by John Oakes
“I get it,” Jake said. “Coloring outside the lines is a family thing.”
“It is and it isn’t.” Steve cleared his throat. “Nowadays, in our family, there’s legit business and there’s scamming.” He cut a hand down. “Kenny always veered toward the fraudulent side of things. Always.”
Jake narrowed his eyes, struck by Steve’s words. Steve was freshly shaven, but Jake remembered his five-o-clock shadow the night before. He remarked at how Zach Vane, seemingly caucasian if a little swarthy, had called Russell Young a “White boy” by way of an insult, and Russell had shot back calling Zach “traveling scum.” The cousin who’d attacked him with a frying pan. Diana. She looked like a voluptuous Greek or Italian, not Native American. It hadn’t made sense in separate pieces, but now Jake put it all together to form a wider picture.
Jake let out a groan of realization that turned into a laugh. “The constant moving, the semi-criminal lifestyle. I know what y’all are. There’s a PC term for it. Help me out.”
Steve nodded. “We’re Romani. Gypsies people call us. But we’re not from goddamned Egypt.”
“What?” Jerry asked. “You said you were Chippewa and…”
“Sorry,” Steve said. “We do what we can to blend in. Those who know, they know. But as long as we keep up pretense, things go better for us. So, I’m part Chippewa as far as Mankato is concerned. And I go by Steve, not Stevos. And Steve has a thriving legitimate business selling herbal remedies and traditional healing implements.”
“We have slightly different definitions of legitimate,” Jake said.
“Not like you could arrest me for anything,” Steve said. “Texas is a long ways a way. I still don’t understand what you’re doing here.”
“You let me worry about that,” Jake said.
Jerry interjected, “Don’t suppose you could get back to why we’re freezing our giblets off at four in the morning here.”
“My point,” Steve said, “was that my family is finally stable. What’s left of us, that is. We don’t want to move around anymore. We want to buy homes someday, the kind you can’t move on wheels. We want to pay taxes, have kids who go to school, who make friends and become part of society. It will always be tricky for people like me and Diana, but the next generation, they can have normal lives.”
“And you’re worried that Cousin Kenny isn’t on the same page.”
“No. He’s definitely not.”
“Even though he went and got a real job?” Jerry asked. “You don’t seem to be giving him much of a chance.”
Steve’s eyes seemed to deaden. “It’s the company he keeps. I’ve been lurking around, watching. He’s recruiting.”
“Recruiting for what?” Jake looked off at the distribution center, so ominous and monolithic it was like something out of a Sci-Fi movie. “Oh. I see.”
Steve brought the binoculars to his eyes and surveyed the parking lot. “Right on time, like a good little worker bee.” He lowered the glasses. “I don’t know where Kenny mustered the discipline to keep up the ruse this long.”
“A big enough score can motivate a man.” Jake took the binoculars from Steve.
“Khaki work pants and black coat, getting out of the beat up blue pickup,” Steve said.
“I got him. For once I see the family resemblance.” Kenny was larger than Steve, but had the same dark hair, though his only fell to his ears. Prominent nose, thick lips and a black shadow of stubble threatening to sprout a full beard at the slightest provocation.
Jerry took his turn with the binoculars.
“One of his associates works this same shift. He’s the bean pole white guy with the stringy hair balding on top.”
“He’s not doing anything illegal,” Jerry said. “Don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”
“That’s why I need your help.” Steve hung his head. “I’d never go to the cops in a million years, but hell, you came to me, and I almost shot you. So here we are.”
“And that…” Jake said. “You thought Kenny was coming for you. Or Zach Vane, maybe.”
Steve hummed. “Or maybe one of his new cronies.”
“What do you want us to do?” Jerry asked a little curtly.
Steve looked over one shoulder, huffing foggy breaths in the still air. “They’re going to steal from a truck. I’m sure of it. I need you to help me stop it.”
“We can’t arrest anyone,” Jerry said. “We’ve got nothing.”
