Perfect Crime (Mystery & Adventure)

by Jack Parker

  You could have heard a pin drop, or worse yet, Tessa's fork. The silverware slipped from her fingers and landed noisily on the tile floor, her mouth agape. There was no way to hide the alarm she instantly felt. What was he doing?

  Bending, Scott lifted the utensil from the floor and returned it to the linen tablecloth.

  "Il vostro giovanotto è abbastanza brioso," Donatello said. Tessa didn't respond to her father's comment. He'd referred to Scott as spirited but at that very moment, that wasn't the adjective that came to mind. And then his face went sober. "You will not dine with us? I don't like to be refused and you know it doesn't happen often."

  Tessa tightened her hand around Scott's, afraid that he would let go and she would feel more singled out than she already did, but that was the purpose of this, wasn't it. To highlight that she was one of them, privy to a private conversation even if it was in full view of everyone.

  Marlayna studied Scott's casual expression, their linked hands. "What are you up to?"

  One corner of Donatello's mouth curved. "He acts like he has something to talk about."

  Moving a half step closer to Scott, Tessa bluffed, "He does, but it will have to wait. Excuse me, I mean no disrespect. This is not a refusal, simply a deferral till tomorrow."

  The silence that passed between the two family members was deafening. After carefully choosing her words, the petite female spoke, this time holding the elder's gaze. "You told me once that you were a strong believer in 'a man is only as good as his word,' and for that reason, a person cannot go back on a promise made."

  Dark eyes watched Tessa, remembering all too well the conversation she spoke of. A day that felt like a lifetime ago, when she had come to the 'family' leader and asked for her brother Dante's release from obligation, and he had explained this firm rule. Her father replied, "I still am a strong believer in that."

  Gray areas were put on this earth to be used, and Tessa knew all too well this practice. Without hesitation, she stepped into that ambiguous zone. "Scott promised me a nighttime view of the city from the Statue of Liberty, and since we are leaving tomorrow…" her voice trailed off.

  The excuse was weak at best, and all included knew it. Her father sighed, "Bella, your eyes sparkle like your mother's." He then turned to acknowledge Scott. "And this is hardly the place for business. My daughter is right. A man must honor his promises." He did not smile. "Go and enjoy the sights. We will speak tomorrow. Marlayna knows how to contact you."

  The dining room seemed to be released from its hypnotic spell with a single snap of his fingers. Tessa once again heard the sounds of patrons speaking even as the two men she'd noticed earlier near the kitchen jumped at their master's bidding.

  "And to make your night more enjoyable," Donatello continued, "please accept a car and one of my drivers," motioning to one of the men who stood sentry. "He'll take you safely wherever you want to go."

  Honesty, honor, bullheadedness, any one of these traits of Scott's could rear its head, and her tale of little white lies would be exposed for what it was. Feeling a lot like a home viewer of a game show, urging a contestant on with a prime choice, Tessa silently prayed that Scott would do the right thing.

  Take the car…take the car…take the car

  "Why, thank you, Sir," he said. If Scott was feeling anything other than confidence, it didn't show.

  Tessa bid her father a goodnight, and the handsome blond steered her towards the front door, with an escort of her father's in tow.

  Looking over her shoulder, she could see the others sitting down at the table, as though the vacant seats did not exist. For only Scott to hear she murmured, "Trust them, do you?"

  The pressure on the small of her back increased, as Scott moved them towards the door and the dark sedan parked at the curb. Maybe she should have suggested the Brooklyn Bridge instead of the Statue of Liberty. Then she could just jump.

  Tessa figured it was about time to say something to their driver about taking them back to the hotel instead, but before she had the chance, the bruiser spoke up first. "How are you doin', Tessy?" placing an intimate twist to her name.

  She blinked as she recognized him. "Ric, how are you? Ric Morgano, meet Scott Crawford."

  A burly hand shot out to shake Scott's. "Nephew to the big man," tipping his head towards the restaurant, "just so there's no confusion."

