M.D. Grayson - Danny Logan 05 - Blue Molly

by M. D. Grayson

  I looked at her, and I was stunned. The way she regarded him, the way she’d said his name was like she was seeing a long-lost friend. She actually knew this clown?

  “Rico?” she said again. “What are you doing here?”

  I asked, “You know this guy?”

  Still looking at him, she nodded slowly.

  “Hey, Toni!” he said, smiling broadly and holding his arms out wide. “How ya been?”

  Doc and Kenny Hale, our computer whiz, stepped into the lobby, curious to see what was happening. Given that the man had claimed to be Toni’s husband, I was still struggling to catch up. “You know him? He says he’s your husband—is he right? Are you two married?”

  Doc and Kenny both glanced at me, then at Rico, then at Toni.

  Toni looked at him for another second, clearly surprised to see him, then suddenly realizing what I’d just said, she spun around to me. “What? Are we married?” She looked at me, confused. “Are you insane?”

  I shrugged. “He said he was your husband.”

  She looked at him, then back at me. “Danny, would you give us a minute alone, please?” Before I could answer, she turned back to Maroni. “Rico?” Then she did a little finger-curl-beckon thing which normally meant “come over here” but, by changing the usual slant of her eyes, she turned it into a very clear “get your ass in here right now, dammit!” He understood and followed her into her office, where she closed the door behind them.

  * * * *

  Thirty minutes later, Toni joined us in the conference room. Kenny was chuckling as she walked behind him to get to her seat, to which she automatically responded by thumping him on the head as she passed.

  “Ow!”

  “Shut up,” she said.

  “I didn’t say anything!”

  “Yeah, you did. You were laughing.”

  Kenny started laughing again. Toni sat down and when Kenny didn’t stop, she glared at him. “What?”

  Kenny shook his head. “It’s just … it’s just …”

  “Spit it out!”

  “It’s just for six years, we’ve been calling you Toni Blair and now we find out that we were wrong and all this time we should have been calling you … Toni Maroni?”

  * * * *

  “I’m so sorry about Rico,” Toni said. We were driving to meet a couple of friends for lunch.

  “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.” I paused for a second, then decided what the hell, I may as well have a little fun. “Besides—everybody has a past. You don’t have to explain yours to me.”

  She glanced at me. “I don’t have a past with Rico Maroni!” Hah! Got a bite! “There was never anything between me and Rico Maroni.”

  “Listen—I understand. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Butt.” Oops—didn’t take her long to figure me out.

  I laughed. “Really, it’s okay.”

  “I’m so not talking to you anymore. Let me know when you’re done.” Fish off.

  I held up my right hand in surrender. “Okay. I get it. The guy did something to piss you off pre-me. You set him straight. Now he shows up uninvited. You have nothing to be sorry about. No big deal.”

  “I’m just sorry because it’s my problem, and I’ve brought it home with me.”

  I glanced over at her, serious now. “You’re wrong there. If it’s any problem at all, it’s our problem. Together. No need to be sorry.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “What do you know about him, anyway?” I asked, swerving to go around an office supply truck that was doubled-parked on First. “What’s his deal?”

  She shrugged. “Not much, at least not recently. He told me he just got out of jail.”

  I smiled. “No shit?” I knew it. “What for?”

  “He wouldn’t say. He said he wanted to get his life straightened out.”

  “Oh—get his life straightened out.” I nodded. “So naturally he decided first thing to get hold of you?”

  “I guess.”

  “Why? And why would he say he’s your husband?”

  “It’s complicated. And a bit of a long story.”

  “Well, as it happens, we have a little time. But let me just start by asking, do you think he’s going to be a problem? And by that I mean our problem, something for the two of us to take care of?”

  She didn’t answer for a few seconds, then she said, more softly than I expected, “Probably not.”

  Not terribly reassuring. “Toni, what happened between you two?”