“I didn’t say arrest anyone. I said help me stop it. Nothing happens. No one knows.”
“And why should we do that?”
“Because you’re looking for the murderer of David Young.” Steve blew warm breath into his cupped hands. “And I think whoever killed him is part of Kenny’s crew.”
FIFTEEN
Family Business
Despite Jerry and Jake’s insistence on answers, Steve Frazzi balked. Since Russell Young had been taken into custody, Marjie Crowe was now alone in her rickety hideout. Steve was insistent on retrieving her and suggested they meet back at the diner as soon as he could drive up north of the Cities and back.
Jerry assented, as was his nature, and Jake was too damned tired to complain. Besides, it was so early in the day, Jerry figured Steve would be back before the sun rose even if it took him three hours round trip.
The chill morning grew somehow even colder as they waited outside the Loon Diner. Jerry and Jake dozed fitfully in the cruiser waiting for it to open at six. Every twenty minutes or so, Jerry started the car and ran the heat, but just as Jake stopped shivering, enveloped in warmth, Jerry would turn the car off again. Jake would tighten his arms across his chest and sulk until he faded into sleep.
The lights flickered to life in the diner an hour before the faintest hint of sunlight rose on the horizon. Though separated by thirty feet of open air, Jake was sure he felt warmer just seeing its glow.
“Back so soon?” the older proprietor of the diner asked as they entered. “I guess the pork chops were good.”
“I’d love to see what you and your cook can do with breakfast,” Jake said.
“You like your eggs and meats and whatnot separate?” the old man asked. “Or do you like it all scrambled. Some people are liking it all scrambled together these days.”
“I’d prefer to self-scramble, if that’s okay,” Jake said.
“Geez, why not?” Jerry said. “Scramble me. Us old dogs can try new tricks.” Jerry sat at a booth by the windows and turned his coffee cup upside down.
“That’s true,” the old man said. “We sure can. I’ll get these started.”
A car came to a stop outside the window, brakes whining. The engine clicked and clacked after the driver turned it off. A pale skinned young woman entered the diner with a long, light brown pony tail, full make up, hoop earrings and numerous bracelets on her wrists.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, as she stepped behind the counter. “Car trouble.”
“Help those gents with some coffee,” the old man said.
The young woman took off her coat, revealing a large pregnant belly under a stretchy white blouse. She wore black leggings to stay warm under her thigh-length skirt.
Jake whipped his hat off and stuck it on his knee under the table, then adjusted his coat so that no one would be able to see his pistol.
She approached and poured coffee for Jake.
“Oh, that’s what the doctor ordered. Thank you.”
“You?” she asked Jerry.
Jerry’s gaze jerked upward in alarm. “Huh?
“Coffee, hun. Want any?” She gestured at the upturned mug on the table next to his silverware.
“Sorry, caught me half-asleep. I’ll take a diet soda, thanks.” He yawned as she walked away, but Jake’s gaze was pinned to her.
“Never seen a pregnant lady before?” Jerry smirked.
“I have two kids and a wife, Jerry.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be checking out the heinie on that gal.”
“
Jerry. For crying out loud.”
“You don’t think just ‘cause she’s pregnant…”
“That it’s Sarah Paulsen? David Young’s girlfriend? I got a mighty weird rush of something when she walked in.”
“Oh, a hunch is it?”
“You got a problem with hunches?”
“I think people get all sorts of ideas because they’re convenient.”
Jake pursed his lips to one side. “I guess there’s more than one pregnant woman in her twenties out there.”
“And why would Sarah Paulsen come here? All the best hospitals are in the cities.” Jerry touched a finger to his temple. “You gotta think like a pregnant mother.”
“If she’s on the lam, she might have a different set of priorities.”
“You think she killed David?”
“We might as well hash this out.” Jake scratched behind an ear. “She knew David enough to get that close.”
“And she’d kill the father of her child for what reason?”
“I’m establishing means. We haven’t come within a mile of any motive yet. I’d wager it’s something personal, though.”