  He opened the car door. "So, where do you two kids want to go?" he dared tease his two-year senior cousin, but then the casual smile fell away, "Relax, nobody's going to touch the two of you while I'm around…understand?"

  With a resigned sigh, Tessa stepped past them and slid into the backseat, going no further than the middle. The night air was cool and the leather seat did not offer any warmth to the slightly clad woman. Drained by the emotional roller coaster of the last fifteen minutes, she thought it might be nice to sit close to something warm.

  Ric patiently waited for Scott to get in, then tossed the door shut and took his place behind the wheel. "Bet you're hungry; let's find you something to eat first," he said, glancing back in the rear-view mirror and then pulling into traffic. "She still eat her weight at every sitting?" he asked with a grin, directing the question to Scott as if Tessa wasn't sitting right there. "I hope you like hot dogs, 'cause that's what you're going to get…New York style."

  Scott knew he should have felt comforted by the assurance that they were perfectly safe, but it bothered him that anyone would think they wouldn't be. To have the bruiser take the job of protector only confirmed Scott's suspicions that the underground knew what was going on.

  Thankful for the darkness of the backseat, Tessa stole glances at her riding companion, noticing the touch as her leg fell casually next to his. She understood there was a lot for him to process. "Let's play a game," she said, echoing a phrase used for fun already twice on this trip, only this time her voice was solemn.

  "No more games," he said.

  It wasn't her fault that Marlayna had a twisted sense of humor. He should have seen it coming, but he hadn't. That bothered him, and overall ticked him off. For a moment, Scott glanced around, wondering if there was a Plexiglas divider he could use to shut the other man out, or at least gain a moment's privacy, but he found no button or lever that would make his wish a reality.

  Taking a deep breath, Scott decided to keep the atmosphere light. He focused on the driver, responding to Ric's comments about Tessa's eating habits, "Actually, she's rather shy with me. Only picks at her food."

  "Should have let her order the squirrel," the other man said, pulling the car off to the side of the road. "But this is the best hot dog vendor in town. Why don't you two go grab something?"

  Scott wanted a moment alone with Tessa, so the offer to get out of the car was readily accepted. "Great. But you'll get a ticket if you stay here at the red curb. Pull around the block and pick us up in five."

  Ric looked over his shoulder and growled, "Remember. You're with me tonight. So ya better be here when I get back or heads will roll."

  Before Scott could answer, Tessa took the lead. "Of course we'll be here." Reaching across Scott, she opened the door. With a jerk of her head, she motioned that they should get out.

  They were barely on the pavement when Tessa laid into him. "Why did you say what you did to my father?"

  "You mean about going to press? I was serious." The hot dogs smelled great and he ordered two with the works, offering the man with the steel cart a ten-dollar bill.

  "He's mad," she said, stating the obvious, at least to her.

  "Really?"

  "You insulted him."

  "Why do you care? You didn't appear to want to stay. You admitted you aren't exactly close."

  "That doesn't mean…" She threw up her hands, nearly upsetting the food tray that Scott held. "You stuck your hand into a bee's nest…now, how badly are you going to get stung is the question; these are killer bees you're screwing with."

  Scott cringed; why was she continuing to talk with all those euphe
misms? "I'm not afraid of the bees."

  "Well, I am."

  That was obvious, and it was a problem he didn't know how to fix. "But you're his daughter," he said.

  "Doesn't matter. There are rules."

  "Like the ten commandments?"

  She snorted. "Something like that, but trust me, Thou shalt not kill, ain't one of them."

  Scott took her hand and placed a paper-wrapped hot dog in it. "Eat. You'll feel better."

  The black sedan cruised past. The tinted windows made it difficult to see the driver, but he didn't pause or signal. The strip of curb was occupied, so Ric took the turn, apparently planning to make another pass.

  The hot dog remained uneaten. Tessa stared at the white paper, saying, "I owe you an apology."

  "You do? Why?"

  "I've put you at a disadvantage," Tessa confessed. "I shouldn't have come to New York with you. Or maybe I could have told you the way this town really works. Probably should have when you told me you knew who my father was."

  "Why didn't you?"

  "Ahh...ergo, rule number one. No outsiders."

