Bone of Contention: A Medical Thriller With Heart (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 4)

by Bette Golden Lamb

  He turned over the top of the box and, like an artist contemplating a newly finished worked, resisted touching even the outer crust.

  When he could stand it no longer, he lovingly picked up a slice and took a huge bite off the pointed end. Before he could chew, his phone rang.

  Who the hell?

  He was on call, so he couldn’t ignore it. He tried to gulp the bite in one swallow, picked up the phone, and said in an indecipherable blurt, “Hold on a minute.”

  He started to choke, chewed rapidly, and took big swallows of his beer, which only made things worse. He bent over and spit everything into the wastebasket. Whoever was on the other end would probably think he was nuts. He hoped it wasn’t his captain.

  “Sorry!”

  “Hi, Inspector. Sorry to call you so late, and at home. This is Harry Lucke, Gina Mazzio’s fiancé.”

  “Yeah, sure. Been chasing down her car accident. Gotta say I haven’t found any witnesses to the Fiat’s brakes being cut.”

  “This is something else.” There was a long pause. “She didn’t want to talk about it on the cell but it sounds like she was abducted earlier tonight and half-buried in Golden Gate Park.”

  “Jeez! You gotta be kidding. Is she all right?”

  “I think so, but she doesn’t know where the hell she is in the park. We were hoping you could zero in on her location with GPS.”

  “I have her number here. I’ll do it right now.”

  “That won’t work. Her phone was destroyed.”

  “Well, hell, Harry, how’d she call you?”

  “Some homeless kid gave her a phone.”

  “Stolen, no doubt.”

  “Does that mean you can’t zero in on her?”

  “No, it’s just going to take a little more work.”

  “I have the phone’s original number, if that will help.”

  “Maybe it will, maybe it won’t”

  “Inspector, I know it’s asking a lot, but I want to be there, know she’s all right.”

  “Give me your location. I’ll pick you up on the way.”

  * * *

  Gina was curled up into a fetal position, the only way she’d found to preserve any body heat. It was so cold, she gave in to an overwhelming drowsiness and drifted off. She awoke with a start when she heard voices somewhere close by.

  She sat up. Someone had placed a blanket over her, tucked it in around her. She was still cold, but she wasn’t shivering and she was feeling stronger.

  She watched bright lights cut through the night, highlighting the spikes of rain that continued to fall on the bushes and trees. The beams of light were heading in her direction.

  “Gina! Gina!”

  “Harry! I’m over here!”

  It seemed to take forever to bring her legs under her to stand, but they wouldn’t hold her. She toppled over.

  There was a rush of feet sloughing through leaves and water, racing ahead of the glow. Then she was in Harry’s arms. He was squeezing her tight against him, kissing her face, her lips.

  “Baby, baby I was so scared.” He held her at arms length for a moment, then pulled her back to him. “Oh, my God!”

  “I’m okay, Harry. I really am, especially now that you’re here.” She ran her hands up and down his body, wanting to absorb all of him. “When I was buried in those leaves, all I could think about was seeing you one more time. She threw her head back and laughed. “And breathing, of course.”

  “All right, you two,” Mulzini said, “let’s get back to reality.”

  “Thanks for coming. For finding me.”

  “So where’d you get this blanket, Gina?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I fell asleep, woke up with it. I think it’s from the same kid who gave me the cell phone.”

  The paramedics interrupted as Harry was getting Gina into the heavy, East Coast winter coat he’d brought with him. They set up next to Gina. “How’s it going?” one of them said. He slipped a B/P cuff on her arm. The other one went to work on her with a stethoscope.

  “Look, I’m fine. I think I got clunked on the head for the second time this week, but other than freezing my ass off and getting soaked ... I’m okay.”

  “Let me check your head,” said the EMT who had taken her B/P. He ran his fingers through her hair, used his flashlight to check her pupils. “You say you were thumped on the head again, but I can only find one spot that was recently hit. You might have had a panic or vasovagal response. That would be enough to knock you out, but I’d feel a lot better hauling you into the ER so they can give you a once over. Anyway, you know that’s what the doc’s going to say.”

