Charlie walked to a bookcase and pulled out a book which had a false cover. He opened it and brought out a wad of hundreds, riffling them in front of me like a deck of cards. “In case you were thinking I’m asking for nothin’—I’m not. I got four large here. You get four more when it’s done.”
I almost laughed. Back in Brooklyn, I wouldn’t have broken a guy’s legs for eight grand, and Knuckles was asking me to take somebody out for that much. Still, it was tempting under the circumstances. Angie and I did need money.
He handed me the wad. It felt warm in my hands. Instinct had me reaching for my pocket to tuck that money away but, as my hand moved, Angie’s voice chided me. I could hear her telling me “no” and in no uncertain terms. And I could almost see Mamma Rosa’s wooden spoon wagging in her hand.
I handed it back. “I’m sorry, Knucks. That’s not me anymore.”
Charlie started to say something but I shook my head and turned to go. “Hey, I’m not being disrespectful, but I gotta go. Get somebody else.”
The walk home wasn’t nearly as refreshing as the walk there had been. I had counted on Knuckles for help, and all he did was piss me off. I guess all the old guys were users. All of them—just like Doggs.
As I thought about where to go with this “investigation,” the money Borelli said Bobby had in the bank kept popping into my head, and I knew what I had to do. Since Doggs and his crew wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know, I had to go to the next logical choice, even though I dreaded the thought of it. Donna hated me for reasons I didn’t understand, but hate me she did. Regardless, I had to see her. I owed it to Bugs.
CHAPTER 27
Someone’s Watching
Wilmington, Delaware
We had eggplant parmigiana for dinner the next night, not my favorite, but the way Angie fixed it made it more than edible. Once everyone had been seated, I started the blessing.
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus—”
“Dad, this is America. Even the priests don’t use Latin anymore.”
“Maybe they should,” I said, and continued, “…et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”
“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Angie said.
We ate the meal in virtual silence, and after dinner, I took a seat in my favorite chair, a stiff-backed, wide-seated behemoth with an ottoman sitting in front of it. I kicked my feet up to rest and opened a book to where I had left off. Rosa stood beside me.
“Do you want a glass of wine, Dad?” She seemed more cordial than she had at dinner.
“I thought we were out of wine.”
“Mom got some on her way home. You want any?”
“No, but thanks for asking.”
I went back to reading, but Rosa still stood there, silent. After a few seconds I put the book down. “Do you need to talk with me?”
Nervousness showed on her. I waited, and after a few more seconds her expression went from nervous to angry.
“Do you have someone following me?”
It came out as an accusation, not a question. I looked up and focused on Rosa.
“What do you mean? Tell me about it.”
She didn’t budge. “Answer the question. Do you have someone following me?”
Her tone irritated the hell out of me. I stood and faced her. “No, I don’t have someone following you, so if you think someone is, you better tell me what this is about.”
With one hand planted on her hip, she cocked her head and glared. “You swear you don’t have anybody following me?”
Anger was setting in now. “I already told you I don’t.”
Rosa sighed, but her face lost its tension. “I’ve seen a car for the last two days, the same car, with the same two men in it.”
She had my attention. “Where?”
The first time when I was coming home from school, walking up Clayton Street. Then today as I came down Beech.”
“And you’re sure it was the same car.”
She scoffed. “DVK0943.”
“What is that?”
“License plate. Same on both days. Pennsylvania tags.”
I hugged her but grimaced at the same time. She was her father’s daughter at times, and it ate at my gut whenever I saw that side of her. Tony had a memory like a steel trap, and she seemed to have inherited it. “Write it down for me. I’ll check it out.”
Her expression changed to fear. “So this isn’t you? For real? You don’t have someone following me?”
“Rosa, I already told you. But this could be a coincidence, nothing else. Don’t worry, okay?”
“For someone who doesn’t believe in coincidences there have been an awful lot of them lately.”
I patted her back. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing. But just to be sure, I’ll check out these plates.”
“How are you going to check out the plates? Are you a cop now?”
“I just need to make a few calls.”
Rosa went to her room after that, and Angie visited a neighbor, coming back about nine o’clock. We read together then went to bed.
As we lay there, she turned to me, her voice soft, but worried.
“Do you think someone really is following her?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”
“If this has anything to do with Bobby’s murder, you need to quit. It’s not your responsibility. It’s not worth risking your job, and I won’t have my daughter’s life put in danger.”
I put the book on the nightstand and turned to her. “Suddenly she’s your daughter?”
Angie closed her eyes, and she seemed to bite her tongue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”
I got out of bed, went downstairs and sat in the dark. This was the kind of thing I feared most when I agreed to marry Angie.
It didn’t take her long to come down. She pulled up a chair and sat in front of me, making sure I couldn’t ignore her.
“Nicky, listen to me. I know Bugs is your best friend, and I know how you feel about that oath you guys made together. But when is it going to be his turn? It seems like you are always the one giving.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “You don’t understand. It’s not about taking turns. It’s about who’s in trouble. If Bugs is in trouble, I’ve got to help. Got to.” I stood and walked toward the dining room.
“Nicky.”
