Cissy rolled her eyes. “Shoot me while the police and the neighborhood watches. See how many barbecues you’ll be invited to next summer.”
Her captor moved around to her backside and nestled the gun in her spine as the police came up the drive. “No more fooling around. Smile.”
Cissy’s lips curved. She thought she would throw up.
“Sorry to bring you out here like this, Officers. I was expecting my friend Candy here, but had to go out. Work emergency.” He sighed. “Never ends, does it? Anyway, I couldn’t get her on her cell.” He turned to her. “Honey, I’ve told you a million times, it doesn’t work unless you turn it on.”
The point of the gun burrowed into her back.
“I’m such a ditz.” She forced a strained giggle.
“But I love her anyway.” He nuzzled her neck. She swallowed down the bile rising into her mouth.
“So I left her a note. Told her to let herself in with her key, but of course she didn’t think about the alarm. Again.” He added a note of amused tolerance. “Sorry for the false alarm, Officers.”
“In the future, try to remember to deactivate the alarm, ma’am,” said one of the cops.
The man nudged her with the gun barrel.
“Yes, sir.” Her voice cracked. The gun dug into her spine. “Thank you, Officers.”
Lester kept her pinned against him as the officers walked back to their vehicle and got in. The patrol car pulled out of the drive. With her body still pressed tightly against his, Lester turned them both to the door. He flattened her body against it. “Open it.”
She didn’t have a chance if she let him get her alone. She pretended to press on the handle, wiggled it. “It must have locked automatically.”
The man reached past her to the door. Cissy held her breath. He pressed on the latch, pushed, swore. The door had locked automatically. Cissy smelled her own perspiration and the stronger, sour smell of the man’s sweat.
“Okay, we’re gonna walk down the porch.” He turned her around. “Put your arm around my waist.”
She did as he said. The man put his arm around her shoulders, clasping her tight to his side, the gun in her rib cage. “That’s it. Nice and easy.” They moved together down the porch.
“Why’d you try and kill me this afternoon?”
The man looked at her, released a laugh. “I didn’t try and kill you…yet. Come on. We’re going to the garage. Take a ride.”
Cissy stumbled, hoping to break his hold, make a run for it. The man clamped his arm on her shoulder, jerking her upright. He shoved the gun deeper into her ribs.
“On the Harley?” she asked. “The same Harley you were riding when you tried to shoot me downtown this afternoon?”
“If I took a shot at you, you’d be dead.”
“But it was you on the Harley today, wasn’t it? Why do you want to kill me?”
He pushed her into the garage, aimed the gun at her. “You tell me—what were you doing in the house? What were you looking for?”
“I just told you ‘somebody’—” she made quotation marks with her fingers “—on that motorcycle pulled up beside me and aimed a gun at me.” She looked down the gun barrel. “Twice in one day. What are the odds?”
“How do you know it was that motorcycle?”
“I got a number and two letters of the license plate number, found out who it was registered to, came over here tonight to find out why you were chasing me today. You weren’t home.” She shrugged. “I decided to have a look around myself.”
“Find anything interesting?”
“You’re a little bit on the obsessive-compulsive side.”
He motioned with the gun toward the compact Hyundai. “Get in the car.”
“Where’s my mother? And my sister? You don’t look like the type to hang out with Eddie Vitelli, but then again, crime makes for strange bedfellows.”
He started toward her. She backed away but kept her voice fierce.
“I want to know what happened to them. Louisa Vitelli. Jo Jo Spagnola.”
He was almost to her when they both heard a loud knocking close to the garage.
“Mr. Lester, this is the police again.” The knocking stopped. Footsteps moved toward the back, then stopped when they saw the sliver of light under the garage door. “Mr. Lester?”
The man grabbed Cissy’s arm, pulled her toward the door, the gun against her temple.
“We’ll be right out, Officer. We’re in the garage here and…give us a minute, would you? We’re in a rather delicate situation, if you know what I mean.” He gave a suggestive laugh. Cissy stuck her finger down her throat.
