask if I need anything. I don't, but there will be an extra person to feed at mealtimes. One of Silvano's men will be staying here.” Provided Silvano agreed to this.

  She rolled her shoulders in a sexy shrug. “No problem, sir. I'll see that there's plenty of food.”

  “Thank you. Excuse me, I must make a phone call.” He opened the door to the right of the kitchen counter and stepped into the garage. Standing beside the open door of the laundry room, he took out his cellphone, planning what he would say.

  Silvano answered immediately. “Orazio, how are you? You have made arrangements for Angelo to cut the diamonds?”

  “Yes. I spoke with him an hour ago.” He assumed Silvano already knew this. Angelo, the fagosa, would have called and told him.

  “Excellent,” Silvano said. “What about the list of homes I gave you?”

  “I have not had time to choose one.” He paused. “You have been so helpful, I am reluctant to ask for another favor.”

  “Nonsense. What do you need?”

  “Tommy's wife and the nanny rented a car and went shopping. I do not want them driving around unsupervised. Tommy will return the rental car, but I am not always here to make sure they stay in the house. Would it be too much trouble to ask one of your men to stay here?”

  “Not at all. I will send one immediately. You need to be free to conduct your business. I will have two more men work with him. Eight hour shifts should do it.”

  “Thank you, Silvano. I will see that they are well fed.”

  He closed his cellphone as Tommy stepped into the garage, frowning, saying in Italian, “What's the big deal? Catarina went shopping. So what?”

  “What if they got into an accident? Did you think about that? What if the police stopped them for some traffic violation? What if the cop saw the kid and recognized her?”

  Tommy folded his arms across his chest, glaring at him. “What if someone plants a bomb in the French Quarter and blows up a building? You worry too much, Orazio.”

  He stepped closer, looming over his brother. “I worry because you are incapable of thinking two moves ahead. You think with your dick and give your wife whatever she wants.”

  “She got the jewelry into the country, didn't she? The swag The Boss don't know about.”

  “Be quiet,” he snapped. Leaning closer, he whispered, “You don't think that The Boss might have bugs in here?”

  Tommy's eyes widened. He looked around the garage, then at the laundry room.

  Orazio held out the keys to the rental car. “Have Catarina drive the Honda back to the rental agency. Follow her in the SUV, but you make the return. Get a copy of the rental contract. I want to see it. On the way home, talk to this frivolous wife of yours. Make her understand that we are not here for shopping. We have serious business to conduct.”

  Clearly angry, Tommy snatched the keys and went in the kitchen.

  Orazio mopped his brow with a handkerchief. The weather in Venice was pleasant this time of year, unlike New Orleans which was hot and humid. But in a few days he would complete their business. Then he could fly back to Venice, relax in his palazzo and enjoy the holidays. His favorite whore would come to see him on Christmas Eve.

  His cellphone rang. He studied the Caller ID. His trusted soldier in Venice. Speaking Italian, he said, “What is it?”

  “I have news. According to the newspaper and TV reports, Dominic Ruffino died yesterday.”

  “You are certain of this?”

  “Positive. The wife of one of our soldiers works at the hospital.”

  “Excellent. Thank you for letting me know.”

  He ended the call and smiled. Dominic would not be talking to the polizia now, nor would Sophia.

  Before he left New Orleans, he would get rid of the kid and the insolent nanny, too. Then no one would talk about anything.

  ____

  7:45 PM

  “You did it again,” Kelly said, setting aside her dinner plate. “Great swordfish, Frank.”

  He saluted her with his wineglass and drank some of the Pinot Grigio he'd brought. “Does that mean I'm forgiven for standing you up last night?”

  She frowned, pretending to debate the issue. “I guess. But don't let it happen again. I can't believe Natalie Brixton is here in New Orleans. What's this guy Conti like?”

  “Hollywood handsome and self-important. He expected me to help him do surveillance on the mob house. But he's after the 'Netti brothers, not Natalie.”

  Kelly raised an eyebrow. “What's the matter, Frank? Jealous?”

  Irritated, he said, “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “He slept with her. You didn't.”

  “So? I'm not interested in sleeping with her. I want to arrest her.”

  “Why didn't you?”

  “In the Clearview Mall food court surrounded by a mob of Christmas shoppers?”

  Maybe he shouldn't have told her about seeing Natalie today. Better to focus on the real problem. Kelly's Glock was on the table beside her plate. When he arrived at six, she'd told him he'd have to leave by midnight. She was going hunting for King Rock.

  Not if he could help it.

  He went to the counter, brought the bottle of Pinot Grigio to the table and added a splash to both of their glasses. “Besides,” he said, “the Ruffino girl was with her.”

  “The five year old?” Kelly said. “And now she's an orphan?”

  “Yes, unfortunately. Conti broke the news to Natalie this afternoon.” He paused and gulped some wine. “To tell the truth, she surprised me. She seemed protective of the girl, like she was worried about her. I am, too.”

