There Was a Crooked Man

by K. J. Larsen

  “Fork,” he said.

  I handed him one. “Did you see Papa?”

  “I did.”

  “Did he tell you about that day in September?”

  “He didn’t.”

  “So what did he say?”

  “He said I’m a horrible son.”

  “Ouch.”

  Rocco winced. “I’ve never seen him wound up like this. He stood up and grabbed his scar like I’d shot him a second time.”

  “Holy crap.”

  “It gets better. A bunch of my cop ‘friends,’” Rocco made air-quotes here, “jumped to their feet, like they would wrestle me to the ground for abusing a helpless, old man. Uncle Rudy called them off.”

  “Everybody loves Papa. He’s a local hero.”

  “Shut up.”

  I waved the Chicago Sun-Times articles in his face. I couldn’t swallow my grin. It was a stickler.

  “I found it, Bro. September 19, 1999. There was a hit-and-run in Bridgeport. Officers Antonio DeLuca and Brian Maxfield were the first responders.”

  “What about the victim?”

  “Daniel Baumgarten. Owner of Baumgarten Jewelry.”

  “That’s where you found Bob sitting in his car.”

  “Skulking in his car.”

  “Do we know who drove the vehicle?’

  I shook my head. “I didn’t look for later articles. But I’m willing to bet that the person who took Sammy has a connection to the hit-and-run.”

  “I’ll slip over to Records and pick up the file. Then we can begin drawing up a list of possible suspects.”

  “Something terrible happened on the street that day. Something Papa and Bob kept secret all these years. What could be so awful that neither will talk about it?”

  Rocco was still pissed. “Papa could’ve said there was a hit-and-run. It’s no big secret. It was in the Tribune.”

  “Probably. I got this from the Sun-Times.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Sometimes you have to schmooze Papa.” I whipped out my cell and called his number. When he picked up, I heard laughing in the background. Good times at Mickey’s.

  I put the phone on speaker.

  “Caterina,” Papa said. “Come join your Uncle Rudy and me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Hanging out at Mickey’s. Your brother came by all full of himself.”

  I feigned shock. “Not Rocco!”

  He grunted.

  “I love you, Papa.”

  “Ti voglio bene anch’io,” he said softly.

  “So when Rocco asked you about September 1999, did you think about the hit-and-run on West 35th?”

  Papa’s surprise translated to an audible choke.

  Click.

  I smiled at Rocco. “That’s a big yes, Bro.”

  Chapter Five

  When the doorbell rang at 1:58, I was in Margaritaville, squeezing limes and humming Jimmy Buffet. Sophia was perfectly punctual, as always. And perfectly gorgeous. My sister is a clone of Barbie.

  I carried two margaritas to the living room and took a good swill of mine before placing both on the coffee table. I opened the door and my smile quickly warped into a chimpanzee’s grin of fear.

  Sophie stepped inside and she wasn’t alone. A reckless gang of devil children shadowed her. One wrangled free and made a dive for the Chihuly vase on the hallway table. I caught his collar and gently wrestled him and his mama and her demolition bandits onto the porch. I firmly closed the door behind me.

  “My babysitter bailed on me,” Sophie said. “Is it okay if the kids play in your yard?”

  “Yay!” they yelled.

  “Can you promise you won’t tie the beagle’s tail in a knot again?” Sophie said.

  “Promise!” They screeched.

  They were lying. I know this because I saw their little tail-tying fingers twitch.

  “Of course they can play here. But what are grandmas for?”

  “Nonna! Nonna!” the devil children chanted.

  I whipped out my cell and Mama picked up on the first ring.

  “Sophie’s babysitter couldn’t make it. The kids are at my house.”

  Mama caught her breath. “You know better than to bring my angels into that dangerous place. There are sharp glass edges and electrical outlets everywhere.”

  “It’s a war zone, Mama.”

  “I’m on my way! And watch Inga’s tail.”

