Cold Moon Dead

by J. M. Griffin

  The fact that Aaron is tight with my family doesn’t go unnoticed by my paramour, Rhode Island State Trooper, Marcus Richmond. Marcus and Aaron have a cool, but somewhat friendly relationship. Each respects the other’s job, though Marcus wishes Aaron lived anywhere but upstairs. He’d never admit to jealousy, though.

  Lola parked the Cooper at the curb in front of my house. I swung the door open, thanked her, and said I’d stop by the deli later for dinner . . . after I got my theft issues straightened away with my insurance agent. She agreed and sped down the street to work.

  Chapter 3

  The Division of Motor Vehicles handled the license snatch with their usual amount of disinterest, while the credit card companies locked down my credit and promised to issue new cards. The insurance company was another matter, but this wasn’t the first car loss I’d had either. My agent was a peach of a man who handled my continual crises with aplomb. I’d try to make sure he got an extra bonus for his time.

  It had only taken a couple of hours on hold to get things sorted. I sat back, sipped wine, and tried to hold my headache at bay while I wondered if my car would be found. When the back hallway door slammed hard against the inside wall, my head began to pound in earnest. I knew my life was about to become rife with increased tension—Geez, sometimes I find it annoying when I’m right.

  A sharp rap on the kitchen door preceded Marcus’s entrance. His craggy features reminded me of granite as his thick brows knit together above hazel eyes that glared at me.

  “You were held up at gunpoint and robbed?” he demanded, as his State Police campaign hat hit the counter with a thunk.

  “Since you know, the question doesn’t require an answer, does it?” I asked, with raised brows. “Some old bat held me up when I tried to help her out.”

  “You stopped on the highway to assist someone instead of calling in the local cops to handle it? How can you teach criminal justice and then refuse to follow your own advice about not stopping to help strangers? Hell, Vinnie, you could have been killed.” He ran his hands over his cropped brown hair while he paced the kitchen floor.

  By this time his voice echoed off the walls, and I was, yet again, being yelled at. This had gotten old, real fast. Close to tears I stepped up to defend my actions, headache or not.

  “First of all, I nearly ran her down. The car was in the slow lane of traffic. She was an old woman dressed in rags. Why would I think she was dangerous? She must have been at least eighty, for Chrissake. Don’t yell at me . . . I already got that from Lola, dammit.” I rubbed a hand across my throbbing forehead.

  His warm hands ran over my arms as he stepped closer and looked into my eyes. The stern face softened a bit. He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. “You scare the living shit out of me, you know that?”

  “Mmm, I do. Sorry about that. I thought the old woman was in need of a ride. When she pulled that .38 out of her handbag, I nearly messed my drawers. Honest to God.” I felt a tear leak from my eye and roll down my cheek. I had been petrified, and nobody had given me the benefit of the doubt. Or any sympathy for how it had affected me. They simply thought it was just another Vinnie incident.

  Eyes filled with concern, and what could still have been a touch of leftover anger, Marcus’s gaze roamed my face. At least he wasn’t yelling anymore. Instead, he pulled me to him, wiped the tear away, and folded his arms around my body.

  “What are your plans for a car?” he whispered softly, kissing my hair and forehead.

  “My insurance will allow for a rental, so I’ll get one tomorrow,” I said. “At least Freedom was on duty and took the report. She thinks there’s a chop shop near the station and she might find my car. Do you guys know anything about that?”

  Chop shops are places where stolen vehicles are taken and dismantled in a fraction of a second. NASCAR mechanics have nothing on these guys. With practice and the right tools, and a distribution system in place, it can be a lucrative business.

  “The auto squad keeps their eyes open and works with local departments around the state to assist with chop shop shutdowns. The problem is that these guys move around often and set up in neighborhoods wherever they can find space, so it’s hard to keep up.”

  “How many people work in the squad?”

  “Two retired cops and three state troopers run it,” Marcus said. He turned to start a pot of coffee. “So Banger thinks there’s a shop in her district?” He glanced over with a raised brow. “Why haven’t they shut it down?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe the department doesn’t have probable cause for a search warrant.” I shrugged. “She didn’t say.”

