by E. R. Fallon
“He’s a smart guy. He’ll work with you; I’m confident.”
“If he doesn’t, if he sticks with McCarthy, then how fucked are we gonna be?” Johnny asked Anton bluntly.
Camille knew he meant that it could allow Violet to take control of the neighborhood again.
“That’s not gonna happen,” Anton told them.
But Camille wasn’t convinced.
22
One morning, the phone rang while Tommy was still asleep. He answered, and heard a woman’s voice. For a moment, he thought it was Dana and his heart leapt. Then his mother said, “Tommy?” and his joy collapsed.
“What do you want?” he asked her, risking her wrath by being impolite to her.
“Tommy, don’t you talk to me that way,” she snapped back. “You may be mad at me, but I’m your mother. Show me some damn respect.”
Tommy didn’t say anything, and his mother continued talking. “What’s going on with you? I sense there’s more to the story than what you told Sam and me. Are you having woman troubles?”
As usual, she was right. But he didn’t want her to know he’d become close to Dana, that he had fallen for her, and because of that, he had betrayed his mother. He didn’t want her to know his failing.
“I know how much your job means to you, Tommy. I may not understand why you love being a cop so much, but I respect it. I’m sorry to hear what happened.”
His mother loathed the police so much that Tommy knew how difficult it must have been for her to say that. “I appreciate that,” he said.
She was his mother, his blood, and she loved him, and Tommy thought of all the things she had done for him over the years, how she had raised him alone when his father abandoned him, how she had overcome addiction to retain custody of him, her only son, how she would do anything for him. He might not have cared what happened to Sam, but he very much cared what happened to Violet. Keeping the truth from her would hurt her, because he felt that, Dana, being a competent policewoman, would catch Sam and Violet, sooner rather than later. He couldn’t see his mother sent away, like his grandmother had been, despite knowing that to tell her the truth meant he could lose his job. Violet was set in her ways, and even her son couldn’t change her. But he could help her.
“You’re being investigated,” he told Violet. “You and Sam, you both are, for dealing heroin in the neighborhood.”
“By who? You?” Violet laughed slightly, but when Tommy didn’t reciprocate, she said, “Tommy, tell me you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, but I did. That’s why I got suspended. They found out I’m related to you.”
“I knew you didn’t talk about me at work, but how did they find out?”
“It’s not important,” Tommy told her.
“I can’t believe you betrayed me, your own mother.”
Tommy had made a decision, and he knew there was no going back.
“I know I did,” he said. “But I’m telling you now.”
“You’re putting your job on the line for me,” she said. “I never thought you’d do that. But I did always tell you that the most important thing is family. Who’s working with you? I assume you aren’t on your own.”
“They had this female detective, Fitzpatrick, with me.”
“She any good?”
“Yes, very. That’s why I knew I needed to warn you.”
“How much does she know?”
“Enough,” Tommy said.
“You did the right thing, telling me,” Violet said.
But a surge of guilt overcame Tommy and he had an unsettling feeling in his stomach. He shifted in bed, and sat up, putting his head in his hands.
“Tommy?”
He sighed and said, “I’m still here.”
“What you said has got me thinking,” Violet told him in a whisper. “Something’s been off about Sam lately.”
“What do you mean? Is he there now?”
“No, he stepped out for a while. He hasn’t been his usual self. He’s been avoiding me.”
“You think she, Fitzpatrick, got to him?” Tommy asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just overreacting. But you know how my feelings are never wrong.”
If Dana got Sam to turn against Tommy’s mother, then Dana could put Violet away for life. And Sam would probably escape with a minor scolding.
“That fucker,” Tommy seethed, rage filling his veins, and the pressure increasing in his head.
“He’d do anything to avoid prison again, after what they did to him on the inside. I know that much.”
“I can’t believe he’d betray you like that.”
“I love him, and I don’t like to think it. But I just have this feeling.” She paused. “What are you going to do about it, Tommy? You have to protect me, Tommy. I’m your mother.”
Tommy tried to disguise his sighing as dread filled his mind.
23
Violet ended her call with Tommy. What would Tommy do about Sam? Despite their differences about his career, Tommy was very much Violet’s son.
“Violet,” a man said as he entered. She looked up to find the Swede.
Violet hadn’t been expecting him, and his presence alarmed her. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who just dropped by unexpectedly to say hello.
“What’s going on?” she asked him, looking around the empty pub. They had just opened for the day, but it was so early that even the daytime drinkers hadn’t arrived yet. Whatever the Swede had to tell her, it must have been quite important for him to arrive so early.
Despite the place being uncrowded, she escorted him into the dim backroom, but, without Sam, kept her guard. Besides, the Swede knew Violet was really in charge of the operation, not Sam. There was a gun behind some boxes within her reach.
“We have a problem,” he told her.
“I figured as much, that’s why you’re here.”
“I’ve worked with you, as a favor to my sister, because she and your mother are both serving time together,” he said, and Violet waited for the “but”.
“This couple, Camille and Johnny Garcia, they own your neighborhood. You told me they wouldn’t be an issue, that you were in with them. Turns out, you’re a fucking liar,” the Swede said, barely able to keep his cool. “They want nothing to do with you.”