  “Hurry. Your grand-dog is quivering behind the couch.”

  Mama’s Ford Fusion screeched to the curb as Sophie buckled the last child into his car seat.

  “My angels! Miei bellissimi angeli,” she sang and her face shone. Mama’s heart never has gas when she’s with her grandkids. She took the kids to her house, vowing ice cream on the way. She left the keys to her Ford with my sister. If I were Sophie, I’d take Mama’s car and make a run for the border.

  “Your tail is safe!” I called and Inga crept out from behind the couch.

  Sophia gave her giddy laugh. “The children love animals. We should get them a puppy.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “So why did you want to see me?”

  I had the stupid look on my face.

  She frowned. “That’s what Mama said.”

  “I did!” It was coming back to me now. “I wanted to catch up. You didn’t seem like yourself last time we talked.”

  “How did I seem?”

  “I dunno. Less perky.”

  Sophie plopped on the sofa and rested her head back on the cushion. I grabbed the margaritas and sat beside her. She threw her head back and downed hers in a gulp.

  “No brain-freeze,” I said. “Impressive.”

  “My head is in excruciating pain. But after childbirth…”

  She let the sentence hang and I made a mental note to adopt.

  She blew a big sigh. “I adore my kids. They’re sweet. They’re fun….”

  I bit my tongue. Inga shuddered.

  “But lately I’ve been feeling, I dunno. Like I’ve lost me along the way.”

  “I get that.”

  “No you don’t.” She sounded bitter. “Your life is a big, selfish Cat party. You have no responsibilities.”

  “I have a business and a mortgage. And a partner who eats a lot of expensive sausages.”

  She dismissed my woes with a wave of her hand. “You date lots of guys.”

  She said it with a mixture of disgust and admiration.

  “You travel and you get to have adventures. Nobody needs you or loves you so much. They don’t hang on your skirt twenty-four bloody hours a day.”

  I bit my tongue and tossed down my drink. Instant brain freeze.

  “It’s not fair,” she whimpered. “My life is totally, utterly predictable. Peter is the only guy I’ve ever kissed.”

  Euuww.

  I massaged my frozen brain.

  “I’ve never been outside the U.S. and with the kids’ college fund, that’s not going to happen.” She gave a wistful sigh. “And Max is….”

  “Max?”

  Her face took on a dreamy glow. “It’s a fantasy, I know. But he’s so deliciously hot and hunky. When I danced with him at your thirtieth and at Mama and Papa’s wedding…his arms were around me and…” Her face flushed. “I think about him a lot.”

  “Holy crap.”

  I pulled two fresh margarita glasses from the cupboard and salted the rims. Then I filled each glass to the top and stuffed one in her hand.

  She giggled and tossed it down, absorbing another brain freeze without a flinch.

  “Even when I’m in bed with Peter, I….”

  I shoved my glass aside and grabbed the bottle of tequila. I chugged a long pull of my good friend Jose.

  When I lo
oked at her again, Jose and I were smiling. I slapped an arm around her shoulder. “Tell me, Sophie, what is it that you want?”

  She threw me a secretive, wicked smile. “Just once, I want to be reckless like you. I want an adventure. And for the first time in my life, I want something juicy to spill at confession.”

  That sounded reasonable enough. “Then you should have an adventure.”

  She clapped her hands. “Mama said Cleo is out of town this week.”

  “Until Tuesday night. Her sister’s getting married.”

  Her eyes widened. “Her sister the nun?”

  “No. Her sister the ho.”

  Sophie giggled. “I thought there was one Sister. Get it?”

  “I got it.” It wasn’t that funny. “There are two sisters. The ho ran off with Cleo’s husband, Walter.”

  “Cleo should’ve killed him.”

  “Someone beat her to it.”

  “At least she tried.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s cool. I guess Cleo forgave her sister. I mean she’s going to her wedding.”

  “Her sister’s marrying a sleazy guy whose pants drop at the scent of a woman. I almost feel sorry for the ho. She’s in for some misery.”

