by Rayna Morgan
"When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow. I'm packing up my office as soon as I'm done with this one."
"I've enjoyed knowing you in the short time we've been acquainted. Do you have time for one last stroll at the Landing? We can stop at the ice cream store and have a treat."
Dianne looked at the empty packing boxes and the littered desk. "I'd like that. I have plenty of time to sort out this mess."
• • •
They chose an outside table to enjoy sundaes dripping with hot fudge and whipped cream. Lea offered the cherry on top of her ice cream to Dianne who gladly accepted, popping it in her mouth.
"I do that out of habit," Lea explained. "I don't like cherries. When I was young, I always gave mine to my sister."
Dianne laughed. "My sister and I did the same; she gave hers to me."
The two women spent the next hour basking in the warm sun, admiring sailboats gliding in and out of the Marina, and enjoying each other's company sharing stories about their sisters, Dianne's experiences as a director's assistant, and Lea growing up with a cop as a father.
"This has been nice," Dianne said. "You're easy to talk to, Lea. You're a good listener and you don’t judge people."
"I've enjoyed it, too. You have lots of interesting things to say. You're more outgoing than people give you credit for being."
"Around most people, I'm shy and tongue-tied."
"I'm afraid I rattled on about my father. It's your turn. Except for talking about your sister, you haven't said much about your family."
Dianne leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and let the sea breeze ruffle through her hair. "It’s obvious that you look up to your father. In my family, it was my mother who was my hero.” The young woman’s mood turned dour. “Until she let me down in a big way.”
Lea's tone was gentle. "What happened to change your feelings toward your mother?"
“Our stepfather abused me. He wanted my sister but my mother wouldn't stand for it; she fought him. By the time he decided he was willing to settle for me, she didn't have the strength to fight him anymore. She turned a blind eye. He always let me know he was thinking of my sister when he was with me."
"How terrible for you."
"I was able to endure it because I idolized my sister. I was glad he used me, so she didn't have to go through it."
"Did your sister know?"
"I think she figured it out the night he left us for good."
"What happened?"
"He was often gone for weeks at a time on a drinking or drug binge, but he always came back, begging my mom to forgive him, promising he'd be a better father to us girls." She threw her half-eaten sundae in the trash, no longer enjoying it. "The days he'd come back were the worst days of my life.
It was different the last time. Something had finally snapped in our mother. We knew it before that terrible night.
She broke into the fishing box where he kept his gun. When he came groveling home with his usual story of repentance, she looked straight at him and shot him between the eyes.
I'll never forget the last thing she said to me before the police took her away: 'He won't be bothering you anymore. You've been a brave girl keeping your sister safe'. My sister heard. I can still see the look in her eyes, like a wounded deer struck down by a speeding truck.
Our mother went to prison, of course, but it was less of a prison to her than the one she'd endured living with him."
"Did you get counseling to help you cope?"
"Nope. My sister and I never talked about it but the dark secret festered between us. I think she felt guilty without exactly knowing what to feel guilty about. She couldn't accept the fact I wasn't bitter. I'd put it behind me. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were before he came into our lives. It wasn't possible.
My sister went through a deep depression for a time. When she finally snapped out of it, we drifted apart for a year or so."
"Did you reconnect?"
"She got back in touch when her career started taking off. She was doing commercials, modeling gigs, and bit parts in plays around town. She wanted me to share in the fun. She knew how star-struck I'd always been. When she got a chance, she'd introduce me to somebody I'd read about in the gossip rags. I was always completely tongue-tied. We'd giggle together afterward like silly teenagers.
When I didn't hear from her for several weeks, I began to worry. She finally returned my messages. Told me not to worry; said she was hysterically happy in a new relationship which could be the special one for her. She was very secretive; no name or details.
The next time I heard from her, she was hysterical but not with joy this time. The pregnancy test she took came up positive. I was happy for her at first, but she said: 'Don't be absurd. I can't have a baby.'
'Won't he marry you?' I asked her.
'Out of the question' was all she replied.
She sounded irritated, more like someone dealing with a nuisance rather than a woman considering an abortion. I found her attitude to be somewhat cavalier.
The next time I heard from her, there was no mistaking her mood from the sound of her voice. She was deeply despondent. I couldn't determine whether it was getting rid of the unborn baby or losing the relationship that had thrown her over the edge. I begged her to get some help. She laughed. ‘The way Mom got help for you when you were taking my place.’
The next time I saw her was to identify her body at the morgue. She had ingested a bottle of sleeping pills.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Pat took the bus to the Card Club so her story to the bartender would jive. She arrived filled with anticipation. The bartender picked up on it. "You seem a little uptight today."
"Nervous about getting an estimate on my car repairs. They're supposed to call me, but I wasn't encouraged by their attitude. The mechanic asked me if I was sure the car was worth spending more money on."
"Don't worry. Repair shops feed people that line a lot. He's probably got a cousin in the used car business he'd shuffle you off on for a commission."
"Let me get to work to keep my mind off it."
