High Deceit

by C. E. Waterman

  ~*~

  Peter sat up, startled. Already nine o’clock. The plan was to sleep for three hours and wake at seven, but the five hours he got felt great. Someone was moving in the kitchen.

  Mark turned around when he came in. “Hey, good morning. I was getting some breakfast. Do you want some?”

  “Sure, sounds great, but I’ll make it. Where’s Lenny? The couch is mysteriously empty.”

  Mark slouched into a chair and exhaled. “I can’t believe you let him sleep on the couch.”

  Peter rummaged through the cabinets for oatmeal. “Let him? I argued, but does anyone win an argument with him?”

  “I doubt it.” Mark laughed.

  Hearing it sounded so good. A week ago they’d feared he wouldn’t make it, and now he was laughing as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “He went out for more supplies,” Mark said. “He’s picking up a new shirt for me, thank heavens. He lent me one of his, but…” He lifted his good arm. The sleeve stopped mid forearm. “Also, he’s getting more groceries. I told him I thought it would be a couple days at the most.”

  Peter stopped midstride, holding the oatmeal in the air. “Why? What happened?”

  Mark grinned. “I’m beginning to remember.”

  29

  Tony woke up thinking about Lucy. She’d called and let him know Mark was awake, but they’d made no plans to see him yet. Tony hoped it’d be soon. He wanted to see Lucy, but he also liked the idea of visiting Mark. He was a nice guy, and all the youth group kids liked him. He picked up his phone to check the weather. It was supposed to hit sixty today. He grabbed some jeans and a t-shirt and hopped into the shower.

  Downstairs, Dad sat at the kitchen table munching on some toast.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s still getting ready.”

  Uh-oh. If Mom was in her room, and Dad was eating toast for breakfast, they were probably fighting again. She would stay in there until Dad left, or she’d get ready and leave without him. Tony grabbed a cereal bar, waved at his dad, and headed out the door. He’d be late for his first class if he didn’t hurry.

  The radio was giving the weather report. Yep, sixty, just like his phone. Once the news came on he changed the station. What was that? Did he hear the name Oscar Russo? He changed it back.

  “…Detective Mark Clayton, recovering at Good Samaritan Hospital after having been shot at a warehouse during a drug bust last week, sources say. More after this.”

  What? Was this another report about Mark? He was sure he heard Oscar Russo’s name. That was the guy at the meeting. Whatever it was, he’d missed it, and he didn’t have time to wait through the commercials. He needed to get to class. Mrs. Lindon was a stickler about tardiness.

  Once inside his first period, he eased his phone out of his pocket, his eyes on the teacher. She got pretty mad if you had your cell phone out in class, and he’d lose it if she saw him with it.

  She didn’t give him any opportunity to check out the news story but started right in on last night’s homework. He pushed the phone back in his pocket and took his notebook out of his backpack. It would have to wait until after class.

  Fifty minutes later, he placed his book in his backpack, swung it over his shoulder, and grabbed his phone. He could catch the news story on his way to American History. He scanned his newsfeed. The headline, “Is Our Town Safe?” caught his eye. He stopped in the hallway, causing a girl to run into him.

  “Hey, watch it,” she said.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  He started forward again, still reading. “In a daring display, a man identified as Oscar Russo shot at Detective Mark Clayton last night at Good Samaritan Hospital.” Tony continued to the end of the article. What? Someone tried to kill Mark again? And they think it was Oscar? He remembered the guy from the meeting. They must have made a mistake. He went on to class, but he couldn’t concentrate.

  The teacher called on him, and he had no idea what the man said.

  “Sleepy today, Mr. Rosetti?”

  Tony’s face warmed. Thankfully, he moved on to another student. Tony tried to focus on the civil war, normally an interesting subject for him, but he couldn’t. All he could think about was that meeting. All that talk about oregano. Oscar not wanting to ‘remove the impediment to our distribution.’

