by K. J. Larsen
“Bob won’t listen to me. He’s chasing a red herring.”
Larry laughed derisively.
“Please make the call. I’ll get back to you.”
Click
***
I drove past Swedish Covenant Hospital and North Park University, turned onto Christiana Street and read off house numbers. The house I wanted was several blocks down on the right, a smoky gray with white shutters, and frilly lace curtains. It wasn’t the sort of rat hole I expected to find Charlie in.
The Dodge Charger wasn’t in front of the house so I was pretty sure Charlie wasn’t home. I marched to the door like I was expected, knocked, and waited thirty seconds before inserting my pick in the lock. The door swung away from me and my tools fell to the porch. I dived after them.
“I dropped a quarter,” I said lamely.
“You’re here to see Charlie,” the old woman said. I know who you are.”
“You do?”
The crows feet deepened and her eyes smiled. “You’re my grandson’s girlfriend. I’ve seen your pictures in his room.”
My stomach lurched and I felt sick.
“Don’t tell him I said that. Charlie doesn’t like me snooping in his things.”
“I won’t. And please don’t tell him I stopped by. He… uh…hasn’t called lately. I don’t want him to think I was checking up on him.”
“I check on Charlie too. He got into that awful trouble when he was younger and I worry he’ll get with the wrong crowd again. He’s so unsuspecting and sweet.”
My jaw dropped and the word slipped out. “Charlie?”
“He’s a hunk, isn’t he? Like his grandpa.”
“Uh, would you mind if I looked in Charlie’s room for just a minute. Our one month anniversary is coming up and I haven’t a clue what to get him.”
“Go right ahead, dear. Down the hall on the right. Don’t mind the mess though. You know how he is with those candy wrappers.”
I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach as I opened the door to Charlie’s bedroom. The room was small with just enough room to squeeze a twin bed, dresser, computer desk, and night stand. The wall next to his bed was splattered with photos of me outside the hospital, in Tino’s Deli, and through my parents’ window during my intervention.
I did a mental head slap. I dragged my eyes away from the wall and searched for a clue.
There were little Starburst wrappers everywhere twisted in a bow. He hid a well-used crunchy porn stash in his underwear drawer. Eeeuuw. A fat bag of weed was stashed in a boot in his closet. And the top drawer in the nightstand held a lone photograph. Rita Polansky stood alone outside an abandoned building. I knew it well. I’d had an unfortunate encounter with the FOR LEASE sign in the photograph. A telephone number was scrawled on the back of the picture. I copied it quickly and scurried out the door.
Chapter Sixteen
I picked up the tail shortly after leaving Charlie’s grandma’s. He was tall or he sat on pillows. His mustache was fuzzy and his blond hair was cropped short in that Hollywood messy look. He was bronzed and buffed like a lifeguard but beach bums don’t drive Hummers.
I led the parade to Oak Street and snagged a parking spot in front of a trendy boutique. The driver cruised past and made a U-turn at the end of the block and zoomed back to park across the street. I stood in front of the shop window and watched his reflection in the glass. He seemed more civilized than Charlie. He didn’t look like he dealt in dead rats. I slung my purse over my shoulder and hightailed it inside the store. I had some digs to buy for a party.
The dress was a perfect fit with an outrageous price tag. On a normal day I wouldn’t have tried it on but I had come close to my grand finale the other night. I had the clerk ring up the dress, killer four-inch stilettos, and a wonder bra for the plunging neckline.
I threw in a pair of designer jeans, a light White Sox jacket with big pockets, sunglasses, and a baseball cap. I changed into my new jeans, tied my hair in a ponytail, and pulled it through the cap. Then I grabbed my bags and slipped out the back.
I cut down the alley and back up to Oak, keeping my head low and blending with the crowd. I approached the Hummer from behind. The driver had stretched back in the seat behind a newspaper. He didn’t see me coming. I wrapped my fingers around the 9mm in my pocket, zipped behind his bumper, and in three quick steps tapped the barrel of my gun on his door.
He glanced over and rolled down the window.
He had golden brown eyes and an intriguing cleft in his chin. He flashed an easy smile. “Nice hat. I’m a Cubs fan myself.”
“I have a gun.”
“I noticed.”
“Why are you following me?”
“Tino said I should keep an eye on you.”
“Liar, liar. You don’t know Tino.”
He jerked his head at the passenger seat. “I have your sausages. You left them at the store.”
“Oh.” I felt stupid. “I don’t need a body guard. I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe, but let’s get you out of the street. If something happens on my watch I’ll never hear the end of it.”
We locked the packages in Tino’s Buick and followed the aroma of sauerkraut to a cozy Bavarian café. He nudged me past the dinner crowd to a quiet table in the bar.
Without asking he ordered drinks and waved the waiter away.
“You’re bossy,” I said.
“Women don’t usually notice until the third date.”
“I’m surprised you get a second.”
“You’ll be crazy about me before dessert.”
I made a face.
“I’m Max. Suppose you tell me why someone wants to kill you.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I wish I knew.”
