The Woman In Blue (Nick O'Brien Case Files)

by David G. Johnson

  Not so much as a flicker in the eyes. If Lupo is after DeLanz, I don’t think Abrams put him on the scent.

  “Heavens no, detective O’Brien. What sort of business do you think I am in?”

  “I take it you meant that as a rhetorical question?”

  Abrams shakes his head and lets loose a solid belly-laugh. “I am a simple business man, and the last thing I would want right now is any negative attention, so I can assure you Mr. Lupo has nothing to do with any type of violent crime.”

  Yeah. From his jacket, Lupo is a real fluffy kitten. Nothing violent at all about him.

  Well, whatever the real skinny behind Lupo being in New York is, it ain’t because of Abrams sending him after Tommy. That is, unless my snooper is broken, and it ain’t failed me yet.

  Still, let’s just rattle the cage good one time before I leave.

  “Okay, Mr. Abrams,” I say as I stand up to leave, extending my hand for a parting handshake, which Abrams abandons neither his pipe nor his brandy to accept, “if anything else comes up we will be in touch. In the meantime you might want to ask Lupo to hurry home. It seems his presence in New York may be causing more of a disturbance than you are looking for at the moment. Everyone knows when a puppy soils the rug, the owner gets to clean it up.”

  I withdraw my unshaken hand and turn for the door.

  “Thank you for the caution, detective,” says Abrams, making no move to stand or see us to the door. “I will take that under advisement.”

  Once we are outside, McVey spins and faces me, red-faced and intense. “So what was that last bit about? You trying to shake things up? Listen, buddy, my boss did ADA O’Brien a favor setting this up, but you guys don’t live in this town. You go shaking Abrams up and you have no idea what you might set in motion here. You’d best be on your way back to New York, and next time don’t be such a wiseacre if we put you in front of someone like Abrams. Jeesh.”

  “Calm down, McVey, don’t go getting your knickers in a twist. Abrams ain’t involved, at least as best as I can figure it, but his guy Lupo ain’t exactly Mr. Popularity in New York. From the twitch Abrams gave at the mention of him, Lupo may be off the reservation with Abrams. Giving that sore spot a poke might just light a fire under Abrams to work harder at getting Lupo out of New York before he does any real damage.”

  McVey, no longer sure he has the whole picture, backpedals a bit.

  “Okay, but we just can’t afford any more stirring of the pot here. Since Solomon got killed back in January, Boston has been teetering on the edge of a real turf-war, and the last thing we need is a mouthy private-eye from New York showing up and tossing a match into this powder keg. We’ve got to take it easy around guys like Abrams. We don’t want anyone going off the deep end.”

  I clap him on his bony shoulder as I hail a taxi to take me back to the train station.

  “Don’t sweat it, junior. I was handling guys tougher than Abrams before you knew how to read and write. Trust me, if I’d wanted to send Abrams off the deep end, I’d have done that the first thirty seconds in there. That was me taking it easy.”

  As the taxi rolls back toward the train station and my ride home, a few more things make sense. Abrams doesn’t seem to know that Scalice might be involved, which is probably why Lupo hasn’t made a business call on him yet. He also doesn’t appear to be looking for Tommy, at least not by Abrams’s order. Whoever tried to give Marjorie and I lead poisoning, it wasn’t Lupo. That means, as unlikely as it may be, we are back to Rosario as our prime suspect. I’ll bounce this off Marjorie and Jimmy in the morning and see where the dust lands.

  Chapter Fifteen – Letter from the Grave

  I’ve just hung my coat and hat on the rack in my office when there is a knock at the door. I really need to hire an assistant. Answering my own door is ruining my professional image. Maybe there is a professional assistant out there who does charity work. Like an ex-nun or something.

  At the door stand Jimmy and Marjorie. Jimmy looks his normal, cheerful self, but it is clear Marjorie’s eyes have been leaking again. Her makeup is half a mess, and the dark spot on Jimmy’s lapel says he’s been standing in for me as Marjorie’s handkerchief.

  “Hiya, Jimmy, Marjorie. Come on in.”

  I usher them over to the ragtag furniture in my inner office. Marjorie is sobbing again as she sits down. Jimmy gets straight to business.