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. Then she started. “Rico is two years older than me—maybe even more than that—I don’t know for sure. But he was a senior at Lynnwood High when I was a sophomore. I was, what? Sixteen? I didn’t know him except by name, but I thought he was creepy—harmless, but creepy. He used to hang out with a group of losers by one of the school entrances—the one closest to my homeroom, naturally. He and his buddies would stare at me and my friends when we walked past. They used to whistle, even make lewd comments. We usually just ignored them. Rico used to joke around. He’d come up and say that he wanted to marry me—I guess that’s where he gets the ‘husband’ thing. I told him to get lost, but he didn’t. It kind of went on and on until one day I was at my locker putting stuff away, and he came up behind me. He says something like, ‘Hey, sweetheart.’ I knew right away who it was before he even spoke—he used to wear this god-awful cologne you could smell from across the parking lot. Must have bathed in it. He kind of leaned up against me, said maybe he and I should go out. For some reason, it totally creeped me out more than it normally did. I must have been in a bad mood or something.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I could handle the talk, but I wasn’t going to let him start touching me. That was over the line. I already had my right hand in my purse in the locker, so I just reached in, turned around, and kind of held my breath so I didn’t have to breathe that stinking cologne. I sucked it up and put my left arm around his neck. We were like face-to-face. I smiled at him—he was surprised by my arm and because I smiled, I guess. But he was even more surprised when I popped open the switchblade I kept in my purse and pressed the point of the blade right up against his balls. No one could see what I was doing, but he sure as hell felt it when I twisted it back and forth a little bit, just to get his attention. His eyes got real big, and he gave this little yelp and tried to jump back, but that’s when he figured out why I had my arm around him—I had hold of him, and he wasn’t going anywhere unless I let him. But I didn’t. I told him to quiet down and be still. Then I made my voice get real quiet and raspy, like they do in the movies. I almost whispered. I said I wasn’t playing games with him. If he ever came near me again, I’d castrate him right there on the fuckin’ spot. Then I kind of wiggled the knife for emphasis.”

  “Holy shit,” I said, smiling. I could feel her anger reach out from ten years ago—it still came through in her voice. “You were a badass even when you were just sixteen.”

  She took a deep breath, then smiled. “Yeah. Guess it’s in my genes. But anyway, it worked. He must have believed me, because he left me alone after that.”

  “I guess so.” I nodded and drove for a minute, then said, “So the obvious question is, why’s he back? Now? I mean, I don’t know if I’m typical, but if some crazy chick sticks a knife in my crotch and threatens to start sawing, I’d believe her and stay the hell away.” I smiled, then added, “Especially if she was smiling and using a low, raspy voice when she said it. That’s just scary. Question is, why didn’t he?”

  She paused a second. Then, almost reluctantly, she continued. “Probably because it didn’t end with the switchblade episode. About a month after that, I stayed late for a project and was walking back to my car when I noticed some kind of commotion going on behind this van in the parking lot. I didn’t know what was happening, so I walked over. When I got closer, I saw three guys just beating the shit out of Rico. He mus
t have come on to someone else’s girlfriend. He was all bloody and messed up. My immediate thought was ‘Good! Son of a bitch is getting what he deserves.’ I was just about to turn and walk away, but then I think our eyes met or something, I don’t know, and I guess I thought he just looked like a scared little kid—like a little kid getting tag-teamed by the neighborhood bullies.” She shook her head. “Not fair, you know? So then I couldn’t just walk away, even from a creep like Rico. So I ended up going over and helping him.”

  I smiled. “Knight gallant. Sounds familiar. I take it you were by yourself?”

  She smiled. “Of course. I came up behind them without them noticing and kicked the one closest to me right in the balls from behind. Pow! Sucker just folded. Then, before they knew what happened, I swung my purse at another guy. He leaned away and it barely missed, but I guess the other guys got shook up, or maybe they didn’t want to fight a girl. Anyway, they stopped. They helped their buddy up and left.”

  I chuckled. “And Rico?”

