A Bullet for Carlos

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  “I’m trying to help her.”

  Dominic nodded, and leaned back. “I’m sure she already told you, but yes, she called.”

  Frankie wanted to ask if he then sent Manny to save her, but he held back. “Why are you doing this? What’s Connie to you?”

  The silence between them was short, then Dominic stared at Frankie, and when he did his eyes went through a transformation—from threatening and dangerous eyes, to soft, caring ones, and even though he looked straight at Frankie, Dominic’s eyes seemed lost. “I don’t expect you to understand this, but Concetta is my life.” His focus returned with a short bob of his head. “She is everything I ever wanted and could never have.”

  Frankie looked at him, was about to say something, but then Dominic continued, this time exuding his usual sense of danger. “That is the terrible price I pay for my sins.”

  Frankie nodded, but said nothing. There was no sense. A very dangerous man had just made a confession to a non-priest, an enemy. Frankie realized that for maybe the first time in Dominic Mangini’s life he had revealed himself to someone, and he probably didn’t like it. If Frankie took advantage of that, he’d be a dead man. He knew it, so he shut up.

  Dominic reached across the table and grabbed Frankie’s limoncello. He downed what remained in one gulp. “I will call you to let you know when it is going down, and where. Be ready.”

  “I will.”

  Dominic turned to him as he stood. “You have people you can trust?”

  “Only a few.”

  “Good. I knew you were the right one. You cannot trust too many people in this world, Detective. I am glad you understand that.”

  Fabrizio, the guy with the hawk eyes and nose, had already come to escort Dominic out. He tossed a hundred-dollar bill onto the table and led their way to the door, those eyes catching every movement. This guy is good, Frankie thought as he watched Fabrizio. He’d have seen a fly take a shit on the windowsill. He reminded Frankie of Nicky, a friend from the old neighborhood.

  Frankie grabbed another piece of cheese from the plate and headed out, happy that he’d come to the meeting. If Dominic was telling the truth, and he felt certain he was, they would soon be tossing some dirty cop in jail, and getting Gianelli off the hook to boot. He thought about calling Gianelli to give her a ray of hope, but he didn’t want anyone knowing about this yet. He had to control who knew what in case of a leak. Mazzetti was the only one he’d let in on this.

  And Morreau…yeah, him too.

  Frankie got to his car and opened the door. An envelope lay on the seat. He took a quick look around, then opened the package. Phone records. Son-of-a-bitch.

  Chapter 42

  Preparations

  Saturday came far too early for my pleasure. I hadn’t been to a formal event since the prom, and that had been a disaster. I opened the car door and threw my make-up bag onto the passenger seat. After Elena insisted on helping me get ready, I decided to dress at Tip’s house. I had mixed feelings about that. I liked Elena, admired her and envied her, but on the other hand I was jealous of her relationship with Tip. Maybe it was just jealousy because Elena had a relationship, never mind who it was with. In either case, the lady had been kind enough to lend me a dress, shoes, and a purse, not to mention about a billion dollars worth of jewelry. More than once I thought of hocking her jewels and taking off to a remote island. The damper on that dream was I had no one to go with.

  I turned onto the gravel driveway leading to Tip’s house, and enjoyed the serenity of that short moment it took to get to his place. I shook my head to clear the thoughts. It was only about an eighth of a mile but the drive was flanked by woods on both sides, and it wasn’t unusual to see deer or even coyotes, and almost always a bunny or two munching on clover by the fence. I shook my head to focus. I’d be with the upper crust in a few hours, and not just upper crust, but the stratospheric crust. What the hell did I know about that.

  Flash greeted me as I got out of the car, snarling and twisting her body into a shape that shouldn’t have been possible for man or beast. “Hey, Flash. How’s it going, girl?” I reached down and petted her then pushed past, holding my bag up so as not to drag it. I hoped Elena didn’t think too poorly of me. Not that it mattered, but…it did.