  “Why doesn’t Cleo warn her?”

  “Cleo thought about it. But she decided to dance at her wedding instead.”

  My assistant, Cleo Jones, is smart and capable. She’s a kick to work with. She’s also super high maintenance. Her eyes get disturbingly glossy when she handles a gun. Hoping she doesn’t shoot someone can be exhausting.

  As much as I adore Cleo, I was loving every minute she was away. I needed this break. Cleo wasn’t the only one doing the happy dance.

  “You should know I don’t shoot people,” Sophie said soberly.

  “Good to know.”

  “If there’s shooting involved, you’ll need to do it. I have boundaries.”

  “Hold on. Huh?”

  “I’d like a badge or a silver star. If I’m going to be a real detective for a week, I need leverage. And I don’t expect you to pay me as much as you pay Cleo.”

  I choked. “What?”

  “Because I won’t have to hire a sitter. Mama will watch the kids. It was her idea.”

  “Stop there. Mama has terrible ideas.”

  She laughed and clapped her hands. “I’m taking Cleo’s place when she’s away.”

  “Whoa! I don’t…”

  “This is my first real job since working at the St. Peter’s Books & Gifts before the kids were born.” She gave a sly smile. “I want Max to train me.”

  “Another bad idea.”

  She giggled. “This will be fun like when…”

  “Like when you wrote Cat loves Billy on my locker and the principal dragged me into his office?”

  Her laugh was a giddy trill.

  My fingers flexed. I could still feel them around Barbie’s throat.

  ***

  I watched Sophie drive away toward Mama’s house. She was on her way to pick up the devil children. I would’ve hauled ass the other way.

  My nosy neighbor, Mrs. Pickins, peered through her curtains. For once, I didn’t wave. I’d had my quota of crazy.

  My cell phone vibrated and Savino’s number came up. “Hey, Babe,” I said.

  “What’s good for takeout? Thai or sushi?”

  “Indian.”

  “White or red?”

  “I have both. Uncle Joey found some Michele Chiarlo that fell off the back of a truck.”

  “At a truck stop in Superior, I believe. There was a bulletin last week. The agents working these truck hijackings are seriously after these guys.”

  My voice iced. “So, Special Agent In Charge Savino. Are you going to interrogate my uncle about it?”

  He laughed. “If there’s no bloodshed, I don’t mess with family. But I’ll take a bottle of the red.”

  “Would that be considered hush money then?”

  “Definitely. In fact I’ll take two. And you might want to give Joey a heads-up.”

  My head hurt. I rubbed it. “Noted.”

  “Something’s wrong, Babe. What’s up?”

  “My switched-at-birth sister just left.”

  “I wasn’t sure she knew where you lived.”

  “Mama’s got a big mouth. She told Sophie she could take over for Cleo while she’s away for the wedding.”

  “Sorry, Hon. Your mama is sneaky and has mastered getting her own way.”

  “No sneakier than yours. The two are in cahoots.”

  He groaned. “This can’t be good.”

  “Understatement! They sabotaged our anniversary. You’re an only child, for chrissake. How can you have so many relatives?”

  “My relatives live far, far away.”

  “Well they’re all coming to Chicago.”

  Chance muttered a few choice words under his breath. He rarely swears. Apparently learning his family is coming to town is one of those occasions.

  “Tell me about it tonight. And don’t worry. I got this.”

  “You’ll take care of our mothers?” I sounded doubtful.

  “Yes. And don’t stress about Sophia. You can do this.”

  “I’m not sure. What if I need an alibi?”

  “I got your back.”

  ***

  I didn’t know how long I’d been sleeping when I was awakened by the rustle of a plastic bag and the smell of Cheetos in my face.

  “Go away,” I said not opening my eyes.

  Rocco gave my hammock a push and the rocking almost lulled me back to sleep.

  “I’m dropping off Jackson’s groceries. Four big bags. Come inside. I gotta have a bowl of Cocoa Puffs.”