  While the coffee perked, Marcus rummaged through the refrigerator for a snack. He came up with a piece of leftover apple pie—courtesy of my mother—and some sad looking cheese. I watched as he inhaled the food and gulped down a steaming cup of brew. He grabbed his stiff brimmed trooper hat off the counter and kissed me before he left with a promise he’d check in later.

  What he meant by that could be anything from a toss in the sheets to a phone call, so I didn’t press him. It depended on what crimes were committed while he was on duty. Rhode Island State Troopers work four twelve-hour days in a row and usually pick up extra ‘detail’ hours on their days off. They start at weird times and end the same way. If you’re undercover, that’s another schedule altogether.

  I didn’t question him about his job since he was tight-lipped about it. Instead, I used our time together for better, and far more interesting, things.

  Daylight waned as the sun dipped toward the horizon. It wasn’t late, simply winter. I figured it was time to visit Livvy’s grave and discuss the day with her. Then I’d stroll to the corner for dinner.

  Groceries were slim at my house, more often than not. I rarely bought much since I didn’t cook much. My mother sent home goody bags of leftovers for me or I grabbed a meal from the deli. Once in a while, I shopped at the market.

  Not that I couldn’t cook—my dad had made sure I could. He’d taught Lola and me how. He’d been a chef in his heyday, owned a pizza restaurant before he retired, and whatever he chose to cook was a delight for the taste buds. Lola had picked up Dad’s culinary talents far better than me, even though I was a darned good cook when I chose to be.

  With a cloche pulled down over my ears, the wool jacket buttoned all the way up, and my hands gloved, I marched quickly across the street to get my mail from the post office. I tucked it securely into my pocket, and headed down the side street toward the cemetery. The cold wind and fresh air chilled my face.

  Within minutes I stood in front of Livvy’s grave, explaining my problems in a soft voice. Harsh winds whipped the words away as I spoke them, carrying them to who knows where. I paced to and fro. As I did, my anxiety decreased. I realized Livvy would not only have understood, but she would not have yelled at me for my actions. She always did have a spare-the-rod attitude where I was concerned. I smoothed dead, crumpled leaves from the grave, and said goodbye then sauntered up the hill toward the street.

  At the corner, I waited for the traffic light to change before I crossed over. As I hurried across the street and up the deli steps, the blare of a horn caught my attention. I turned to see Aaron’s black SUV stopped in the line of traffic. There was no way I wanted another lecture over the inept handling of my car theft. I hoped he wouldn’t stop in to give me one. With a wave of a hand, I hurried inside the deli, out of the cold.

  Mouth-watering aromas greeted my nostrils. Basil, peppers, tomato sauce, garlic and oregano were among the scents. I shrugged off my jacket, gloves, and hat. Millie, the counter helper, slid a hot beverage across the counter and motioned toward the kitchen with her head. Thankful for a hot brew, I sipped the Earl Grey tea.

  “Lola’s in the back cleaning up. She has a date tonight, so I’m holding the fort while she’s gone. It’s only an hour or so to closing, but I’ll be fine.”

  The extra information hadn’t been necessary, but Millie had been an abused sp
ouse when I first met her. She’d changed a lot, but it had taken some time to build up her self-confidence. Lola had hired her because she needed help and Millie needed a job. Millie lived upstairs over the deli, which meant travel wasn’t a concern for her.

  I hurried into the back room and watched Lola scrub a sink that didn’t look dirty. Stainless steel appliances gleamed. The workbench, where chopping, slicing, and dicing took place, appeared immaculate. Impressed by the sparkling kitchen, I settled on a stool against the wall, out of the way. Lola glanced up, smiled, and said she’d be with me in a minute.

  Voices from the front room caught my ear. I listened to Millie chuckle, a rarity at best, so I figured there had to be something special happening out there. I peered around the corner and watched Aaron’s smile widen while Millie reacted the only way any warm-blooded American woman would. She blushed when he accepted the mug of coffee from her and ordered a meatball sandwich with minestrone soup to go with it. I smiled. Aaron was a charmer, no doubt about it.