  “So, Nicky, how’d the trip to Boston go?”

  The eyes again.

  Marjorie clearly didn’t want me in Boston to begin with, and now the waterfall from her peepers dries up as she stares intently at me, waiting on word of what I discovered there.

  “Well Abrams was a real cool cucumber. The word I got from Lee was that a New York mobster might have been behind the whole thing with the diamonds, and may have hired Tommy to lift them. Tommy was working for Solomon, to be sure, and may have worked a deal with Abrams to keep working after Solomon got plugged. Marjorie seems to think not, but couldn’t rule it out.”

  Marjorie looks positively frantic.

  “Your brother tells me the person they found murdered had a dolphin tattoo. Tommy had one just like that, so it seems it was Tommy.” The tears start flowing again. “Do you really think Tommy double-crossed Scalice and that’s why he got killed?”

  Interesting. How did she know about Scalice?

  I didn’t mention his name or say a word about Scalice’s plan to buy back in. We’ll let that one slide until later. If I out her now in front of Jimmy, he’s likely to haul her in straightaway.

  “I’m not sure, doll, but somebody wasn’t happy with Tommy, and he wound up dead. If Scalice killed him, it doesn’t look like he got the diamonds from Tommy before he did. From word on the street, Scalice doesn’t have the stones, and I don’t think he would have killed Tommy until he knew where they were.”

  Marjorie seems to shift mental gears, but I can sense the wheels turning underneath those glassy eyes.

  “So you think it was Abrams then? Do you think he knows it was Tommy who stole from him?”

  Another pretty big leap.

  Doesn’t sound like she is asking questions as much as looking for confirmation of what she already knows.

  What are you hiding, little birdie?

  “Marjorie, heck, we don’t know for sure. That’s only one guess out of a pack of guesses. But Abrams don’t seem too worried about whoever swiped the stones. He’s getting paid same as if he sold them, so he ain’t a bit sore about getting knocked over. In fact, I think if he did know who swiped the stones, he’d probably pin a medal on them.”

  Jimmy interjected. “So you don’t think Lupo is here looking to mop up whoever stole the diamonds from Abrams?”

  “If he is, it ain’t because Abrams sent him. But Abrams did get a little twitchy when I mentioned Lupo’s extended vacation in New York, so I’m thinking Abrams might have given Lupo the recall, and he ain’t ready to come home just yet. Not sure what the tension is, but I doubt Lupo is bucking for a gangster of the month award from Abrams.”

  Jimmy nods. “So where does that leave us, Nicky?”

  “Well the only lead we got that makes any sense at all right now is Gabriella Rosario. Now before you give me the lecture on how far out a car switch might be, it’s the best lead we got for now. If you can have some of your paper-pushers start looking into Miss Rosario’s finances, see if you can find out when she came into money or that new Buick, and try to tighten up the alibi with the garage, that’d be a real help.” Jimmy gets up to leave.

  “Sure thing, Nicky. I’m headed to the office now, so if you will see Miss Dillon safely back, I’ll let you know what my team comes up with.”

  “Sure, Jimmy, I’ll look after Marjorie. Thanks again for opening the door with Boston, but tell your friend Wilkins that skinny assistant of his, McVey, needs to learn to calm down a bit. The guy’s pretty edgy to be sticking in front of gangsters.”

  “I’ll pass that on to Wilkins.”

  Jimmy heads
out and Marjorie turns her attention back to me.

  “Nick, with Tommy dead, I guess our business is concluded. Working through yesterday would be eight days.” She hands me an envelope. “In here is $200. That should cover your fees and expenses, and a little extra for the danger I put you in.”

  Calling it quits, without finding who killed Tommy? This dame don’t make any sense at all.

  “So that’s it, huh? You just walking away?”

  “I know what happened to Tommy. What else is there?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe who killed him? Why? Who did you make nervous enough to take a crack at us the other night? I could think of lots of things still needing answers.”

  “Oh, what does it matter? If Frank Scalice doesn’t have the diamonds, then whoever killed Tommy must have them. Tommy’s dead, the diamonds are gone, and you have no idea who is behind it all.”

