Hit List

by Darcia Helle

  She got out and locked her car, wondering at the necessity for that in a police parking lot. Then she strode past the group of cops and pushed through the front door. A middle-aged cop with a horseshoe ring of gray hair sat at the reception desk, which was behind bulletproof glass. His expression lay somewhere between bored and intolerant.

  Lucianna smiled sweetly. “I’d like to see Detective Graham.”

  The cop’s voice was just as blasé as his expression. “Got an appointment?”

  “No. Is that necessary?”

  “What’s this about?”

  Lucianna kept her smile in place, despite the cop’s abrupt and rather rude tone. He had apparently failed public relations. “I’d rather not say.”

  “Your name?”

  “Lucianna Martel.”

  The cop’s eyes narrowed and he almost looked interested. Unfortunately, her name was known among many cops, even though most had never met her. She was, after all, Vinnie’s niece. And every cop knew Vinnie, if only by reputation.

  “I’ll see if he’s around,” the cop said.

  He grabbed the phone and turned his back to her. He muttered something into the receiver, talking soft and secretive, as if the place was filled with spies. She rolled her eyes and leaned against the glass.

  A moment later the cop replaced the receiver. He looked Lucianna up and down as he said, “You a P.I.?”

  “That I am.”

  “Got a gun on you?”

  “No I don’t,” Lucianna said, impressing herself with her polite replies. Sarcasm probably would not work well for her today.

  The cop gave Lucianna directions to Graham’s desk, then buzzed her inside. She felt eyes following her as she passed the groups of men and women. Graham was standing as she approached. He didn’t smile or offer a handshake. In fact, his expression was rather surly. He and the cop out front must have had the same public relations instructor.

  “Detective Graham?” Lucianna said. “I’m Lucianna Martel.”

  “Yeah, I know who you are,” Graham said. “Sit down.”

  Lucianna wanted to laugh. Graham had used a tone clearly aiming for intimidation. He’d failed miserably. Perhaps she should suggest he take lessons from Vinnie.

  She sank into the chair opposite his desk, taking in his tailored gray suit, the chunk of gold on his left ring finger. His eyes were a bluish gray, set a little too close, a little too narrow. She took an immediate dislike to the man and had to work to keep it from showing.

  “Apparently you also know that I’m a private investigator,” Lucianna said.

  Graham nodded. He struggled to keep a bored expression but his body language told a different story. His arms were folded in front of him and his whole body had this continuous squirm, like he had hemorrhoids and couldn’t find a comfortable sitting position. He averted her gaze and said, “What is it you want here, Miss Martel?”

  “I’d like you to tell me why you’ve been watching the McCormick home.”

  Graham stilled. His eyes darted around the room. He grabbed a pencil and began tapping it against the edge of his desk. “What makes you think I am?” he finally asked.

  “Well, because your car has been parked out front on a few occasions.” Lucianna kept her tone light, her smile in place. “Unless, of course, someone else has been driving your car?”

  Graham dropped the pencil, leaned his elbows on the desk and glared at Lucianna. His voice was a low growl. “Where my car goes is none of your business.”

  She nodded, pretended to think, all the while seemingly oblivious to his threatening tone. After a moment she said, “Is there something I can help you with so that you don’t have to continue sitting out in the cold?”

  Graham’s scowl deepened. “Very funny.”

  “I was actually being quite serious,” Lucianna said. “Is there something you’re looking for? Information you need? I may be able to help, so you can move on to more important matters.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Are you investigating the McCormicks? And, if so, why?”

  “That’s none of your damn business.”

  Lucianna couldn’t hide the smirk. “Touchy subject, I see.”

  Graham stood. “It’s time you left, Miss Martel.”

  Lucianna waited just long enough to bring flames to Graham’s eyes. Then she rose, blew him a kiss, turned, and strode confidently away.

  ***

  Sterling had been out of the office working on a follow-up interview for the past couple of hours. Graham had opted to stay back at the station. Being free of Graham felt great. For the first time in months he was able to focus on his work, his real work.

  Now, as he drove back to pick up his partner, he once again tried to sort it all out. He couldn’t quite figure Graham’s roll in all of this. His obsession. Sterling had initially thought it was about the bust. About nailing Nico and the K Unit. Maybe about the job and doing what was right.

  Yet deep down he had always known better. Graham had some sort of personal stake in this. Something big that he sure as hell wasn’t willing to talk about. Graham was caught up with the prostitutes. He was too close to the whole scene. Something was off. Something more than a cop getting himself a few free blow jobs.

  Sterling parked his car in the station’s lot. He noticed that familiar sick feeling in his stomach as he entered the building and headed to the area he shared with his partner. The worst part was that Graham knew his secret. Knew it and wouldn’t hesitate to use it to destroy him.

  He nodded to a few cops as he passed them in the hall. Time to pretend life was normal. He spotted Graham seated at his desk and strode over. “Waste of time,” Sterling said. “The girl swears she doesn’t know anything. I’m sure she does and she’s just too scared to talk. I tried…” He cocked his head, raised his eyebrows at Graham. “You okay?”