  “No, I’m going home. I feel fine now. This whole thing has been a little scary, to say the least. But I want to go home.”

  “Babe, I think you ought to go to the ER, just to be safe.”

  “Safe? Harry, I feel like I’ll never be safe again.” She grabbed his hand. “I want to go home with you. That’s where I really feel safe.” She squeezed his hand hard. “Please back me up on this.”

  Harry stood, spoke to the two EMTs. “I’m an ICU nurse. Let the doc know I’ll keep a close eye on her. She really seems to be stable.”

  As they packed up their gear, one of them said, “I don’t think she’s in any trouble now, but you know the drill -- any change, get her to the ER ... fast!”

  “Damn right! Thanks.”

  * * *

  Gina, Harry, and Mulzini sat in his car with the engine running, the heat blasting away

  The Inspector looked at her and Harry in the back seat. “How’re you doing, Gina?”

  “I really feel so much better now.” She squeezed Harry’s hand and he planted a kiss on one cheek, then the other.

  “Can you tell me anything more about what happened?” The Inspector poured hot coffee from a thermos into a cup for Gina, then poured another for Harry.

  “There’s not much more to tell. Some guy grabbed me from behind, started choking me and threw me into a pickup, one of those with an extra seat in the back. I really don’t remember anything after that until I woke up in the park, buried in a pile of dirt and leaves.”

  “What about his face? Do you think you could pick him out in a line-up?”

  “I don’t think so. It was more what he smelled like. That, I’ll never forget.”

  “You told me you were worried about your ex-husband, that he may have been the one who cut your brake line.” Mulzini gave out a dry laugh. “This may sound crazy, but are you absolutely sure it wasn’t also him this time?”

  “First of all, if it had been him, I would be dead. He would have never just left me in a pile of leaves. He would have planted me deep in the ground. Also, if it was him, don’t you think I would know that?”

  “Had to ask.”

  “I know.”

  “You say your cell is missing. Do you remember the guy taking it, or whatever?”

  “I really don’t remember anything after he grabbed me. I think he stomped on it.”

  “First it’s your brakes, then this.” Mulzini poured himself a cup of coffee. He turned back and looked at Gina. “You sure as hell are on somebody’s shit list.”

  Chapter 38

  Dominick couldn’t stop brooding.

  There’d been real satisfaction after cutting Gina’s brake line, a surge of relief, a sense of freedom. His ties to that woman were finally broken.

  The reality? It had been a total failure.

  What a jerk to think I finally nailed her.

  Gina Mazzio, the cat woman – no matter how much I plan, no matter how much I do, she lands on her feet. Why can’t I kill the bitch?

  Need to move on. Need to get away from here.

  The idea of moving on to Arizona stuck in his head. He thought survival there would be easier, cheaper. Certainly less crowded. He looked around the small rented room – not much better than the cell he’d occupied for three years.

  Since arriving in Frisco, he’d been lonely and at loose ends. If he�
�d stayed in the Bronx, at least he‘d know the neighborhood, have his parents close by. That would be something.

  No! As long as Gina’s here and alive, I’m stuck in this big, expensive, fuckin’ city.

  Why can’t I let her go, give it up, just move on?

  That same question invaded his thoughts several times a day. Yet, he knew the answer, which was simple enough: Gina Mazzio killed his baseball career.

  She put him in prison.

  She ruined his life.

  She needed to die.

  Killing her is the only way to get her out of my head ... get me out of this miserable go-nowhere city.

  Lately, when not looking for Gina, he’d spent most of his time in bars drinking, looking for company. And when he was drunk, he always wanted to get into a game. He played cards or craps almost every night, with far more losses than wins. His stash of money was fast approaching zero.