  Hmm. Her brother turns up dead, and she seems more upset about the diamonds than about Tommy. Enough playing around. Time to get some answers.

  “Okay, Marjorie, it’s time to tell it straight. How’d you know about…”

  A frantic pounding at the outer office door cuts short my inquiry. Marjorie looks nervous. I’m not expecting anyone, and new clients don’t usually try and break the door down knocking. I pull my Colt and leave it hanging in my right hand at my side as I open the outer office door. Standing there, with her hands on her hips and a smug scowl on her face, is Gabriella Rosario.

  “So, Mr. Detective, I guess it’s about time I paid you a visit. I got something you need to see. It just came late yesterday in the post.”

  She pushes past me and storms into the office. I close the door behind her and holster my roscoe. She goes stomping into my inner office, completely indifferent to Marjorie’s presence. Her lack of acknowledgement seems to indicate that they have never met before, so apparently Marjorie was being square with me when she said she didn’t know Miss Rosario.

  “So, Gabriella, this is Miss Dillon, Tommy’s sister.” She rolls her eyes.

  “That ain’t Tommy’s sister. She’s as white as a soda-cracker. Besides, I told you Tommy didn’t have no sister.”

  Ah, Marjorie. Those eyes, it’s always the eyes.

  “My father adopted Tommy.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You listen up here, Mr. Snoop. I told you I hadn’t seen Tommy in two years. Now yesterday I get this letter from Tommy. You see for yourself.”

  I pull the letter out of the opened envelope and notice the postmark shows Boston and last Monday’s date, the same day Tommy went missing. If he was killed here in the warehouse, he must have mailed the letter in Boston before leaving and hopped a train that same day. Somewhere between the train arriving from Boston that morning, and the time of the dinner he missed with Marjorie that evening, Tommy got himself killed.

  I quickly skim the letter and it is clear why Miss Rosario is so excitable. The important part reads:

  I know you haven’t heard from me since I left two years ago, but I needed some time to sort out what was important. I’ve got one last big thing, and then I promise, no more guns, no more lies. I love you, Gabriella, and I’m coming soon to take you away. We will get out of the city, go somewhere new, start a new life. I promise things will be different. In this time away, I’ve realized all I want to do is make you happy. I’ve kept you waiting too long, but soon the wait will be over and we can start again.

  Well there it is. If this letter is really from Tommy, then Gabriella had not seen Tommy, knew nothing about the diamonds, and had no idea he was coming back. The tears in her eyes, poking through her tough-girl façade, show that she is as shaken up by the contents of the letter as she is intent on proving her innocence. As I keep reading, the letter gets even more interesting.

  I’ve met this guy, Danny Lupo, who is as big and dumb as they come. I’ve had a line on something big, and I tricked this ox into giving me the information I needed to get to it. He’s got no idea what I have done, but now it’s over and I’m on my way to New York. One last thing to do when I get there, and then it’s you and me, babe, forever. If all goes well, you will see me before you see this letter, but sometimes getting paid for something this big takes time, so I want you to know I’m coming. I love you. I’ll see you soon.

  Love,

  Tommy

  So Tommy duped Lupo somehow to get to the diamonds. Whether or not Abrams sent him, if Lupo put two and two together, then he may still be in town looking for Tommy. If Lupo didn’t kill him, then maybe he’s afraid Tommy told his sister about it. If he thinks Marjorie can finger him to Abrams for his involvement, that is plenty enough reason to want to take out Marjorie.

  “Well, Gabriella, it looks like I owe you an apology. If this letter is from Tommy, then you seem to be off the hook.” She struggles to fight back the tears.

  “You’d better know it, mister. I don’t want to see you at my house no more, poking into my business no more, or messing with me no more about Tommy. When he gets back, we are leaving, and you’d better not try and stop us.”

  She doesn’t know.

  “Gabriella, I think you’d better sit down.”

  “I don’t want to sit down. You got something to say, say it.”

  “I’m very sorry, but Tommy is dead. They found his body a couple of days ago in the bay, filled with bullets. Whatever this last big score Tommy talks about in this letter, it caught up to him before he wrapped it up. I’m sorry.”

