“I don't know. On the one hand, I don't think she was at the outset. She indicated to me that she had concerns about shady dealings with the foreign clients. I can't help but wonder if she didn't see a way to make some money, or maybe even a way to tie Techtron's operations with Collonia's. If she was a mule in an international smuggling ring and she suddenly found herself with access to lots of new markets and/or new smugglers, would that not give her a leg up in the Collonia operation?”
He could almost hear Karen's head shaking, “I think we're getting way ahead of the facts we know. We need to be careful. All we have are a bunch of facts which may or may not be related.”
He answered somewhat impatiently, “Yeah, you're right, but I think we need to be open to a lot of different possibilities.”
“And, we need to also be careful not to jump to conclusions. It's very likely that not everything is connected. I'll continue to try to see what I can come up with her the travel. Do you think I should contact the other two women.”
“I would prefer to know first if they all know about each other. I don't want to tip her off.”
“I think you should tell her what you know. If you don't tell her and she finds out, your relationship is over. She'll never trust you again.”
“You're right. The question is: can I trust her?”
“I think you have to until you have some credible evidence that she has lied to you. Yes, she has left out a lot, but she's in the habit of playing things close to the chest. Quite honestly, I think her life has depended on doing that; it's become a habit. She might open up if you ask her to. You'll never know unless you try.”
“I'll think about it. You keep digging and keep me posted. Do you need any more money?”
“Nope. So far I haven't spent a dime.”
“Lord, Girl, you are good.”
She laughed, “Oh, you have no idea.”
He hung up the phone and stretched out on the couch feeling as though he had been punched in the stomach.
Chapter 19
His phone rang. He considered not answering it, but noticed on the Caller ID pad that it was Victoria. He had been neglecting her. She was calling to express her concern. She had not heard from him in a while. He gave her the excuse that he had been doing double duty as a feature writer and a sportswriter, so he had been very busy.
She said, “Yes. Actually, your sports work was excellent. I usually don't read the sports pages, but I did read the articles under your by-line. You do a good job with the sports articles, too.” She paused. “Perhaps I feel a little jealous. It seems you've had plenty of time to spend with Marcella.”
He didn't respond.
She went on, “I am not suggesting that is a bad thing. Actually that is the purpose of my call. I had lunch with her today. She is truly a delightful person.” She paused for a long time as if considering whether or not to continue, “I think she may be falling in love with you.”
He felt as though he might burst into tears, but he tried to control his voice when he said, “It's early in our relationship. Time will tell.”
Victoria was quiet for a minute, “What's happened? The last time I saw you, you were floating on air like a teenager in love. Today Marcella came off the same way. You sound as though you have had a change of heart. What's up?”
“God I hate it when women can read my mind. Victoria, some of my inquiries into Marcella's early life finally paid off with some information. Information that makes very little sense, but is nonetheless troubling. I don't know what to make of it, on the one hand. On the other hand, I don't think I can ask her because I'm sure that if I tell her I was nosing around in her private life, she will freak out and that will be the end of our relationship. I, frankly, don't know what to do.”
“Can you probe a bit without letting her know you have information?”
“I probably could but it may surprise you to know that I have a bit of a conscience. I realize that is a rare commodity among reporters. That seems dishonest to me. I started making inquiries into her life before I knew her. After we met, I promised her I wouldn't print anything she told me about herself in the paper, and I stopped doing research on my own. I closed that book. I did, however, tell Karen Thompson to keep digging. I don't know how I can tell that to Marcella without freaking her out. She doesn't trust anybody. She's terribly scared. She has flat out told me that she is more afraid of me than of anyone she's ever met. I think that may be because she has been more honest with me than she has ever been before. If she finds out that I'm a rat bastard, like all the other men she's ever known, simply using her for my own purposes, .... well, I am pretty sure that will be the end of our relationship. And, worse, it will hurt her terribly.”
He paused. “Here's the thing, Victoria. Whatever I do, I don't want to hurt her. She's been through enough.”
Victoria didn't respond for a long time. Finally she said, “Ray, I think that you have to tell her. Tell her what you just told me. It's the truth. If you tell her now, there's a chance she'll understand. If you wait too long, she will have reason to suspect your motives.”
He thought about that. “My heart tells me you're right. If she were a normal person, I think that would be the appropriate thing to do. But, she is so damaged and so afraid, I'm not sure it will work.”
He stopped for a while, and then said, “But, the only other time in my life I was not honest in a relationship, it caused me to lose my wife. It's possible that being honest with Marcella may scare her off. It's a certainty that if I'm not honest with her and she finds out, then it will be over.”
Victoria said quietly, “If it helps, I think she's very motivated to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
After a good night's sleep, he called Marcella on his way to work. She answered on the second ring, “Good morning.”
“Good morning. I want to apologize for my rudeness yesterday. I'm usually not that much of a moody bastard, but when I get in a bad mood, I try to avoid people for everybody's sake.”
She chuckled but said in a gentle tone, “I have to admit I was a little put off by the chill in your voice, but I suppose I have to say I appreciate your not wishing to inflict yourself on me if you were in a bad mood. Are you feeling better today?”
