by Dave Daren
“That would be why I requested a new detective,” I said dryly. “I hope you’ll endeavor to make better progress, which shouldn’t be too difficult considering his progress was nothing.”
“Progress is proportional to effort, Counselor,” she murmured. “I don’t like loose ends on my desk. I don’t care who the victim is. He’s family to someone, so I pretend like that someone is me.”
“I like your style, Detective,” I replied with a smile. “Mr. Rossi is at the hospital now for his exam. I’ll advise him he can speak with you about the details of his kidnapping, but any questions about the alleged offense he’s charged with will be off-limits. Sound fair?”
“Yeah, I don’t care about the other case,” she chuckled. “Toscani isn’t getting any help from me.”
“Good,” I laughed.
We made the arrangements for her to meet Rossi at the hospital, and I sent my client a text to let him know she was on her way. Then I called Anthony to let him know the current situation, but I was surprised his phone rang half a dozen times before it went to his voicemail. I didn’t want to leave any details, so I just left a quick message to call me when he had a chance.
As I set my phone back on the desk to return to my papers, it rang again. I assumed it was Anthony returning my call, but I was pleasantly surprised to see Liz’s name instead. Then my heart dropped into my stomach.
I still hadn’t told her about the threat.
“Jeez, you could give a girl a complex,” Liz teased when I picked up. “You don’t call, you don’t write.”
“Ah, sorry, I’ve been busy with Rossi,” I answered as I felt my face redden. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway. Do you want to come over?”
“Talk to me about what?” Liz’s tone turned mildly suspicious. “Is something wrong?”
“Just come to the house,” I insisted. “We can talk, go over some cases--”
“You’re a terrible liar, Hunter,” she cut me off. “What is it?”
“I’ll tell you everything once you get here,” I promised.
Liz paused as though she had to mull over the options before she finally sighed.
“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll be there soon.”
By three, Liz stood on my stoop and rang the bell. When I opened the door, she breezed past me in a whirlwind of annoyance and suspicion.
“Hi, good to see you,” I mumbled as I shut the door behind her and followed her to the couch. “So, the thing I need to talk to you about--”
“I’m sure it will explain why one of Anthony’s goombahs followed me over here,” she scoffed. “Did I do something wrong? Because I didn’t want to work your cases anymore?”
“No, nothing like that,” I assured her. “Jesus, you thought he was after you?”
“I didn’t know what to think!” Liz’s voice raised at least an octave. “I said I had to step away from his associates, and then I have one of his guys behind me at every turn!”
“For your protection,” I clarified. “I got this message earlier.”
I pulled up the threatening text on my phone and turned it to show her. Liz’s eyes went wide as she read the message, and the color drained from her face.
“Someone wants to cut me up?” she whispered.
“They want me to stop working Rossi’s case, and they obviously know I care about you,” I answered. “Whoever it is, Anthony is taking care of it.”
“Oh, great, so someone is getting murdered on my behalf,” she muttered.
“We don’t know that,” I argued. “Anyway, that’s why he wanted one of his guys with you. I sent this to him earlier.”
“And you didn’t think I needed to know?” Liz demanded.
“I wasn’t sure how to talk to you about it,” I murmured as I leaned closer and put a hand on her thigh. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe first. And I definitely didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
“That’s reasonable, I guess,” she sighed and took my hand. “Do you think it’s credible?”
“Well, they kidnapped Rossi, which delayed court but gave us some favor with the judge,” I explained.
“Okay, what?” Liz arched an eyebrow.
I laid out the situation for her and ended with my conversation with Detective Gage earlier.
“So, hopefully, we’ll narrow down some suspects soon,” I finished.
“At least someone in Manhattan gives a damn,” she muttered. “Well, let’s move on to whatever papers you want to work on. I’d rather think about anything other than my possibly impending demise.”
“Sounds good,” I chuckled.