“Could be business. David Young didn’t come up with that fake money order scam on his own. There was some sort of influence there.”
“You mean a Romani influence.”
“It does fit their MO. Small time scam. No one really gets hurt.”
Jake took a sip of his coffee, feeling it clear his head, then took another. He breathed deep through his nostrils, trying to wake his sleepy mind.
“Warm up on that coffee for ya?” the pregnant waitress asked from behind the counter. “Food’s up in a minute.”
Jake positioned his mug for a small refill.
She arrived with the pot, and Jake said, “Thank you—uh—sorry. You don’t have a name tag.”
She smiled, showing a prominent gap between her two front teeth. “It’s Lala.”
“Lala. That short for anything?”
“Lavinia, but no one ever calls me that.”
A small bell dinged near the kitchen.
“Look, your food’s ready.” She fetched their plates from the kitchen and set them down steaming hot. “If you need anything, well, I’m right here.”
They ate eagerly and in silence like condemned men. Jake cleaned his plate, wondering if he could eat a whole meal again. Something told him it wasn’t worth finding out. Instead, he satiated himself with the diner’s mild coffee and lots of it. By the time they normally would have left after a meal, Steve pulled into the parking lot with Marjie in the passenger seat of his truck looking sullen.
“She ain’t happy to be back.” Jake leaned forward on his elbows.
“She was getting just-out-of-prison sex,” Jerry said. “In a way, I feel for her.”
Jake choked on his coffee.
“What?” Jerry asked defensively. “You know what I mean.”
The bell above the door jingled as they entered, and Steve led his younger cousin in. Marjie slipped into the seat next to Jake. “Scoot over,” she said sullenly.
“Hey now.” Jake slid toward the window.
“This is all your fault,” she said with a whimsical air.
“Yeah sure. You were living the dream up there in Coon Rapids,” Jake said. “If you think you were mad about a bed falling on you…” Jake let out a low whooping sound. “That whole house was gonna crumble.”
Steve slid in next to Jerry. “Thank you for waiting while I picked up my harlot cousin.”
“I’m twenty-three,” Marjie spat. “I can date who I want.”
“You’re magnetically drawn to guys twenty years older. Zach was one thing. But now, Russell? Russell? You’re clearly sick.”
“He’s only, like, seventeen years older. Besides, it’s totally normal to date older men in France.”
Steve looked around incredulous. “Oh, excusez-moi, madame. Do tell me how to get to the Eiffel tower from here in fucking Mankato, Minnesota.”
Marjie crossed her arms and pouted like a sullen child.
“You can’t get too mad at her,” Jerry said. “You shacked her up with Russell straight out of the pokey.”
“From the sound of things, it wasn’t Russell who crossed the line first,” Steve said. “Russell? Really? I know he’s not a eunuch, but he’s smelly and hairy. I never thought I was getting Marjie away from Zach just so she could make the same mistakes within a fraction of a second.”
“It’s a little hanky-panky, man. I get she’s family, but… chill out.” Jake prepared himself for a death stare from Steve, but the man seemed to heed the advice.
“We will speak of this later.” Steve cut a hand over the table.
The bell rang again above the door, and a vaguely familiar figure stepped through the entryway. Her voluminous black curls bounced as she marched down the aisle between the booths and bar stools. She raised an open hand ten feet from Marjie as she approached, giving Marjie an eternity to escape the telegraphed strike, but Marjie defiantly lifted her chin, taking the slap. Her head jerked to the side so hard she almost came out of the booth. She huffed through gritted teeth, then scowled at Diana in response.
“You want another you little—“
Steve interjected in some mix of English and a shared second tongue, breaking the two apart.
“Everyone sit. Family business later. For now we must talk about Kenny.”
“How is that not family business?” Diana asked, pursing her fingertips together.
“Raj, Lazlo and Uncle Frank are all dead. The council hasn’t met in any meaningful way in ten years. We’re on our own, Diana. We need help.”