  She drops to her knees on the floor of my office, face buried in her palms, screaming and crying. I have no idea what to do to comfort her, so I leave her for a few minutes to cry it out. Instead, I turn my attention to Marjorie, who seems confused, but her eyes are locked intently on the letter still in my hand. Indifferent to the squalling woman on the floor, she addresses me.

  “Nick, if those are Tommy’s last words, I’d like to see them.”

  Cold. Calculating.

  Whatever concern she had about the diamonds a few minutes ago seems to have been replaced by a burning curiosity regarding the contents of this letter.

  Sisterly concern? Search for closure? Or something else?

  “Yeah, sure doll, but don’t go leaking all over it. I’ve got an idea. Gabriella, can I hold onto that letter for a while? I can’t bring Tommy back, but I’ve got an idea about finding his killer.” Gabriella and Marjorie both lock eyes on me. Through her sobs, Gabriella nods as she grabs hold of her composure and leans on the desk to bring herself back to her feet.

  “Sure, whatever it takes. I thought I was past Tommy, but that letter brought it all back. You find who did this, Mr. O’Brien. You make sure they pay for what they did to Tommy.”

  With that, she turns and sprints out the outer office door and disappears down the hallway. Marjorie returns her attention to the letter, and after reading it, hands it back to me with a look of relief on her face.

  “Well, it seems like this Lupo is your guy, Nick. He must have found out about Tommy and killed him before he could deliver the diamonds. Case closed.” Her matter-of-fact demeanor is unsettling.

  Let’s see if I can’t blow a little dust into the works.

  “Yeah, doll, that’d be neat, wouldn’t it? Except there is one problem.” She looks puzzled.

  “Really? What problem is that?”

  “I don’t like neat. Something is too neat, it’s unnatural. Things don’t just wind up neat. People make things neat. So I intend to find out who exactly made this so neat.”

  Her face reddens slightly.

  “But you have your answers. You mean you plan on stirring up trouble again?”

  “Look, kiddo, you don’t seem to get it. What if it is Lupo, and he figures Tommy talked to you before he wound up feeding the fishes? Suppose Lupo thinks you’ve got the stones? Suppose you do?”

  “What? Why what are you trying to say? You think Tommy gave me the diamonds and then got himself killed? You think Lupo is coming after me?”

  “I’m not sure wh
at I’m saying, but I know one thing for certain There’s still a good bit you are not saying. So how’s about you start? Put in on the table, sister, so we can wrap this all up once and for all.”

  There come the tears again. Marjorie rushes toward me and slaps me once across the face. But the next second she is throwing her arms around me and burying her tear-soaked face into my chest.

  “How could you think such a thing about me? Oh, Nick, didn’t you feel something between us? But how could that be if you think I could be such a monster?”

  Oh for the love of…

  I put a hand on her head and gently stroke her soft, raven hair.

  “There, there, doll. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that I can’t shake the feeling you are holding out on me. Listen, I understand it takes time to trust someone, so you take the time you need, but I’ve got an idea.” I take the letter back from Marjorie and check my watch. “There is a beat cop who ought to be making his rounds in a few minutes downstairs. I’ll get you to him. He’s a good fellow, and I’ll make sure he sees you back to your hotel. You stay there and stay put until I come for you. I’ve got to put a few things in motion, but I promise whoever is after you, we will straighten it out. Maybe then you will trust me enough to talk about whatever you have been holding back.”

  I escort Marjorie downstairs and hand her off to Officer John Delaney. John and I were on the force together, and his beat runs past my building around nine-thirty every morning. John promises to see Marjorie safely to the New Yorker, and I hop a taxi to the DA’s office. If Lupo is the killer, or if he’s after Marjorie, this letter might be the perfect bait to catch that big Boston fish.

  As I burst into Jimmy’s office, my brother beams me a smile from across the room.

  “Hey, stranger, long time no see. Didn’t I just leave you?”

  “Hiya, Jimmy. Yeah, but there were some new developments after you left. Miss Rosario came to see me with this letter from Tommy. Says it came yesterday.”

  Jimmy looks over the letter, lets out a wolf-whistle, and hands it back. “That’s a doozy there. Kind of turns everything around, don’t it?”