“Shh!” She leaned over so far I thought she’d take a header over the railing. “The rat,” she hissed.
“Oh. That you-know-what.” I looked at my watch. It was getting late and I still had to stop by Janine’s on the way back to Nick’s to borrow an outfit for tonight’s performance. My wardrobe would make any ten-year-old boy green with envy, but when I sang with the band, baggy blue jeans and a Bart Simpson t-shirt weren’t going to cut it. I wanted to look hot. On the other hand, this was my chance to win the old gal over.
“Mrs. Gentile, I’m a little busy right now, but I promise I’ll come back tomorrow and set those traps for you.”
She straightened up, turning her back to me. “If that’s the best you can do,” she muttered, closing her door in my face.
“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.” All right! Mrs. Gentile likes me!
I sat cross-legged on the Persian rug in Nick’s living room, a legal pad balanced on my knees. Late afternoon sunlight filtered in from the big bay window, casting weird shadows on the wall. I got up and turned on a lamp.
I had spent the last hour filling up the legal pad with ideas. Connections, as Bobby would say. Whenever he had a case to solve, he’d always look for common threads. And today, when I was on the phone with him, I’d found one. I’d been thinking of Keith Harrison’s money troubles. Why would a man with a thriving law practice be in such dire financial straits? Where was his money going?
For the sake of argument, I ruled out blackmail. This is a guy with an addictive personality. His wife admitted, in less delicate terms, that he had an obsession with women. My Uncle Frankie told me that when a person has one obvious addiction, there are usually a few more hanging around in the closet. Uncle Frankie should know. He’s had more than his share himself.
Okay, so what, if any, were Keith’s other addictions? I thought back to the casino chip I’d found in the drawer. Is it possible that Keith is a compulsive gambler? Granted, one lone casino chip did not a compulsion make, but it was a start. And that’s when the connection kicked in. Ivan “Bulldog” Sandmeyer’s last known employer was the Diamond Casino, in Atlantic City, New Jersey.
Well, big whoop. So Bulldog worked at a casino, and Keith visited one once. But what else did they have in common? As if in answer to that question, Adrian strolled into the living room and curled up on my legs. Boy, talk about clues falling right into your lap! Keith was desperate to get his hands on the dog—that had already been established, and now that I looked back on it, Sandmeyer was too. And it wasn’t for their mutual love of canines either.
There was no evidence that Bulldog had broken into my house in order to burglarize it. He hadn’t taken a thing. He wasn’t after anything but the dog. Adrian was afraid of Sandmeyer. That’s why he was cowering under the couch. Sandmeyer and Harrison both wanted the thumb drive. It was the only thing that made sense.
I started to wonder if maybe Bulldog had been the one to beat up Keith at the restaurant. Maybe they were partners and he thought Keith was holding out on him. I had to get some real answers. All this speculation was making me nuts.
I’d started setting out some food for dinner when Nick walked in the door. He was in workout clothes, a tight black t-shirt and gray camouflage pants. His shirt was soaked in perspiration and the scent wafting off his skin produced a bolt of desire in me so strong I nearly fell off the kitchen stool. I never dreamed I could have such animalistic urges, and, frankly, it scared the hell out of me.
“What’s all this?” Nick asked, smiling with pleasure.
“Oh, I noticed you were a little low on some of the essentials, so I went food shopping for you.”
“Pat’s steaks. The staff of life.” He picked up a sandwich and took a bite. “Cheez-whiz. Good choice.”
While he ate I filled him in on what I’d learned at Keith’s office and my theory that tied in Harrison with Bulldog. “I think they’re both linked to the Diamond Casino and they’re both desperate to get their hands on that drive. Maybe your friend will be able to figure out what’s so special about it. But in the mean time, Bobby’s been wanting me to leave town for a while. Maybe I’ll take Franny on a day trip to A.C. I can check out the casino, ask around about Harrison and Sandmeyer. Franny can play the slots and feel like she’s having an adventure. What do you think?”