  Tony remembered his words exactly. He also remembered his dad’s reaction. It didn’t have anything to do with oregano. They were talking murder. And Oscar tried to carry it out. It must be some kind of joke. Deep in his gut, he didn’t think so.

  If someone tried to kill Mark during a possible drug bust, they must be involved in drugs, right? Could that be the ‘oregano’ they kept talking about? Tony’s face flamed. How stupid could he get? All that time he thought they were discussing spaghetti spices, but they were really talking about drugs? He had to get to the restaurant. Dad would have to tell him the truth.

  30

  Robin sat straight and gripped the armrest on the door of Maggie’s car, her palms sweating. They were going to accuse a police officer of selling drugs. How did a person do something like that?

  She was about to find out, because Maggie was on a mission, and she couldn’t let her go alone. She glanced at Maggie’s profile. Her face was pale but set, as she rounded the corner onto Greg’s street. Robin should never have told her about Greg’s past. She should have asked Peter to check it out instead. But Maggie really liked this guy. She was determined to find out if he was dirty.

  They approached a park near Greg’s house. “Stop here for a minute. I want to make sure we have some kind of plan before we barge in accusing Greg.”

  Maggie drove into the adjacent lot and pulled into a space, leaving the engine running. Brow lifted, she turned to Robin and waited.

  Robin tugged at the sash of her seatbelt. Why was it so claustrophobic in here? “What did we learn from our drive around yesterday?”

  Maggie stayed quiet, so Robin continued.

  “I think we cleared Tammi.” Robin tapped the armrest. “She and her mom don’t get along. When she married Ron, her mom told her she was making a mistake. She’s been saying ‘I told you so’ ever since. If she’s having her come to live with them, then Tammi’s desperate and has to think there’s no other way. Her mom is great with Tisha but hard on Tammi. If she had money from another source, she wouldn’t put herself through it. If we can clear Greg today, then that’s two down.”

  “I’m not sure we’ve cleared Tammi, but it doesn’t appear she’s expecting a windfall. And even if we hear what we want to hear from Greg, can we say that makes him innocent?” Maggie loosened her grip on the wheel. “He won’t fall on his knees and tell us he did it and beg our forgiveness. Whatever he tells us, we still won’t know if it’s the truth.”

  Robin stared out at the kids playing on the swings. “I guess you’re right. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “No, but I have to know.” She turned back onto Greg’s street, and scowled at his building as it came into view. She parked.

  Robin reached for the door handle. “I’m glad it’s his day off. We don’t have to go to the station to talk to him.”

  “Not Sunday? I would’ve thought, being a churchgoer, Greg would want Sundays off.”

  “I asked him once.” Robin swung open the door and stepped out. “He said he wanted to give people with families a chance to take their kids to church.”

  Maggie followed her up the walk. “Doesn’t sound much like a drug dealer to me.”

  Robin got off the elevator and knocked on Greg’s door. Her heart pounded as she dried her hands on her jeans. Maybe he wouldn’t be home, and they could wait until later.

  As she peeked at the elevator behind her and edged toward it, Greg answered the door. His gaze fell on Maggie, and his smile spread. Then he glanced at Robin. His expression fell and tightened. “What happened? Did someone send you to get me? I didn’t get a call. At least I think my phone is working.” He yanked his phon
e off his belt and checked it.

  Robin gaped at him. What was—he hadn’t heard from the station. He didn’t know what happened to Mark. Or if he did, he wasn’t sharing it with them.

  Maggie stood there like a stone. So much for being so determined to know.

  Robin almost scoffed. “Someone made an attempt on Mark’s life last night, but that’s not why we’re here.”Greg’s face registered shock, so she told him what she knew about the attack.

  “Is he OK? I’d better get to the station and see what’s going on.” He patted his pockets. “I can’t believe no one called me.”

  Maggie assured him Mark was OK and took a deep breath. “I’d better get down to why we’re here. We wanted to ask you a few questions. Robin’s going out of her mind with worry, and since Mark is hidden away for now, we’re checking out a few things ourselves.”

  That’s great. Blame me why don’t you?