  He had to face reality: a measly two hundred bucks wasn’t going to get him very far, or last very long if he stayed where he was. He desperately needed to get a job, line his pockets. Otherwise, he was going to be nothing but another bum on the streets of the Tenderloin.

  Tacked to the wall was a picture of the Arizona desert, torn from a throwaway magazine he’d found in a bar. That had become the first thing he looked at every morning when he got up.

  Arizona!

  He was good with his hands and he could beat out any wetback for a gardening gig, maybe hitch onto a construction crew.

  He turned away from the picture. But he wasn’t going anyplace until he took care of Gina.

  Gina Mazzio – the human knife that cut through his gut.

  He threw a few half-hearted darts at her picture. The photo was starting to look raggedy. Her eyes and mouth had almost disappeared from being dart-stabbed so often.

  Two hundred dollars. Almost broke. Shit, man! This has gotta stop!

  * * *

  The music was loud, giving Dominick a headache, but he sat there nursing his third beer, trying to get a buzz on. He’d let the bartender talk him into trying a local beer, Anchor, which was okay; probably better than what he usually drank back home.

  A babe at the other end of the bar, the one he’d seen every night like some kind of permanent fixture, was smiling at him. Her crooked teeth needed work, but her breasts were big and she had a lot of cleavage. She seemed overdressed for a working man’s bar. But, what the hell.

  He lifted his beer, grabbed his changed, and headed in her direction.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Hello, yourself.”

  He slipped onto the barstool next to her. “What are you drinking?”

  “Whisky ... but a beer will do me fine.”

  Dominick motioned for the bartender, ordered a beer for her, another for himself.

  She smiled, ran her tongue around her lips, starting a fantasy about what those lips could do. The bartender returned, set a draft brews down in front of them, and flipped away the bills from in front of Dominick.

  “I’ve seen you come in the last few nights ... alone,” she said, taking a sip and leaving a moustache of foam on her upper lip.

  “That right?”

  Her hand slid down and around the inside of his thigh. “Call me Sonnie; that’s with an i-e, not a y.”

  He could feel himself getting hard, but he needed to know up front if she was a pro. He didn’t have the money to pay for getting laid. “You got a place near by, Sonnie-with-an-i-e?”

  “What’s your hurry?”

  Close-up, he could see that along with the crooked teeth, she’d had a bad case of acne and tried to cover it over with a heavy layer of makeup. It wasn’t working.

  He took another sip of his beer.

  “What do you do to earn a buck?” he asked.

  “A little of this ... a little of that.”

  “Uh-huh. Doing what?”

  There was a long beat. “What’s your name, fella?”

  “Dominick.”

  “Well, Dominick, if you think I’m a workin’ girl, then you got your head on backwards. I’m not a whore.”

  “Hey, girl!” He took her hand and put it on the rise in his pants. “I didn’t think that.”

  “Well then, why don’t we go and have us some real fun.”

  “We can go to my digs," Dominick said. " It ain’t pretty, but it’s got a bed.”

  Sonnie withdrew her hand, then placed it back on his thigh. “It’s early ... we can go back to your place later.”

  “Well, whatcha got in mind?”

  * * *

  It was around midnight when Dominick and Sonnie stumbled down the sidewalk, headed for Dominick’s room. He was wide awake, but she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open; with each step she leaned more and more into him. The heavier she leaned, the angrier he became.

  Outrage was like a hot coal in his gut. He was down another hundred bucks and it was her fault. Her fault. Sonnie’s fault! Gina’s fault! Someone’s goddam fault!

  Somewhere along the way he finally realized that while she wasn’t a whore, she was some kind of shill for the hole-in-the-wall basement game they went to.

  She’d reeled him in like some dumb fish.

  It was a quiet week night and the streets were deserted. Bums were huddled in doorways in their sleeping bags. Most of them were drunk and passed out. They didn’t move a twitch as Dominick and Sonnie stumbled past. The only creatures that were alert were the dogs snuggled into their masters' sleeping bodies. Their eyes flashed and followed everyone who passed by.