  Graham pushed away from the desk and stood. “We need to talk.”

  Sterling said nothing as he followed Graham out of the precinct. They got in Graham’s car and drove three blocks to Graham’s favorite greasy diner. He pulled the car around to the back parking lot. Only one other car sat in the dirty lot. An old brown Buick that was big enough to fit a family of ten.

  Graham left the engine idling. He lit a cigarette, inhaling greedily. Then he turned to Sterling and said, “The Martel broad paid me a visit while you were out.”

  Sterling’s jaw dropped open. He muttered, “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did she want?”

  Graham blew a stream of smoke at the windshield. “To know why I’ve been watching the McCormick’s house,” he said.

  “Did you tell her it was surveillance on a neighbor or something?”

  “I didn’t tell her a damn thing,” Graham snapped. “She don’t know anything. She was just looking to stir up trouble. So we need to settle this before she does just that.”

  “If she already connected you to this, then how long before-”

  “Shut up. Don’t fucking whine. We need to figure this out. Find them.”

  Sterling sighed. He wanted to give in, to run and hide. He wanted anything other than to be here dealing with this right now. “The only other thing left is to bug the shrink’s office,” he said. “But we get caught doing that and -”

  “And what? You think we’re not already up to our eyeballs in shit here?”

  “We should never have let it get this far.”

  “Like we had a choice,” Graham muttered. “The crazy bitch’s appointments are on Wednesdays, right?”

  “Usually, yeah.”

  “Tomorrow’s Wednesday. So we go early, first thing in the morning. You distract the shrink. I’ll plant the bugs.”

  Chapter 30

  Sam had spent the entire day in his house. The television was set on TVLand and had been running a steady stream of repeats all day. I Love Lucy, Andy Griffith, and Bewitched all tried to lull him into their make-believe world. In his bedroom, the radio wa
s tuned to a country station. Shania Twain told him how she felt like a woman and Tim McGraw sang about love gone sour.

  When he stood in the hallway halfway between the two rooms, the sounds collided into a jumble of mixed up noise. His motive was to keep from thinking. It wasn’t working.

  Sam stared at the phone, felt the knot twist tighter in his stomach. He would never have the money to pay Nico off. Each day the interest grew. Each day the debt increased. Nico made it clear that he would never be free. He had to do odd jobs for Nico just to keep his head above water. In exchange, he got to live. Death may have been a better alternative.

  This deal had seemed too easy at first. Get close to the woman. Find out her secrets. How hard could that be?

  He wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for her. The secrets weren’t supposed to be buried so deep that exposing them would destroy her mind.

  Things that seemed too easy usually came with a catch. He would have known that, would have seen it coming, had he not been completely self-absorbed. Had he not been desperate. Had he not been such a total and complete loser.

  Gambling had cost him his home and his marriage. His gambling debt had cost him his dignity.

  He’d stopped gambling years ago on the day his daughter had sworn never to speak to him again. She had looked at him, tears in her eyes, and calmly said that she hated him. He had pawned her little gold cross in order to bet a “sure thing” at the racetrack. The gold cross had been a gift from her grandmother, who had died three years before. The “sure thing” had placed fifth.

  And now he stood here, completely alone, unsure which way to turn. No safe direction existed.

  Nico wouldn’t kill him. Not right away. If he screwed this up, if he simply refused, Nico would take away little pieces until he complied. Pieces like a finger, a toe, a testicle. Eventually an eye or maybe an entire arm. He’d be stripped of pieces, one at a time, until he did it right or became a stump. That was how Nico operated. That was why Nico had no trouble getting people to do exactly what he wanted.

  Sam slammed his fist into the wall. The plaster cracked and paint chips scattered. He grabbed the remote and flicked off the TV. Then he picked up the phone, swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, and dialed Corinne’s number.

  ***

  Ian had just stepped out of the shower when the phone rang. He pulled on his boxers and grabbed the receiver off his nightstand.

  “Hey Ian. It’s Sam.”

  Ian was momentarily stunned. He flashed back to Lucianna’s warning about Sam. He opened his mouth and forced some words out, hoping he sounded a lot more casual than he felt. “Hi Sam. How’ve you been?”

  “Good. Good,” Sam replied. “I’ve been meaning to call, you know, but always seem to get sidetracked.”

  “That’s how life is.”

  “How are you doing?” Sam asked.

  “Fine. Busy.”

  “Yeah…” Sam cleared his throat, then asked, “How’s your mother?”

  Sam sounded odd. A little hesitant, maybe even nervous. Ian wondered at that as he said, “She’s doing okay. No changes.”

  “I’d like to see her, if I could. If you think she’s up to it.”

  “That’s not necessary, Sam.”

  “No, it is,” Sam quickly said. “I mean, I want to. It’s not right that she’s so alone, you know? It’s not right.”

  Ian raked his hand through his hair. He glanced at the digital clock. 6:37. He wasn’t sure what this was about but it was better to get to the point tonight. He said, “You want to come over now?”

  “Would that be okay?”

  “She’s having a pretty good day. Let me just check, make sure she’s up to company. Can I call you right back?”

