He disappeared, and when he came back, he was holding out his hands.
Two Percocets and a glass of water.
I shook my head. ''I don't want to take them. At least not two. I took one yesterday and passed out.''
''In just a little while, you're going to start hurting. With the way your car hit that tree, there's no way you're not going to feel it.''
He had a point. I mulled over the choices: massive pain or passing out until morning. It wasn't like I had anything to do, either, like cover a raid on a sweatshop. Life just wasn't fucking fair. I took the pills and washed them down.
Vinny took the glass back into the bathroom, and when he came back he patted the bed. I raised my eyebrows again, and he chuckled.
''I've had four months to think about what I'd do the next time we were in your bedroom, Annie, but I certainly don't want you drugged.''
I didn't want to be drugged either, and as I crawled under the comforter it struck me that Vinny had been thinking about me for four months. I wanted to ask him what he'd been waiting for, but thought better of it. Now was not the time to start a discussion that I should most likely be sober for, since the pills were already starting to take effect. I could feel all my muscles relaxing.
Vinny settled down next to me, pulling my comforter around both of us. He put his arm around me, and I scootched down so my head was against his shoulder. He stroked my hair just above my forehead.
''So tell me what's going on, Annie. Why did someone try to run you off the road?''
The Percocet was crashing against my memories, pushing them out of the way. Damn they were strong suckers.
''I saw Sam O'Neill. He's got something going with Marisol Gomez,'' I said, yawning, my eyes drooping. Everything started to meld together, until my head felt like a goddamn Jackson Pollock painting. Vinny's hand stopped moving. I wanted to tell him he could turn on the TV while I slept—God knew I would be pretty boring, probably start snoring at some point— but I couldn't form the words. Instead, I slipped into a drug-induced sleep.
He was gone when I woke up. The day had turned grayer, and raindrops slid down the windows. But a glance at the clock let me know that it wasn't yesterday anymore; it was seven thirty a.m. Shit, I lost a day and a half.
I sat up and immediately regretted it. Vinny had been right: I did hurt. The ache ran from my ass all the way up through my neck and into my shoulders, vying with the throbbing pain in my hand. I was still woozy from the Percocets, but they didn't seem to be living up to their reputation as a painkiller at the moment. I'd have to take another one.
The phone was off the hook on the nightstand, and I put it back in its cradle as I headed toward the bathroom. Vinny must have done that, not wanting me to be disturbed. But within seconds it rang loudly, scaring the crap out of me.
''Hello?'' I asked, aware that my mouth was too dry to say much more.
''Annie? Are you okay?''
It was my mother.
''I'm a little under the weather.''
''Are you okay?''
I debated how much to tell her, then figured she'd find out eventually. I might as well get the inquisition over with.
''Had an accident yesterday.''
''Another one?''
''Someone rammed into my car just a little ways from here. I'm okay, but the car really isn't.''
I heard my mother take a breath. ''Why didn't you call me?''
''Vinny came to get me. He was here, but I slept and now he's gone.''
''Oh,'' she said slowly. ''That's what I was calling about.''
''What?''
''Vinny. What time did he leave?''
Fear crept into my stomach, turning it into knots. ''I don't know. I was asleep. Why the twenty questions?''
I could hear her hesitate, then, ''I'm on my way to the police station. He's been arrested.''
Chapter 25
Vinny told her to call me. She was his phone call, and he wanted to make sure I was okay. He didn't want her to tell me anything, but the only thing she didn't tell me was why he'd been arrested. After going around in circles for about three minutes, my mother finally agreed to pick me up on her way to the station. She didn't want me tagging along, but I think she could tell by the tone of my voice that I'd manage to get there one way or another, and this way she could keep an eye on me.
It took me a long time to get dressed. I eyed the prescription bottle, but I couldn't take another Percocet or I wouldn't be able to function. And I had to go see Vinny and see what was going on. Whatever he'd been arrested for had to be a mistake. He hadn't started out as a private investigator; he'd been a marine biologist studying whales when funding got cut for his program and he ended up back on Wooster Street, working for a friend of his father's before starting his own business.
I noticed the bandage on my hand was flopping around a little, so I pulled off the part that was still sticking. What was a little more pain? I assessed the stitches, wondered if I could maneuver dressing the wound again—it was pretty red around the edges— but decided I just wasn't that coordinated. Anyway, shouldn't I keep it exposed to air so it would heal better? I'd heard that somewhere, and that was good enough for me.
My mother looked disapprovingly at the yoga pants, long-sleeved T-shirt, and jean jacket. Her eyes lingered longer on my new shoes, funky slip-ons with thick rubber soles that I'd splurged on because they were like wearing slippers.
''You're not going out like that, are you?'' she asked.
I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder, immediately regretting it. ''I feel like shit, so I'm going to be comfortable,'' I said, herding her out the door before I could change my mind. I felt like a goddamn truck had run over me.
