by Nic Tatano
“No, Jagger said it’s up to date. Why?”
“This is the list of people receiving pension payments?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah, why?”
“My cousin Stefano died two years ago.”
My eyes grew wide as I looked closer at the screen. “You sure that’s him?”
“Of course it’s him. How many people named Stefano Salvatore DiBlasio do you think there are working for the city?”
“Maybe his wife’s receiving the payments.”
“Uh-uh. Stefano never married.” He pointed at the screen. “Scroll over to the address. I wanna see if they’re mailing checks to his old house, since his sister who took care of him still lives there.”
I slid the spreadsheet over to the right. “Post office box in Queens.”
Vincent shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. He lived in Brooklyn his entire life. And we had direct deposits set up for him so he wouldn’t lose his checks.” He looked closer. “The rest of the information is right. That’s his birthday, Christmas Day, I always remembered that. Stefano used to say he got shortchanged because his birthday fell on Christmas. And that’s the day he retired. We threw him a big party.”
Suddenly I had an idea. “Hold that thought.” I did a search of the documents for the post office box, number 504 in Queens.
More than six hundred names popped up.
“That’s where the missing money is going … ” I grabbed his arm. “Holy shit, that’s it!”
“What?”
“All these people are getting their pension checks delivered to the same address. And I’m willing to bet they’re all dead and the computer doesn’t know it, so it’s still cutting checks. Oh my God!”
“Well, that would make sense,” said Vincent. “But how would someone cash that many pension checks made out to dead people?”
“Obviously whoever’s doing this works in a bank or has some way to do that. Maybe has an accomplice. But whoever it is, his ass is mine.” My eyes gleamed as the adrenaline known as a “big story” shot through my veins.
He noticed. “You look like you’re suddenly feeling a lot better.”
“Yep.” I turned to face him. “A big story has healing powers, especially when you catch the bad guy. And you broke the story, Vincent.”
“I didn’t do anything—”
“Yeah, you did. I never would have found this without you. Oh, this is gonna be too easy.”
“How so?”
“Not only do we know what the scam is, now we know the thief’s address. We just have to wait to see who picks up the mail.”
***
By Sunday morning I felt I had really turned the corner. My ankle was back to normal and I could walk without the crutches, though I was still favoring them. The aches were almost gone, but my back was still a bit stiff. I considered asking Vincent to take me home, but one look out the window at the steady drizzle and steam coming out of tailpipes told me it was a bad idea for the butterfly to leave her cocoon. The last thing I needed was a health setback before I could break this story. And I was determined to get well because I wasn’t giving this story to anyone.
I had no idea if Scott called, since my cell died. I’d forgotten to have Roxanne bring the charger and I wasn’t going to ask her to run another errand on a Sunday.
So last night I borrowed Vincent’s phone and after talking with Councilman Jagger and my contact at the FBI, I discovered we had to break it Tuesday, the first of the month.
Because that was the day the pension checks arrived in the mail. Surely whoever was behind this scheme would be showing up at that post office in Queens. You don’t let that amount of money sit untouched in the hands of the morons who work for the postal service.
So it was Tuesday or bust, as far as my health was concerned.
I was under the covers drying my hair with a thick, fluffy black towel. The now-famous red tangles had been matted and soaked with sweat since my fever broke overnight. I didn’t have a hair dryer, and apparently neither did Vincent, so I got it as dry as I could and would have to wait for the principles of evaporation to work their magic. While I was waiting I heard the familiar tap on the door.
Ooooh, I got a good one for ya.
“You decent?”
“No, I’m an easily seduced trollop.”
Vincent entered, laughing a bit. “Did you stay up all night thinking of that one?”
“Nah, just till one in the morning.”
“An easily seduced trollop, huh?”
“Are there any other kind?”
“Of course I wouldn’t know. But I have heard stories.”
“Uh-huh. Right.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “So how you feeling today?”
“A lot better. Still a little sore, but I think I can go back to work tomorrow.”
He grabbed the thermometer, shook it, and stuck it in my mouth. “Well, let’s see. It was an even hundred last time, right?”
I nodded.
“You wanna watch the Giants later?”
Big smile, big nod. “I tawt you had tikets,” I said, trying to get the words past the thermometer.
“Don’t talk yet.” He waited a minute, then took the thermometer out and held it up to the light. “Ninety-nine and a half. Much better, but not all the way back. You’re probably right, one more day of rest and a few more feeding frenzies and you should be good to go.”
“Hey, you’re the one bringing all the great food in here.”
“I was kidding. I like a girl who can clean her plate and still be skinny.”
“I’m not skinny.”
“I carried you in here, remember? Trust me, you don’t weigh anything. Hey, what were you trying to ask me before?”
“Oh, about the Giants. I thought you had tickets. Those things are expensive. I don’t want you to miss the game.”
“I do have tickets, but it’s a road game today. Four o’clock, San Francisco.”
“Oh, right, I forgot. Tough game. They need this one to make the playoffs. And the Cowboys have to lose.”