She would have watched the minutes ticking off toward one o'clock, but there were no clocks on the walls to distract players from worrying about time. Thankfully, it wasn't long before a sleek gray and purple bus arrived unloading a passel of sunburned, boisterous tourists to keep her busy.
At a little before one o'clock, two couples walked into the Club. Pat knew the action was about to start. She didn't recognize the women, but the men were cohorts from Homicide. She'd have to remember to kid her co-workers about how good they looked in shorts. They were loud and obnoxious from the moment they entered. There was one empty table in the front room but they insisted on sitting in the back room, putting them further away from Mickey's office.
Pat went to their table to take a drink order. "What would you folks like?"
One of the men immediately grabbed her tush. "I'd tell you what I'd like, but I got my wife sitting next to me."
The two men were the only ones who laughed.
"Maybe you'd all like a cup of coffee," Pat suggested, playing out the scenario.
"No way, baby," the loudest one countered. "We're on vacation. The margaritas at lunch just got us started. We’ve got the rest of the day. Bring us each a tequila sunrise."
Pat alerted the bartender when she gave him their order. "Better keep an eye on them. They've had too much to drink already."
"Let me know if they give you any trouble. I'll water down their drinks."
There was more commotion from the back room, erupting into shouting and cursing.
"Should I get the boss' bodyguards?"
"Yeah, go ahead. Tell them to follow you when you take the drinks. They should stay there to make sure our guests don’t get too rowdy."
The bartender had responded exactly as she'd hoped but she knew she'd only have minutes to accomplish what she needed to do.
Returning after setting up the
muscle-men in the back room, Pat continued her charade. "That's the only part of my job I don't like, putting up with jerks like them. I'm taking a five-minute break."
"Sure, take all the time you need."
• • •
Pat used a special tool to unlock Mickey's office, slipped inside, and quietly closed the door. There was only one file cabinet which she went through quickly. It was full of employee records and payroll information. She sifted through papers in the desk drawers, careful not to disturb anything. Mentally keeping track of how long she'd been in his office, she turned to his computer. Her fingers clicked over the keyboard as she tried various passwords: 'card club', 'gambling', 'money'. She knew her time was almost up. She tried one last word: 'mums'. Eureka.
Skimming through the files as fast as she could, she found what she was looking for. She inserted a flash drive and began to copy a file labeled schnooks.
She could hear the bartender's voice above the commotion in the front room. "Sorry, folks, but these men will escort you to your cars. We'll be happy to welcome you to the Club another day but we're punching your ticket now."
Pat chewed her fingernail, eyes darting between the computer screen and the door. The minute the saw the words 'download complete', she yanked the flash drive from the port. She hurried through the door locking it behind her and rushed down the hall.
"What happened?"
"You were right about that foursome. Things got out of hand. Mickey's bodyguard suggested politely they hold it down. One of the guys threw a punch. Mickey's guy pushed him against the wall with a choke-hold. He wasn't hurt so much as he was humiliated in front of his wife and friends. I hope he doesn't press charges."
"That kind is all bluster. I can almost guarantee that's the last you'll see of him."
If the flash drive in her pocket contained what she thought it did, there would be charges filed alright but not the kind the bartender was talking about.
• • •
She left her shift early on the pretense of retrieving her car at the repair shop. Instead, she took the bus home, slapped some cold cuts between slices of bread, and changed blouses for her second shift. With the sandwich in one hand, she turned on her computer and emailed the contents of the flash drive to Jones.
• • •
An hour into her second shift, the bartender told Pat to go to Mickey's office.
"You wanted to see me, Boss?" she asked, walking past the henchmen.
"Yeah. Close the door."
He leaned back in his swivel chair, unwrapped a cigar and passed it under his nose. "As I told you, I don't get to the Finish Line often. There was a reason I was there yesterday."
His voice had an ominous tone Pat didn't like. He lit the cigar. "The manager called me right after you applied for a job. Said he'd seen you out there before but he couldn't remember when or who you were with. You were real anxious to jump on the job offer I made you, too anxious to my way of thinking. I had a feeling right from the start you weren't being straight with me, but I wanted to see what you'd do when you got here."
Pat breathed deeply, trying to appear calm. She knew instinctively to shut up and listen, to hear what he had on her.
He studied her like a predator. "Why were you snooping around my office today?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"When I left to take Mums to lunch, I set a little trap. I booby-trapped the door to my office so I'd know if anyone had entered. Sure enough, when I returned, the string I hung in the door had fallen to the ground."
"Your bodyguards were probably in your office."
"Oh, no, Missy. I assure you they weren't. They aren't mental giants, but they aren't stupid either. They know what would happen to them. Then I heard the story of how my boys had to throw some people out of the Club. Mighty handy for you, them being drawn away from my office that way."
"I wasn't anywhere near your office."
"Bartender says differently. When I asked if you were involved in the fracas, he said you were taking a break, a trip to the little girls' room."
"What reason would I have to be in your office?"
"I asked myself the same question. When I figured out the answer, I figured out who you are."
Pat's heart was beating so fast she was afraid the arteries in her neck were visibly pulsing. She dug a fingernail into her palm to keep herself from showing a reaction.