We made our way to my office and began to sort out possible motions to use in the Rossi case, and then we worked on the cases I had scheduled for the next two weeks.
After a while, my stomach began to growl, and we decided to order dinner.
“Actually, I have a better idea,” Liz suggested. “What if we hit up that bistro place with the movie theater by Central Park?”
“Hell, yeah, dinner and a movie in one,” I agreed. “Maybe something like that will ease your mind.”
“It’s worth a shot.” She rose from her chair and stretched while I checked times on the bistro’s website.
I made our reservations, changed into jeans, and led her out to my car. Most of the trip to Manhattan was quiet, and I could tell Liz had already seen Hank’s car drift onto the highway behind us. I started to ask if she felt better with him hanging around us but decided against it. She was still pretty shaken up about the whole death threat and new bodyguard thing, and I wanted us to have a good time at the movie.
Once we reached the theater and cashed in our reserved tickets, we were almost immediately seated in recliner-style chairs with trays over our laps. It was a little less romantic than I’d imagined, but we had our food and drinks before the movie started.
We’d chosen an action movie about some secret agent and his quest to find the criminal who had traveled the world to escape him, but every fight scene made me yawn, and the agent’s ability to survive a gunshot wound, car wreck, and plane crash began to grind on my nerves.
I glanced over at Liz to find her staring at the bucket of popcorn and picking out individual pieces to munch on.
“Not a fan of the movie?” I whispered.
“Pretty lame compared to the real-life criminals we’ve been dealing with,” she replied under her breath.
“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested with a grin.
She nodded, and we scurried past our fellow moviegoers who glared but didn’t say anything when we left before the clever criminal was captured.
We walked out to my car, and I realized the sun had finally set. The temperature had dropped significantly, so I wanted to hurry to start the car and get it warmed up.
“Oh, my God, a Starbucks!” Liz squealed and pointed down the block. “Can we go there first? I could seriously use something warm to drink.”
A shiver vibrated my body, but I shrugged and offered my elbow. It would be much easier to walk a block than to try to find parking again, so we walked over to the Starbucks and ordered a couple hot lattes.
Another shiver cascaded down my spine, but this one had nothing to do with the cold. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a pair of dark eyes on us, though the man quickly turned away and pretended to resume reading a newspaper. He sat at a table on the sidewalk and peered in through the glass window.
“Hey, didn’t we see that guy at the theater?” I asked Liz with a slight nod in his direction. “Don’t be obvious.”
Liz paused before she turned as though trying to find us a table. She even pointed one out on the opposite side of the coffee shop, but when she turned back around, her face was grim.
“Yeah, he sat a couple rows behind us,” she agreed. “He must have left when we did. Any chance he also thought that movie was lame?”
“I doubt it.” I frowned as I pulled out my phone. “I’m texting Hank.”
Guy watching
us at Starbucks, saw him at the theater, too. Can you check it out when we leave?
The response from my bodyguard was almost immediate.
Ready when you are. Pretend you don’t see me.
Ominous, but okay.
A few minutes later, we took our large-- maybe grande?-- white cups and headed for the door. We pointedly ignored our onlooker, though I was pretty sure he set down his newspaper once we walked back outside. Liz and I held our coffees close to our bodies as we trembled from both the cold and anxiety.
We neared the end of the block, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when we passed Hank in the shadow of the building. He stood stock-still and completely silent as we continued past him and rounded the corner without a word.
A moment later, there was a quiet scuffle a few feet behind us, and we turned around to see that Hank had our stalker against the brick wall by the collar of his shirt.
“Hey!” the man shrieked. “Put me down! You can’t do that!”
“Who are you?” Hank barked in his face.
“Help!” The man squirmed against Hank’s massive hand. “He’s attacking me!”
“I’m a bodyguard, and you’ve been following my client,” Hank scoffed. “So, let’s try again. Who are you?”
“I, uh, shit,” he muttered and finally let his body go limp. “I don’t get paid enough for this bullshit.”
