There Was a Crooked Man

by K. J. Larsen

  I cut the edge from my voice. “Don’t worry, Frankie. I won’t tell them.”

  He raised his head and his eyes were drenched in self-pity. “Honest?”

  “Honest.”

  His voice broke. “Caterina, why are you so damn good to me?”

  “Because after I tell Cleo, no one will ever find your body.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Captain Bob and Papa and Uncle Joey and I paused on the curb and blew a collective sigh. Then we trudged up the steps to the yellow house.

  “We don’t have to do this,” Uncle Joey grumbled. “That asshat kidnapped Bob’s dog, you know what I’m sayin’? I know somebody…”

  “You are somebody,” I said and hooked his arm. ‘Play nice.”

  Pops opened the door and his face turned a pallid green. His eyes darted back and forth in primal flight mode.

  “Cool it, Pops,” I said. “We come in peace.”

  I pushed past him and took a seat on the couch. The others followed and made themselves comfortable.

  Saleen sailed in from the kitchen with a pot of tea and three cups. She could’ve dropped the tray when she saw us.

  “You might want to get more cups,” I said.

  Her throat went dry. I knew this because when she spoke her first words were a croak. “You don’t want him. Take me.”

  “You’re both more trouble than you’re worth. If you took my dog, I’d…”

  I jabbed Uncle Joey in the ribs.

  “We don’t want either one of you,” Papa said. “We’re here to talk. Off the record, so to speak.”

  “In other words,” Captain Bob said, “we’re not here.”

  “That must mean I’m not about to puke,” Saleen said.

  Papa’s hand gripped the scar on his bum but his gaze was steady. He held Pop’s eyes. “Bob and I did not take the lion necklace.”

  “Medallion,” I said.

  “Whatever,” Papa said.

  “If you say so.” Pop shrugged. He believed him like he believes in Santa.

  “I know a guy,” Uncle Joey muttered.

  Captain Bob cleared his throat. “The Chicago PD has taken a second look into the death of your brother-in-law, Clive James. The original cause of death has been amended. Mr. James was the victim of a homicide. A suspect has been arrested and will face charges.”

  Papa added, “We deeply regret that it’s taken so long for the truth to come out. Please express our condolences to your wife. Her brother will finally have justice.”

  It was too much for Pop. All the bluster was sucked out of him and his legs crumpled under him. He flopped into a recliner and a tear coursed down his cheek.

  “I still want to kick your ass for taking Sam I Am,” Papa said, “but something good came from it. We wouldn’t have known about Clive if you hadn’t.”

  Pops blew his nose hard. “You’re welcome.”

  “So, who killed my Uncle Clive?” Saleen demanded.

  The captain sighed heavily. The people of Chicago would eat this one.

  “The suspect we arrested is Cameron Stewart,” he said.

  Pops went bug-eyed. “The detective who investigated Clive’s case?”

  “It wasn’t CPD’s finest hour,” Papa admitted.

  “Why kill him?” Saleen demanded.

  “For the diamonds,” Pops said. “Looks like Cameron Stewart was to be Clive’s contact. That son of a bitch! That’s why Clive’s charges were always dropped. He had a dirty cop in his pocket.”

  “Cam didn’t want to kill him,” I said. “He planned to fake a mugging and grab the rocks. But Clive recognized him and Cam panicked. He killed him.”

  Pops swore under his breath.

  “My Caterina recovered the diamonds from Cam’s apartment.” Papa was bustin’-his-buttons proud. “She says there’s a highly effective, but expensive treatment, that could help your wife. And your share, after the insurance, is forty g.”

  “Your ransom demand for Sam I Am,” Captain Bob said. “I should kick your ass.”

  “This is on Cat,” Uncle Joey growled. “Personally, I would’ve kept the rocks and got a sweet beach house in Soverato.”

  Uncle Joey tossed a fat certified check to Pops. “I called in a favor and liquidated the diamonds for you. You got an exceptional price.”

  I drew a pair of teardrop diamond earrings from my pocket and dropped them in Pops’ hand. “I kept two fat rocks out for Rana. Rob set them for me. I figured it was the least he could do.”