  She shrugged. “He was okay, bloody nose, a few bruises. He didn’t show up at school for a while, but when he finally came back, he treated me and my friends differently. He kind of changed. He left them alone, but he was always real nice to me after that. He even left me cards—Valentines, holidays, that kind of thing. He’d come up and ask how I was doing—nothing forward or anything, just friendly. I still think he had a crush on me, but he knew better than to do anything about it. Good thing, because he still creeped me out. I was polite, but I definitely did not encourage him. He eventually found someone else to bother, and then he graduated not long afterward. And that’s the last I heard of him.”

  “Until now.”

  She sniffed. “Yeah. Until now.”

  Chapter 5

  “Boy, it’s good to be back at the old stomping ground,” Dwayne Brown said as he and his partner, Gus Symanski, walked in to meet us at Marinepolis Sushi Land on Queen Anne. Dwayne and Gus, or should I say, Lieutenant Brown and Senior Detective Symanski, were our good friends and regular sushi partners. They’ve been in charge of the SPD’s Special Projects division for more than three years, and we’ve been frequent lunch partners the whole time.

  Dwayne and Gus actually introduced us to Sushi Land a few years ago, and it’s been our little group’s favorite since then (their favorite, really, since I don’t consider myself enough of a sushi fan to actually have a favorite sushi restaurant). Last year, somebody had the bright idea of trying out new places in search of something more elegant, more refined. In the end, we found both elegant and refined; we also came to the conclusion that it’s easy to spend more money in a lot fancier sushi joint, but you still just get raw fish and seaweed. It’s hard to beat Sushi Land for choice and, especially for working folks like us, price. If it had to be sushi, I was glad to be back.

  “Toni, my dear,” Gus said as he kissed Toni’s hand—his customary greeting. Aside from me, and probably about tied with her mom and sister, Gus Symanski is the number one Toni Blair fan on the planet. He loves to have her take his arm and allow herself to be escorted to our table. Toni is a solid three inches taller than Gus in her normal footwear: her black Doc Martens. I suppose something about being seen with a tall, stunning Seattle beauty like Toni seemed to make the old guy come alive. (I could understand this, being familiar with the feeling myself.) When she wore tight black leather pants and jacket and the silver nose ring, as she often did on lunch days with Dwayne and Gus, he was practically giddy.

  We took our seats at the counter in front of the conveyer belt and, first thing, Toni excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. “You’re going to need to throw a bucket of water on him,” I said to Dwayne, as Gus stared transfixed at Toni’s backside as she walked away.

  “You got that right.”

  “Dude!” I said to Gus, a few seconds later. “That’s my girlfriend’s butt you’re staring at.”

  He kept looking for a few seconds. “So arrest me or something.” Finally, he turned to me. “Goddamn, Danny, I gotta tell ya, you’re the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.”

  I laughed. “It’s great to see you, too, dude.”

  “Hell, yeah. I mean, you gotta get yourself checked out, boy. Make sure you got a pulse. The two of you been together, what—going on two years? How could you go this long and not have a ring on that girl’s finger yet? That shit’s beyond me. I tell you, you’re just lucky I’m not twenty years younger.”

  “Thirty,” Dwayne said.

  “Whatever. Hell—even now, if you so much as stumble, I’m there for that sweet young lady.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it, but I hate to disappoint you: I don’t stumble.”

  * * * *

  We started picking items off the conveyer belt when Toni returned. After three years of eating this stuff, I’m better at it than I was. I’d always prefer a good cheeseburger, but they weren’t on the menu, so I’d learned to avoid raw salmon or tuna and anything with fish eggs or tentacles. I knew I was safe with either cooked shrimp wrapped around some rice, or cooked rice wrapped around some shrimp. The others just shook their heads at my heathenness, but at least I could get by.

  Thirty minutes later, we were slowing down. “So,” Dwayne said, “tell us about your latest case.”

  “It’s not the reason we asked you to lunch,” I said.

  He shrugged. “I know. But it’s always interesting listening to detectives who don’t have to deal with all the bureaucratic bullshit.”