  Kind and generous were terms I would also use to describe Aaron. Others would be tenacious, determined, and secretive. He is FBI and it’s usually the latter, rather than the former, that come to mind when thinking of the brute. He must have had good home training as a child, because his manners were impeccable. I could swear Aaron could get information from a rock. I often spilled my guts without him even trying to force me to do so. Sharp-creased trousers with a shirt and tie only Armani could have designed were his attire most of the time. Aaron always looked as though he just stepped off a GQ Magazine cover.

  His dark-eyed glance turned toward the kitchen. I caught the full brunt of his smile. I returned the grin and motioned for him to join me. He nodded and told Millie he’d be in the back. She smiled as he walked away.

  “Good evening, girls,” he said with a grin.

  “Girls? We aren’t girls, but thanks anyway.” Both Lola and I are thirty-something.

  “That’s true.” He chuckled. “What is this I hear about you two?” he asked as one eyebrow rose a tad.

  Here we go. I opened my mouth as Lola jumped in.

  “What did you hear, and where did you hear it?” She smiled the Julia smile. It worked as usual. Aaron, all six-foot-four of him, became putty in Lola’s delicate hands.

  “Someone said you leave on your cruise tomorrow. Who’s going to watch the deli?”

  “Millie will run the front, Billy Barnes is cookin’, and Vinnie’s keeping an eye on the house.” She smiled and glanced at me.

  Aaron settled at the work table with the coffee, sandwich, and soup Millie had just brought in. His chocolate brown eyes turned toward me. “It’s good of you to watch the house for Lola,” he said with a smile. “How’s your stolen car thing going?”

  Lola wasn’t aware that Aaron was FBI and I had been sworn to secrecy. I made a face at him and sipped my tea.

  “I suppose you heard that from Marcus, huh?” I asked.

  Aaron smiled. “Uh huh.”

  “It wasn’t my fault, it really wasn’t,” I explained. “The old biddy had a gun and would have shot me if I hadn’t given in. I get all the luck.”

  “You were smart to give her what she wanted. It isn’t a good idea to fool with someone who is holding a gun on you.” His eyes darkened with concern, and he said, “At least you’re safe. That’s the only thing that counts. Does your family know?”

  “Not unless it hit the news. I haven’t called them.”

  “If you need a rental car, I can take you to get one tomorrow,” Aaron offered.

  “Vinnie’s going to use my car until I get back, unless hers is found,” Lola butted in.

  Surprised, I leaned against the wall and watched Lola’s eyes dart between Aaron and me for a second. What was this all about? Why didn’t she want me to rent from her uncle like I always did, I wondered.

  “Sure, no problem,” Aaron said around a mouthful of Italian bread. My mouth watered at the sight of his sandwich. He grinned, and Lola chuckled, as I slid off the stool to order the same meal from Millie.

  “Could I have what Aaron’s having, Millie?”

  “Sure, Vin. Coming right up.” Her face crinkled in a smile. For an instant, I was struck by how she’d changed in the past few months. A good change.

  Within minutes, Millie swept through the door bearing a tray loaded with food. She set it on the work table. I thanked her and grinned as she bustled away to handle customers who had just entered the deli.

  “Millie’s doing real well, huh?” I asked Lola.

  Lola lowered her voice as she said, “Yeah, she’s come a long way from the battered wife she was. My brother Bobby just locked up her ex-husband for abusing his girlfriend. The idiot choked her—didn’t kill her though—and then went to the neighborhood police station to ask if the cops would go with him to get his clothes from the house. In the meantime, his girlfriend had filed an abuse complaint, so Bobby arrested his butt.” Lola shook her head. “Bobby said the guy’s attitude sucked. He acted like it was okay to choke the crap out of her.”

  “What a jerk.” Aaron used the remainder of his bread to sop up the soup from the bottom of the bowl. He glanced at my bowl and then looked at me with his puppy-dog eyes. I grinned and moved the bowl away from him. Lola chuckled while Aaron got up and went out to the front room for more soup.