The officer outside the door chuckled, man to man. “That’s all right. I actually only had one last question.”
“Shoot.” Lester smiled a sickly grin at her.
“Who the hell is Candy?” The door was kicked in, slamming into Lester. Cissy broke free as he was thrown against the motorcycle. She grabbed a thick-headed driver from the bag of golf clubs, spun and struck him on the back of the head. The gun flew out of his hand, went off as the motorcycle toppled to its side. Lester sprawled across it, knocked out cold.
Panting, holding the golf club high as if to strike again, Cissy looked up into Nick’s pissed-off gaze. His weapon on the man, he bent down and picked up the other gun. He stood, one gun aimed, the other ready at his side. She didn’t stand a chance.
She dropped the golf club, let it clatter against the cement floor. She walked toward Nick, everything inside her crumbling. She stopped inches from him, looked up into those angry, scared eyes and knew the feeling. First time in her life she’d ever seen fear on Fiore’s fine face. She reached a hand to his rough cheek. “I’m sorry.” She meant it. To scare Fiore was a sin.
She dropped her hand. “You didn’t know I played golf, did you?”
Her forehead fell to his chest. She closed her eyes against any tears and leaned into the sure strength of him.
A gun still tight in his hand, he wrapped his arm around her bowed head.
“Is everything all right?” A voice came from the door.
Cissy and Nick broke apart. A stout man in a bathing suit stood at the doorway.
“I live two houses over,” the man provided. “I was getting out of the pool when I thought I heard a gunshot.”
Nick pulled out his shield. “Detective Fiore. Everything’s under control.”
Atop the bike, Lester started to stir.
“Have you noticed any suspicious activity around here recently, Mr….?” Nick waited for the neighbor to fill in the blank.
“Roth. Wayne Roth.” He stepped inside the garage, stuck out his hand. “No, this is a quiet neighborhood. Young families. Retirees. The most excitement I can remember around here is last summer, when Esther Wills over on Cactus got a karaoke machine and set to practicing Patsy Cline on her screened porch. Even the cats were scared out of the neighborhood.”
A low groan came from the man sprawled across the bike.
“What about Lester?” Nick asked the neighbor.
“Phil, he’s a good guy. Anytime the Little League or the Soccer Club or the Garden Association needs fliers or signs, Phil prints them up. Quiet fellow. Keeps to himself mostly but like I said, a nice guy.
Lester attempted to rise from the motorcycle.
Gun aimed, Nick walked over to the bike, pulled the man up with one hand. “Nice guy or not, I’m afraid we’re going to have to take Phil here down to the station.” The man stumbled, looked around, dazed. Nick pulled his arms behind his back. “You have the right—”
“That’s not Phil Lester.”
Cissy’s and Nick’s gazes shot to the neighbor. “What do you mean?” Nick asked
The man shook his head. “That’s not Phil Lester.”
Nick and Cissy looked at the handcuffed man.
“I don’t say nothing without my lawyer present.” The man squeezed his eyes shut, moaned.
“Let’s go then, kids.” Nick grabbed the man�
�s arm, gave Cissy a pointed look. “Ladies first.”
He wasn’t taking any more chances, Cissy realized. After this, he’d be on her worse than a parolee freshly sprung. The fact the idea wasn’t exactly unappealing distressed her even more.
“Mr. Roth?” Nick handed the neighbor his card. “If you or anyone else in the neighborhood happens to see Mr. Lester or has any information concerning him, I’d appreciate a call.”
“Of course. You don’t think something has happened to Phil, do you?” He eyed the handcuffed man. “Who’s this guy anyway?”
Nick pushed the handcuffed man out the garage door, snapped off the light. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”
CISSY WAITED in the station breakroom, a can of soda sweating on the table in front of her. Periodically she reminded herself to breathe when her surroundings began to blur at the edges. Nick finished and found her staring at the revolving microwave burgers and Hostess apple pies. “Hey,” he said softly as if not to startle her. “Ready?” She reminded herself once more to breathe and stood.