“What are you getting paid for?” I demanded.
“You’re Hunter Morgan, right?” he asked, and I nodded carefully. “Well, my job was to follow you and figure out where you live now. I lost you on the LIE earlier, so I waited for you to come back. I’ve been following you since you were going to the theater.”
“And not very well,” I murmured as I looked him over. “But that doesn’t tell me who you are or who’s paying you.”
“Aw, come on, you already caught me,” the man moaned and sagged even further in Hank’s grip. “If I tell you where I work, I’m as good as dead.”
“Then we’ll find out for ourselves,” Hank growled as he reached into the man’s pockets. “What do we have here? A wallet, keys, phone, and ID card for Gryffon Security Team. What an interesting surprise, Mr., ah, Johansson.”
“You work for Gryffon?” I asked with wide eyes. “They want to know where I live? Why?”
“Hey, man, I don’t get paid to ask questions,” Johansson insisted. “I just get an assignment and get it done. That’s all.”
“So, who gave the order to follow me?” I pressed.
“Uhhhh.” Johansson blanched as he averted his gaze.
“You heard the man,” Hank snarled as he lifted the man even higher.
“Okay, okay, damn!” Johansson cursed and gnawed on his lower lip. “All our orders come from Mr. G. He decides who does what and when, and no one asks questions, or they get canned… or worse.”
“Well, you aren’t finishing up your job tonight,” I said with a scowl. “And if you ever come near me or my friends again, I’ll handle you myself.”
I lifted my shirt to reveal the Smith & Wesson on my hip, and Johansson’s eyes widened in surprise.
“I-- uh, okay, yeah,” he muttered.
“You want to just let him go, boss?” Hank asked in a softer voice.
“Yeah, he can pass on the message.” I strode closer and smirked at the foiled stalker. “The next one of your guys who comes after me gets a bullet.”
Johansson’s eyes nearly bulged from his head as he nodded and waited for Hank to lower him to the ground. Then he sprinted back around the corner toward the theater without a second glance behind him.
“That was a very brazen threat, Mr. Morgan,” Hank remarked with a smirk.
“Yeah, well, I meant it,” I grunted. “I don’t like Vlado sending his guys to find out where I live, and if he’s going to pick the worst one he has, I’ll continue to insult his intelligence like he did mine.”
“That sounded like more than an insult, Hunter,” Liz pointed out and frowned. “You sounded… terrifying.”
“Then hopefully, he’ll pass it on,” I muttered as I grabbed her hand. “Let’s go home.”
Liz didn’t argue, and I led her to my car with Hank a few steps behind us. I opened her door and then hurried around to my side as Hank offered a wave and climbed into his own vehicle. Then I pushed the start button and cranked up the heater.
Between the adrenaline of catching the Gryffon guy and the cold air outside, it had been a lot of excitement. We were both shivering wildly by the time the warm air hit our faces, and I let the car purr for several moments while we tried to get warm.
Part of me still reeled from the idea of Vlado Galic hiring someone to follow me, but the other part was pumped from my last words to the creep.
The other part of me was surprised by how much I meant what I said.
I finally pulled into traffic and began the drive back toward Floral Park. I still felt jittery, and to judge by Liz’s death grip on the coffee cup, she did as well. Neither of us spoke, and the only noise in the car was the wind blowing around the Mercedes. Then my phone rang, and as I answered the call, Anthony’s voice flowed out of the Bose speakers of my car.
“I just got your message,” he said as he released a heavy breath. “What happened with Rossi?”
“Apparently, Detective Toscani thought he should be the one to investigate the kidnapping,” I said with a smirk. “I took care of it.”
“You took care of it?” Anthony repeated with a twinge of doubt in his voice.
“Yeah, I called and got it reassigned,” I explained.
“Ahh.” My client burst into laughter. “That makes a lot more sense.”