“Maybe we’ll figure it out. Until then you’re stuck with me.”
“Bossy, bossy,” I said, but I didn’t argue. “How do you know Tino?”
“We did covert ops together overseas.”
I gaped. “You were spies?”
“Nothing so dramatic. It was a long time ago, before Tino retired to the serious business of cold cuts.”
I smiled broadly. “I always suspected Tino was a government agent or a crook or both.”
We ate weinerschnizel and drank pilsner beer. I told Max everything from the day Rita tearfully called Pants on Fire. Well, almost everything. I skipped over my encounter with Johnnie’s fly and talked about some of my cases. The cops, hot on the trail of a near-cop-killer, would be drilling cheaters as we spoke. I finished with finding photos of me hanging like trophies on Charlie’s freak-wall.
Max’s warm eyes filled with compassion for my plight and he listened without interrupting. When I finished he leaned close, holding my eyes in his gaze.
“I have a few questions to fill in the blanks.”
“Yes?” I said softly.
He took a drink of Pilsner and filled both our glasses.
“What the hell were you thinking? Is the concussion making you act this recklessly or do you navigate on self destruct.”
“What?”
“You antagonized this whack job Charlie and his boss Harr at every turn. Harr knows you were stalking his house.”
“Does not.”
Max threw up his hands. “I can’t protect a woman with a death wish.”
“I didn’t ask for your protection and I don’t have a death wish. Waiter!”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Check please.”
“Cancel that. Bring two glasses of Pernod and your dessert tray.”
I stood in a huff.
He flashed a dazzling smile meant to quash further protest. “Sit down, please.”
Aware that people were watching I plunked down on my chair again. “OK. But I’m only staying for the apple strudel.”
“As I see it you have two choices. First, and this is the choice I recommend, leave town. Give this Harr character time to for
get you. I have a vacation house in Saint Thomas. It’s safe, it’s right on the beach, and you can stay as long as you like.”
“I won’t be bullied from my home.”
“I thought you’d say that.”
“But I’ll take a rain check on the beach house.”
He laughed. “OK, maybe you don’t have a death wish. Second option. We do it my way and take down this dirt bag before he gets us.”
“Us?”
“I’m in for the ride. You’re stuck with me.”
“I guess there’s no changing your mind then.” I checked the relief from my voice.
We shared the strudel and settled the tab.
“I always wanted to drive a Hummer,” I said.
“Later.” Max nudged me toward the door. “Today we take Tino’s Buick. It’s bulletproof.”
“You’re joking.”
“Even a sausage maker acquires enemies.”
I called Rocco from the car. “I have a phone number. Can you get me a name?”
I heard a rustling of paper. “Go ahead,” he said and I rattled off the number on Rita’s picture.
“I’ll call it in tomorrow,” Rocco said. “Where are you? Are you home?”
“We’re getting close.”
“We?”
“I have some good news. You get to sleep with your wife tonight. Tino got me a body guard and a bullet proof car. Did you know our deli-maestro was a government spy?
“No kidding? Who’s the muscle?”
“Max, a friend from Tino’s secret past.”
“Well, Max had better not sleepwalk into your room tonight.”
Maria snagged the phone. “Don’t listen to your nosy brother. Are you sure you’re all right? I wish you’d stay with us until this is over.”
“Thanks, Maria, but I have a bodyguard.”
“Does he look like Kevin Costner.”
“He’s taller.” I glanced over and our eyes made contact. I looked quickly away. “And a lot bossier.”
“Bossy will not work with you, girlfriend.”
“Try telling him that. How’s your sister?”
“Boinking some married fool. I want you to go to Nevada and take some dirty pictures. If my sister’s lucky his wife will shoot him.”
“We’ll go together when this is over. We can do Vegas.”
“Deal. Rocco can stay with the kids.”
“What?” Rocco demanded in the background.
Max circled the neighborhood before pulling into the driveway. Max checked out my premium platinum alarm system and said it was worth every penny. I felt a little better about the check I wrote. Inside, I gave my new roomie an abbreviated tour of the important stuff. Guest bedroom, bathroom, and my stash of Ben and Jerry’s.
I was heading for bed when the doorbell rang, freezing me in my tracks. Max waved me back, a Colt 45 suddenly in his hand. He moved to the door, his trained eye pressed to the peephole. He jerked his head and I joined him.
“Do you know this dangerous woman?”
A huge brown eye stared back at me through the peephole. I jumped.
“Cat, are you in there?” Mama shouted.
“She looks harmless enough.”
“Don’t be fooled.”
I punched the alarm and opened the door and Mama’s eyes widened on Max. “I didn’t know you had company. And so late.”
Max shot out a hand. “I’m Max, Mrs. DeLuca, a friend of Tino’s. I’ll be here a few days keeping your daughter safe.”
“Such a nice boy.” Mama ignored the right hand and grabbed his left. “And single.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Italian?”
“Danish.”
Mama pulled her hand away. “What a pity.”
She pinned her attention on me. “People are talking, Caterina Deluca. Jack said you blew up his poor Papa’s Dorothy.”