Earlier Nick had showered at the station, changed into cotton pants and a Packers T-shirt. He’d had the Harley’s partial plate numbers run, gotten Lester’s address and breezed by his place this afternoon after he’d dropped Cissy off at the DMV. No one had been home. After he’d brought Cissy to the motel, he’d stopped by the station to finish up the day’s paperwork and sign out before he made another visit to Lester’s. He’d been heading there when he’d heard the dispatch to Lester’s residence. He’d met the patrol officers on their way out of the development. They’d explained to him it was a false alarm. The resident’s bubbleheaded girlfriend named Candy had forgotten to turn off the alarm. Sensing it was a lie, Nick had rushed to Lester’s house.
“Bubbleheaded, my butt.”
He stopped, forced her to face him. “This isn’t a game, Cissy. Do you understand that?”
“I know this isn’t a game.” Her voice was quiet, even. “My mother and sister are missing. I want to know what happened to them.”
Nick sighed, looked weary. “It’s not your fault, Cissy. You’re not the guilty one.”
“Can’t help it.” She shrugged. “It’s the Catholic curse.”
He shook his head. No arguing with the Catholic curse. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
They stepped out of the air-conditioned station. The heat slammed into them like a sucker punch.
“So, what did you find out from our Lester impersonator?” Cissy knew he would only tell her the basics. Anything really pertinent to the case wasn’t coming from those gorgeous lips. Not to her ears anyway.
“Guy’s name is Steve Deed. Claims he’s a friend of Lester’s, staying there a few days. Claims Lester let him borrow the car. Lester had the bike. Came home, house was empty, figured Lester was working late, so he went out for a few drinks.”
“Yeah, right.” Cissy kicked a piece of gravel.
“Another detective recognized him. Said they brought him in a few years ago on the Gambino brothers’ bust. They used to run the books on the northside. Stevie did their dirty work. ‘Stevie the Sledgehammer’ was his name on the street. That’s who you were dancing with tonight.”
He was waiting for a reaction from her. He wasn’t going to get it.
“Vice says they haven’t seen Stevie in a while. Not since the Gambino brothers went under. Figured he left the area, on to greener pastures.”
“So where’s Phil Lester?” And her mother? And her sister?
“Stevie wasn’t talking. Made a call and a high-priced mouthpiece, a real hotshot, was here within the hour and sprang him. I don’t know who he’s working for but it’s somebody connected.”
“He’s out already?”
“We couldn’t hold him. He had a permit for the .45. Nothing had been taken from the house. Lester can’t be found to refute Deed’s story or to file charges. We have no proof that he wasn’t telling the truth.”
“The man shoved a gun in my side and threatened to kill me.”
Nick smiled. “Says you broke into the house, which you did. Says you assaulted him. Which you did. From the look of him, he’s got the stronger case.”
“That was self-defense.”
“That’s what he’s claiming. And you did enter the house illegally.”
“I knocked.”
He rubbed the side of his head.
“I didn’t go over there with the intention of picking Lester’s lock. I rang the bell, knocked on the door, was going to leave when I saw the Harley in the garage. I don’t know. I thought maybe I could find a clue, something, anything that might tell me where Mama and Jo Jo are.”
“Listen.” He stopped, took her by the shoulders as if to shake her but only held her firm. “You pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll handcuff you to my bed.”
“You have an unhealthy fixation on handcuffs, you know.”
His arms tensed as if straining not to shake her. She’d seen he’d been scared back there. Scared for her.
He didn’t like it. Neither did she. Start to care, and you lose your edge. Start to feel, and you lose your head.
“All right.” She shrugged out of his hold. “I’ll be a good girl.”
He pulled her to him as if fighting it all the way, but his kiss was urgent and hard and made her knees bend. It was the leftover fear they were trying to purge. That combined with the gathering sexual swelter between them.
He pulled away. “You don’t have to go that far,” he whispered against her ear. The fear may have been temporarily quelled but the desire between them was reaching new degrees. Light a match and they’d both blow. “But let me do my job.”