Violet took a step back. “I didn’t think they’d find out,” she said quietly. “Have they?”
“Oh, yeah. You were damn stupid, Violet. They fucking know everything, and, now, they want a piece of the action. They want me to ditch you for them.”
“Or else?”
“Or else they’re going to start a war with me, you crazy bitch!” He put his hand to his forehead and growled. “I don’t need this shit.”
“Are you—are you going to work with them?” she asked, knowing that if she lost him, she’d lose her business.
“You mean am I willing to risk it for you?” The Swede laughed manically.
“I can make it worth your while,” she said, approaching him. She wasn’t that young anymore, but she still had her looks. Sam would understand, she reasoned, and if he wasn’t going to be around for much longer anyway, then she had to look out for herself.
“I don’t want you,” the Swede told her, pushing her away.
Violet nearly fell to the floor, and she straightened herself and gave him a look of disgust. “You bastard, you could’ve knocked me over,” she hissed.
“Shut up,” he said, stabbing his finger at her.
Violet regretted shutting the door to the room. Could she reach for the gun fast enough?
“Sam will be back soon,” she told him to remind him she wasn’t on her own. “People will be arriving soon, to drink,” she added. Then she almost said, “You can’t do anything to me, not with someone else around,” but she stopped herself, because she didn’t know how much of a risk taker he was.
The Swede stood there, looking as though he wanted to hit her. Then he seemed to consider her words. “What are you
going to do about our predicament? It’s up to you to solve it. I ain’t doing shit.”
“Don’t worry,” Violet assured him, sweat wetting her brow uncomfortably. “I’ll handle it.”
Camille had been her greatest enemy, and now it looked as though she was again, and if there was one thing Violet knew very well, it was that she wasn’t easy to get rid of.
24
After her good fortune, Camille promised herself that she would spend more time with her family. Phoebe, especially. The evening was warm and pleasant, so she decided to walk with the girl to the movie theatre in their small town, and see a film that she knew Johnny wouldn’t like.
“Are we going to see a girl movie?” Phoebe asked her as they strode on the quiet street.
“Yeah. How’d you know?” Camille said with a smile.
“I could tell because Dad didn’t ask to come with us,” she said with a giggle.
“It’s true; he hates romantic movies.”
“But he seems very romantic with you!” Phoebe said with a laugh.
“Ah, you’re too young to notice those things,” Camille said.
“Hardly. I’m a teenager, remember?”
“Don’t go thinking about boys too much. Enjoy this time of your life while you can, but don’t go crazy. You’ll be my age before you know it.” Camille grinned.
“No!” Phoebe said in horror. “What were you like at my age? Grandma never told me.”
“I wasn’t a slut, if that’s what you’re asking, but I wasn’t exactly a good Catholic girl.”
Phoebe giggled at her step-mother’s choice of words, and before Camille knew it, they had arrived at the theatre, to find a long queue already out front for the popular, new film.
Phoebe grumbled, but they stood behind the others and waited. Phoebe became quiet, surrounded by groups of kids her age, as though she was embarrassed to be seen out with her step-mother. It had taken a lot of effort on Camille’s part to get Phoebe to go in the first place.
“Worried your friends will see us?” Camille asked her with a smile.
Phoebe shrugged, and Camille could tell she didn’t want to talk about it.
Camille loved her stepdaughter with all her heart, and while she was waiting, she had plenty of time to contemplate the past few weeks. What would have happened to Phoebe if Camille had been sent away to prison for a long time? Johnny would have continued to raise her, with Sheila’s help. But a girl needed a mother, and Sheila wouldn’t be around forever. Phoebe had already lost her own mother so young. Camille dreaded thinking about what might have been.
Eventually, they got to the ticket box, and got the last two tickets for the film. She’d been lucky again. Camille felt that too much good luck would eventually bring bad luck, and, suddenly, she wanted to hold Phoebe very close.
“Come here,” she said, putting her arm around the girl as they walked inside the theatre, stopping to buy popcorn.
“Ma, I’m too old for that,” Phoebe said, stepping out of her reach.
“I know; I just want to hug you.”
“Well, you just did.”
Camille didn’t want to push her luck, so she gave up trying once more, and they managed to find two seats near the back of the crowded theatre. They talked a little about Phoebe’s school, and then the lights faded, and the movie started.
Afterwards, Camille considered ringing up Johnny at home to ask him to give them a ride back to the house, as it was relatively late, but since the weather was still pleasant, she decided to walk home.
Few cars were out on the road, but as they were nearing their street, a car slowly approached, in an area without streetlamps. The car looked somewhat familiar to Camille, but in the darkness, she couldn’t be sure.
“Think they need directions?” Phoebe asked her innocently.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” She had gone to the theatre unarmed, as she disliked carrying her gun in public, unless she attended a meeting relating to her and Johnny’s business dealings.