"I knew the Kingpin was upset over Hector's screw-ups; first, the botched beating at the Finish Line and then attempted murder. He warned me to get my boys under control and get my act together or else." Fire blazed in his eyes. "He threatened to kick me out and let someone else take over this part of the operation."
Pat's eyes flickered around the room, looking for any possible escape.
Mickey relaxed, smiling like a man in control. "I was on the lookout for him to send a mole into my operation to make sure I got things buttoned up nice and tight. Then the manager at the Finish Line called me to let me know he remembered where he'd seen you before. You were at the precinct when he went to sign his statement about the mugging in the alley. You're a copper."
Pat's heart went from racing to a dead stop. How could she have blown her cover so fast? "What are you talking about?"
"I got to hand it to my boss. I knew he had someone inside the precinct working for him, but I'm disappointed to see he's using the same mole to spy on me. Did he make sure you were picked for this undercover assignment so he'd have the eyes and ears to watch me, too? Or did you talk your way into it all by yourself?"
"You're crazy, Mickey. Or paranoid."
"Maybe so, but being paranoid has saved my life on more than one occasion."
Perspiration popped out on Pat's upper lip. He had it figured out alright, but he had it figured out all wrong. Playing along might be the only way to save herself.
"You're smarter than the boss figured you for. But you don't need to worry. I didn't find anything which would get you in hot water."
"Then you won't mind giving me the flash drive you downloaded."
There was a moment of breathless silence before he continued in the irritated tone a person reserves for someone slow or stupid. "You forgot to erase the history; I saw some files had been opened. I figured you copied something. The look on your face proves I'm right."
Her strategy hadn't worked; it had been a mistake. The next moment made her wonder if it had been a fatal one.
His eyes flattened. He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. "You, me, and the boys are going to take a little ride."
• • •
Tom and Paul were at the Tap Room after a hard session at the gym.
Paul pulled a long draw of the brew in front of him. "This almost makes the workout worth it."
"You got it, pal," Tom agreed, licking foam from his upper lip.
"By the way, did you ever hook up with Maddy to find out how she got along Saturday?"
"Yeah, we went out for a drink Sunday night," Tom answered, staring vacantly at the screen above the bar.
"And?"
"And nothing."
"You know, sometimes I don't think I know you at all. There's obviously something going on between you two, but you keep acting like you're nothing more than friends. Who are you trying to kid, other people or yourself?"
"It's complicated."
"Nothing in your life is complicated. You're the most black and white guy I know. So what's so hard to figure out about where you stand with Maddy? Have you told her how you feel?"
"Told her how I feel? I don't know how I feel."
"Don't know or don't want to admit it, even to yourself?"
"Maddy and I have a great friendship. It's not easy to find those. Sometimes they only happen once in a lifetime."
"It's already happened to you three times with Maddy, Lea, and me. So what are you worried about?"
"I don't want to screw up a good friendship by trying to make something more out of it."
"Are yo
u afraid of messing up a friendship or making another mistake which will end up in divorce?"
"I was as much to blame for my marriage failing as my ex."
"There's no failure in divorce. You both did the best you knew how to make the marriage work. It didn't fail; it just didn't last."
"I was too tied up in my work. I wasn't there for her."
"Okay, that's what you learned you carry into your next relationship so it won't happen again."
"It doesn't mean my next relationship will make it."
"Listen, pal. I don't know a lot about broken relationships. I've been lucky enough to be with the same woman my entire adult life. What I do know is there are no guarantees about anything working out the way you want it to. That doesn't mean you shouldn't jump in and give something a go. Jumping in is life's greatest excitement. Don't deny yourself that. Just go for it."
"Maddy and I have a good thing going. We're both comfortable with the way things are. I don't want to mess it up."
"You can't be afraid to try your hand at a deeper relationship because you don't want to make a mistake. Success comes from being willing to move into uncharted territory. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone."
"I don't need to stir things up. I'm going to let things ride and see how they work out."
"Letting something go until it decides itself is life by default. You don't want to live that way. Stop worrying about how things might turn out. Get out of your head and follow your heart."
Tom sat back, tracing his finger through the moisture on his beer mug. Before he could respond, his buzzer went off. Reading the message, he stopped breathing for an instant. "Gotta go. I just got a ten seven eight code."
"What does that mean?"
"Our undercover agent is in trouble."
• • •
When Tom got to the Card Club, Jones filled him in as quickly as possible. "Fisher served my man's table about an hour ago. She leaned over him and said 'Thanks for the tip, sir. Hope your night's going as good as mine.' That's our code for everything is good; no cause for concern."
"What went wrong?"
"When she didn't come by checking for refills in the next half hour, our guy complained. The dealer snapped his fingers, and another waitress appeared saying she'd be serving the table for the rest of the evening. The agent went to the restroom checking the other rooms on the way, but there was no sign of Pat. He stood outside the women's room several minutes until he was sure there was no one in it, knocked and went inside. It was empty. He rang Fisher's burner phone. He could hear the phone ringing; it was coming from the cigarette urn outside Mickey's office."