  “Sure,” Sam said. “You still got my number?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll wait to hear from you, then.”

  Ian clicked the phone off, waited a couple of seconds, then clicked it back on. He dialed Lucianna’s number and listened to the ringing as he yanked on his pants. She picked up just as he was pulling up the zipper.

  “Hi Lucianna. Got a minute?”

  “Hello Ian. I’ve got lots of minutes. What’s up?”

  Her velvety voice instantly soothed him. He said, “Sam just called.”

  “What did he want?”

  “To see my mother. He wants to come over tonight. Now.”

  Lucianna asked, “Did he say why?”

  “Just some shit about it not being right that she’s alone all the time. He almost sounded guilty.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That I wanted to make sure she was up to company,” Ian replied. “I have to call him back in a couple of minutes.”

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “I don’t know. After what you told me, I don’t trust the guy. But we won’t know what he’s up to if I don’t let him come over.”

  “True,” Lucianna said. “Do you think your mom would be okay with him visiting?”

  “I don’t know. She hasn’t seen him since this all happened.”

  “Be interesting to see how she reacts to him.”

  “Yeah,” Ian said. “And how he reacts to her.”

  “Are you okay with Sam being there?”

  “Sure. I can handle him.”

  “Stay right with him, Ian,” Lucianna said. “Don’t let him talk to her alone.”

  “Okay.”

  “And call me as soon as he leaves. Or before if you need help.”

  “I will,” Ian replied. “Thanks.”

  He hung up, slipped on a shirt, then went to the living room. His mother was rocking in her chair, staring at the blank television screen. “Ma?” He sat on the couch across from her. “Do you think you’d like company tonight?”

  Corinne perked up. “Is Luci coming?”

  He couldn’t help but smile at that. She had really taken a liking to Lucianna. “No,” he said. “Someone else. Do you remember Sam?”

  She cocked her head as if in deep thought. After a moment, she said, “Bewitched wasn’t one of my favorite shows. I could never understand why she put up with that Darren. Why did he have such a problem with her using her witchcraft?”

  “I don’t know, ma.”

  “It would have been different if he was the one able to do that stuff.”

  “You’re probably right,” Ian said. “About having company tonight. Are you okay with that?”

  “Company? Do I have to get dressed up?”

  “No, you’re fine just like you are.”

  Corinne looked down at her fuzzy sweater. “Okay but I don’t want Darren here. I don’t like him very much.”

  “Okay ma, Darren won’t come.”

  Ian went to the kitchen to call Sam. His heart raced as he dialed. Crazy but he felt as if he was still locked in that spy movie, playing out a roll that bore no similarities to the life he once knew so well.

  Chapter 31

  A light rain began to fall. It had been dark for hours and the damp chill had settled into his bones. Skeets shifted in his seat. His knees burned from sitting for so long. He’d drained the last of his coffee by noon. His stomach had been rumbling since before sunset.

  He sure as hell hadn’t expected Sam to skip work and stay inside like a damn hermit all day and night. He’d driven around the block so many times that he was dizzy. Fucking neighbors had probably reported his license plate to the cops already. The street was lined with little houses, all nice and close, with nowhere for him to park and watch. At least now that it was dark he could risk parking here at the corner for awhile.

  Skeets checked his watch for the third time in fifteen minutes. What the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just sit here all night. Maybe he should go take a peek in Sam’s windows, see what the asshole was up to. Hell, if the guy was sleeping, he could slip away for a few minutes and get some food. He was going to have to leave eventually anyway. Couldn’t sit here and wait for the cops to bang on his wi
ndow.

  He flicked the heater on high and rubbed his hands together in front of the vent. He was about to circle the block again when the light over Sam’s side door popped on. Skeets couldn’t see the door, or anyone going in or out, but a moment later Sam’s car backed from the driveway. Luckily Sam turned in the direction Skeets’ car was facing. Skeets waited a moment, then followed.

  They drove out to the main road. Skeets kept a few car lengths between them. The traffic was light but enough cars were on the road to keep his Camaro from being conspicuous. Not that he was worried. This was one game he was good at. Besides, not too many people even noticed what was in front of them, much less behind them.

  As they headed further out of town, Skeets began to get nervous. Sam wouldn’t be hitting a bar way out here. This was a residential area. Where the people lived who weren’t poor but weren’t rich, either. Those people the government called “middle class”. Skeets scoffed at that. Middle class was just a bunch of fucks that worked too damn hard for not much of anything. They had charge cards and loans and owed more than they earned every year. How smart was that?

  So where the hell was Sam going? Did he know someone out here? Or was this the beginning of his escape route?

  Skeets chewed his thumbnail. This whole situation had him ready to climb out of his skin. It was all that one stupid bitch’s fault. If she was lucky, she’d already be dead. Because if she wasn’t, when Nico found her, she’d be wishing she was.

  Sam made a right turn. The car between them went straight. Skeets slowed, letting more space build between them before he turned. The area grew familiar. When Sam made a left turn about a half-mile up, Skeets realized where they were and where Sam was headed. Off to see the crazy lady. Just like Nico had told him to do.