“What kind of man names his car Dorothy,” Max said.
Mama fixed a practiced eye of Catholic guilt on me. “Jack’s sainted father died in that car. A terrible accident.” Mama crossed herself. “The gun went off. Shot him right in the mouth.”
“And they say guns don’t kill people,” Max said.
Mama pulled a tissue from her bra and dabbed an eye. “At least Jack’s Papa and Dorothy are together again.”
Bingo. My plan grew legs.
Inga had followed Mama through the door. She jumped all over Max, slapping his leg with her tail and licking his hands.
“Who’s this?”
“This is Inga.”
“She had a sleepover at Grandma’s.”
I squinted. “Is that cake around her mouth?”
“Apple Cake and ice cream for dessert,” Mama said.
Inga ran to the kitchen and returned with her leash. I scooped it up and Max folded his arms.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“We run every night before bed.”
“Not without me you don’t. Care to walk with us, Mrs. DeLuca?”
“You kids go ahead. I brought eggplant parmesan to put in the fridge. I’ll let myself out.”
“I’ll show you how to work the alarm system,” I said.
“All this because my daughter takes dirty pictures.” Mama clicked her teeth disapprovingly. “She’s a dispatcher, you know.”
“Really?”
“Don’t encourage her,” I said and kissed Mama on the cheek. “Thanks for taking Inga.”
“She’s my favorite grand-dog,” Mama smiled, “but don’t tell the others.”
Chapter Seventeen
Max did a quick perimeter check before we left the safety of the house. As an extra precaution we slipped out the back door and cut across the alley through a neighbor’s yard to a parallel street and the Catholic high school. We ran at an easy jog and I lengthened my strides to match his. The sound of our feet on the pavement struck a strong rhythmic cadence. I pounded the long stretch until the tension drained from my body, then walked the final stretch home.
Max went to bed with a bottle of water and I closed down the house. I nuked a cup of cold coffee, smothered chocolate syrup over two scoops of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, and padded to my bedroom. Inga was at the door. Her tail wagged wildly.
I balanced the dishes and twisted the knob, kicked the door open and booted it closed with my bum. I set my sugar and caffeine fix on the dresser and shuffled off to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, stripped my clothes off, and grabbed my oversized Chicago Bears jersey off the hook on the door. I came out tugging the jersey over my head and stopped at the dresser.
Ben, Jerry, and Juan Valdez were gone. In their place was a card. It read Chance Savino and a telephone number.
“Hello, DeLucky,” Chance grinned. He stretched across my bed with his fingers locked behind his head and tell-tale chocolate around his mouth. Damn he was fine. Inga lay on the bed beside him with a hint of ice cream on her mouth, too.
My breath caught. I yanked down my nightshirt.
“No need to do that on my account.”
“How the hell did you get in here,” I demanded. “And Inga, you traitor!”
The beagle stretched out on her back beside him. She slurped a wet kiss on his face.
“Yuck,” I said.
He rubbed her belly. “We bonded in your car.”
Inga sighed shamelessly.
So did I. Chance Savino was a world of trouble. Buildings explode around him, bodies pile up, and he likes to play dead. But right now I was imagining him naked.
“To answer your question, your mother let me in.”
“She didn’t.”
“I told her I worked for the alarm company and was doing a follow up to make sure everything was functioning correctly.” He sipped my coffee. “So, who’s the boyfriend?”
“None of your business.”
“I bet I’ve seen more of you than he has.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And they’re spectacular.”
My cheeks flushed hot.
“Your mother said he’s your bodyguard. I can’t help but notice he’s sleeping in the other room.”
“The FBI said you’re dead. You can’t believe everything someone tells you.”
A smile tugged the side of his mouth. “I’m not sure that makes sense.”
“Everyone thinks I imagine you. They’re saying I’m crazy.”
“I can’t believe it didn’t occur to them sooner.”
“I know! I’ll take your picture and when they see it they’ll…” I collapsed on the side of the bed.
“Is this the part where I say ‘Cheese’?”
“No, dammit. Eddie Harr stole my camera.”
“Harr?” He expelled a breath. “Dammit, Delucky, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
“You were there. You saw what they did to Rita. They butchered her.”
His tone softened. “Leave it to the professionals. They’ll figure it out.”
I stared at the ceiling and contemplated how I got into this mess.
“I suppose you came by for your coat.”
He shrugged. “I saw a guy wearing it today. He looked good.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I may have dropped something in your car the other day. I came back for it.”
“Let me get this straight. You didn’t come to see me?”
“Should I have?”
“You came here because you want to break in my car and steal something?”
“Not steal. Retrieve. So where is it?”
“Where is what?”
“Your car. It’s not in your garage.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for?”
“Why don’t I spend the night and see if you can get it out of me.”
“I don’t need to know that badly.”
He rolled across the bed toward me. I stopped breathing. He laughed softly and his eyes crinkled at the edges.
“Get your car back and I’ll show you.” He touched a fingertip to my nose. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I bounced off the bed. “Stay here! I need a witness.”
“Max!” I flew down the hall.