  It was all too much for Pops. He couldn’t speak. His fingers trembled and the check dropped to his lap. Saleen picked it up and gasped.

  “How did you find the diamonds?” she said.

  My grin was a stickler. “I went to church and lit a candle for Rana. I said a prayer for forty g’s and the angels went nuts.”

  Uncle Joey snorted. “Go to church and light a candle for your Great-Grandpa DeLuca. He bootlegged whiskey with Al Capone. He could know where Scarface hid his gold.”

  “There’ll be enough money left over for Saleen to go to school and quit being a screwup,” I said. “And Pops, your bad-boy days are over. I have a pic of you raising a flat ax to Baumgarten’s back door. Don’t make me show Rana.”

  “How can we ever repay you?” Pops choked.

  “We’ll buy her freaking driving lessons,” Saleen said.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  It was late when I strutted into Tino’s Deli. The dinner rush had passed and a few stragglers lingered over a bottle of wine. A server with frizzy red hair wiped down tables and chairs for the night.

  The ex-spy’s face lit when he saw me. “Caterina!”

  He hustled from behind the counter, took my face in his hands, and kissed my cheeks. “The investigation, it is finished?”

  I nodded.

  “Bravo. Sit. I have a nice Cabernet.”

  I took a table by the window and watched the slow procession of white and red lights through Bridgeport. Tino hung the Closed sign on the door and selected a bottle from the wine rack. He opened the bottle and filled our glasses.

  The ex-spy clinked his glass with mine. “What is spoken here, stays between us.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Who killed my friend, Danny?”

  I sipped some wine. “It’s complicated.”

  “I want it all. Why did he run into the street?”

  I gulped more wine and pulled a leg up under me. “The three men from the armed robbery returned to the shop that day.”

  “To rob Danny again?”

  “No. To collect their money.”

  “The gleam in Tino’s eyes was freaking scary. “Are you suggesting the burglary was a scam. Insurance?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll kill that greedy bastard.”

  “Rob had company. Cam Stewart. You know him?”

  “He’s a dirty cop. Danny hated that Rob hung out with him.”

  “Birds of a feather. Rob hired these guys and then shorted his partners. Instead of shelling out their agreed share, Rob paid them in tacky, flawed diamonds and cheesy cubic zirconia. It was a fatal mistake.”

  Tino’s teeth ground. It was a lot to take in.

  He reached into a pocket and dragged out a flask. He tossed down a drink and passed it over.

  I did the same, then handed it back.

  “Danny was shaken to his core when the thieves told him Rob betrayed him. He offered to pay Rob’s debt right then. One of the thieves got greedy and frightened Danny. He wanted his grandfather’s medallion.”

  “The medallion was a family heirloom. No one messes with Danny’s lion.”

  “Danny ran with the medallion. I think he was blinded by grief and rage. He never saw the van.”

  “Who are these scum who killed my friend?”
/>
  I dropped a hand in my lap and crossed my fingers. “Clive James died shortly after Danny.”

  “Lucky bastard.”

  “Clive’s death was ruled an overdose. The truth is, Cam Stewart killed him for a fat swag of diamonds and cash. Cam was the first responder and he was assigned the case.”

  Tino hissed. Cam Stewart is a snake.”

  “Marcus Russell was killed at the Dreamscape Motel. Bathtub, hairdryer, 220 volts of electricity. It was awful.”

  “Cam again?”

  “Bingo. When we began investigating the Baumgarten armed robbery, Cam knew we’d eventually identify the three guys on the security film. Marcus wasn’t a rat. But he could connect Cam to multiple thefts and possibly to Clive’s homicide. It was a chance Cam couldn’t take.”

  I slugged down the rest of my wine. “Cam’s in the clink. The prosecutor hasn’t decided what to charge him with. It’s a political time bomb for CPD. Maybe he’ll hang himself in his cell.”

  “If they want him to die in a crash on a lonely stretch of road, I’m their guy.”

  “Do spies go to heaven?”

  “Spies are God’s angels. Who’s the third guy?”