Steve fetched a chair for her, and Diana sat, biting a lip, eyes hot and red. Some sadness seemed to overwhelm her anger, and she slumped back.
“These gentlemen have agreed to help us stop Kenny and whatever he’s up to.”
“How you gonna do that?” Diana asked.
Steve looked to Jake and Jerry, shifting his weight from one side to the other. “Okay, I don’t really know. But… But that’s why we’re here.”
“We haven’t agreed to—” Jake began.
Jerry held up a hand. “Tell us first what you think is going on.”
“This little crew of his. Him and three other guys, I think. One works at the distribution center with Kenny. The other two work at a CheapValue in Luverne. Before I told him I wanted nothing to do with it, Kenny was toying with an idea to use the CheapValue fulfillment system to make sure a truck got loaded up with heaps of the most expensive items. Big TVs, sound systems, guns and ammo. Then once it’s all on that truck, find some place real out of the way to hit it and unload the cargo.”
“Sounds simple, but it would take some real organizational skill,” Jake said. “How are four guys gonna unload a semi truck fast enough to not get caught?”
“And where’re they gonna do it?” Diana leaned in. “Not exactly a lot of places to hide a truck between here and Luverne.”
“Do you think Zach was in town to help?” Jake asked Jerry. “The acetylene makes sense now.”
“Hmm.” Jerry stroked his mustache. “He had three tanks, right? If you’re just cutting a lock off the back of a truck, why so many?”
“Good question.”
“When do you think this is going down?” Jerry asked Steve.
“Soon. Might be any day. The weeks before Thanksgiving are perfect.”
“He means before Black Friday,” Marjie interjected.
Steve and Diana gave her a look.
“He’s my brother,” she protested. “You don’t think I know when he’s up to something? He’s so consumed by it he didn’t even notice I was gone. And you were so worried.”
“You know as well as I do there’s always reason to worry when Kenny’s around,” Diana said.
There was a heavy silence, then Jake asked carefully, “Has he gotten violent with you before?”
Steve, Diana and Marjie all shared a sardonic laugh.
“Gotcha.”
“When Steve here pulled that shotgun on me, it wasn’t ‘cause he confused me for the UPS guy.” Jerry snorted.
“Fine.” Jake motioned like a wizard conjuring a spell. “If the goal here is to protect your reputations, why not publicly turn evidence on Kenny?” Jake asked.
Diana slapped a thigh and sputtered something angrily in another language. Steve bent his head and spat on the floor.
“I’d guess that’s a no,” Jerry chortled, sounding too pleased with himself.
“We will bring a curse upon ourselves like the plague or something,” Steve said. “No. We could never turn a family member in. No Roma could do this.”
“I wouldn’t even risk turning in a gadjo.” Diana shot a hand out. “That’s you people.”
“We must stop them before they can pull off the robbery,” Steve said. “This way you prevent a crime, and we protect our reputations. How is this hard to accept?”
Jake and Jerry asked to be excused and stepped outside into the weak morning sun.
“Remember how this all started as a murder investigation?” Jake asked. “Now it’s feeling like a family squabble we’re mixed up in.”
“Not just any family,” Jerry said. “They’re no Corleone gang, but they come from a long line of thieves and scam artists. And we know they have connections to the Young brothers who were also criminal types.”
“We gotta find who murdered David Young before the metro cops,” Jake said. “So, we’re betting on the culprit being one of these shady folks?”
“I think that’s the lot we drew,” Jerry said. “And the fact that, so far, Minneapolis PD has come up with bupkis is sort of encouraging. Know what I mean?”
Jake bit his lip and then his knuckle. “I think I have to infiltrate.” His eyes widened and he backhanded Jerry in the arm. “The acetylene tanks. I can say Zach asked me to cover for him. No one in this town knows me.”
Jerry’s mustache twitched to the side. “Awful risky.”
“Yeah, well…” Jake pulled his collar tighter, but couldn’t keep his teeth from chattering in the cold. “I’m a Texas Ranger. And that’s all I have to say about that.”