  “Good grief, that man is handsome.” Lola gave a wistful sigh. “He’s tanned, even in January, and those perfect teeth gleam when he smiles. How do you keep your hands off him? He just rocks my socks.”

  “He is handsome. Good thing he doesn’t live upstairs from you, huh? He’d be on your menu.” I laughed.

  “That is so not true. Well, okay, maybe it’s a little bit true.” She snickered and removed the oversized apron from around her petite frame. “I have to leave. I have a real date tonight. Imagine?” She turned to hang the apron on a hook. “Oh, by the way, I’ll call you later about the car rental thing.”

  “Okay.” I shrugged. “Who are you seeing?”

  “A friend of Bobby’s needed a date for a police function, so I agreed to go.”

  “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to date a cop?”

  “Is this the pot calling the kettle black? Are you teasing me when you’re the one dating her own super cop?” With her hands on her hips, she grinned at me. Unable to suppress it, she broke out into laughter and shook her head. “It’s just a date, nothing more.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too, and look at me.” I grinned over how I’d been drawn to Marcus Richmond from the first moment we met. My inner voice, the one without the shut-up button, nagged me constantly about the folly of dating a law enforcement officer. It ragged on and on about the rate of infidelity among cops, who tended to stray into someone else’s grazing pastures. And I’d ignored it, too.

  “Wish me luck.”

  “Is he so bad that I have to wish you luck?” I asked in surprise.

  “No, wish me luck on my cruise, dummy. Don’t worry. The date is with someone you know. Detective Anderson.”

  “He’s a good guy, shrewd and egotistical, but a good guy all the same.”

  “Vinnie, they’re all shrewd and egotistical, even my brother.” She laughed and then said, “Especially my brother.”

  “I’m not shrewd or egotistical,” Aaron said, settling back down on his stool.

  We both laughed at him, and I pointed out that he must be since he’d egotistically thought he was the topic of our discussion. Cops are all alike when it comes to ego. They think there is only one way life should go—their way. They also tend to think the world revolves around them. Aaron may be a super, super cop, but he was no different than the rest as far as his ego was concerned. I figured the higher the rank, the bigger the ego.

  After Lola left, Aaron and I finished eating and ambled into the front room of the deli to sit on the sofa placed before the multi-paned window. We had a full view of the street. Traffic ebbed and flowed like the tide as cars and people pa
ssed by. Most would be going home for the day or transporting their little darlings to some type of practice. The hockey season was in full swing.

  Within minutes of our move to the front, Millie placed steaming cups of coffee and tea before us along with slices of blueberry pie. Now she busied herself behind the counter. I noticed Lola’s MINI Cooper race up the road and out of sight. I turned to Aaron with a question.

  “So, how did you hear of my car theft today?”

  “It came over the wire,” he murmured. “I was worried that you’d been hurt, but I inquired at the station and found out you were fine. You did the right thing, Vin.”

  “I know.”

  “How is the new community police station? I heard you gave your report there.” Dark eyes studied my features.

  My nerves tightened. I tried not to fidget because that is a dead giveaway when a person is under stress or lying. Especially when hiding something, maybe like Tony Jabroni’s shooting incident.

  “It’s a tiny hole in the wall, but serves its purpose, I guess.”

  “Mmm, was that all that happened today?” Aaron asked.

  The question made me nervous. It must have been my feelings of guilt. Did he know about Tony? Would I get arrested? Would there be problems over this? Did my parents know I was in trouble? Questions flew through my head at warp speed until I gave myself a mental slap.

  “That was enough, don’t you think?” I smiled at him.

  “Mmm,” he said, and stared out the window.

  My jacket lay across the back of the sofa. I slipped it on, pulled my hat over my hair, and smoothed the leather gloves over my hands. With a few words to Millie, I turned to Aaron and told him I was going. He offered me a ride, but I said I’d rather walk off the meal. He smiled and nodded, studying me all the while.

  Chapter 4