Bye, Bye Love

by K. J. Larsen

  I swallowed a smile. “Gee, Uncle Joey. You and your new Ferrari could hide from Nick Provenza here.”

  He growled. “‘That worked so well for Bernie.”

  I parked and dug out my trusty lock picking kit but Uncle Joey stopped me.

  “Put it away. No one locks their doors around here.”

  In this part of the world, an intrusion by an unwelcome human posed less of a threat than the occasional uninvited bear or ill-tempered moose. After my harrowing escape to the pantry last night, I’d rather fend off Yogi or Bullwinkle.

  We traipsed up to the cabin and breezed through the door. A red glow caught my eye and I moved across the room to a large, stone fireplace. A few lingering embers smoldered on the hearth.

  I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and a figure stepped out from behind the door. His hands were steady and the weapon in them was designed to make big holes. I’d seen those eyes before in photographs. But without the dark, haunted circles and wary expression.

  I laughed softly. “Hi, Bernie.”

  “You shouldn’t have come,” he said.

  Joey gave an audible gasp. He blinked. Twice. I swear for a moment, he thought he’d seen a ghost.

  His voice choked with emotion. “Bernie? What the hell…”

  Bernie clenched the weapon in the two-fisted grasp of a man whose soft hands were made to create beautiful things. Like photography. And money.

  “Don’t come any closer,” he warned. “I’ll shoot.”

  Uncle Joey strode across the room and threw his arms around Bernie. “Shut up, you old fool.”

  ***

  Dixie and Inga were off exploring the forest. They would check in frequently and then tear off, streaking through the woods again. The return trips were Dixie’s idea. She’d lost one dad already and wasn’t taking any chances. Beagles, however, are see ya later, nose-to-the-ground trackers. I knew how Bernie was about birds. I hoped to God my partner in crime wouldn’t emerge from the woods with a mouthful of feathers.

  Uncle Joey opened the wine and Bernie found a blue-and-white checkered cloth for the table. We ate our picnic on the deck with a spectacular view of the lake. The geese and ducks were showing off.

  Bernie had appeared a little shell shocked when we arrived. Joey let the questions wait, letting him eat and drink a little wine before pressing him for answers. Bernie seemed ravenous. I gave him my chicken and he had second helpings of the antipasti salad. I doubted he’d eaten much since the night he fled town, forgetting his pizza supper in the fridge.

  When he’d devoured enough to pop a button, Bernie shoved his plate aside. I cleared the table and brought fresh coffee and a platter of Mama’s pastries. He dug right in.

  “What the hell happened back there?” Joey said. “I thought you were dead.”

  Bernie seemed at a loss for words. Maybe he didn’t know where to start.

  “Why were you in the park?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I had a few hours before my flight and I was starting to stress. I get that way when I fly. I hate to fly.” Bernie’s voice drifted off.

  “So, you went for a walk to calm your nerves.”

  He nodded. “I knew almost from the beginning I was being followed. I can’t explain it. They scared the hell out of me.”

  “They were scary guys,” Joey said. “Cat talked to a couple kids at the park.”

  “I waited for my chance and I ducked behind a tree. They darted around until they picked up this other guy’s scent. He was wearing a dark coat too. I guess they thought it was me.”

  “It was Charlie.”

  “Who the hell is Charlie?” Joey demanded.

  “Some guy who liked gangster movies.”

  Bernie’s face seemed to shift. “I pulled out my phone to call 911 but it happened too fast. Maybe the guy heard them coming. Because he turned around and ....” The blood drained from his face. “They shot him in the head. Twice.”

  Joey filled his wine. Bernie gulped it down before continuing.

  “They dragged him in the bushes. When they were gone, I ran over to see if...” His voice drifted off.

  “Charlie was dead.” Joey said it for him.

  “His face was gone. I was in shock. I don’t remember much until I got home.”

  “You switched wallets with Charlie,” Joey said.

  “Yes. I emptied his pockets and dumped everything from my pockets into his. Those men were brutal. They had followed me from my house. And they thought they’d killed me. I wanted to keep it that way. I didn’t want them coming back.”