  It took an hour to dress, but that included make-up, an area where Elena proved invaluable; for that matter, she proved invaluable in all areas. The whole time, I thought back to when I was seven. I was going to be the flower girl in a wedding for one of Uncle Dominic’s friends. Mom had made me a dress like Scarlett O’Hara’s in Gone With the Wind. I was so excited and proud. Uncle Dominic kept telling me how beautiful I was and everyone said I would steal the show from the bride. Nothing, though, topped the glow in my mother’s eyes as I walked down the aisle. I wished she could be here now.

  I stared into the mirror and almost cried. For a few seconds I couldn’t talk. “My God, Elena. I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t…”

  Elena put her hand on my shoulder and hugged me. “You are gorgeous.” Elena paused, blushed. “Listen, I don’t know what there is between you and Tip, but Tip and I…we go back a long way. I—”

  I grabbed her and squeezed. “Don’t say another word. We’re partners, that’s all. Trust me, I like Tip, but not how you think.”

  Elena’s smile, when it came, was genuine. “Thanks.”

  We both laughed, then hugged again. “Come with me,” Elena said, “It’s nearly time to go.”

  She grabbed my arm and led me through the dining room to the front door.” Tip was waiting.

  “Before you go, let me fill you in on the Maxwells,” Elena said. “Virginia grew up a River Oaks’ brat with more money than…anything. She could recite Emily Post’s book on etiquette before she could her ABC’s, and she wears her husband, Jeff—who she insists on calling Geoffrey—around her wrist like a bracelet.”

  “Sounds pleasant.”

  “Anything but,” Elena said. “And be careful of Geoffrey, he thinks he’s a charmer.”

  “All right, I think I’m armed.” I hugged Elena, and when I turned, I found Tip staring at me with a special look in his eyes.

  “Damn you look good, girl. I mean real good.” He blushed then, and turned to Elena, almost as if he embarrassed her.

  “Go on, you two get out of here,” she said, “and have fun.”

  ***

  Carlos paced in his living room, smoking the last few drags of a Fortuna. “Where the hell is she, Tico? I told you I cannot be late.”

  “She is coming up on the elevator right now, señor.”

  “Tell me again, what is her name.”

  “Mena”

  “Mena? What kind of name is that? I told you I wanted a Spanish speaking woman.”

  “Mena is short for Filomena. She is from Argentina. Her mother was Italian and her father Argentinean. She speaks perfect Spanish and Italian, and is fluent in English; in fact, she works for you. She runs one of your stores in the Uptown center.”

  Carlos smiled. “I knew I could count on you.”

  Manuelo opened the door, admitting Mena before Carlos had finished his cigarette. “Señor,” he said, and bowed, introducing her. “Señorita Mena.”

  Carlos walked briskly to her. “So nice to meet you, Mena.” He hugged her, then stepped back to observe and evaluate. His eyes took in every drop of her. “Que bella.”

  She blushed, lowered her head. “Señor, you are too gracious.”

  “Gracious or not, you will be the most beautiful thing at the ball tonight.” He held his hand out for her to grasp. “Come, we must go.”

  Tico rushed to get the door, then after they went through, he hurried ahead to get the elevator door and hold it open. “Manuelo, tell Roberto we need the car.”

  Roberto brought the car, stepped out and held the door for Carlos and his señorita.

  “This will be a memorable evening,” Carlos said, as they got into the car.

  ***

  I could barel
y breathe, and the closer we got to the ball, the more difficult it became. “Tip, maybe I should go home.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Have you been to these events before?”

  “A few.”

  I checked to see if he was lying, unable to picture Tip attending charity balls, but then again, nothing about him surprised me. He was a different kind of character.

  Tip turned to look at me, his voice soothing. “Don’t worry. All you have to do is smile and talk to people. Believe me, most of them will be as nervous as you. And let’s not forget why we’re going.”

  My body tensed. “I want to see Carlos’ face when he finds out about his precious club.”

  Tip looked at his watch. “Roberts and her crew should be there by now, along with a couple dozen of Bobby’s guys.”

  “Promise me if this doesn’t work you’ll let me shoot Cortes.”

  “I promise.”

  ***

  Carlos’ phone rang as they pulled up to the hotel. “Diga.”