  He could see it was all held in her eyes; her striking icy blue orbs conveyed sorrow, honesty and a quiet resolve to what couldn't be changed. "I have rules, too," Scott said.

  "And what rules are those?" she dared ask.

  "First, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

  Lifting her eyes to the high branches, Tessa took a moment to regroup before she pulled her gaze back to his. "That bar is a little high, Scott. There are some really nasty people in this town and that's who we're up against. Kidnapping. Murder." Her voice revealed no emotion, only stating the facts, and she knew of what she spoke. "Ever break your rules?"

  "Rarely. If it will make you feel better, I'll do my best to break one of them later."

  "Oh? And which rule would that be?"

  "Never become involved with a co-worker."

  "I don't date men I work with."

  "I can't resist a challenge."

  The car cruised up to the curb, the hubcap scraping the sidewalk. Boyish grin in place, Scott opened the back door. "Let's live dangerously."

  Chapter 14

  Physical Education

  Sniff.

  The scent of a cigarette wrestled with the sleek leather smell of the sedan as the car doors locked automatically. The car was moving, and rather than a conversational driver asking where they wanted to go, this time there were two silent people up front. Scott could make out the dark silhouettes through the raised Plexiglass. Uneasy, Scott realized, too late, that he'd broken one of his other rules—don't take rides from strangers.

  Idiot!, his brain screamed. But in deference to the woman with him, he simply muttered, "Uh-oh."

  "What did you forget?" Tessa asked, at the same time reaching for the carpeted cover that hid the control panel for the privacy wall. "We'll just let Ric know we need to go back."

  Flipping the switch, Tessa gave the gadget more than enough time to respond before flipping it again; still there was no movement from the Plexiglass divider. "May be broken," she guessed as she turned to her seatmate.

  "Yeah, that's one possibility." Scott played with the thin silver controls on the door handle. Both windows and locks refused to budge as though all electric power was sucked out of the metal barrier.

  Tessa raised her hand to the dark glass and gave it a quick rap. "Ric?"

  Head cocked to the side as she looked at Scott, she saw worry filled his eyes as he looked past her into the front seat. In New York , there was a code; you didn't kill police or press because it often led to more questions than any problem could solve. But that same courtesy didn't extend to Chicago and its residents, and Scott had a sinking suspicion that someone from Pascal DeMarco's camp was now driving.

  "What's wro…" she started to ask, but turned at the sound of the divider coming down. Tessa wasn't quick enough to prevent the small squeal of surprise that escaped as she jumped. She half landed against Scott, a swirl of cigarette smoke following her into the back seat.

  Cy Perelli leered at the passengers. "Hello, Tess. It's a damn good thing I spotted you two…" He smirked as he added, "there are bad people around here. Somebody could just snatch you off the street."

  His companion in the front seat laughed; one of his nameless goons, no doubt. Tessa didn't recognize him. "Where's Ric?" she demanded.

  With a roll of his eyes, Cy whined, "I'm hurt. No 'hello,' no 'thanks for the ride'?"

  Tessa leaned forward, her tone sharp, "I asked you a question. Now where's Ric?"

  "Out. Why do you care?"

  "He's family."

  "You're hardly the loyal one," Cy said, pointing at Scott. "You figure hooking up with this guy will change what you are?"

  "Change is inevitable." One hand clutching at her stomach, the other hand drifted to Scott's wrist. Scott looked down, noticed the show of solidarity, but understood they were still trapped.

  "Damn straight," Cy said. "If you'd just come to Gino's, back in Chicago, this would have been easier."

  "I didn't like how you asked."

  "Well, I'll be more direct this time." Cy continued, "Gonna show you how it's going to be, Tess. Up close and personal like."

  "What are you...?"

  "Ya know, your Dad don't listen. Whether he likes it or not, it's time for a new order."

  "Novus," Scott said, which rewarded him a glare from Cy. All the players here were of like age—as though a bunch of thirty-somethings had gotten together and decided to defy the establishment. Could glass be the key? Was it someone other than the heads of the Mob behind the Xenex Corporation? Little upstarts? Was that why he hadn't been able to figure out who owned it—looking for the obvious, when that wasn't the case?