  “And the envelope you stuffed in Charlie’s pocket?” I said.

  “I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t really know what I was doing.” Bernie looked embarrassed. “It’s not much, Joey. A small thanks. I intended to give it to you at the airport.”

  “I don’t want your money, Bernie. We’re friends.”

  “I know. But I wanted you to have it. I knew the cops would get it to you.”

  Joey made a face. That wasn’t exactly how Internal Affairs worked.

  We sat in silence a few minutes while we concentrated on Mama’s legendary cannoli.

  “I’ve been watching the papers. There’s been nothing about a body in the park.”

  “That’s because there wasn’t one,” Uncle Joey said. “Those two asswipes came back and took it. We think they dumped Charlie’s body in the lake.”

  Bernie stared at his hands. “That should’ve been me.”

  “This isn’t on you,” I said. “You should be at your beach house in Costa Rica. And Charlie should be watching gangster movies and living out his own sweet Bridgeport life.”

  Uncle Joey growled. “I got a place for those two guys. At the bottom of Lake Michigan with Charlie.”

  I noticed Joey didn’t tell Bernie that Toby Smoak was in the Cook County Morgue.

  Bernie leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. There was a little powdered sugar around his mouth and he looked exhausted. Joey figured he’d had enough for a while. I glanced at my uncle. He looked spent as well.

  “We’re not done here but the last question can wait,” Uncle Joey said. “We’ll wrap this up later.”

  Bernie didn’t open his eyes but his mouth flinched. He knew what that last question was. And he wasn’t anxious to talk about it.

  I cleared the dishes from the table. Joey followed me into the kitchen empty-handed. I resisted the urge to say something. The DeLuca men are cops with blue-cape delusions. It’s embedded in their DNA. They like to think they’re saving the world. Or at least the good people of Bridgeport. But they can’t possibly carry a few empty cups to the sink.

  “Who the hell is Charlie?” Joey when said we were alone.

  “A nice Bridgeport guy who’s gone missing. I guess he didn’t make it to Hollywood.”

  “Hollywood?”

  “It’s a long story. But last night I figured it out. That’s when I knew it was Charlie—not Bernie—in the park. It was all because of the shoes.” I smiled, all cocky now. “Charlie loved old mob movies. There was a gangster called Spats in Some Like It Hot. He wore those black-and-white spats shoes. Charlie even named his black-and-white dog Spats. And the guy in the park was wearing spats the night he was killed. It had to be Charlie.”

  “How did you know Bernie would be here?”

  “I didn’t. I knew he was alive. I just hoped he was here.”

  “You could’ve said something. I could have had a freaking heart attack when I saw him.”

  I laughed. “There were a few other things that didn’t add up. Bernie’s new ID and passport were missing. And his packed bags. A lottery ticket had been discarded in the trash after the shooting.”

  “It wasn’t Bernie’s lucky day.”

  I couldn’t stop the cheesy grin.

 
Uncle Joey grinned too. “Good job. But it doesn’t change anything with Provenza. He ordered the hit on Bernie. He blew up the Firedragon. And he bought me a spanking new one. Best of all, he won’t be around to see me tear up Bridgeport in my new Ferrari.”

  “You can always send him a picture.”

  “I’ll do that. Congratulations, Caterina. You did just what you said. You blew this case wide open.”

  I kissed my uncle’s cheek. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  ***

  The guys walked down to the pier while I finished up the dishes. When I was done, I poured myself a cup of coffee and drank it on the deck. I watched the guys a while on the dock. Bernie had a fishing pole in his hands. Joey didn’t try to fish. He can’t sit still that long. I couldn’t hear their conversation but the water carried the rhythmic hum of words and occasional spurts of laughter. The dogs darted out of the woods, ran down to the dock to deliver a few wet kisses, and galloped up to the woods again.

  I walked out to the lawn and dragged a lounge chair into the sun. I lay down and closed my eyes. I guess I slept a while because when I looked at the water again, Bernie was holding up a line with four fish. He must’ve said something funny because Uncle Joey clutched his stomach and laughed.

  My uncle called from the dock. “Caterina! Come down! Bring a six­ pack from the fridge.”