They broke apart, silent until they came to Nick’s car. He opened the driver’s door. “We’ll leave the rental at Lester’s tonight. Pick it up tomorrow. I’ll take you to the motel so you can get your bag. You’ll stay at my place.” He rounded the car, not waiting for her answer.
“You’re not serious.” She looked across the roof of the car, saw he was.
“You’re staying with me.”
She knew it was the closest he’d admit to how scared he’d been. She didn’t protest again. It was the closest she’d admit to how scared she was.
She slid into the car, her legs like lead. She pulled her purse onto her lap, the cash heavy against her thighs.
“Have there been any robberies lately? Maybe banks? Huge sums of cash missing?”
Nick eyeballed her.
She tried to appear blasé which, given the day, was no small feat. “Just shooting in the dark, trying to figure out what happened to my mother and sister. Not to mention how Lester figures in all this. Or where Lester is for that matter.”
“Missing Persons ran your mother’s vitals and social security numbers. So far, nothing has shown up. No activity on her credit cards, bank transactions. If she did run off like Eddie said, she’s making every effort not to be found.”
She heard the “if,” understood what Nick was saying but wouldn’t accept it. “Tell them to look harder.”
They pulled into the motel’s parking lot. Nick parked, shut off the engine. She gave a quick intake of breath as he reached across her legs to open the glove compartment. He pulled out a handgun that did nothing to allay Cissy’s unease. He held out his hand.
“Give me the key.”
“Don’t you—” She was about to say “just kick the door in?” when she remembered less then two hours ago, that’s exactly what he’d done, saving her. She found the key, dropped it into his palm. Even a smartass knew when not to push her luck.
Nick unlocked the door, opened it slowly, his weapon ready. She followed so close behind him she stepped on the heel of his sneaker. A blast of cold air from the air conditioner greeted them, although Cissy could have sworn she had turned the air conditioner almost off when she’d left, fearing the room would be like an icebox when she returned.
Nick found the switch, clicked it on. His body came to
full alert. He turned, trying to shield Cissy’s view, but not before she thought she saw a figure in the easy chair beside the bed.
“Go outside. Now.”
“Who is it?”
“Go outside.”
“No.” Whatever lay beyond would be worse imagined than the reality. Nick reached for her but she ducked around him into the room. A medium-size balding man was sitting quite comfortably in the armchair, his head resting on its high back. His mouth was parted, the corners drooped, giving his face a disappointed look. His eyes were bloodless and blank, a bullet hole in his forehead. In his lap, leaning against his chest, a cardboard square read Go Home.
She stared until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her eyes came up slowly to meet Nick’s. His face was washed clean of expression. Depersonalization. A cop’s greatest weapon. Her hand was clutching the front of his T-shirt. He covered her fingers with his own, his grasp not gentle.
“Stand outside the door. I’ll be right out.”
She didn’t argue. She stood on the narrow cement strip that ran outside all the ground floor rooms, listening to Nick call the station. She didn’t turn when he came out, afraid her eyes would give her away. She stood on the cement, staring out at the white lines of the parking lot. The sweat beaded on her body and trickled into the hollow of her back, along her hairline, between her breasts. Nick stood next to her.
“How long has he been…in there?” She was not brave in the darkness with death in an armchair steps away.
“Not long. What time did you leave?”
“About eight-thirty.”
“He’s been dead longer than that. Somebody must have killed him earlier and brought the body here. Somebody who wanted to scare you.”
It’d worked.
“Who is he?”
“I don’t want to disturb anything until Homicide gets here. Your bag is in there. If they were looking for something, they were neat about it. Professional. Nothing seems to be missing. There was no robbery.”
“Just murder.” Her voice had an offbeat sound. She stepped involuntarily an inch closer to Nick. He put his arm around her shoulders. They were standing that way when the squad car pulled up, followed by an unmarked Chevy.
Unmarked Man Page 7