  Greg led them into what he called the den. Book-laden shelves flanked a cozy fireplace. The massive mahogany desk dominating one corner might have qualified it as a home office, except the spacious room still contained a full set of living room furniture. “Come in and make yourself at home. Stinky, get out of the way.”

  A white Persian leapt from the leather couch and pranced out of the room, her beautiful head high and her tail waving.

  “That name definitely does not match the cat.” Maggie laughed as she sat on the couch.

  “How did she get it?” Robin claimed the place next to Maggie. There was strength in numbers, right?

  Greg relaxed into a lumpy recliner and kicked one foot across his other knee. “When she was a kitten, she happened to be in the vicinity when the neighbor’s dog found a skunk. She got caught in the crossfire. My niece named her Stinky because she stank for weeks. Now I call her it to annoy her. I think she knows what it means. Most of the time, I call her Snowball, which also seems to annoy her. But then everything I do annoys her. Now, how can I annoy…I mean help…you?” He smiled at Maggie.

  Robin could tell she was taking in all that dark hair, and those gorgeous blue eyes. Robin had to admit, he really was a hunk. How was it that he wasn’t married? Handsome, charming, rich…no wonder Maggie was attracted.

  Robin clasped her hands to stop their trembling and placed them in her lap. “I wanted to ask if you remember the day before Mark got shot. Did he say anything strange to you?”

  “Strange how?”

  “I don’t know…anything. We don’t know what we’re looking for. But we’re hoping someone will remember something to make sense out of him going to an abandoned warehouse at six in the morning.”

  “No, he didn’t say anything to me, and if he had, I would’ve already started working on it.” He narrowed his eyes. “What are you guys up to? You know we’ve already covered this over and over. Whatever you’ve came to ask, just ask.”

  Maggie plunged ahead. “We came to talk to you about a mysterious trip the summer of your fifteenth year.”

  “What? What are you talking about? What mysterious trip?”

  Robin shrank a little. “Some people remembered you got into trouble and your father sent you away.”

  He frowned, and the warmth fled from his eyes.

  Why had they come? This wasn’t a good idea.

  He leaned back. “I’m sure ‘some people’ have their own ideas about that. Why don’t you ask them?”

  Maggie scooted forward. “Because we wanted to ask you. They think it was drugs, and we thought it fair to find out for ourselves.”

  “It was foolish is what it was.” His voice rose. “Do you think I’m behind all this? Do you realize that if I am, you two are in serious danger?” He sprang from his chair.

  A tremor skittered down Robin’s spine.

  Maggie must have felt it too because she shrank farther into the couch.

  He didn’t come near them but began to pace. “Have you been going around asking other people these kinds of questions? You could get yourselves killed.”

  Robin held her breath, afraid but not wanting to leave without an answer.

  Maggie’s body stiffened.

  “Yes, it involved drugs.” He lowered his voice. “My father caught a friend and me smoking pot behind the garage and decided to separate me from the kids I’d been running around with. He sent me to my uncle’s ranch and told him to work my butt off. My uncle happily obliged because he needed the extra help.” He moved toward them, but Maggie didn’t flinch or seem to feel any fear. He hooked an ottoman with his foot, dragged it over directly in front of her, and sat.

  “I’d never worked so hard in my life, but I loved it. I realized that if you lie down with dogs you’re bound to get up with fleas, as my aunt used to say,” He searched her face and continued softly, as though speaking only to her. “After the summer, I had a brand-new attitude. The things my old friends did for entertainment weren’t so fun anymore. I returned every summer until I was out of college.”

  He shifted toward Robin. “Does Mark think that because my dad caught me with pot twenty years ago I’m a drug addict, or worse, a dealer? Maybe even a murderer?” He looked from Robin to Maggie and back again. “Do you?”