“Yeah. You want me to do your back before I start breakfast?”
“Do my back?”
“With Bengay.”
“Oh yeah, sure. That would be great.”
“Scoot up a bit.”
I sat up and slid forward as Vincent grabbed the tube and started applying relief to my back. I didn’t peek over my shoulder because I trusted him. And I decided I was definitely getting a massage when I got better.
“So, all the dominoes in place for your story? You were working the phone quite a while last night.”
“Yeah, and thanks for letting me use yours. I had to call my boss and my FBI contact to get it all set up. The Feds will have a surveillance van across the street and they’ll let me and a photographer stay inside until the guy shows up. Since it’s Sunday and the post office is closed today they’re busy setting up a hidden camera inside right now. They’re also sweeping Jagger’s office for bugs.” I turned my head to look at him. “By the way, you cannot tell a soul about this.”
He made the classic zipper motion across his lips. “No problem. I’m a vault.”
I turned back as he continued applying the lotion. “Anyway, tomorrow I meet with the Feds and we go over logistics, the ground rules. And then Tuesday … well, make sure you watch at five o’clock. It’s a huge exclusive, if we get it.”
“I’ve already got your newscast set on the DVR. It tapes every day.”
“Oh, really?” I peeked over my shoulder, but couldn’t see his face.
He finished putting the stuff on my back and pulled down my blue sleep shirt. “Uh, yeah, I uh, have watched your station for years.” I turned to face him and saw his face redden a bit. “I’ll go make you something to eat. Right back.”
***
I used my credit card and ordered pizza for the game, a pre-emptive strike as I knew Vincent wou
ld want to cook for me and he had to be sick of providing room service by now. Besides, I’d eaten him out of house and home and figured I should re-stock his fridge and do something nice for him when I got well.
Did I really say that?
Meanwhile, despite my dead cell phone I had Scott’s number committed to memory and thought I’d let him know I’d be back in action tomorrow. I was hoping he’d called, and it was driving me crazy.
He picked up after about five rings. “Hello?”
“Scott, it’s Belinda.”
“Oh. I didn’t recognize the number.”
“My cell died yesterday and I’m using another phone. I didn’t know if you’d called.”
“No, I was going to touch base with you today. How are you feeling? You sound like yourself.”
“Much better. I should be back at work tomorrow.”
“Glad to hear it. Think you’ll have enough energy for dinner tomorrow night then? I really miss you.”
“Dinner sounds great. Not sure if I should kiss you, though. You might catch something.”
“You’re worth the risk. Listen, I’ve got a few things to take care of in the morning and I’ll call you tomorrow with the dinner plans. By the way, I also have something important to tell you. I think you’ll be happy.”
“Oh, really? Do I get a hint?”
“Nope, has to be face to face.”
“Sounds great. See you then, Scott.”
“Can’t wait. Bye.”
The call ended just as Vincent entered the room and saw me hang up the phone. “Still working on your story?”
Luckily he wasn’t familiar with my hand in the cookie jar face. “I’m, uh, setting up things for tomorrow.” (Hey, don’t roll your eyes. It’s the truth. Kinda sorta. Fine, I’ll go to confession.)
“I gotta tell you, you’re really dedicated. Sick in bed and you’re still working the story. There should be more reporters like you.”
Now I really needed to go to confession. “Thank you.”
“So what are you in the mood for regarding dinner?”
“I already ordered a pizza for the game. It should be here any minute.”
He frowned. “You didn’t have to do that—”
“And you didn’t have to play nursemaid and cook for four days. Believe me, I owe you a lot more than a pizza. I want you to sit back and enjoy the game this afternoon. Take a break, Vincent. Put your feet up. You’re not my butler. You’ve still gotta do this stuff for your mother after I’m outta here.”
“Well, okay.”
“By the way, how is she?”
He shrugged and a bit of sadness crept into his eyes. “Ah, you know, good days and bad. At least her mind is still sharp. I’ll see her tomorrow night. Thank God I’ve got a big family to help out.”
The doorbell rang. “Dinner is served!” I said.
“Thanks, Belinda. That was really thoughtful of you.” He headed out to answer the door.
Yeah. Thanks, Belinda. A really good looking guy who obviously has a major crush on you has treated you like a queen for four days and you make a date with another man. Calling from his bed. On his phone, no less.
Even going to confession won’t make the guilt go away.
***
“Geez, tackle somebody!” My own words seemed to echo off the walls of Vincent’s bedroom.
He started to laugh. “Geez, maybe I’d better take your blood pressure instead of your temperature. And I thought I got worked up during these games.”
“They’re just so damn frustrating! They should have put this game away in the third quarter, but nooooo! It’s never friggin’ easy with the Giants! They’ve gotta make you sweat right down to the end.”
“They do win their share of Super Bowls.”
“And even those go right down to the wire! It’s never simple with these guys! A fourteen-point lead and it’s almost gone! If the Niners kick a field goal we’ve got overtime. Just what I need.”