Nick eyed me with amusement tinged with exasperation. “What I think is you’re going to do whatever you want to do, so just be smart and stay safe.”
That was my plan.
I didn’t get back from the club until after two. Nick had offered to take me there, but I ended up hitching a ride with Janine.
“That man is so hot! Why didn’t you want him to come tonight?”
We were sitting in a booth in the back of the club; at least I was trying to sit. Janine had picked out a skirt for me that was so short it looked like a sweatband wrapped around my ass. She said I looked great. I told her the guys sitting in front were looking up my crotch.
“Oh, I get it,” she said. “You’re embarrassed for Nick to see your wild, sexy side.”
“Pfft. That is ridiculous, Janine.”
“Uh huh.”
“Don’t ‘uh huh’ me. I am not afraid to show off my ‘wild, sexy’ side…” I’m freakin’ petrified! This outfit is a promise of good times to come. What if I can’t deliver the goods? I need a LOT more practice before I can live up to this skirt’s reputation.
“Bran—Bobby.”
“And don’t start in on me with Bobby.”
Janine jerked her head sideways. “Will ya shut up? Bobby just walked in the door.”
“Get out!” I turned slowly, as if by making minimal movement it would turn out not to be true. It didn’t work. “What is he doing here?”
He was with a bunch of other cops—Boys’ Night Out, I guess. Paul headed him off at the pass, while Vince Giancola made his way to our table.
“What’s the occasion, Vince?” I asked, nodding towards Philly’s Finest.
“You are. We heard you were singing tonight.” He leaned over and gave me a big brotherly kiss on the cheek.
“I’m surprised DiCarlo’s here,” Janine piped in. She was on her third Mai Tai and didn’t know the meaning of discretion when she was sober. I helped her along by kicking her under the table. “What? What’d I say?”
Vince laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Neenie. He’s here because he got fed up with the guys calling him ‘whipped’. That bitch has his balls in such a knot he doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.”
It was time for the second set, only knowing Bobby was in the audience changed everything. I was singing the songs I used to sing for him. And everybody knew it.
“Hey Taco, how about we drop ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’? I’m in the mood for something more upbeat.”
“You kiddin’me? The crowd loves this sappy shit. Plus it’s the only slow one we’ve got.”
I was going to argue the point, but Chris and Kenny had already started playing the damn thing. “And I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ever.” Okay, I can do this. It’s just a song. “And if you only hold me tight we’ll be holding on forever.” No, I can’t. I’m losin’ it.
Bobby stood alone in the back of the room, arms folded across his chest, his face so full of longing it tore me apart. Oh shit. I can take my own pain but I can’t take his too. Tears welled up in me as I choked out the last few notes. I closed my eyes, hoping it would stem the flow. When I opened them again, he was gone.
Chapter Eleven
When I got back to the table Vince and Janine were head to head. They straightened up when they saw me, pretending that that didn’t notice my red eyes or that they weren’t just talking about me and Bobby. Bobby and Marie. The whole stinking mess.
“It’s okay, you guys. I’m going to be the talk of the town tomorrow, you might as well get a head start on it.”
Vince scooted over in the booth, making room for me. He put his arm around me
and I laid my head on his substantial shoulder. “It’s not like I even want him back,” I sniffed. “It’s the not being able to be his friend part that’s so hard.”
“It’s been murder on him, too, Bran,” Janine told me. “The guy’s always been intense—even as a kid, but you knew how to bring out the best in him. You grounded him like nobody else could.”
“He’s pissed off all the time now,” Vince added. He’s so afraid Marie will take off with his daughter he’s putting up with shit I never dreamed possible. But ya know it’s only a matter of time before he blows.” I did know. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
Janine dropped me off in front of Nick’s building and waited until I got safely through the doors. I entered the apartment as quietly as I could. He’d left the living room light on and one in the spare bedroom. His pillow was there where I’d left it. Oh no. Now he knows I stole his pillow. How embarrassing is that?
