Gillian squeezed past Mitch. “Sergeant Malone, I’m just glad to see you alive. I left Flagstaff thinking the worst.”
“I thought I was a goner, too.”
“I’ve told him he’s too tough to die before his time,” Noreen said, wiping her hands on a white apron she wore over a lavender print dress.
The man winced when his sister snapped off the TV and opened the curtains. His eyebrows dived together in a frown. “What have you done to yourself, Noelle? Have I lost my mind? Weren’t you blond?”
Gillian patted her hair. “I cut and colored it. If you don’t recognize me, I must’ve done an okay job of disguising myself.”
“Humph. I guess your voice is the same.”
Mitch leaned a shoulder against the door and surveyed the steel-haired man hooked up to a variety of ropes and pulleys. Bruises, though fading, marred one side of a grizzled face. Mitch felt an immediate kinship. Not too long ago he’d undergone a similar recovery. He hadn’t needed traction after leaving the hospital, but he’d been trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey for longer than he cared to remember. Judging the old guy harmless, Mitch pushed off from the door.
Malone’s sharp gaze tracked the younger man’s halting progress into the room. “Glory be, son, did they get you, too?”
“Nah. I stopped a few slugs from another lowlife. I was a cop, too. I’ve joined you in retirement, however.”
“That’s a shame. The force needs strong, honest men like yourself.”
Mitch crossed his arms over his chest. “Not so strong anymore, Sergeant Malone. This wasn’t my first tangle, either. Started me thinking I’m living on borrowed time. By the way—” he grasped the older man’s hand between both of his “—the name’s Mitch Valetti. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Funny, I knew you were in the business the minute you walked in. Maybe it’s true that cops have a certain identifying swagger.”
“If so, the academy ought to work on that problem for when we go undercover.”
“Well, the chief asked if I’d teach after I recover. Right now, I can’t say I’m considering it. Training is a big responsibility with the street punks getting rougher. Speaking of streets…” He turned his attention to Gillian. “I wasn’t sure you’d survive on the run. Where have you been keeping yourself?”
Gillian started to answer, but Mitch slid his arms around her from behind and set his chin on top of her head. “She’s been here and there.”
The man in the bed swung his eyes to Mitch. “You don’t trust me, do you?”
“Generally cautious, Malone. Nothing personal. I think we agree those men who want to get their hands on Gilly are bad news.”
“Gilly? Oh.” The old man frowned. “I remember you said Daryl gave you an alias. Conrad must not know that. When he phoned, he still called you Noelle.”
“You’ve heard from Conrad?”
“Who’s that?” Mitch asked.
“Daryl’s older brother,” she said absently. “I left him with the mess of a funeral and the chore of notifying Daryl’s clients. I’m sure he gave you an earful about me,” she muttered to Malone.
“I’ve never been Conrad’s favorite person,” Malone returned. “I figured he must’ve been in a real tizzy to call me. Twice. The first time, I was still in the hospital. The chief was having my incoming calls screened. I took Conrad’s so I could offer my condolences and explain why I wouldn’t be able to attend Daryl’s service. Also, I wanted to see if he could shed any light on the two guys who tried to put me in the morgue.”
“Could he?” Mitch and Gillian echoed as one voice.
Malone gave a snort. “Typical Conrad. He didn’t want to talk about anyone but himself. As you said, he’s miffed at you for running off. He called you irresponsible and even hinted you might be dangerous.”
“What?” Gillian sputtered. Then she waved a hand airily. “I knew he’d blame me for Daryl’s death. Conrad never wanted Daryl to marry me.”
“So,” Mitch interrupted, “did you tell the brother Gilly had been in touch?”
The man in the bed shifted, reaching both hands out to accept a steaming mug of coffee his sister had brought in on a rolling cart.
“I was there both times Patrick talked to Conrad,” Noreen said. “The first call, Pat, you asked why Conrad blamed Noelle when you knew for a fact that Daryl had been involved with some shady customers. You said Conrad got huffy, defended Daryl vigorously, then hung up on you.”