  Bernie mumbled something to Uncle Joey.

  “And some chips from the cupboard,” Uncle Joey shouted. “This guy is still hungry.”

  I trudged up to the log house, humming some catchy eighties tune from the CD’s my uncle played in the car. I found a bottle opener in the kitchen and a six-pack of a Wisconsin Belgium Red beer. I tossed some salt and pepper potato chips and pretzels in a muslin bag and added the left over grapes.

  I was bent at the waist with my head in the fridge when I heard a door open behind me and the sound of wary footsteps on the hardwood floor. When I spoke, I didn’t recognize my voice. I could’ve been sucking on helium.

  “Go away, Doug,” I said. “You don’t want to make things worse.”

  I turned around to Doug’s wild-eyed stare. He’d lost it. Big time. I tried to focus on the crazy eyes and not look at the cannon in his hand. Doug was a big guy. But he was surprisingly dwarfed by a super-sized gun.

  Doug’s brow shot up. ‘’You’re not surprised to see me. How did you know?”

  “I had a hunch. I hoped I was wrong.”

  He snorted. “And I thought you only chased panty-sniffing cheaters.”

  I felt my teeth grind. “The coincidences kept lining up. For the first time ever, you were late to the poker game Sunday night. That’s because you were in the park with Toby Smoak. Only you, not Toby, were the face- shooter.” Doug opened his mouth and I stopped him. “Don’t bother. There were two witnesses.”

  “Are you finished gloating?”

  “I’m just warming up. You told Toby Smoak where to find me the night I met the parents.”

  Doug gave a derisive scoff. “He was a terrible shot.”

  “Actually, he wasn’t. I tripped and fell. The bullets brushed my hair.”

  “Maybe Toby wasn’t such a dumbass after all.”

  “You lured Cleo out of my house last night and you cracked me over the head. Not cool, Doug. You’re the only one who knew I had the box from Bernie’s safe. You saw me punch in the code for my alarm. And you used to be a cop. You have all kinds of shady skills.’’

  “I bet your head hurts like a sonofabitch.”

  “Not as much as the hole in your chest will when Uncle Joey finds you here. Shall I continue?”

  “No.”

  “Yesterday you met Max and me at the Tapas Spoon. A few hours later a gun registered to your partner was found in the pub. You planted it there. And Provenza was arrested.”

  “You’re hardly in a position to be a smartass. Or can’t you see I’ve got a gun.”

  “I didn’t want to stare. It’s obvious you’re compensating.”

  The gun twitched.

  “Everything was going your way,” I said. “But then I told Uncle Joey I was gonna blow this case wide open. You were terrified I knew the truth. So you put a tracker on my car and followed us here.”

  “You’re not as smart as you think.”

  “Well you’re definitely as stupid as I think.” I sighed. “C’mon, Doug, if I figured it out, others will too. When you kill three people, you leave a trail.”

  His eyes got crazy again. With every word, he stabbed the air with his pistol. “Where. Is. Bernie’s. Box. Tell me and I’ll go.”

  I gave a harsh laugh. “I bet you made some sweet promises to Corey and Toby, too. It’s over, psycho. Turn yourself in or take your chances and run. You were stupid enough to leave your DNA at two of the victims’ homes. The FBI is processing your Las Vegas cigars as we speak.”

  That was a big fat lie.

  Doug gulped and ran a hand through his hair. “Things got out of hand. I’m not a monster.”

  “You’re a freakin’ psychopath. And then Toby Smoak became a liability. The guy was a loose cannon. The cops were all over him. It was a matter of time until they picked him up. And you knew he’d sing like a canary.”

  Doug’s eyes traveled down to the dock. “Who’s that guy with Joey?”

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  Doug shrugged.

  “It’s Bernie Love.”

  The shock was palpable and the blood drained from Doug’s face.

  “Charlie Dalton. He’s the poor sod you killed in the park. You went to kill Bernie Love and you didn’t even know what he looked like. You’re pathetic.”

  The wild eyes were back, darting back and forth, making a plan.

  Knowing Bernie was alive, had sent Doug over the edge.

