by Cathi Stoler
The only one who hadn’t spoken was Laurel. Helen looked at her expectantly. “We’re still missing one detail,” Laurel said. “Matt. Where is he?” Everyone heard the frustration in her voice. “Why haven’t the police picked him up? Once again, he’s the mystery man who seems to be missing.”
Helen glanced at Aaron, hoping he could field Laurel’s questions. He nodded almost imperceptibly then answered almost matter-of-factly. “We think he’s dead by now. The consensus is that Santucci couldn’t let him get away with going against his orders. He’s kept their relationship hidden all these years. Kuhn was his secret weapon. Now that the time was right to use him, Kuhn was acting like a loose cannon. It was too dangerous to let him continue. We checked his apartment and we’ll keep looking. The buzz on the street is that Sal ordered a hit.”
Helen noticed he said the last words with a harsh satisfaction. He wasn’t worrying about Laurel’s feelings. That much was obvious.
“I would have done it myself.” Mike startled everyone with this pronouncement. He reached over and took his daughter’s hand in his. “He deserved it for all the things he’s done for the Mafia and for leading you on.”
“I don’t know what else to say,” Helen said to Aaron. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you everything until now. If I have to face charges for breaking into the loft, well,” she gulped, “I understand.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow. “I think maybe we can let that slide. After all, there’s no stolen property in your possession and no one around to press charges.”
After a few more minutes, everyone was ready to depart.
Aaron left quickly, pointedly ignoring Laurel. “We still need to go over a few more things,” he said to Helen, obliquely referring to the shooting. “I’ll call you later today from the squad.”
Joe pecked Helen on the cheek and told her he had to get down to the OCU office. He wanted to re-interview Ralphie and wrap up his insurance fraud case. “I can’t wait to have Mr. Park Avenue arrested. I also want to make sure Santucci is still safe behind bars and that he hasn’t made any phone calls that could be fatal.”
John Dimitri departed next, thanking Helen for her good work.
Laurel followed, squeezing Helen’s hand. Laurel leaned over and gave her another hug, holding back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “Well, at least we solved Anne’s murder, didn’t we?”
Then it was Mike’s turn. “Jeez. I’m sorry if I mouthed off before, but you know how much I worry about Laurel.” He jutted his chin toward the door. “And now … her and Aaron … I guess not, huh?” He looked so sad. He’ll have to deal with this, too, and it won’t be easy, Helen thought.
“All right, I’m going now.” He pulled himself together, took her in his arms and gave her a long, slow kiss. “I’ll see you for dinner. This time, make sure you show up. Don’t make me worry about you, too.” He squeezed her harder before he turned and left the house.
Helen closed the notebook. She was done with this case. Over. Finito. As David Adams threatened. Only, thankfully, she was alive and looking out on this beautiful day. A perfect afternoon for a walk along the river.
Helen went into the study to grab her handbag. She thought about Mike and the evening to come. Maybe they’d go out for Italian. Or maybe they’d just order in and see what happened.
Epilogue
The motorboat approached the craggy shoreline and its driver said in broken English, “Signore, signore, we almost here.”
The man, who’d been dozing in the bottom of the craft, came fully awake. At the landing, two old paesans were waiting for him. They took his suitcase from his hand and placed it onto the dock. “Piacere, Signore. Vieni qui. This way.” They led him along a narrow path, really no more than a donkey track that wound its way up the side of the mountain.
The landscape was stark and bleak in this remote part of Italy’s heel. Rocky outcroppings and scrub pine bordered their route. About halfway up, they came to a flat plateau carved out of the mountain. On it was a tiny cabin with smoke curling lazily up from the chimney.
“La sua casa.” The older of the two men gestured to the dwelling. “Your house, Signore.”
“Lasciami,” he said tiredly, dismissing the men. He carried his suitcase inside and began to unpack the few belongings he brought with him. Once he was done, he sat at the rough, wooden table at the center of the room and stared at the framed photograph he placed there to help him serve out his punishment.
The woman’s hair was blowing in the wind and her dark eyes were smiling mischievously at the camera. He stared hard at the photo, then leaned over, ran his thumb roughly over her lips and smiled. It might take a while, but he’d see her again. Of that he was certain.
Cathi Stoler’s mysteries feature PI Helen McCorkendale and magazine editor, Laurel Imperiole. Telling Lies, published by Camel Press, is the first in the series and takes on the subject of stolen Nazi art. Keeping Secrets, the second Laurel and Helen New York Mystery, delves into the subject of hidden identity. The Hard Way, a story of International diamond theft, will follow.
Stoler’s short stories include: “Magda,” in the Criminal Element Anthology Malfeasance Occasional: Girl Trouble, “Out of Luck,” in the Anthology, Murder New York Style: Fresh Slices, “Fatal Flaw,” a finalist for the Derringer for Best Short Story and “Money Never Sleeps” both published at Beat to A Pulp. Cathi is working on a novella, Nick of Time, which features International gambler, Nick Donahue. She is also starting a new series, Bar None, A Murder On The Rocks Mystery, with female bar owner, Jude Dillane.
Cathi is a member of the New York/Tri State chapter of Sisters In Crime. She is also a member of Mystery Writers of America and blogs at Women of Mystery.net.
You can find Cathi on Facebook or at her website, www.cathistoler.com.