Yeah, that was me. Roadkill.
I settled into the seat of the Mercedes, happy that my mother had money and could afford a car that could double as a heating pad when I needed it.
''So, what'd they arrest him for?'' I asked as she started the car.
''Assault and trespassing.''
''Jesus,'' I whispered. ''It must be a mistake.''
She shook her head. ''I'm not so sure, Annie, but that's between you and me.'' I recognized her ''lawyer'' voice and I nodded. She smiled, indicating we had an agreement that when we got to the station I wouldn't say anything that could jeopardize Vinny's fate. ''He's been accused of going to a house on Blatchley Avenue and going after a man who lives there.''
A flash of Marisol Gomez standing on a landing.
''Do you know anyone named Hector, Annie?''
We were stopped at the light at Chapel and State, and she was staring at me expectantly. I bit my lip and nodded. ''Well, I don't really know him, but I've seen him.''
He tried to kill me, or at least hurt me, yesterday. And Vinny had gone after him, because he knew that, too.
''Hector's okay,'' my mother said. ''But he's insisting on pressing charges.'' She paused as she turned left onto State Street. We were close to the police station now.
''You can get Vinny out of there, right?'' I asked.
She was pulling into a parking spot near the station, and when the car stopped, she smiled at me. ''I think I can.''
They wouldn't let me in to see him. My mother went through the glass doors and up the elevator with a uniform escort, and I paced in front of the dispatcher, who frowned at me.
I guess I really pissed him off, because before I realized he'd called him, Tom was standing in front of me.
''Guess you're here about DeLucia.''
I expected him to be a little more annoyed about it, but he looked pretty relaxed. I nodded. ''Yeah. Is he okay?''
''Looks like shit.'' Tom seemed to enjoy telling me that, if the grin was any indication. But then it softened into a slight frown as he surveyed my own appearance. ''Like you. I heard about your accident yesterday, tried to call you, but didn't even get your machine.''
''Took the phone off the hook,'' I said quickly. ''I needed some sleep.''
''What was he d
oing over there?''
''What?''
''What was DeLucia doing over there, on Blatchley, I mean? Couple of patrol officers went there after your accident and talked to that guy you said could've been driving the car that hit you.''
I was trying to wrap my head around why Tom was calling Vinny ''DeLucia,'' then figured it was a stupid guy thing. I shrugged. ''It was Hector's car that hit me. He's the one who should be answering questions, not Vinny.''
''We talked to Hector about that, and he denies it. Said someone stole his car yesterday. He doesn't know where it is.''
''Did he file a police report?'' I asked sarcastically.
Tom grinned. ''Okay, you've got me there. But those guys in that neighborhood, most of them don't file police reports and you know why.''
''Is Hector legal?''
''He's got a green card.'' Tom cocked his head at me. ''Why did DeLucia go over there later? Why didn't he just leave it to us?''
This had to be some sort of trick, a trick to get me to say something I wasn't supposed to, and then Vinny would end up in jail. Tom would like that, getting Vinny out of the way so there was no competition.
I frowned at Tom. ''Can we find a more private place to go?''
He grinned, a leer crossing his face. ''Okay.''
I slugged him on the arm. ''You know what I mean.''
''Let's go get a cup of coffee. Your mother'll be in there with them for a while.''
We went to the train station. It was catty-corner to the police station and housed a couple of Dunkin' Donuts, every reporter and every cop's favorite place. The station had been renovated to its glory days' appearance and the long wooden benches in the back were rarely crowded. Tom bought me a latte and himself a black coffee, and we went to the very last bench, where we were set back a bit from the hustle and bustle of a rush hour that was almost over. I found myself wanting to buy a ticket to Grand Central and spend the day in the city with my best friend, Priscilla—we went to college together and now she's a copy editor at the New York Daily News—and forget everything that was going on.
But Tom was waiting for something. Me. To tell him what I knew. But I'd be damned if I knew what that was. So I decided to start with one of the least odd things that had happened in the last two days.
''Sam O'Neill's having an affair with a woman who lives at that house on Blatchley Avenue. The one where Vinny was arrested. Marisol is Hector's sister,'' I said, then took a sip of my latte.
Tom's left eyebrow got a little higher. ''How do you know Sam is having an affair with her?'' he asked.
''I saw him kissing her in front of the house. There was a kid there, too, little kid, I dunno, two or three maybe.''
''Marisol?'' Tom seemed be a little slow on the uptake, but he was now catching up with everything I'd said.
''Marisol Gomez. I met her the night Rodriguez got shot, after Roberto Ortiz shot at you and Sam. She was one of my witnesses, but she wouldn't give me her last name and she got cut out of the story.'' I thought a second. ''Was Marisol the woman Sam was with at the Yale Rep that night? I mean, she was there, so she must have been, right?''