“That’s right. He called again the day I was released. He asked if I’d heard from you. Said bills were piling up at the business and house, and he couldn’t do anything about withdrawing money from Daryl’s business because of your partnership. He said that according to the bank, Daryl had withdrawn a large amount of cash a week before his death. Conrad told me the police wanted to question you in connection with that and other things.”
“That would be the cash Daryl placed in the envelope, along with my fake license and social security card,” Gillian admitted with a guilty shrug.
Mitch dumped cream in his coffee. “Gillian said you were like a dad to her ex-husband, Patrick. Yet it doesn’t sound as if you’re on good terms with his brother.”
“You’ve got that right.” Malone made a face as he sipped from his cup. “Conrad was a seventeen-year-old know-it-all at the time their folks died. His dad and I were fraternity brothers and lifelong friends. I thought it was well understood that I’d take the boys if anything happened to their parents. Conrad said he should be man of the house. He contested the will. It really irked him that I held power over his inheritance until he was twenty-five. Actually, both boys’ money was in trust.”
“Daryl’s portion went toward starting his business—and buying my flower shop. Conrad warned Daryl against spending part of his inheritance on me.”
“You own a flower shop?” Mitch sounded surprised. “I knew you’d worked for a florist. You never mentioned owning a shop.”
“After I lost the baby…” She choked on the words. When she could talk again, she cleared her throat and continued. “I suffered severe postpartum depression. I was mentally and physically unable to carry on.” She rose and went to stand at the window, gazing blankly on a beautifully green golf course. “Daryl couldn’t run his firm and oversee my shop, as well. He asked me to sell before I was released from the hospital. My friends thought that when I got well, I’d want to work again. It took longer than anyone imagined.” Her voice was raspy. “Anyway, I didn’t argue about selling.”
Shifting his position, Mitch saw the tears that trickled down her pale face. He hurt for her, and couldn’t begin to imagine the pain she’d suffered at losing her baby. Now it seemed she’d lost her career and her marriage, too. She was dead wrong about not being a strong woman. She was.
The old cop spoke to Gillian, jerking Mitch out of his stupor. “Daryl phoned a few days after you lost the baby. The only other time I heard him sound so torn up was the day we buried his parents. I had the impression he was terrified that you were going to die too, Noelle.”
“I did, in a way.”
Mitch set his cup back on the cart and joined her at the window. “It doesn’t pay to focus on the past, Gilly.” He used his thumbs to massage her backbone to her shoulders. She stood unmoving for several minutes, then finally relaxed against his hands.
“Thanks, Mitch. I know we didn’t come here to reminisce.”
“Which brings up a point,” Patrick said. “I assume you came for reasons other than to inquire after my health.”
“That was the primary reason,” Gillian assured him.
“Well, if you’re up to it, I’d hoped we could do a little trading of information,” Mitch admitted.
“If you three are going to talk cop stuff, I’ll go back to preparing my beef stew. I can’t abide hearing about people in danger. That’s why I quit keeping house for Patrick a few years ago and moved here. Later, he finagled a job in Flagstaff. You promised me you retired for good,”
she scolded her brother.
“I have. I have,” he muttered. “Do I look like I’m trekking with them after bad guys? No. We’re only talking, Noreen. Speculating.”
“Humph. I know you, Pat Malone. If there’s any feasible way, you’ll get involved.”
“There’s no feasible way, ma’am,” Mitch reiterated.
Noreen, like so many women, let herself be charmed by Mitch Valetti’s brilliant smile. “I’ll hold you to your word,” she said. “No doubt this speculating will take time. You and Noelle are invited to stay for supper. Plain fare, but filling.”
“I never turn down a home-cooked meal.” Again Mitch flashed a winsome grin. He helped Noreen wheel the coffee cart out, then closed the door. “The fewer ears, the better.”
“I’m not sure I can tell you anything Noelle…er…Gillian hasn’t already filled you in on.” Pat slapped at the pillow on which he rested his cast. Gillian plumped the ones behind his back.
“Thanks,” he said, returning his attention to Mitch.