I pulled on a t-shirt and some Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and crawled into bed, but I was so keyed up from the evening I couldn’t fall asleep. I got up, remembering the stack of mail I’d retrieved from inside my screen door.
The manila envelope fell out of my bag as I dragged it onto the bed. Must be another one of Carla’s care packages. Last month she’d left me a bag of sample hair products, in the hopes that I’d discover the joys of “moussing.” I tore open the envelope and spilled the contents onto the bed. It wasn’t hair products. And I’d bet money it wasn’t from Carla either.
I sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at a plastic doll, its arms and legs torn from its torso, the head detached and sprouting a mass of long, brown hair and crudely cut bangs. She was naked, with deep knife wounds sliced across her throat and breasts, and streaked with red paint, simulating the flow of blood.
On her stomach someone had scrawled in permanent marker, “This is you.” Hmm. No name. Maybe this was really meant for Mrs. Gentile. She’s made a lot of enemies in the neighborhood over the years. I knew the possibility of that being the case was slim, but it never hurts to be optimistic.
A strange detachment settled over me, as if I were watching the scene unfold on television. Rocky poked her chin out from under the bed and jumped up next to me. She sniffed at the head and then with a low, guttural growl, she pounced on it. Grabbing it by the hair, she raced about the room carting the damn thing around in her mouth like a prize mouse. So much for detachment.
I flew off the bed and began chasing after her, a sick, tight feeling forming in my belly until I was sure I was going to heave. I stopped chasing the cat and sat back down on the bed, wondering what kind of a sick bastard would do such a thing. The saddest part was candidates were lined up around the block.
When she was through having her fun, Rocky dropped the head on the rug and curled up on the pillow. I pulled a tissue out of the box and gingerly picked up the missing body part, dropping it back into the envelope. Then I gathered up the rest in the same manner and put them back as well.
“I need to talk to Nick,” I thought. “But it’s two-thirty in the morning. What if he’s asleep? Or worse, what if he has company in there?” I picked up my cell phone and dialed.
He answered in two rings. “Yeah?”
“Hi. Are you up?” There was a brief pause, followed by a yawn.
“I am now.” He didn’t sound mad. Just tired.
“Are you alone?”
“Last time I checked. Where are you?”
“In the next room.”
“You’re calling me from the next room.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to bother you if you were—ya know—busy.”
“What time is it?”
“Late.”
“Are you okay?”
“Not really.” My voice faltered and a light went on under his door.
“Come on in,” he said. “And bring the pillow.”
When I walked into his room, Nick was sitting up in bed. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and from the way the covers hung low on his exposed belly, that’s not all he wasn’t wearing. I dragged my eyes away from his body and tossed the envelope onto the bed.
“Somebody left me a present today.”
Nick picked up the package and tipped the contents onto the sheets. He stared at it for a few minutes. “Some present,” he said, finally. “Did you touch it?”
I shook my head no. “Do you mind putting it away?” Rationally, I knew it was just a doll, but it was such a violent, vulgar, representation of me I was ashamed for Nick to see it.
With the edge of his bed sheet, he scooped everything back into the envelope and threw it onto his dresser. “How was this delivered to you?”
I told him it was left inside my screen door. “You think it could be some kid playing a prank?” I asked, although I was pretty sure of the answer.
“Afraid not, angel. I have a friend who can check it for prints. It may be faster than giving it to the cops.”
I nodded glad to have a plan. “Thanks. Listen, I’m sorry I woke you,” I said and began backing out the door. “Well, goodnight.”
“Come here.” His voice was a soft command.
As much as I wanted to go to him, I couldn’t bring myself to admit how vulnerable I felt. “Nick, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re a mess and you have every right to be. Come here,” he said again, more tenderly this time. He reached out a hand to me and I took it, allowing him to guide me to his bed. He turned out the light and pulled the sheets back so that I could climb in. Nick pulled me to him, spooning me, his warm, naked skin pressed against my back. I felt him grow hard, but he didn’t make a move to touch me, other than to enfold me in his arms. I lay there, protected from the world, breathing in the smell of him, memorizing the smoothness of his skin, the hardness of his body, falling asleep to the rhythm of his every breath.