  "Cy, you don't want to do this." Tessa's fist bounced off the Plexiglass divider as it rolled back into position. "Damn it," she swore under her breath, at the same time rubbing at the now red flesh on the heel of her hand.

  Scott muttered, "I think I know where we're going."

  "Where?" Tessa asked, still rubbing her hand.

  "Harlem." The reporter figured they had about ten minutes to make a plan before they arrived at the glass factory. He kept his voice low, even though the divider was up. It was entirely possible that those in front could hear them no matter what they did.

  Looking out the window, he continued thinking out loud, "Where did they get the money?"

  "What money?" Tessa asked.

  "The money to establish their new order. Factories, real estate—that takes capital."

  Tessa stared at him. "Can you think about how to get out of here, instead of your precious story?"

  Scott rubbed a finger along his jaw, "It's sort of the same thing."

  Holding the material of her dress closer to her slender body, Tessa retreated to the opposite side of the back seat, and once again gave an attempt, albeit in vain, to open the passenger window. "You sure know how to show a girl an exciting time," she muttered, pushing at the small buttons.

  The noise she was making broke his concentration. "This is my fault?"

  "I haven't even got that stupid postcard with me."

  "I don't think that matters anymore."

  "Okay," she uttered in a loud whisper, sounding almost breathless. "This is where you pull a rabbit out of your hat or whistle for Silver, your trusty steed, or whatever you hero types do."

  The interior grew dimmer with the loss of the heavy street lights as the car exited the expressway and slowed. Scott couldn't help but smile. "Heroes have been known to kiss the girl in a moment like this."

  With her fingers still posed on the lock switches, Tessa slowly turned to look at Scott. "Very funny."

  The trademark grin faded. He wasn't supposed to feel like he needed to hold her. Yet, it was strangely right.

  "I'm not laughing," he said. The perfect melodramatic movie line would have been something like 'and if I'm going to die tonight...' as a prelude to his ne
xt move, but although Scott lived by the pen, he didn't like to waste words when they seemed unnecessary. Instead, he slid across the leather seat to close the gap between them.

  "I'm dead serious."

  Without waiting for permission, he bent forward and kissed her.

  It was intended at first to satisfy his curiosity, and perhaps distract her from the obvious. But the impulse changed into something more meaningful. So, since she didn't push him away, Scott brought his other hand up to rest against the side of her face, and continued the kiss, until he would have to come up for air.

  The warmth of his touch, the comfort in his soft smile or the look she saw in his eyes—she couldn't be sure which the stronger lure was, but the shivering stopped as she found herself folding into his embrace. As their eyes locked and he slowly bent to touch his lips to hers again, the world as she knew it ceased to exist; everything around them…faded to black. The only sound to meet her ears was the distant swish of wind outside the car and the soft moan in the back of her throat.

  The thought of kissing this man was not completely foreign to the pretty redhead; she'd almost taken the same chance earlier that day at his apartment, but had reined in her urge out of respect for their working relationship. That itself appeared to be coming to an untimely end, and so did the kiss…a sharp rise in the road bumped the two apart. In another place, another time, the awkward mishap might have brought forth one of her witty comments. But as they sat in the dark, Tessa could find no words.

  The dark sedan slowed until it came to a stop in front of a large steel door a few meters from the front entrance of an industrial building. An oversized neon sign, depicting a beautiful stained glass window with huge lettering, announced their arrival at Novus Glass.

  "Stupid name," she said childishly.

  "Maybe not," Scott said "Aren't you always saying "everything with these guys is symbolic"? Well, what's Latin a symbol of?"

  "You give them too much credit for creativity."

  The silly chatter was cut short when both back doors opened at the same. Tessa slid the remaining two inches closer to Scott, which she hoped would be out of the men's reach. Cy growled, "Get outta the car." Her old friend, however, was surprisingly agile and had no problem reaching into the backseat and removing Tessa, with a little more force than was probably necessary.