  I dropped my second hand in my lap and double-crossed my fingers. I bugged my eyes wide open. I read once that people blink when they lie. And I was lying through my teeth.

  “Tom Barker. He died a few years ago in Joliet. Cancer.”

  “Was it slow?”

  “Excruciating.”

  “Good.”

  Tino passed the flask and I took a good pull of whiskey. It was a good burn.

  “What will you do about Rob?”

  “I’ll deal with him later.”

  I almost felt bad for the guy. “Danny will be watching.”

  “Dammit.”

  “You should know that Rob saved my life tonight.”

  “Christ, Caterina. What happened?”

  “Last night I let myself into Cam’s condo…”

  “Where was Max? You promised to take him with you.”

  “I was an idiot. Are you finished yelling yet?”

  “For the moment. Continue.”

  “Anyway, Cam is laundering money for some wanna-be-gangsters. I needed more evidence. I surprised one of his buddies in the shower. Cam came home. They argued over who would kill me. Luckily for me, Rob stopped by. He knew nothing of the murders and the blackmail. When he couldn’t stop Cam, he tackled him. He risked his life. And he was willing to face prison to save me. He showed a lot of chutzpah.”

  “Dammit. I can’t kill anybody, can I?”

  “I think Danny would want you to give Rob a chance to turn things around.”

  “Rob can make his papa proud. After I kick his ass.”

  “Did Max tell you Rob’s a fence? He buys stolen jewelry.”

  “Not anymore. Rob is having a come-to-Jesus moment.”

  “Isn’t he Jewish?”

  “Right. So he’s coming to Yahweh if I have to drag him there.” Tino grunted. “Now, I want the driver.”

  I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach. “It wasn’t the driver’s fault.”

  “Danny was left to die in the street.”

  I stared at my wine.

  “Forget about it,” Tino said. “I don’t need to know.”

  “Really?”

  I felt almost giddy with relief. I popped out of my chair and hugged him tight.

  “Tony and Bob can keep their secret,” he said. “It won’t bring Danny back.”

  I leaned back searched his face. The gold flecks in his brown eyes danced.

  “You crafty old spy. How did you know?”

  Tino winked. “I haven’t forgotten the extraordinary things we do to save the ones we love.”

  We finished our wine in peaceable silence before he walked outside with me.

  “One more thing,” he said before I slid behind the wheel, “you didn’t say what happened to Danny’s gold medallion.”

  Crap. “Uh…”

  The corners of Tino’s mouth twitched. He was smiling inside. “Don’t tell me if you have to cross your fingers again.”

  Epilogue

  Blue is Chicago’s color. There is no blue like the blue you’ll find in this city. Not the white or the dirty gray you’ll have to suffer through in order to endure our godawful winters. You won’t stay long in this city if that’s what you remember. But if you do stay, you’ll fall in love with this city, and it will be because of Chicago’s blue nights.

  And this was one of those nights. The sky was darkening toward sapphire as Chance wove his way through Streeterville toward the lake. The city lights sprouted gold and pink halos. As we approached Navy Pier you could see the fluffy green trees and the white sandy beaches of Chicago’s lakefront. Beyond lay the luminescent aqua blue of Lake Michigan stretching to meet the sapphire sky on the horizon.

  Chance parked in the west garage, jumped out of the car and came around to let me out.

  “Have I mentioned how devastatingly gorgeous you look tonight?” He held out his hand and I stepped out of the car. His eyes took a leisurely stroll from my taupe caged leather stilettos, up my legs to the asymmetric hem of my white dress with silver-white lace overlay by Marc Jacobs. It had a high neck. It was modest enough for meeting Chance’s relatives but it hugged me in all the right places. The lack of cleavage didn’t seem to bother him at all.

  Chance lifted my hands to his lips and kissed the bruises on my wrists. The deep purple handcuff marks had softened to a hideous green and yellow. Tonight I’d covered them with wide silver bracelets. I heard enough snickers at the grocery store.

  He gently pulled me to his chest and kissed me. His lips were soft and warm and a little groan escaped my throat.