  He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me toward the door that led to the deck. His body was pressed against me. I couldn’t wrangle my Glock from behind my back.

  “Call them,” he snarled in my ear.

  “Nope. You call them.”

  He jabbed the gun’s hard steel nuzzle into my ribs. I may have flinched but I swallowed the gasp of pain. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “What happened to you?” I said. “What did you do with all that money? Gamble it away?”

  I felt him recoil.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? You owe money to a loan shark. One of Toby Smoak’s bosses, no doubt.” I was buying time, making it up as I went. “So you made a deal with Smoak. He’s gonna help you knock off Bernie. He thinks he’s getting a shitload of cash from Bernie’s house. And what do you get out of it? Oh, I know! Toby won’t break your freaking legs.”

  I heard a noise at the backdoor. Uncle Joey and Bernie were coming for their beer. Doug aimed the compensating cannon at the door.

  I screamed. “Joey, stay back! He’s got a gun!”

  My uncle didn’t listen. He charged the room, gun drawn, but Doug pushed me in front of him and Joey didn’t have a shot.

  “Doug?” Uncle Joey’s mouth dropped. “What the hell?”

  I twisted violently. I kicked up my leg and totally nailed my Jackie Chan move this time. My foot connected with Doug’s wrist and his weapon flew from his hand with an ear-splitting report. Time slowed and an ugly red stain clawed its way across Uncle Joey’s shirt. His legs slowly folded beneath him.

  I heard my voice scream, “No!”

  Doug’s gun skidded across the floor and Bernie stepped on it. Doug was momentarily thrown off kilter. Somehow my 9mm Glock was in my hand. I released the safety and fired at Doug’s thigh. He yelped like a wounded animal and went down squawking. I stuffed the Glock in my back again.

  From the corner of my eye a sleek, black streak hurled through the door. Dixie’s feet lifted off the floor and the black shepherd cut through the
air, charging Doug, teeth bared. Doug screamed with raw fear and scooted back against the wall on his bum. There was nowhere to hide. Dixie pounced on his chest, with her teeth at his neck. She snarled with a ferocity I couldn’t have imagined from her. I was somewhat surprised she didn’t rip his throat out.

  Somehow, over Doug’s whining and Dixie’s squall and Inga’s howl, I heard the voice of an old, deaf woman in my head. It was what Corey’s friend across the hall had shouted in the hallway. “If you want to know who killed Corey Cancino, ask Dixie.”

  Bernie walked over to Doug and kicked him in the head. Doug quit screaming. He was out cold.

  I rushed to Uncle Joey with a sob. He’d lost a lot of blood. Thankfully, the bullet had hit his left shoulder, missing his vital organs. Bernie rummaged up an ice pack and towel.

  “I’m OK, Caterina.”Joey tried to sound OK and failed miserably. “It hurts like hell but it’s a clean wound. The bullet went straight through.”

  “At least it missed your heart,” Bernie said.

  “What heart?” Uncle Joeys’ attempt at a smile was a grimace.

  “I’ll call this in.” I dragged out my cell.

  “Put the phone away,” Bernie said. “You need to take Joey to the hospital now. There’s one in Delavan. I’ll help you get him to the car.”

  I looked from Uncle Joey to Bernie and back to Uncle Joey again. “But what about Doug? We have to call...”

  Bernie flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about Doug. I’ll handle this.”

  Joey met his friend’s gaze and then he turned to me. “Bernie’s got this.”

  “Huh?” I said.

  “Before you go, I’d like to answer that last question,” Bernie said. “You wanted to know why I didn’t call you.”

  Uncle Joey grumbled. “And why you waved that silly gun in our faces when we got here.”

  “Do you even know how to use that thing?” I said.

  Joey’s short laugh gave him a wince of pain. “Don’t worry about Bernie, Cat.”

  Bernie spoke over his shoulder while grabbing clean towels, a blanket, and something from a drawer. “I was in shock when I left the park and went home. The hit was risky and amateurish. The guys were Neanderthals. Somebody wanted me dead that night. I knew it wasn’t my boss. He’s not stupid.”