  “No, of course not.” The heat rose up her face. “Mark doesn’t know about this. And we didn’t think you were a dealer or a murderer or…I mean we thought maybe you…well…”

  “One of the reasons they selected me for the task force was I saw what drugs did to my friends. Years later, one of them died of an overdose.” He stood and moved away, his fingers flexing as if he might strangle them if he got too close. “Do you know how dangerous this was? I can’t believe you would be so foolhardy as to try to solve this yourself. Do you think you can ask a few questions, and the murderer will come clean? Do you think he’ll say, ‘Yeah, I did it, but I’m sorry now’?” His voice escalated again.

  Robin glanced at the doorway. Too bad she couldn’t join the cat. She tried to stem the flow by rising to her feet. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Upset me?” He actually laughed.

  She laughed, too. It sounded ridiculous.Maggie joined in and stood, some of the tension dissipating.

  “Before you leave, I need you to promise me you won’t do this with anyone else.”

  The lecture was growing tiresome. “We’re not likely to now.” Maggie flipped her hair and moved toward the door.

  Robin followed.

  Greg brought up the rear. “No, I mean it. I know I was kind of hard on you, but honestly, you scared me to death. All I could see was the two of you facing down a murderer.”

  Maggie turned toward him with her hand on the knob. “Trust me; we won’t be doing this again.”

  Robin apologized a few more times before they got behind the closed elevator doors. They barely looked at each other as they drove away. What total idiots. What if he had been the department leak? Or worse, what if he’d been the one who’d killed Cindy?

  Robin felt disgusted with herself. “Of course, the chief knew about his past. He’d checked him out before assigning him to the special unit. Why didn’t we talk to him before doing something so dangerous?”

  “I wanted to hear it from him,” Maggie said. “I wanted to see his face when he told his tale so I’d know if he was lying.”

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “He wasn’t.”

  “I didn’t think so either. I hope we didn’t ruin your chances with him.”

  Maggie sniffed. “If we did, they weren’t that good.”

  31

  Tony drove around thinking about the news report. Deep inside, he’d always known something was wrong with the other part of the business. Why didn’t Mom ever let Dad talk about it if it was on the up and up? Why were there so many secrets? He tightened his grip on the wheel and ground his teeth. He was angry but not shocked. Where did he think all the money came from anyway?

  He slammed on the brakes. The briefcase! Who delivers money in a briefcase as a joke?
At least he hoped it was money. Oh, no, he hadn’t delivered drugs, had he? He never even looked! How could he have been so dumb? Could he be guilty now, too? He had to talk to his dad. Maybe he was completely off base. His dad would probably laugh and clear up the whole thing.

  Minutes later, he arrived outside Rossetti’s, slammed the car door, and ran inside. His mother flitted around in the dining room, going from table to table greeting the lunch guests. Good. At least she was out of her room. He ran up the stairs and burst into his father’s office.

  Jimmy stretched out in one of the leather chairs facing Dad’s desk. Uncle Sal perched in the other one. “The profits—” Sal jolted. All three heads swiveled Tony’s way.

  “Sorry. Dad, I have to talk to you.”

  His dad looked at Uncle Sal, who didn’t move. “Would you excuse us a minute please, Sal?”

  Sal gave him a dirty look, pushed back his chair with a huff, and sauntered from the room.

  Jimmy rose, hands braced on the smooth armrests. “Do you want me to leave, too?”

  “No, this concerns you,” Tony said.

  Shrugging, Jimmy slumped back into the chair.

  “So, Tony, what’s the problem?” Dad asked.

  Tony closed the door and stepped in front of his father’s desk. “I want to know what’s going on. Did you try to kill that policeman? And is oregano code for drugs?”

  Both Dad and Jimmy hesitated. Then they spoke at the same time.

  “That’s ridiculous.” Jimmy said.

  “Where did you hear that?” Dad asked.

  “We provide a product. It’s not our fault who buys it,” Jimmy said.

  “What? Get real! Where are you selling it? Outside the elementary school?”

  “Of course not,” Dad soothed. “Jimmy, be quiet.”

  “I know, Dad. You can stop pretending. I didn’t want to believe it at first. But I know you’re into something illegal, and somehow learning it’s drugs doesn’t exactly surprise me.”