  The cobalt blue eyes crinkled. “Let’s get away next week. I found a little beach house in Turks and Caicos with a four-night cancellation.”

  “Sounds divine. But I’m busy next week. I’ve got a date at the Lincoln Memorial with the new man in my life.”

  “Felix Proust,” he said. “Should I be jealous?”

  I shrugged. “He makes me laugh more than anyone. But then, you have other qualities.”

  “Like what?”

  “There’s that thing you do with your tongue.”

  “This?”

  His lips traveled to the curve of my neck and I gave a little shiver. I wrapped my hands around his back and lay my head on his chest. Nothing else seemed to matter.

  “Later,” he whispered and breathed in the scent of my perfume.

  “If we escape now, we’ll be in Canada before the vultures know we’re gone.”

  Chance gave a low chuckle. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Oh. So now you’re the grown-up one.”

  He took my hand and we walked out of the garage into the glistening lights of Chicago’s most popular attraction.

  Navy Pier is a massive phallic symbol jutting out just short of a mile into Lake Michigan. During World War II it was used to train pilots to land on carrier ships. I’m told the lake floor around Navy Pier is littered with planes that didn’t make the landing. George H.W. Bush received his carrier-landing training here.

  Today, Navy Pier is a destination site with its massive Ferris wheel, sight-seeing tours, botanical gardens, shops, restaurants, and year-round exhibitions. Fireworks light up the summer and fall nights and a massive indoor skating rink can ease a long Chicago winter.

  Navy Pier is also where you catch the flippin’ boat that your boyfriend’s damn parents have viciously scheduled for an intimate dinner cruise with fifty interfering guests and a drunken priest.

  As we strolled onto the deck, tour boats and cruise boats lined the side of the pier.

  We were looking for the Spirit of Chicago and it wasn’t h
ard to find. The fourth boat in line had a crazy Italian woman in a cream dress and sensible shoes hanging over the guard rail, frantically waving a hankie. Mama.

  “Catarina! Catarina! Woohoo!”

  “Ignore the crazy woman.”

  “Catarina! I see you! Don’t think I don’t see you!”

  Chance grinned and lifted his hand to wave an acknowledgement.

  The party had already started. “The Otherside” by Red Sun Rising was blaring from the boat. Mama turned her back to us, trotting toward the gangway shouting orders.

  “They’re coming! Everybody! Listen up! I want that music OFF!”

  Mama’s voice cut those decibels like butter.

  Click.

  As Chance and I took our first step up the gangway, Bruno Mars’ “Marry You” magically oozed out of the sound system at a reverent volume. My eyes shot up to Mama who stood at the top with her folded hands clutched between her breasts. Chance’s mom stood beside her. Both of them gazed down at us with that sappy starry-eyed look pasted on their faces.

  Kill me now.

  “Champagne for everyone!”

  Stewards with trays hustled through the crowd offering champagne in fluted glasses. The Savinos, a refined, elegant bunch sipped, while most of the DeLucas were double-fisting the drinks.

  I took a quick inventory of the crowd. Father Timothy knocked down a glass and grabbed another before you could say “water into wine.” Next to him was Mama’s geeky dentist. For an instant, our eyes met and I gave an involuntary shudder. He looked hopeful in a really icky way.

  Chance hooked a couple of glasses and turned to me. His face was closed and serious as he handed me a glass and lightly took my elbow. He steered us through the crowd toward the bow where I saw Chance’s father standing with a clutch of smartly dressed, attractive people. They looked a little shell-shocked standing there, holding a single glass apiece. These were obviously not DeLucas.

  I felt a collective sigh of relief as Chance turned on the charm and started making introductions all around. Aunts, uncles, and cousins gazed at me with cobalt blue eyes, the edges crinkling in a familiar way with happiness and warmth.

  We drank more champagne and the conversation became easy. No one mentioned the E word or why they’d flown all the way here for a lake cruise. They wanted to give us the supreme joy of making the announcement ourselves. They were here to celebrate “our moment.” They were all so likeable, so accepting, so refined, so classy. Not one of the aunts eyed the width of my hips to gauge my childbearing potential.