“I got a good look at the men who ran you down. If you can’t fill in the names, I’ll stop by my old precinct later to see if I can identify them. Guys like that always have records a mile long.”
“They do. I’ll save you a step. I know who they are.”
“You know their names?”
“Lenny ‘The Arm’ Capputo, and Foss Turpin, sometimes known as The Turtle.”
Mitch quickly dug a small notebook he’d taken from Regan’s kitchen drawer out of his pocket. He removed a stubby pencil from the spiral binding, flipped open the cover and began to scribble.
Gillian rubbed at goose bumps rising along her arms. “Lenny ‘The Arm’ sounds like someone who should be one of Al Capone’s gangsters.”
“I wish all gangsters had died out with Capone.” Patrick adjusted a set of pulleys and raised his leg an inch off the pillow.
Mitch turned to a clean page. “I would’ve nicknamed him Lenny ‘The Mouth.’ Your turtle couldn’t shut his partner up.”
Malone bent his arm behind his head and propped himself up. “He’s not my turtle. They’re a nasty duo. That’s why the department had me under wraps as long as they did and screened my calls. It’s why I’m recovering at Noreen’s. Our snitches fingered them. Appearing talkative and bumbling is their trademark. Reportedly they only work for big money up-front. Well, don’t take my word for it. Read their rap sheets. These boys are butt-deep in organized crime.”
Mitch frowned. “Then you think Gilly’s ex stumbled onto something pretty big?”
“My sources say it takes a couple hundred G’s each to hire Capputo and Turpin.”
“Holy shi—” Mitch snapped his jaw shut on the invective.
“My sentiments exactly,” Patrick murmured.
Gillian, who was leaning against the old man’s bed, whipped her head around. “Two-hundred-thousand dollars?” she whispered.
“Two-hundred grand each,” Mitch repeated, sounding grim.
“Yeah.” Patrick looked more than a little worried. “They earn two-hundred-thousand dollars apiece for their dirty work. Someone’s paying them big bucks to find you. I presume they’ve been ordered to bring you to their boss. Otherwise, they’d have gunned us down the way they did Daryl. Him they wanted dead. Now the question I have—did they get paid for one job and this is a second? If so, we’re talking a bundle of cash. That ups the ante considerably on what Daryl’s information is worth.”
“Damn!” Mitch exploded.
“That ought to give you a rough idea why I took myself out of the equation,” Patrick said wryly.
“No wonder Daryl went to such lengths to get Gilly out of town. Is that why you advised her to hit the road?”
Patrick shook his head. “I only had Daryl’s sketchy e-mail and a gut hunch to go on. What concerned me most was how quickly those goons showed up. It takes a big man pulling strings to get fast action like that.”
“Yeah. I’ve had some experience fighting a well-entrenched crime boss.”
“A successful experience?” Malone asked.
Mitch closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “They were out on bail before the ink on my booking paper was dry.”
“That’s what we ran into in Flagstaff, too.” He took a deep breath. “So, how long can you keep Gillian hidden?”
“Not indefinitely,” Mitch said. “And as you know, the statute of limitations never runs out if they wasted Daryl.”
“I wasn’t thinking of hiding her indefinitely.” Patrick stared intently at Mitch. “My snitch on the street is pretty reliable. He said Capputo and Turpin get antsy if things don’t break their way. They have patience up to a point, then they run back to their money source and make new demands. If you know where they are now and can afford to put a twenty-four-hour tail on them, they’ll eventually lead you to the top dog.”
“I don’t have much money I can access,” Gillian muttered, breaking into their conversation. “How much would a twenty-four-hour tail cost?”
“A down-and-out P.I. can be had cheap. Or a retired cop. In fact, those are the types of assignments I figured I’d take for a while until my ranch starts paying.”
A slow smile blossomed on Malone’s craggy face. “There you go, Noelle. I mean, Gillian. Can you afford a retired cop?”