  Kelly sipped her wine and stared into space. “A while ago I told you I never intended to have kids. I've never regretted it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when thugs turn little kids into orphans. Right now Jacques is in foster care. Angelica's grandmother wants custody, but it's complicated, legally. King Rock shot Angelica, but his name is on the birth certificate.” She flashed a sardonic smile. “So the killer has to sign off on it. Want to call King Rock and ask him to do it?”

  “That sucks. I don't like it any better than you do, but I don't want you out gunning for him by yourself. It's too dangerous.”

  But she paid no attention, working up a head of steam. “People read about a murder in the paper, think how ter
rible it was and move on. But it’s different when you know the victim. The media raised hell about Angelique for a week and moved on to the next big thing. I saw what it did to her son. Her asshole husband shot her nine days ago, but you don't seem that hot to find him now that Natalie's here.”

  “Wrong. Natalie's not going anywhere. Conti has people watching the house.”

  “Yeah? Who?”

  “Off-duty NOPD cops. Conti's paying them. Tony Caruso set it up. He's a good friend. He'll tell me if she leaves the house. But King Rock is my top priority.” As long as Natalie didn't try to escape.

  “Why don't we pay some off-duty cops to hunt for King Rock?”

  “You know why. Vobitch would do it in a heartbeat, but it's not in the budget. He wants King Rock as bad as you do.”

  “No he doesn't. Angelique wasn't his client. She trusted me and now she's dead.”

  The department shrinks advised homicide cops to keep their distance. Don't take it personally. Don't get emotionally involved. He'd never been good at that. He lived the job. And so did Kelly.

  “It wasn't your fault, Kelly. Stop guilt-tripping yourself. Her scumbag husband shot her.”

  Kelly set her jaw, an expression he knew all too well. When she made up her mind to do something, nothing could stop her. But he didn't want to lose her, didn't want her shot by some gangbanger. “Have you been to see Ben Washburn's widow lately?”

  Her expression morphed into a stricken, guilty look. Two years ago, Ben Washburn had been her partner. Now he was dead.

  “I haven't forgotten the night you and Ben got shot. I sat by your hospital bed for hours after you came out of surgery, afraid you weren't going to make it. I was the one who called your father in Chicago. Not a pleasant experience. I don't want to have to call him again.”

  She gazed at him, her eyes filming with tears. He left his chair and pulled her to her feet. “We're both tired, too tired to hunt for a killer. Tomorrow I'm going to see Kenyon. Then I'm going to Iberville to thank the nurse who saved his life. Then I'm going to hunt for King Rock. Believe it or not, I care about Angelica's boy, too.”

  Kelly wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “I believe you, Frank. Let's go to bed.”

  A great weight lifted from his shoulders. After all the tension and emotional agita of the past week, he wanted to take her in his arms and make love to her, wanted to feel the warmth of her bare skin against his.

  Kelly had suffered as much as he had, maybe more. She needed comforting, too.

  He kissed her deeply, a long lingering kiss, and felt her respond which turned him on even more. He didn't waste time taking off her clothes. He'd do that as soon as he got her in the bedroom.

  CHAPTER 23

  SUNDAY December 19 – 8:35 AM

  Frank parked his car on Basin Street and walked into the Iberville project with a big bouquet of red roses. Twenty yards away, two matronly black women approached him, dressed in their Sunday finery and flowery wide-brimmed hats. He assumed they were going to church. Other than funerals, he hadn't been to church in years. The son of Sicilian immigrants, Judge Salvatore Renzi still attended Mass every Sunday at a Catholic church in Swampscott, Massachusetts, where Frank had grown up. Six days from now his father would be there on Christmas.

  After his mother died, he made an effort to spend the holiday with his father, but he'd had no time to make travel plans or do any shopping. Kelly was flying to Chicago to visit her father and her extended family. Last night in bed when he asked what she wanted for Christmas, she'd said, “King Rock.”

  “Good morning,” said the shorter woman, beaming at him. “Those roses are beautiful!”

  Smiling at her, he said, “Not as beautiful as your hats!” Which got him two appreciative smiles.

  A minute later he entered the building where Angelique had once lived. The foyer still smelled of urine and stale cigarette smoke. He checked the directory. E. Hughes lived in apartment 101 on the first floor. He went to the door opposite the mailboxes and tapped on it.

  After a moment he heard two locks click. A chain rattled and the door opened. Dressed in slacks and a paisley-print blouse, Ella Hughes said, “Hello Detective Renzi. What brings you here on a Sunday morning?”

  He held out the bouquet of roses. “I just came from Kenyon Miller's house. Kenyon and his wife asked me to bring you these.”

  Her thin face lit up in a smile as she took the roses. “How nice. Come in and tell me how he's doing.”

  Her living room was neat and tidy, but barely large enough to hold a leopard-print sofa and two matching chairs grouped around a low ebony-wood table. “Sit down while I put these beautiful roses in a vase.”