Standing in Doris Gentile’s basement, armed with a flashlight, rattraps and a box of Cheez-its, which doubled as rodent bait and my breakfast, I couldn’t stop thinking about Nick. There must be something wrong with me. I mean I’ve got at least one hardcore psychopath sending me mutilated Barbies and trying to kill me, and yet the burning question in my mind is when is Nick going to kiss me again?
I’d awoken to the sound of running water and the realization that he was no longer in bed with me. A few minutes later, the shower stopped and I heard him re-enter the bedroom. I’d been faking sleep, just to see what he’d do. When nothing happened, I made a big show of stretching and opening my eyes. I was met with a grin as a semi-naked Nick pulled some jeans out of his closet.
“Good morning,” he said. “Feeling better?”
I nodded, my eyes glued to the towel at his waist, the towel that he was now casually unwrapping and tossing to the floor. I looked down automatically and suddenly my eyes grew wide and my mouth flew open, and before I could stop myself I blurted out, “What is that?”
His eyes moved to where I was staring. “Wow, has it been that long for you?”
I felt myself go beet red. To make matters worse, the damn thing was starting to inflate.
“No, I mean—it looks—different.”
Nick’s grin widened as he stepped into his jeans. “I’m uncircumcised, darlin’.”
“Oh.” My face was so hot I’d thought I’d die of heat stroke.
“Haven’t been with a lot of ethnic types, I take it.”
You could say that again. I was fascinated. It was scary and beautiful at the same time, and Christ I was horny. Sadly, he put it away and zipped up his pants.
“A lot of women find sex more pleasurable with an uncircumcised partner,” he told me and I believed him. “Maybe you’d like to try it some time.” Was he volunteering his services? God, I hope so. He leaned over the bed and brushed a hand against my cheek. “You sure you’re okay? You seem warm to me.” And then just when I thought things would get really interesting, the phone rang. It was Tanya. Note to self: Kill Tanya.
I’d just fi
nished putting out two of the traps and was about to open the door to the storage area when I heard a soft, indistinct noise, something like a sneeze. Holy Shit. I’m not just humoring an old lady. There really are rats down here. I turned to go when I heard it again. It was coming from inside the utility closet. I shined a light under the door and saw a pair of shoes—size twelve, if I had to make a guess. Oh fuck.
Okay, don’t panic. I’m panicking. Just breathe. What do I do? Part of me wanted to barge in and blast his big, goofy ass for going on the run. But another part of me said to get the hell out of the basement as fast as I could. I love Toodie, I really do, but just in case he did turn out to be a mass murderer, I got the hell out.
It was a little harder to convince Mrs. Gentile. “Here’s the thing,” I whispered when I reached the upstairs, “we need to get out of the house.”
“Did you find any rats?” she asked.
“Yeah, Mrs. Gentile, a big one. We need to leave. Now.”
“Why didn’t you kill it? What were you doing down there?” She cut me an accusatory glare, which didn’t look much different from her regular face. “Did you steal something? If you did I’ll know.”
“Oh my God, you old biddy, either you come with me right now, or I’m going to knock you into tomorrow.”
Boy, is my mother going to be hearing about this. But she did as I told her.
The police arrived within minutes. I couldn’t bear to watch Toodie being hauled away. I don’t even know if I’d have called the police, except I couldn’t take a chance that Toodie could hurt Mrs. Gentile. Had Toodie been hiding in her house the entire time? Ironically, the woman knows exactly what’s going on in everyone else’s home, but she didn’t have a clue about what was happening in her own.
I felt like the worst person in the world. And it didn’t help my mood, when three hours later I got a phone call from Toodie. I’d gone over to Uncle Frankie’s gym to let him know what was going on. I guess I needed someone who loved me to tell me I’d done the right thing, when in my heart I felt it was all wrong.
No Such Thing As a Good Blind Date: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) Page 17