“There’s a problem with that,” Mitch was quick to say. “I’m not exposing Gilly to a chase. Neither am I letting her out of my sight. I’ll have to chew on your suggestion, Patrick. My first order of business is to find a safe spot for her to go underground. At least until we turn up hard evidence. Something other than he-said, she-said stuff.”
Noreen opened the door and stuck her head inside in time to hear Mitch. “I came to announce supper. Pat can’t come to the table, so if it’s all right with everyone, I’ll serve trays in here. If you two would like to wash up, I’ll point you to the bathrooms. I, um, there’s a part of being laid up that Pat hates to deal with. He grumbles, but it must be done,” she said, producing a bed pan from a cupboard in the room. “Feel free to stroll around the patio and watch the golfers. I’ll call you when we’re finished.”
“Dammit, Noreen.” The old man’s face turned florid shades of purple. “It’s bad enough you have to witness the loss of a man’s dignity. No need to announce my incapacities to the world.”
Mitch held up a hand. “Been there, done that, man. I swore about having to use that damned thing until one day the nurses were tied up and were very late getting around to help me. Can truthfully say I never complained again.”
“You’d do well to listen to his advice, Patrick. Oh, and Mitch, I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation as I walked in. The need you have for a hideaway,” she added when a look of puzzlement crossed his face. “I may have a solution. We’ll discuss it at supper.”
Mitch was the first to make his way to the patio. He placed a booted foot on the low brick wall and scanned the deep green fanning out from the tenth tee. “Do you play golf?” he asked as Gillian exited the house.
“No. Soil this rich should be used for growing flowers, in my opinion. Do you play?”
“Nope. But I could stand having all this behind my house. It’d make a fantastic pasture.”
“Noreen must golf. Why else would she pay the exorbitant association fees? I know that communities like this share in the greens upkeep.”
“They’re a pair, aren’t they?”
“Do you trust Patrick now?”
“Don’t see any reason not to. He didn’t have to give me those names. I still want to swing by the precinct and match up their mug shots. I’ll know in a flash if we’ve got the right guys.”
“We could leave now.” Gillian glanced toward the house. “I hate putting Noreen out by staying to eat.”
“I’d say her feelings will be hurt if we leave. Besides, I want to hear her suggestion about a safe house. I’d also like to kick a few ideas around with Malone on where he suspects Daryl m
ight have hidden a key.”
“I don’t think Patrick has any clue.”
“He might if we brainstorm. Daryl lived with him as a kid. When it comes to putting stuff away for safekeeping, boys develop hard-to-break habits.”
“Is that right?” She sent him a curious glance. “Where would you hide something?”
He gave a sheepish grin. “You’ve been in my house. I tend to leave things lying out in plain sight. So if it were me, I’d probably have tossed it in your purse.”
“Well, we know Daryl didn’t do that.”
Noreen waved from the window.
Mitch stood aside and let Gillian precede him into the house. “I like your view from the patio,” he told Noreen politely.
“So do I. Until I moved Pat in, I played golf at ten o’clock every day. And I will again after he’s able to go home.”
Gillian slowed her steps. “It’s nice that you have each other. I’m an only child. I’ve always envied siblings. Especially large families.”
“The Malones had one,” the older woman said with a chuckle. “Twelve in all. We’re scattered hither and yon. Patrick’s the eldest son. I’m the eldest daughter. We spent a lot of time caring for the ten who came after us, and I think that’s the biggest reason neither of us married.” She shook her head. “Our siblings thought if we weren’t going to marry, we should have dedicated our lives to the church. We both enjoy our freedom too much, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve never thought in terms of a dozen when I imagined a large family,” Gillian exclaimed.
“That’s good.” Mitch stopped dead in his tracks, not having the vaguest idea why he’d felt compelled to make a remark like that.
The women simply laughed at his stunned expression.
“I’ll help Noreen prepare the trays,” Gillian informed Mitch. “Didn’t you say you had something else you wanted to discuss with Sergeant Malone?”
“Yeah. Okay, I get the message. You ladies want to gossip.” Mitch turned and disappeared into the den.
“Ah, Valetti. What happened to Noelle…uh, Gillian— Damned if I can remember her new name.”
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