  He perched on the sofa and studied the magazines on the table: Ebony, Newsweek, and Nursing News. Opposite him, a television on a TV stand was dark and silent. Golden-rod yellow drapes were open to let in the morning sun, but iron bars protected the window, a testament to the high crime rate in New Orleans' pubic housing projects.

  Ella returned with a vase full of red roses and set it on a table by the window. He tried to estimate her age. Mid-fifties, maybe? Nary a wrinkle on her smooth dark skin, but her close-cropped dark hair was flecked with gray.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Coffee? Bottled water?”

  “No, thanks.” He took an envelope out of the inside pocket of his sports jacket. “Kenyon's wife asked me to give you this.”

  Ella sat beside him on the sofa, opened the envelope and smiled. “What a beautiful family! And such a thoughtful note.”

  She handed him the card. On the front was a photograph of Kenyon, Tanya and their two kids, taken for their Christmas card probably. Inside, a handwritten note said: Thank you so much Ms Ella. You saved Kenyon's life. We're so happy to have him home with us. He's getting better every day. We'd like to have you come for dinner sometime soon so we can thank you in person. Love, Tanya.

  “Nice,” he said. “I'd take advantage of the offer if I were you. Tanya's a great cook.”

  “You seem rather fond of them, Kenyon especially.”

  “I am. Kenyon's a great guy. When I came here in 2001, he showed me the ropes. You know how it is. New job, new people, new rules.” He grinned. “Some of which have to be broken.”

  With a faint smile, Ella said, “Sounds like my profession. Too many rules and regulations.”

  “I wanted to thank you, too. Seeing Kenyon lying there in all that blood threw me for a loop. If you hadn't come out and helped—”

  “The blood scared you.”

  He fingered the decades-old scar on his chin, a reminder of an injury he'd suffered as a kid. The goriest crime scenes didn't faze him, mangled bodies with terrible injuries, blood spatter everywhere. But seeing his own blood—or the blood of someone he cared about—freaked him out.

  “Years ago when I was in nursing school,” Ella said, “it wasn't the women who fainted at the sight of blood, it was the men. Not that there were many of them.” She raised an eyebrow. “Given your profession, avoiding blood must be difficult, being a homicide detective and all.”

  He decided not to tell her about the cause of his phobia, if that's what it was. Never complain, never explain. “Some people tell me I'm addicted to risky behavior.”

  His ex-wife had put it far more bluntly. You love taking chances, Frank. If there's a dangerous assignment, you're the first one to volunteer.

  “It's risky being a police in this town that's for sure,” Ella said. “All these thugs with guns. Angelique was such a sweetheart. I don't know why she got mixed up with King Rock.”

  “Kelly O'Neil tried to get her away from him. She works in the Domestic Violence unit. But Angelique wouldn't leave.”

  “With predictable consequences. What happened to Jacques?”

  Another topic he'd prefer to avoid. One that wouldn't go away. Last night after they made love, Kelly had told him what the psychologist at social services had said. No matter what she did to get the boy to speak, Jacques said
nothing, just stared at her, hugging a stuffed toy.

  “He's in foster care. Angelique's grandmother wants to take custody of him, but ...” He puffed his cheeks. “You're not gonna believe this, but King Rock has to sign off on it because he's listed as the father on the birth certificate.”

  Ella stared at him, clearly outraged. “That's ridiculous. The boy should be with his family! If ever a rule was made to be broken ...”

  “I agree. But the folks at social services stick to the rules. A week ago, we nabbed King Rock's driver, took him to the station and grilled him. But he wouldn't tell us where King Rock was.”

  “And now he's dead. I read about it in the Times-Picayune.”

  “Correct. Now he's dead.” And it still bothered him. He should have done more to protect the kid. “I figure King Rock ordered the hit to keep him quiet.”

  “Sounds about right to me. He's a heartless bastard. I saw him this morning.”

  Shocked, Frank stared at her. “You did? Where?”

  Ella gestured at the window. “Looked out my front window and there he was, sauntering past the building, bold as brass.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “A half hour, forty-five minutes ago.”

  He got up and headed for the door. “Thanks for the tip, Ella. I'm going to cruise the neighborhood and see if I spot him.”

  “Try the B-n-L crash pad,” she said. “Word around here is, he's got himself a new girlfriend.”

  _____

  9:15 AM

  The breakfast choices were bountiful: two kinds of muffins, waffles, bacon and scrambled eggs. Natalie forced down half of a cranberry muffin. Orazio had already left the house. Tomasso was upstairs, sulking, though there'd been no argument today. Bianca had tried a bite of Catarina's waffle. Now both of them were happily devouring waffles drenched with maple syrup.

  Which left her free to leave the table. She got up and headed for the kitchen. This morning when she checked her iPhone, she'd found a text from Pak Lam. He had obtained new documents to facilitate her escape and express mailed them to his New Orleans contact. How soon could she meet him? Good question. Leaving of the house would be difficult.