  “Mmm. Cocoa Puffs?”

  “I added a few items to your list.”

  I shook off my nap and tagged along inside.

  “Did you get the case file for the hit-and-run?”

  Rocco shook his head grimly. “Captain Bob checked the file out this morning. It was a cold case.”

  “So the driver of the white van was never apprehended. Do you think someone blames Captain Bob for that?”

  Rocco shrugged and splashed milk on his Cocoa Puffs. “We won’t know anything until we get a look at that file.”

  I began putting away groceries. “I’ve been thinking about the guys who took Sam I Am.”

  “They have to be insane to go after a police captain. Or they’re desperate. Or they have a death wish. I mean Captain Bob has the entire CPD behind him.”

  “Only he didn’t. They knew he wouldn’t round up the troops. Why is that? What is so terrible that Captain Bob and Papa couldn’t tell anyone?”

  Rocco didn’t like where this was going. “Papa and Captain Bob are the most straight-up cops on the Chicago Police force. They do everything by the book.”

  “On September 19th, 1999, they didn’t.”

  “Don’t.” Rocco was angry.

  “All I’m saying is there’s a reason that Papa and Bob won’t talk about that day. Something happened. We’re going to find out what it is. And when we do, it’s not going to change who they are or what we know to be true about them.”

  It bothered Rocco to think Papa had a secret. Me, not so much. I figure everyone’s got something. Maybe a secret they’re ashamed of or something so deeply personal they’d just as well take to the grave. Right now it seemed Papa and Bob wouldn’t have that luxury.

  “We need to get that file,” I said.

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  “Where do you think it is?”

  Rocco slurped the milk from his bowl. “It could be in the captain’s office. But my guess is he brought it home with him.”

  “Definitely. The file is in his house. So what’s our nex
t move?”

  “We talk to the captain. We convince him he needs our help. He lets us see the file.”

  “That’s insane,” I said.

  “I suppose you have a better idea.”

  “I break into Captain Bob’s house. I find the file. I copy the pages with my handy dandy pocket scanner.”

  “Oh. Good. That’s not insane at all.”

  Chapter Six

  I blocked my number and dialed Captain Bob’s home phone. No answer. He wasn’t there. In ten minutes, I would be.

  I was dressed in burglar-Babe black. Black spandex, black hoodie, and black Ryka sneakers. I stuffed latex gloves in a pocket and drove to Captain Bob’s yellow brick house.

  It’s the same chocolate brown clapboard where Bob’s daughter, Ellie, and I played as kids, but with a facelift. The yellow brick siding is part of the remodeling that came with Bob’s upgrade in pay when he was promoted to captain. The house has bigger windows now and there’s a front porch with a swing. The rooms have that open feng shui thing going on. Ken’s construction company did the remodeling but the ideas were Peggy’s. Bob’s wife is energetic and creative and one of the coolest women I know. She adores her husband. How she puts up with his growly moods is a mystery.

  I pulled to the curb down the block from Bob’s house and killed the engine. A powder blue SUV tore around the corner, horn blaring. Crap! My switched-at-birth sister waved giddily. She parked across the street and scooted over to join me on the sidewalk. Any plans to sneak unobserved into Captain Bob’s house had been foiled. Forget the burglar-Babe black. I could’ve worn fluorescent hot pink. Like Barbie.

  I couldn’t unclench my teeth. “What are you doing here? We’re supposed to begin tomorrow.”

  “Is this a stakeout? Is Captain Bob helping you?”

  “Are you stalking me, Sophie?”

  “I’m a detective, aren’t I?”

  She had a point.

  “Did you get my badge yet?”

  “You realize you left my house a few hours ago.”

  “Oh. Bummer.”

  “Go home, Sophie. You don’t want to be here.”

  “Oh, yes I do.”

  “No, ya don’t.” I took a deep breath. “I’m breaking into Captain Bob’s house.”