The car sped up then stopped quietly in the road up ahead. Something definitely wasn’t right. Camille searched the area frantically for an escape, and saw nothing but row after row of dark houses, with occupants asleep for the night. It had been a treat for Phoebe to go out to see a movie on a weeknight.
“Phoebe,” Camille ordered, fear thick in her voice. “Stay behind me.”
“What’s going on?” Phoebe said, frightened by her step-mother’s words.
Someone exited the car, wearing dark clothing and a ski mask. In the dark, Camille couldn’t tell their gender. An object glinted in their hand, something long. She looked closely and saw that it was a big knife.
Her heart pounded fast as she grabbed Phoebe’s hand. There was no time to think, they had to move. “Phoebe, run!”
Even if Camille didn’t escape, then maybe at least Phoebe could. But Phoebe panicked and ran out into the street, and right into the arms of the knife-wielding figure. Camille bolted toward them, screaming Phoebe’s name.
It was Phoebe they were after, not her.
“You fucking let her go, you bastard! I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Camille yelled at the top of her lungs
The figure pushed Phoebe inside, then got into the driver’s seat and sped away, as Camille pounded on the window, tires screaming. She chased after the car as it left, but quickly lost them. Although she did catch the last three letters of the license plate. Z51.
She’d lost her. She’d lost Phoebe.
Frantic, with tears streaming down her face, Camille raced home, banging on the door with her fists for Johnny to let her inside, unable to use keys in her state of despair.
She kept repeating in her mind, “Z51.” It had to have something to do with Violet.
“Camille, what the fuck is going on?” Johnny said when he opened the door. “Where’s Phoebe?”
“Someone took her, Johnny. They fucking stole her right in front of me, the bold bastards.”
Johnny went very pale, looking like all the life had left him, and like he could collapse to the ground. “No!” he shouted. “Who did it? Who was it?”
Camille shook her head. They had plenty of enemies among them.
“It’s Violet. It’s her. It’s because we went to her supplier,” Johnny insisted.
“That’s the first thing I thought, too,” Camille said.
“We need to go after the bitch! Now!”
“Johnny, I saw some of the license plate. We gotta think with our heads first, and find out who owns the car to be sure.”
“Was it the same car, the one that’s always outside our house?” Johnny asked her.
“No, Billy would never do such a thing,” Camille said, knowing what he was thinking. “I dunno if it was the same car, Johnny. It was dark. I couldn’t tell. But I do know Billy would never harm Phoebe.”
Camille started to sob, and Johnny embraced her, holding her tightly against his chest, whispering that everything would be okay.
They didn’t go to the police directly. They didn’t trust the police.
But they did have someone who worked for the police department on their payroll, and Johnny was on the phone with the guy no more than a few seconds later.
“What did he say?” Camille asked him after he’d ended the call, from where she sat on the living room sofa, occasionally drinking from a small glass of whiskey that Johnny had given her to calm her.
“He said he’d ring me back in an hour or so. He’s got to look up the numbers first,” Johnny replied about the license plate Camille had given him.
25
The hour-long wait was one of the most agonizing experiences Camille had ever suffered, not knowing where Phoebe was or even if she was still alive. Johnny looked ill too, but he was a strong man and didn’t like showing it, so he sat with Camille, with his arm around her as he had the television on, staring at it quietly, not really watching the program.
By the time the phone rang, Camille didn’t have any tears l
eft. Both jumped up from the sofa at the ringing sound, and Johnny answered.
Camille listened in on the conversation. “Yeah?” A pause. “That’s the last name on the registration? Are you fucking kidding me?” Johnny hung up and stared at Camille.
“Johnny, what the hell is going on?” she asked him.
Johnny looked confused and a little frantic. “Camille, you’re not gonna fucking believe this, but the car is registered to Marie Russo.”
“Russo?” Camille repeated quietly. She only knew one person with the surname. Her former step-father, Vito. The man who had tried to sexually assault her when she was a teenager, the man her mother had divorced, after Camille’s revelation years later. She had destroyed Vito Russo’s marriage, and the last she had heard, his life was in shambles and he drank heavily. Camille hadn’t given him much thought over the years. She certainly hadn’t felt any remorse. The way she saw things, he had got what he deserved. This Marie woman must have been related to Vito, and Camille wondered if Phoebe’s kidnapping was his or Marie’s doing. She did recall that Vito had a daughter from a prior relationship, although he hadn’t discussed her very much with Camille or her mother.
“Why the fuck would he take Phoebe?” Johnny said, seeming to think aloud.
“Why the hell wouldn’t he?” Camille said. “I basically ruined his life.” Johnny knew the details of her Vito story.
“Yeah, but after all these years, why would he suddenly care now?”
“I don’t know. He probably isn’t thinking straight. He’s an alcoholic.”
Vito also happened to work for the Italian mob, and you didn’t just go kill one of them, unless you wanted to end up dead, too.
There was only one person she felt might be able to help him, but she didn’t know if Johnny would be on board with the idea. In fact, he’d probably hate it.
“We have to ask Billy,” Camille said anyway, despite what was sure to be Johnny’s resistance.
“Ask him what?” Johnny said, as though he knew what she meant but was pretending he didn’t.