“I think you need a beer.”
“I can’t! I’m taking frigging medication! Damn flu!”
And then one of the Giant cornerbacks intercepted a pass and headed for the end zone.
“All right, go! Go!” yelled Vincent.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Somebody block for him, dammit!”
The cornerback wove his way through the tacklers and made a flying leap into the corner of the end zone. The ref signaled touchdown and I slumped back against my pillow.
“Okay, you can relax now,” said Vincent. “They’re up by ten with thirty seconds to go.”
“I’m not relaxing till it’s all zeroes. I don’t trust the bastards. There could be a kickoff return, an onside kick. The fat lady hasn’t sung yet.”
As it turned out, that was enough for the win. We decided to stay up and also watch the Sunday night game since I was too wired to fall asleep anyway. We rooted against the evil Cowboys who did their part for the Giants’ playoff hopes as they lost. (Somehow I take perverse joy in rooting for a team to lose.)
I looked at the clock and saw it was almost eleven. “Guess I’d better turn in. Back on the clock tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sounds like you’ve got two very busy days ahead of you. What time do you have to be in?”
“Nine.”
“What time you want me to take you back to your place?”
“Is seven too early?”
“Not at all. I gotta be in at seven-thirty. I’ll have the cab outside at seven.” He started to leave the bedroom. “Well, g’night.”
“Vincent, wait a minute.”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done these past few days. I really owe you one.”
“I may hold you to that.” He started to shut the door, then it opened again. “Well, go ahead, you little traitor.”
Gypsy the cat ran in, bounded on the bed and curled up at the foot. I reached down to pet her as he closed the door, scratched her head a bit, then got back under the covers and turned out the light.
I didn’t get to sleep for an hour.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ninety-eight-point-six.
“I think we can officially discharge you,” said Vincent. He put the thermometer back in the drawer. “You’re good to go.” He smiled at me, but his eyes had a tinge of sadness.
I pushed back the covers. “I feel like I’ve been sick for weeks.”
“Just a few days. I know you can’t wait to get to work on that story.”
“I think it helped me get well a little faster. But not as fast as your incredible soup.”
“There’s a lot left over. You’re taking some home. You don’t want a relapse.” He got up and headed to the door. “I’ll bring the cab around in about ten minutes.”
“You know, you really don’t have to do that, Vincent. I can walk two blocks.”
“You don’t need to push it with that ankle. I gotta go to work anyway, and it’s on the way.”
“If you insist. But I’m leaving you a big tip.”
“Sorry, you know the rules about that.”
He headed out the door and I threw on some clothes. I planned to shower and get dressed in my own apartment. I grabbed my clothes, laptop and purse and hauled everything to the bedroom door. I turned and looked back at what had been my home for the past few days. It looked like a disaster and there was no way I could leave it in this condition.
And then I started cleaning. Quickly.
I made the bed, folded the towels, picked up the tissues that seemed to be everywhere, put the half dozen used glasses in the dishwasher, and tried to leave it looking decent. He’d still be washing everything to kill the flu germs, but at least I didn’t want him to think I was a total slob. I didn’t want him to think I’d taken advantage of him. I didn’t want him to think—
It hit me while I was tidying up and stopped me dead in my tracks.
I was worried about what Vincent thought of me.
I shook my he
ad, chalking it up to the flu, and walked to the front door. I stopped to pet Gypsy for a minute, then headed out.
***
Vincent pulled up to my apartment building after a one-minute ride, got out of the cab, ran around and opened the door for me before I had a chance to do it myself.
“Thank you,” I said, as I gathered up my stuff and got out of the cab. The weather had cleared, it was warming up and sunny, and the fresh air felt great as it filled my lungs.
“Well, good luck on that story. I’ll be watching.”
“Can’t wait to nail whoever’s behind this. I did the math, it looks like several million over the past few years.” I looked at my building, then turned back to him. “Vincent, again, I can’t thank you enough for taking such great care of me this weekend. I … uh … I have to admit I really misjudged you. And I’m truly sorry for the way I treated you before. It was wrong and I apologize. You’ve always tried to be nice to me and—”
“Hey, I kinda had you pegged wrong too. Bygones.”
“Despite the fact I had to get the flu to do it, I’m glad I got to know you better.”
“Me too.”
An awkward silence followed. Did I give him a hug, shake his hand, what?
He deserved better. I leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Vincent Martino. See you around the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, you too.”
I headed toward the front door with a spring in my step, having gotten my life back, on the way to a kick-ass story. Then, just as I reached it, I turned back. “And remember, I owe you one … ”
But he was already gone.
***
I was walking on air as I entered Harry’s office and noted he already had company.
“Hey, welcome back,” he said. “How you feeling?”
“Pretty good, though I’m kinda on low power. I’ll feel a lot better once we put this story to bed.” I turned to the man who had gotten up and extended his hand. “Nice to see you again, Special Agent Willis.” I shook his hand.
“You too, Belinda. And thank you for getting us in the loop on this.”