“I obviously didn’t go whack anyone,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I just made sure Rossi got someone on his case who would actually try to figure it out.”
“Yeah, yeah, for sure,” Anthony chuckled. “Anything else exciting that you’ve done?”
“Well, I threatened to shoot a guy from Gryffon,” I pointed out with an air of defiance.
“My, my,” Anthony tutted. “Color me impressed. And why did you threaten this man?”
“He was following Liz and me,” I answered. “Hank cornered him, and I told him what I’d do if him or any of his buddies went after us again. He was supposed to find out where I live for Vlado.”
“Bastard,” he cursed. “He’ll get his, but right now, I need you to head to my house.”
“Oh.” I paused as I neared the exit for Floral Park. “I have Liz with me--”
“Drop her off,” he ordered. “Then get here.”
Liz and I exchanged a glance before I agreed, and Anthony hung up.
“What do you think that’s about?” she wondered.
“I don’t like asking myself questions like that,” I grumbled.
Anthony usually let Liz come with me, so telling me not to bring her immediately sent me into hypervigilance. I wasn’t sure what was about to go down, but it didn’t sound like it would be anything pretty.
“He isn’t mad at you, right?” Liz asked with a half-smile.
“I think he could come up with a thousand better ways to off me than to invite me to his house with you sitting right next to me,” I pointed out and chuckled.
Liz giggled as I pulled up to my house and hopped out to open her door. I led her up the sidewalk to my front door and unlocked it.
“Do you think you’ll be back tonight?” she asked. “I’d like to have at least one more night with you before I leave for London this weekend.”
“I hope so,” I murmured before I pressed my lips to hers. “I’ll wake you when I get back. Lock the doors.”
I could feel her gaze on my back as I strode back to my car and waved to Liz’s bodyguard who parked across the street in the shadows of a large oak tree. Then I slid into the driver’s seat and headed for Riverside.
It was an eerie drive alone at night, especially since I had no idea what I was about to walk into. When I pulled into the long gravel drive,
my eyes immediately homed in on an old, beat-up, boat-sized Plymouth next to the fountain.
I’d never seen the crappy car at the Febbo estate before. In fact, I’d never seen any crappy car here, and its existence sent my stomach into knots.
I climbed out of my Mercedes, and once I got closer to the Plymouth, I could see two men were inside. One sat in the front passenger seat, and the other sat in the back. I furrowed my brow as I turned to the front door and raised my fist to knock on it.
Then the door swung open, and Anthony stood in front of me.
He wore a black sweater over black slacks, and I arched an eyebrow at his funeral attire.
“Don’t ask questions,” Anthony said in a dark voice. “Just get in the car.”
Chapter 14
Now, my blasé statement to Liz about Anthony’s plans to off me felt a little ironic.
Maybe the federal agents stalking me had turned me into a liability. Or maybe Anthony didn’t like how I’d handled them, or thought I couldn’t keep information from them.
Right now, I couldn’t take my eyes off my client’s dark clothes. He was dressed like he planned to hide in the shadows.
Or cover up bloodstains.
And I had no idea what was going on.
I hesitated for a split second, but time seemed to freeze for a moment. I had a nearly paralyzing fear about what I’d signed up for, and there was no way to get myself out of it. Anthony narrowed his eyes into slits as he waited for me to move. Now was not the time to show any weakness. I was a Mafia lawyer, right? It was time to act like one. I turned on my heels and marched toward the Plymouth. If I was going to die today, I’d be doing it with my head held high.
That’s what I told myself, anyway.
Anthony motioned for me to get in the back seat, and I slid onto the old pleather next to an Italian man who appeared to be in his late thirties. He wore black gloves in addition to the same black attire as Anthony, and his face was pockmarked with old acne scars. This guy was the epitome of every goombah in every mobster movie with his greasy black hair and a cigar dangling from his lips. He gave me one sideways look before he turned to the front again, and I grimaced as I wondered if he was avoiding looking at his next victim.