Tom bit his lip, and I could see him struggling with how much to tell me. Finally, ''No, Annie, she's not the woman he was with that night.''
I frowned. ''So then who was it? Can you tell me?''
He shook his head. ''No. She doesn't know anything. We've already talked to her. And she and Sam, well, it was just a date. It was nothing serious.''
''It looked serious with Marisol.''
''You of all people should realize that a kiss doesn't necessarily mean a relationship is serious.''
Ouch.
''I think it would be best if you just forgot about seeing Sam with her.'' Tom finished his coffee and toyed with the plastic top. Something was bugging him, but before I could say anything, he asked me, ''How do you manage to be in the wrong places at the wrong times?''
Hell if I knew.
''Did you tell DeLucia about any of this?''
I shook my head. ''No.'' But then I wasn't so sure. I thought I had said something in my drug haze. And something else dawned on me. I should have a goddamn lightbulb sitting on top of my head. How did Vinny know where to find Hector? Tom was staring at me. ''What?'' I asked.
He shook his head.
''What about that warehouse raid last night? How did that go?''
He couldn't hide the look of surprise. ''How the fuck do you know about that?''
''Did you shut down the sweatshop or not?'' I asked.
Tom shook his head back and forth so many times I thought he'd had a hinge attached to his neck. ''Annie, there are some things I just can't tell you.''
''Aw, come on, sure you can. I won't say who told me. I can get my other source to tell me.'' I wasn't sure Paula would tell me anything on the record, but if I had something I could start with, you never knew.
Tom just stared at me.
I had another idea, a complete non sequitur that might throw him off so I could get in the back door. ''It's Lucille, isn't it? Is she running the sweatshop?''
Now I thought his eyebrows would shoot right off the top of his head they were so high on his forehead. ''How do you know about Lucille?''
I shook my head slowly. ''Tom, doesn't everybody in Fair Haven know about Lucille?'' I didn't have a fucking clue what I was talking about, but he didn't know that.
''What else do you know?'' Tom demanded, his eyes dark. I wasn't quite sure why he was so pissed.
I had a lot of pieces, but the puzzle was still evading me. ''So what about the warehouse?''
He shook his head. ''I can't tell you anything.''
''What about the bees?'' I no longer gave a shit about David Welden and my promise to him. I was going to get something on the record if it killed me.
''Bees?'' Tom started toying with his cuticle.
''Yeah, the bomb-sniffing bees at the harbor. The ones Lin Rodriguez has been training and Homeland Security's all hot and bothered about.''
Tom was staring at me like I had three heads. ''Where do you get your information?'' he asked, although he seemed more in awe of my talents than angry at the moment.
I shrugged. ''My natural charm.''
He smiled then, an involuntary smile, but a smile nonetheless. ''Jesus, Annie.''
''Did Marisol Gomez ever call you?''
Tom frowned then. ''Why would she call me?''
''I gave her your number a few days ago. She had some information about the floater who washed up at Long Wharf.'' Although, now that I knew about Marisol and Sam, I couldn't help but wonder again why she hadn't spoken to Sam about what she'd seen. Or maybe she had.
Tom was shaking his head. ''I never heard from her.''
I started to ask him something else when he blurted out, ''Listen, are you still dating DeLucia or do you want to go out sometime?''
He caught me so by surprise that I got flustered. ''Oh, well, no,'' I started.
''No, you're not seeing DeLucia or no you don't want to go out sometime?'' He looked so serious, so sincere, that all my questions started melting away.
I shrugged. ''I'm not really seeing Vinny, well, not officially, but I don't really know what's going on, so maybe it's not a good idea we go out until I can get everything sorted out.'' I wasn't sure if I was making sense, but Tom started nodding and got up.
''Well, then, I have to get back to the station,'' he said.
This wasn't going the way I wanted it to. I hadn't gotten shit out of him, and now I was all fucked up about him and Vinny again. I followed him out of the train station and back across the street. He was about two steps ahead of me and didn't look back as he went through the door at the police station, barely holding it open for me as I scurried through. He disappeared behind another door and I found myself staring at the picture of the mayor on the wall while I waited for my mother.
But it didn't take too long. Only about ten minutes passed before my mother came out with Vinny. Tom was right. Vinny did
look like shit. His right eye was swollen shut, and he had a huge gash on his left cheek. He grinned at me, and I felt like I was Adrian to Sylvester Stallone's Rocky.
Between the two of us, we might as well open our own clinic.
''What does the other guy look like?'' I asked.
My mother herded us out of the building and down the sidewalk without a word, and Vinny slung his arm around my shoulders as we headed to the car. I winced with pain, but figured he didn't want to hear it, considering, so I kept my mouth shut.
Dead of the Day (2007) Page 18