“Much. It's amazing what a difference a good night's sleep makes. I'm wondering if your invitation to dinner tonight is still open?”
“Absolutely. Would you like to go out?”
“No. Let's eat in. We could do take-out if you don't feel like cooking.”
She laughed, “I love to cook. What time can I expect you?”
“What time do you want me there?”
“If you get here by 5:30 or so we can run for a while before it gets dark. I'll make something that can be warmed in the oven and ready when we get back.”
“That sounds great. I'll see you then.”
He more or less frittered the day away, doing very little of anything other than avoiding his editor who had somehow heard he attended Victoria's party with Marcella and was on the warpath because he had not filed a story about it.
He knew the editor got meaner as the day wore on. Some of the people in the city room thought she was a drinker and she got mean in the afternoon because she needed a nip. Ray knew she was a health freak who was a total vegan and never drank anything but water or vegetable juice that she made herself from organic vegetables. It was Ray's opinion that it was worse that she did not even have the excuse of needing a drink to behave like a wicked witch. The problem with her was she was just a bitch -- a bitch who had a job for which she was untrained and unsuited, working for a miserable company that put unbelievable pressure on its middle management to beat on the employees to produce more while cutting costs to a ridiculous degree. He almost felt sorry for her sometimes. But, not enough to deal with her at that moment. So, when he heard she was headed for the city room, he left the building by the back stairs.
He went to the beach and killed time until 5:00. He got tired o
f doing nothing, so he called Marcella. “Hey, I'm running early. Will it mess you up if I come now. I figure that would give us a few more minutes on the road before dark.”
“I'm already dressed and waiting for you.”
They ran until it got dark. Ray showered first while Marcella finished preparing dinner. When he came out of the bathroom, she handed him a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. “Open this and pour use each a glass. I'll be back in a flash.”
He laughed. He knew that was true. She could shower and change faster than any person, male or female, he had ever met.
He considered talking to her before dinner, but he was very hungry and he suspected the conversation would be long. He decided to eat first and then talk. He poured very short glasses of wine.
After dinner they sat on the lanai, in their usual spot on the love seat. He put his arm out and Marcella rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and cleared his throat. “I have to tell you something. I think this will be difficult for both of us, but I promised that I would be totally truthful with you, and I intend to keep that promise.
“I told you that when you first came to Sarasota, I knew little about you, so I Googled your name and I read a little of the stories about the Techtron fiasco. I'm a reporter. Nosing around for stories is what I do. I wanted to know if there was a story that someone had missed. When a newsworthy person moves to a small news market, the press takes notice. You have to have known that.
“Before I met you, I did a little digging of my own and a I put out some feelers among some of my sources seeking information about you. Not about Techtron or your husband, but about you.
“I came up with nothing. I didn't receive any information back from any of my sources.
“Then I met you. Once our relationship became 'personal' I stopped my research into your past because I figured if there was something I needed to know about you, you would tell me. I promised you I would not write about your story and I have kept my word. I promise I will not now or in the future write about any of the things you have told me.
“Unfortunately, I am a curious person. Curiosity is a good trait for a reporter to have. It is not so good for a man in a relationship with a woman like you. I wanted to know more, so I asked one of my best sources to follow up on some of the information you gave me, not for use in the paper but for my own personal information.” He stopped, swallowed and cleared his throat again. “That was wrong of me. I am sorry.”
He could feel her body go rigid. It seemed to him she was holding her breath; she was absolutely still. He hugged her and stroked her hair. That did not seem to help. He had gone this far, he had to continue, “The day before yesterday, when I got home in the evening, I found an email from my source. She is a librarian in Atlanta, and one of the best researchers I've ever known. She had previously given me some information about you when you lived in Atlanta. Nothing particularly significant; nothing that had not been in the papers. She told me where you lived, where you went to church and that you were a member of the Buckhead Club.
“It turns out she is apparently a hell of an investigator. The email she sent me the other night contains a lot of information. I don't know how much of it is accurate. Some of it may not have anything to do with you at all.” She started to tremble. “Most of it doesn't make any sense, which is typical for preliminary investigative data. That's why checking out every detail is important in investigating anything. That is an important detail that escapes a lot of today's so-called investigative reporters.
“Ordinarily, my next step would be to dig further, and to check and double check each of these supposed 'facts'.
“But, instead, I'm telling you about this because ... Well, I'm telling you for two reasons. First and foremost, I don't want you to think I'm spying on you behind your back. I know that sounds ridiculous because that is exactly what I was doing. I'm telling you this because I want you to know that I have this information. I think that it would be dishonest for me not to disclose what I have done and the information I now possess, however inaccurate it may be. I may be a nosy reporter and a rat bastard for poking into your personal life, but I am not dishonest.”
He paused for a long time. She did not look at him but she asked through what sounded to him like gritted teeth, “And the second reason is?”
“The second reason is because I would really like to know what the information means.” His voice cracked.