I stopped, then I felt her hands on my shoulders. She came around and kissed my head. “You’re right. I don’t understand, but I’ll trust you.” She kissed me again. “And I’m so sorry for what I said about Rosa being my daughter. You know I didn’t mean it that way. Forgive me?”
My heart melted. I kissed her on the forehead, and then on the lips. “I’d never risk her safety, Angie. No way in hell.”
“I know.”
In the morning, we had breakfast, as usual, and then Rosa got ready for school. I thought about driving her, but figured she’d be okay because she walked to school with three other girls. Before leaving I called up to her. “Don’t forget to walk home with someone. Not by yourself.”
“I know, Dad. Bye.”
On the way to work I called Bugs and asked him to run the plates. When I got to the office, I parked and hustled inside. Several bids had a deadline of tomorrow. All day, though, I worried about Rosa, and I watched the clock like a kid during last class on Friday. About 3:00, I packed the prints in my briefcase and headed for the door. As I walked down the hall, I heard my name called. It was Joe Tomkins, the boss.
“Nicky, hold on a minute.”
Shit. I turned, knowing I was about to catch hell. “What’s up, Joe?”
“Leaving early?”
“I have to pick up my daughter today. She’s—”
“I’m not an unreasonable man, but lately you’ve missed a lot of work. Too much. I understand normal difficulties, but I’ve got a business to run.” He eyed me. “I can’t have you missing any more time. Understand?”
I lowered my head. “I understand, sir.
And don’t worry, I’ll have these bids done on time.”
“Done and accurate, I hope.”
I noticed the tone of his voice. “Yes, sir. Accurate, too.”
He nodded. “All right. You can go today, but I expect to see the lights on pretty late around here for a while.”
“Yes, sir. You can count on it.”
I left the building with a restrained walk, but the whole time I felt like racing. When I got to the car, I punched it into gear and took off, praying I wasn’t too late. If anything happened to Rosa, I’d never forgive myself. And surely, Angie would never forgive me.
I pulled into a spot on Oak Street and waited. I had been worried that I’d be late, but fortunately I still had a few minutes. Looking around, I saw no sign of the car, but it might show up. School let out, and hordes of kids filled the streets, a sweeping mass going in all directions. By the time they reached Oak and Clayton, they had formed small groups, a few couples here and there, but mostly clusters of guys or girls, walking each other home. I ducked, not wanting Rosa to see that I was watching her, but she wasn’t paying attention.
It wasn’t until after she passed Oak Street that I saw them, two guys in a blue Ford with Pennsylvania license plates—DVK0943.
“Son of a bitch.”
They crept up slowly, as if waiting on the traffic of kids, but they had definitely been stalking Rosa from behind the church. Now they followed her slowly up Clayton Street. I’d packed my gun this morning, and as I sat there, I checked to make sure the clip was loaded. Just as I opened the door, a patrol car came up the street behind them, forcing them to move faster. As they passed Rosa, the guy in the passenger side stretched to watch her.
“Mother fucker,” I said.
On the way home I thought about what to do, and say. I decided not to tell Rosa or Angie about it. No sense in worrying them more than necessary. But even as I thought that, I grew worried. Who were these guys? And why were they following Rosa? Did it have something to do with the case? There were a lot of questions I needed answers to, and quickly.
CHAPTER 28
Special Delivery
Brooklyn, New York
Lisa got out of bed and prepared to go to work. She studied her reflection as she applied makeup, covering the bruises on her face. No one would see the bruises between her legs. She gritted her teeth and vowed to get even with Tom. Kill him. She had to figure out how to get away. She had to find out where he was keeping her mother first, though, or he’d kill her.
Lisa dreamed of killing Tom, drew strength from those thoughts alone. Once she killed him, she’d kill that whore he had in the bedroom. As soon as those thoughts entered her mind, Lisa wondered what had become of her. It wasn’t the girl’s fault.
***
After Lisa left for work, Tom Jackson tied up the girl, gagged her, and left her sitting in front of the couch, television tuned to her favorite channel—VH1. He made her wear a diaper in case she pissed or shit herself while he was gone, but he doubted she would; she’d done that once and hated cleaning it up. He thought about leaving her in the bathroom, but there was no sense being cruel. She’d do fine where she was.
“I’m leaving now, girl. You be good while I’m gone.” He left, locking the door, including the deadbolt from the hall, then walked down the stairs to the first floor. He didn’t like the elevator; it felt too closed in. Fighting in Afghanistan taught him to like open spaces, and there’d been plenty of that. Too much even. Made it difficult to find the ones he had to kill. He imagined a scenario where he was a sniper in a crowded city, like New York or London, though he couldn’t picture London as he’d never been there. He’d sit atop one of the skyscrapers, his rifle resting on a ledge and his scope sighted in on the crowds below.
“Blam, blam, blam,” he said, stomping his foot on a new step with each utterance. The first smile of the day came to Tom’s face, the first real one, as he thought of the damage he could do. But he knew it would be suicide to go on a sniper shoot. What he was doing now was safer.