  “Señor, no quiero interrumpir, pero...”

  “English, Tico.”

  “Si. I would not bother you, but there is grave news. El Paradiso has been raided by cops and the reporters were even with them. They have it on film.”

  A long moment of silence followed. “Have what on film?”

  “Many people with drugs. Other things.”

  “I thought we paid people.”

  “I don’t know, señor, but the reporter said that Detective Gianelli said to say hello.”

  “Gianelli.” the way he said her name was almost a curse. “Thank you, Tico. That will be all.”

  The driver parked the car then opened the back door. Carlos let him help Mena out, then he stepped out. It was almost impossible to resist looking at Mena, her perfect figure, her smooth tanned skin, dark hair…but all he could think of was Gianelli, and what he would do when he finally got his hands on her.

  Chapter 43

  A Big Event

  Carlos took his time getting inside, allowing the crowd time to admire Mena, and in effect, admiring him for having her on his arm. He nodded to the people he didn’t know, and he embraced those he had met previously, introducing them to Mena afterwards.

  After discussing a zoning issue with a city councilman, Carlos noticed old friends approaching.

  “Carlos!” Jeff Maxwell greeted him warmly.

  “Good to see you, my friend.”

  Maxwell turned to Mena. “And who is this lovely creature?”

  Carlos stood back. “Please, I would like you to meet a dear friend of mine.” He brought her forward. “Mena, these are my good friends, Jeff and Virginia Maxwell.”

  “It is a pleasure, Mena,” Virginia said, wearing her best smile.

  “And please, call me Max,” her husband said, and embraced Mena. “So nice to meet you.” He bowed and kissed her hand.

  Virginia’s face reddened, perhaps fueled with a tinge of jealousy. “My goodness, you’re so beautiful, and here I am in my shabbiest dress.”

  As Mena formed a response, Virginia grabbed Carlos. “There is someone you must meet. Come with me.”

  Max took Mena’s hand, leading her through the crowd. “You better let me help you. I’m afraid the men might mob you.”

  She blushed. “Señor Maxwell, you are too kind.”

  Max had a gentle, friendly laugh. “Not kind—jealous. I don’t want anyone else having time with you.” After walking around a while, Max introduced her to a few couples, then grabbed both of them a drink. “What do you do, Mena?”

  She seemed to stumble with the response, but finally managed to answer. “I run an interior design store for Carlos. I—”

  Max stared at her face. “There is something familiar about you,” he said. “Have we met?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Really? I could have sworn…but it doesn’t matter.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Take this and call me next week. I might be able to recommend your services.”

  She took the card and, after placing it in her purse, she handed him one. “And here is my card, Señor—”

  “Call me Max.”

  Her smile was inviting. “Max, then.”

  He looked at the card. “Filomena…Uptown. Now I know. You run the store…” He snapped his fingers while trying to think of the name.

  “A Taste of Barcelona,” she said.

  “That’s it. I was there about a year ago, and, if I remember, you were quite rude to me.”

  “That would be impossible, señor. I would never treat a customer rudely.”

  Max looked her over. “Perhaps you’re right. Either way, I must stop by and see you sometime.”

  “Please do,” Mena said, “but for now I must find Carlos.”

  ***

  I nearly choked as Tip pulled into the lot, getting in line for the valet parking. “Tip, what am—”

  “You’re going to do what undercover cops are supposed to do. Act like a professional.”

  His words hit hard. This was a job and I was acting like an amateur. “Sorry, Tip. I haven’t been dressed up like this in forever. Actually, never.”

  “I don’t do this every weekend either.”

  Valet parking took the car, helping me out of the door and waiting until Tip came around. By the time we got to the entrance, my knees were shaking and my heart pounding. The couple in front of us were decked out; him in a tux, and her in what was probably a designer gown, but I wouldn’t recognize one unless it had a sign announcing it. This was a different world.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a distinguished older couple.

  “Excuse me, dear,” the woman said, “I just wanted to say how lovely you look. I adore that dress.”