She sat up and looked at him for the first time since he had begun speaking. Her eyes reflected a mixture of anger, hurt, betrayal and fear that broke his heart. He was determined to take it because he felt he deserved it. He didn't flinch or look away. She whispered, “I want to see the email.”
He had the printed version with his notes folded in his wallet. He handed it to her. It was his turn to hold his breath as she scanned the document. When she finished, she started over and read it again.
She said, “It appears from your notes that after you received this information, you spoke to your researcher and discussed the content. Did you ask her to stop or is she still digging?”
He looked at his hands and then he looked into her eyes, “She is still digging, but I can and will make her stop.”
“Why would you do that? Looks like a potential bombshell of a story to me,” she said with a dry expression.
“I can't write this story at all. I promised you I wouldn't, and I won't. You have to understand that thirty plus years of checking out everything people tell me is a hard habit to break. I have no intention of using this information in the paper. I swear to you. I want to know everything there is to know about you for my own reasons.”
He looked into her eyes, and was surprised to see that she appeared to be more annoyed than anything. He thought that was odd.
She sighed and glanced at the paper again. “She did a thorough job. I would be very interested to know where she got some of her information, but I am sure that is something she would not discuss.” She stared off into space for a minute and then handed the paper back to him, saying, “First of all, I think you should tell her to keep digging. She has found out this much. I'd like to know what else she can find. I would like to know what tracks I may need to cover now.” Her voice trailed off. She seemed to have momentarily forgotten he was there.
Suddenly, she turned to him and asked, “So what do you want to know?”
“As a preliminary matter, I would like to know if the investigator has made an error in linking the three identities to the same person.”
She was quiet for a while, then she said very softly, “No, she's not wrong. I have at times used all three of those names. Marcia Pappas was the name I was given at birth. When I moved to Chicago, I changed my name to Marcella Pappias. Since Tonio Collonia was my benefactor, posing as my uncle, it seemed natural I should have an Italian-sounding name. After I graduated from Northwestern and went to graduate school in L.A., I changed my identity again. Tonio was dead at that point. I planned to start over with a new life and a new identity. I expected to have nothing further to do with his family.
“If your investigator had been able to find information on travel, she would learn that virtually all of my foreign travel was done under the name of Marcella Pappias and, later, Marcella Wilson. M. V. Papillon was always just a backup in case I got into difficulty. I rarely used it.”
He couldn't help it. He asked, “What did you do for Collonia?”
“What do you think?”
“If I had to guess based on the little information I have, I'd guess smuggling. Probably smuggling of money for laundering.”
She nodded. “You are pretty good. In terms of what I did in this country, it was mostly moving cash from Florida where it came into the country to the upper Midwest where he passed the money through his network of laundries.” She chuckled, “Tonio thought it was hysterical that his money-laundering operation was conducted through actual, and otherwise legitimate laundromats in small towns.
�
��Overseas, I generally moved merchandise from one place to another and brought the payment back to the United States or someplace close. If it was a large amount of money I put it in banks in the Cayman Islands, the Bahamas or Switzerland. If it was a relatively small amount of money, I brought it back with me.
“In short, you are correct. I was involved in a very large scale smuggling operation.”
“What kinds of things did you smuggle?”
She smiled, “My specialty was jewels and art. I think the Collonia's also smuggled weapons and ammunition, but the only things I ever carried were gemstones and paintings. Interestingly, most of the items I smuggled were legitimately purchased and paid for. The service the Collonias provided was essentially a delivery service to by-pass tax laws. We were sort of like an underground Federal Express service. Some rich guy in Asia would buy a painting by an old master in Europe for seven figures, but wanted to limit his tax liability. Collonia delivered the merchandise for a negotiated price that was never more than half the amount of the taxes.”
Ray observed, “Which, on a multi-million dollar purchase could be a lot of money.”
She nodded and said, “A whole lot of money.
“Tonio Collonia was an interesting guy. Aurelio continued the smuggling business for a few years, but as far as I know now he's gone almost completely legit. He had the feds breathing down his neck for a while, so I was given to understand that he stopped most of his criminal activities and now lives like a laird on the income from the laundry chain, the employment agency and the enormous fortune he inherited from his father. He arranges a delivery now and then for an old client, but it is my understanding he's basically stopped his illegal operations.
“You should know a couple of things about the Collonias. Other than working for a mob-owned business when he first came to the States, Tonio was never connected with the Chicago Mob or any other criminal organization except perhaps for a family in his native Sicily. He was always very careful not to step on the turf of the American Mafia. The feds always thought he was working with the Chicago Mob and I think that's one reason they never caught him. He was smart. Oh, God, he was smart. He knew that what he did was illegal, but he was an old-world mobster. He was in the business of evading taxes and getting around government red tape. Tonio dealt only in gems and art. Smuggling weapons was strictly Aurelio's operation, and Tonio never knew about it, I don't think. Tonio hated the mobsters that dealt in prostitution, gambling, drugs, and guns. He did not approve of making money off things that hurt people. He didn't think that what he did hurt anyone. He was the odd criminal with an actual conscience.
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