Tom exited the building and turned left, walking the six blocks to a storage facility, where he had rented a locker. He checked to make sure no one was watching, then opened the locker and removed the cooler. Inside was dry ice, packed around the hands, and other parts, from the first victim. One hand had a carving on it. He removed it and put it into a plastic garbage bag, tied it, and put the cooler back into the locker. Pretty soon he’d need to put more ice in there. That or let it rot. Guess it didn’t matter much now. He left the storage facility and took his time going home, stopping to get more coffee at a small shop near the house on his way.
When he returned, the girl was just where he’d left her—not that he expected different, but it was nice to know that things were as you expect them to be. She bounced up and down, mumbled a lot through her gag, but Tom ignored her. She probably had to piss.
He sat at the table and, using plain paper he ripped from a notebook in a store, and a pen he got at the corner market, he printed a note, laughing about his cleverness. When he was done, he tucked the note into an envelope, also stolen, but from a different store, and put it in the bag with the hand. Once again Tom left, this time taking a right when he exited the building. He took the subway, switching trains several times, then exited in Manhattan near a delivery service that did same-day local deliveries. He told a homeless man he’d pay him fifty bucks to take the bag into the building and mail it. It only took a few minutes.
When the man returned, Tom paid him and left, a smile as big as Texas on his face.
I can’t wait until Cindy Ellis gets that.
***
Frankie got to the station early, knowing he had a long day ahead of him. He’d made up his mind last night that from this day forward, he’d be a new man. The old Frankie Donovan, the one who was happy all the time, was coming back. After parking the car, and going through a round of condolences from friends on the first floor, he took the steps to the second floor two at a time, as if he had to race to make up for the delay.
Carol sat at her desk, guarding the gates of Hades. “Morning, Donovan,” she said without looking up. “Sorry about your dad.”
Frankie leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Carol. You’re a sweetie.”
Carol did look up now, and she stopped what she was doing, too. “What the hell was that? No sarcasm, no innuendo, just a plain old flat out compliment? Don’t do that to me.” She shook her head as she returned to typing. “Give me a damn heart attack.”
“It’s the new me,” Frankie said, and turned toward the coffee room. “Seen Lou?”
“He’s in there, but you better let me warn him first. His heart’s not as strong as mine.”
“Go to hell.”
She smiled. “There’s the Frankie Donovan I know and love.”
Lou had a coffee in hand when Frankie came through the door. “Don’t start on me, Donovan. I heard that banter between you and Carol. If you think to throw me off by being nice, it’s not going to work.” He took a sip of his own coffee when Frankie grabbed his cup. “By the way, this gorgeous thing behind me is Sherri Miller. Say hi, Sherri.”
She stood and stretched out her hand to greet him, long slim fingers wrapping around his. “Buon giorno, Francesco. Come va?”
Frankie damn near fell over. “Pretty good. No wonder you’re not getting shit done on this case; it must have taken Lou all week to teach you that.”
“Are you dogging Lou’s teaching or my learning?”
Frankie took a seat next to Lou. “This is the new Frankie Donovan. I wouldn’t do either.”
Sherri said, “I’m just kidding, Frankie. Mi dispiace per tuo padre.
Frankie looked at her with new respect. “I know he didn’t teach you that because he doesn’t know that much.”
Lou laughed like hell. “She’s half Italian, Donovan. Imagine that. Just like you.”
Frankie stared at Sherri with a blank look. “Imagine that.”
Sherr
i lost her smile, and got a serious face. “Listen, Frankie, all kidding aside. I know this is your case, so I can bow out now that you’re back.”
“If I knew how to say bullshit in Italian, I’d tell you.” He pointed his finger at her. “This is your case and Lou’s. I’m just here to help.”
“Not according to Shawna Pavic, Channel 3 news.”
Frankie shook his head. “Yeah, that’s another story. I’m gonna kick her goddamn ass.”
From the other room, Carol shouted. “That’s my boy, Donovan. I knew this nice guy shit wouldn’t last.”
“Pay her no mind,” Frankie said to Sherri. “Tell me about your Italian heritage.”
“My grandparents came from Sicily, and my mother was actually born there. She met my father in college and they fell in love. That was it.”
“I’ll bet that caused a stir when she brought him home to dinner.”
Sherri laughed. “To hear them tell it, it did. I think he said it took two years for them to accept him, but once it was over you couldn’t tell the difference; in fact, I’m closer to most of my Italian relatives than those on my dad’s side.” She sighed. “They loved my dad.”
Sherri laughed again, and couldn’t stop.
“Must have brought up a good memory,” Frankie said.
“It did—end of summer cookouts. Every year before school started we had a big family cookout and there was always a who’s-got-the-best-tan competition. Guess who won.”
Frankie and Sherri laughed, and while they were talking, Lou’s phone rang. He stepped out to talk, coming back in a moment later. “Let’s go. The lady we want is in the house.”
“Who?” Frankie asked.
“The receptionist lady from the place where Lisa works, the one who was having the affair with our last vic. She’s at work today.”
“Let’s go have a chat with her,” Sherri said.
Frankie stood up and tossed his coffee cup into the trash can. “Hurry up, Mazzetti.”
“I gotta piss first. I’ll be a minute or two.”
Sherri raised her eyebrows. “A minute or two? How long does it take you to piss?”
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