  When they came to an empty doorway, Dominick pulled Sonnie into it. Her eyes opened and stared into his.

  “Why we stopping ... need to lie down.”

  When Dominick was silent, she shook herself awake. “What’s the matter, baby?”

  “You played me, you bitch!”

  “Whadda you mean, honey.”

  Every muscle in his body twitched. He punched her in the mouth.

  “Hey ... stop that, asshole!”

  “I’ll stop when I’m fucking good and ready, bitch.”

  Then he punched her in the belly and when she started to go down, he brought her up by the neck until she was spitting and choking, pulling at his hands, trying to pry his fingers loose.

  “Just like her ... just like Gina ... like Gina ... like goddam Gina.”

  Dominick let Sonnie drop to the ground; she folded like a morning glory at noon.

  A shill, that's what she is. The bitch set me up.

  His hands tingled with tension as he looked around at the deserted street. He carefully pushed the woman farther back into the doorway, arranged her into a casual sitting position, allowing her head to tip forward as if she was asleep.

  It was only then he felt for her pulse.

  Her wrist was thin for such a full-bodied woman. He probed, searched for any sign of life. He thought he felt a soft beat, but he really didn’t want to know. If she was dead, she was dead.

  “Hey, man, you got some loose change?” The voice came out of nowhere; a chill zipped down Dominick’s back.

  He jerked around to find a bum, somewhere in his thirties to his fifties, dressed in shabby, dirty clothes. His head was tilted to one side as he looked at Dominick expectantly.

  “Take a hike.”

  A clump of greasy hair fell across the man’s forehead and his chin thrust out in belligerence. “Would it kill you to give me a fuckin’ quarter?”

  The street light shone on the man’s face; his eyes were trying to see past Dominick to the slumped figure of Sonnie.

  “Okay. Okay.” Dominick reached into his pocket and came up with two quarters. “Here take these and get the hell outta here!”

  The bum pocketed the money. “Is your lady okay?”

  “Yeah. She’s just loaded.”

  “She ain’t moving much.”

  “Neither will you be if you don’t get the fuck away from here.” He clenched his fist, ready to slug the bum and stack him
next to Sonnie.

  The man backed away, looking frightened for the first time. He shuffled off down the street. When the bum staggered around the corner, Dominick took off in the opposite direction and didn’t stop until he’d reached his room.

  He collapsed on the bed, exhausted. He couldn’t even raise an arm to set the alarm clock so he could get up early the next morning.

  When Dominick finally awoke, it was after ten a.m.

  He lay in bed until he was wide awake, thinking about the events of the night before. Was Sonnie alive or dead? Cold sweat trickled down from his arm pits, fear washed over him.

  “Oh, shit,’ he muttered.

  He forced himself to sit up, look around, and take in his surroundings. Only the rough-torn picture of the Arizona desert and the dart-punctured photograph of Gina on the back of the door gave the room any personality. The ragged parts of what was left of her face taunted him. He closed his eyes to try to stop the hatred for her that repeatedly bubbled over him like dirty storm water.

  Nothing stopped it.

  If Sonnie was dead, it was Gina’s fault. All she ever did was fuck up his life.

  He had to think. Had to forget Gina and get out of San Francisco. He was never going back in the joint, and if he stayed here, that was where he would end up. That or dead.

  He pulled his duffel bag from the closet and set it up on the bed. It took less than five minutes for him to empty the drawers and pack up.

  He checked his wallet. Eighty dollars ... and he owed the landlord forty of it.

  Well, fuck that! I’m out of here. The greasy bastard will just have to suck it up, swallow the loss. No way will he ever find me in Arizona.

  It made him feel weird, his head all crazy and muddled to leave without finishing what he’d set out to do. He’d only come to Frisco to put an end to Gina, once and for all.

  He grabbed a piece of paper from the small notebook he always carried on him. He planned to leave a note on the windshield of her stupid car. He wanted to let the bitch know that he’d been here, and that he wasn’t finished with her.