  I blushed, lowering my head. “Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.” I reached out to take her hand. “It should be a nice evening.”

  She wrapped her hands around mine. “That is precisely what I was telling Charles. Virginia always brings out the best people.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “Yes, she does,” I said, then turned when Tip gently tugged on my arm. I reached up to kiss his cheek, whispering “thanks” as I did.

  Within moments we were inside. A lovely woman and a gorgeous hunk of a man approached. I stared, not caring who noticed. The woman wore a red gown that either God or Valentino had made just for her, and the man looked just as good in his black tux. I could not take my eyes from him.

  Tip leaned toward me and whispered. “Want me to take his pants off so you can get a better look?”

  I felt my entire face go crimson. “I’m sorry, Tip. I…never mind.” I grabbed Tip’s hand and somehow made the final few steps without fainting or gasping.

  The woman reached her hand out first to Tip, a curious look on her face. “It is so good to see you again…”

  “Tip Denton. We met before, but it’s been a long time. I was at the cancer fund-raiser with Elena.”

  The woman grabbed his hand with both of hers, laughing as she did. “Of course, how could I forget. You are a detective if I recall. I hope you aren’t here to arrest me.”

  Next she focused on me, smiling sweetly as she reached for my hand. “And look at you, dear. My you’re beautiful. I know we haven’t met, or I would have remembered. I’m Virginia Maxwell, and this,” she pointed to the man at her side, “is Geoffrey, my husband.”

  I almost laughed when she introduced Geoffrey, recalling Elena’s description, but I managed a normal smile and took her hand. “Connie Gianelli.”

  “Such a nice name,” Virginia said, then moved on to someone else.

  Geoffrey, though, took my hand and held it, perhaps a little longer than he should have, or was it me just wishing that. Goosebumps ran up my back.

  “Connie Gianelli, what a beautiful name. Italian isn’t it?”

  His voice fit his looks, but before I let my body take over my mind, I remembered what Elena said about him t
hinking he’s a charmer. “It’s nice to hear someone say Italian instead of ‘Eye-talian.’”

  Maxwell leaned his head back a little as he laughed, but it wasn’t real, not like the laugh Uncle Zeppe had. This was staged for my sake. “I grew up near Pittsburgh so we were surrounded by them,” he said, and reached a hand out to touch my arm. “Listen to me, saying ‘them.’ Forgive me, Connie, that’s my Irish upbringing coming out.”

  “Maxwell doesn’t sound Irish.”

  “It’s not. My grandfather swears it’s Scottish, but my grandmother says it is pure English, and dating back to God knows when.” He grabbed two glasses of wine from a tray loaded with them and handed one to me. “I assume you like red wine.”

  Maxwell sipped his wine. His smile was mesmerizing and his eyes wouldn’t let go of me. I almost felt like squirming, or melting—but I was here for Carlos. Busting Carlos would save my reputation and no man, not even this one, was worth that. Just then a cold, commanding voice came from behind.

  “Geoffrey, we have more guests arriving.”

  Maxwell raised his eyebrows and grinned, then he patted my arm and whispered. “We’ll talk more.”

  I joined Tip, who seemed mesmerized himself by a woman in a white, strapless gown with a black bow at the top and as much jewelry around her neck as Virginia. Dark hair tickled her shoulders and her skin was a perfect light chocolate. I don’t know why, but I felt like grabbing hold of Tip’s arm and snuggling up close to him and saying something wise, but I opted for a simple introduction. “Hi, I’m Connie Gianelli.”

  She immediately took my hand in a firm handshake. “So nice to meet you. I am Filomena Santiago, but my friends call me Mena.”

  The woman smiled showing white pearls for teeth and a voice that I felt certain had been stolen from the Sirens of Greek Mythology. It was husky, inviting, and with a hint of Spanish or Italian, a combination that many men found irresistible. I almost felt sorry for Tip, being stuck here with plain old Connie Gianelli.

  The scar on Tip’s face twitched when he smiled. “Who’s the lucky Mr. Santiago?”

  Mena laughed. I almost did too. Tip had the worst lines.