  “Well,” I said, “since you asked, there is a favor …”

  “Here it comes, boss,” Gus said to Dwayne. “I knew these guys had been quiet for too long.”

  Dwayne shook his head and looked at me. “Never mind, Gus. What’s up?”

  I explained the Lyon case, starting from the fight at Merchants, all the way up through our little meeting in Occidental Park yesterday.

  Gus laughed. “You got tossed in the pokey?”

  I nodded. “Sure did. They didn’t file charges, but they just kind of threw up their hands and arrested everybody, including me and Doc.”

  “You should have called me,” Dwayne said.

  I nodded. “Appreciate that. We got it all worked out pretty quickly, though.”

  “Well, next time, though,” he said, sternly. “You call.”

  I nodded. “Got it. Thanks.”

  “Good. And then yesterday …”

  “Same group of guys,” Toni said. “But this time, they brought along another we think might be their boss.”

  I nodded. “A big, mean-looking son of a bitch named Pavel Laskin. Ever heard of him?”

  “Pavel Laskin?” Dwayne leaned back and stared at the ceiling, then he shook his head. “No, can’t say that I have.”

  “Me neither,” Gus added.

  “Well, they sure knew who Danny was,” Toni said.

  “Really?” Dwayne pursed his lips for a second, then said, “Wonder how they figured that out?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I suppose they got it from the jail somehow.”

  “Hmm,” Dwayne said. “But then nothing happened yesterday?”

  “No. He apologized for his man.”

  Dwayne shrugged. “Well, maybe it’s over, then.”

  I smiled and turned to Toni. “You get the impression that things were over?”

  She laughed. “No way.”

  I shook my head. “Me neither.”

  An alarmed look came over Gus’s face. “This here worries me a little. I know you two are hotshots, and you know what you’re doing and all, but you’re into the case less than twelve hours and you’ve already been in a fistfight with a guy who’s running some kind of gang. Hell, he may be a Russian mobster for all you know. Those guys can be dangerous.”

  “That’s crazy talk,” I said. “There aren’t any Russian mobsters in Seattle.”

  “Well, there’s always a first time,” Gus countered.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But for now, I don’t see a
ny reason to blow this up larger than life.”

  “I agree,” Dwayne said. He turned to me. “You said something about a favor. I’m going to start by checking into the guys you were arrested with, and then I’m going to check out this Pavel Laskin character. Maybe there’s something in their backgrounds that will be useful. Aside from that, what else do you want us to do?”

  “Apparently, the SPD told the Lyons they can’t do anything about the vandalism and crap that they’re going through unless someone is basically caught in the act—spray can in hand.”

  Dwayne shrugged. “Yeah, well, they’re kind of picky that way. You know it’s always easier to convict someone if you’ve got a little evidence to work with.”

  I smiled. “Thank you for that. That’s good to know. But it’s easier to come by such evidence if the patrol schedule is beefed up. We’re asking if you guys can talk to someone in the West Precinct and ask them to step up the eyes on the Lyon Building there on Main Street.”

  Dwayne nodded. “That’s simple stuff. They can ask for that themselves—they don’t need our help.”

  I nodded. “They have. I just thought it might get a little better reception coming from a department heavyweight like you.”

  “Alright,” Dwayne said. “It’s done. What else?”

  “That’s it.”

  Dwayne smiled. “Really? Hell, that was easy. Almost makes a guy feel guilty about having you buy us lunch.” He looked at Gus, then they both turned to us. “Nah!”

  * * * *

  Dwayne and I stopped by the men’s room on the way out. We were all done, getting ready to leave, when I said, “Since you’re feeling guilty about us buying you lunch, would you mind doing me another favor?”

  “Another favor? I recall I said I ‘almost’ felt guilty. What do you need, anyway?”

  “I wouldn’t ask, but it’s kind of serious.”

  “What?”

  I told him about Rico Maroni’s visit. “I don’t know if this Maroni guy is someone I can just ignore, or if he turns out to be the psycho stalker from hell. He seems pretty shifty to me.”