by Maria DiRico
Satisfied with her plan and feeling safe with Jamie at her feet, Mia fell asleep.
* * *
When she woke up in the morning, Jamie was gone. A wave of insecurity washed over her, but Mia remembered that he had an early class and assumed he didn’t want to wake her up. She showered in the lounge’s shower and changed into clothes she found in one of the room’s drawers. Cammie had told her that bridal parties often left stray pieces of clothing that the Belle View staff washed and folded, then packed away until it was claimed. Few items ever were, so Mia was able to dig out clean undergarments and jeans. The only shirt that fit was one that said I LOST MY MONEY AND LUNCH IN VEGAS. She hoped the day didn’t bring any drop-in potential customers.
Mia went downstairs. The first item on her agenda was calling Belle View’s small staff of full-timers and letting them know they had the day off. She left a message for Evans. When she told Guadalupe what happened to her kitchen, the chef vowed to waterboard the perpetrator. “You thought I was coming in?” said Cammie. “That’s adorable.”
Once this task was completed, she turned her attention to setting up a meeting at Koller Properties. She located a telephone number through an Internet search and pressed it into her cell phone. After navigating a hellacious list of voice commands, she finally reached a human being who put her through to Bradley Koller’s assistant. “Bradley Koller’s office,” a voice chirped on the other end of the line.
“Yes, hello, my name is Mia Carina. I’m the assistant general manager at Belle View Banquet Manor. Mr. Koller and his brother were here the other evening for an event, and I’d like to set up a meeting to discuss the possibility of utilizing our facility for a future Koller event.” I sound so professional, Mia bragged to herself.
“Thank you, but we’re not interested.” The assistant hung up on Mia.
Mia uttered a frustrated exclamation. Then she redialed, once again working her way through the voice commands.
“Bradley Koller’s office.”
“Yes, hi, this is Mia Carina. We were just speaking. We got disconnected.”
“I’m sorry, we don’t take solicitations over the telephone.” The call ended.
Mia let a string of cuss words fly. Then she punched in the telephone number, muttering a profanity with each stop at the voice commands.
“Bradley Koller’s office.”
“Ravello Carina, my father, would really like to see a meeting with Bradley and Kevin Koller happen.”
There was a pause at the other end of the line. “How’s one this afternoon?”
“Perfect.”
This time Mia had the satisfaction of ending the call.
Chapter Twelve
The Koller meeting set, Mia sat back in her office chair and debated what to wear. The goal was to sell herself as a hip, upscale businesswoman. If the brothers had any suspicions about an ulterior motive for the appointment, it would be rendered useless.
She did a quick mental inventory of her wardrobe and decided a shopping trip was in order. Mia walked through Belle View to make sure no one else was there, and locked up the building, hoping both that and her father’s mafioso reputation would deter miscreants from finding their way into the catering hall through the large hole in the kitchen. Then she took a cab to Steinway Street. The one positive of gentrification was that a couple of high-end clothing and shoe stores had sprouted up in the Astoria business district. She went into a store that once housed a video rental business and now sold the kind of outfits that transformed a Queens girl like Mia into a trendy Manhattanite until she opened her mouth and honked out a few sentences in her distinctly outer-borough accent.
Within an hour, Mia had outfitted herself in a form-fitting button-down white shirt, a navy blazer, and slim-fit pants in a subtle navy and dark gold pattern. She finished the look with platformed black pumps that were stylish, yet comfortable. Mia used her phone to transfer funds from her dwindling savings account to her debit card and paid for her purchases. She noticed a text from the DJ who’d worked John Grazio’s bachelor party. “Hi. Wondering about my check.” Mia slapped her forehead. She’d forgotten to pay him that night. She texted him back. “So so sorry. I’ll get it to you ASAP.” DJ sent her back a thumbs-up and smiley face. Mia relaxed. At least something could be solved with relative ease.
A Prius with the Pick-U-Up magnetic logo on its door stopped in front of the coffee shop and dislodged a passenger. Mia smiled when she saw the driver was Jamie. “Hey,” she called to him, and waved.
Jamie’s face lit up. “Hey.” Mia walked over to the car. “I was going to call you and check in. See how you’re doing. You look great.”
“Thanks. You think I look good enough to impress the Koller brothers?”
“The Koller brothers?”
“I set up a meeting with them on the pretext of pitching Belle View as a party venue for them. What I really want to do is see if I can suss out any dirt on development plans they might have for the neighborhood.” Jamie opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t you dare do that thing where you tell me to be careful and not do something dangerous. I’m a thirty-one-year-old woman who survived a cheating husband, the investigation into the disappearance of same cheating husband, and a couple of hurricanes, so I think I can take care of myself.” She took a breath.
Jamie smiled. “I was gonna offer you a ride into Manhattan.”
“Oh. I’ll take it.”
As usual, Jamie’s front seat was covered with textbooks, so Mia climbed in the back seat. Her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number but took the call. “Hello?”
“This is Barbara Grazio. John’s mother.”
Mia stifled a groan. “Hi, Mrs. Grazio. How can I help you?”
“I haven’t heard back from you about the blue flowers. I need to see a sample.”
“Yes, of course. I’m working on it and hope to have that sample for you by tomorrow. I’ll text you as soon as I get it.”
“Do that,” the woman said, and ended the call.
“I saw your face in the rearview mirror,” Jamie said. “What was that about?”
“The mother of a groom, and she is the worst. You’ve heard of a bridezilla? This woman is a groom’smother-zilla. I don’t think I’ve ever met a needier person in my life. You’d think she was the one getting married. Cammie warned me. She said, make the groom’s mother happy. Then she cut and ran.”
“Weddings can be hard on a groom’s family. They’re more tolerated than embraced. If this woman’s Italian—”
“Oh, she’s Italian. Molto, molto Italiana.”
“You know us Italians love our weddings. Maybe she doesn’t have a daughter. Or the groom is an only child. This is her one chance to shine in a big way. The more she can celebrate and feel like an important part of the event, the easier it is to accept that there’s another woman in her son’s life. One who’s meant to supplant her.”
Mia was awed by Jamie’s insights. For a reason she couldn’t explain, she choked up. “James Francis Boldano,” she said, her voice thick. “You’re gonna make the best effing therapist in the world.”
“I need to pontificate around you more often,” Jamie said with a grin.
“To be honest, I’m not sure what that means, but go for it.” Mia’s phone rang again. “Oh, please don’t be groom’s-mother-zilla again.” She looked at the number. “It’s not. Phew. Hello?”
She heard a man’s voice. “Yeah, is this the number to call about the missing bird?”
“Yes,” Mia said, excited. “Yes, it is. You found her?”
“Yeah. I saw your flyer. And then this little bird flew by. You still offering a reward?”
“Yes.” Now Mia was wary. “I want to confirm you have the right bird. Green with a yellow head?”
“That’s it.”
“Liar!” she yelled into the phone. “Pizzazz was—is—yellow with a green head. What kind of human being are you, scamming someone who lost a beloved pet? You can go straight to—hell
o? They hung up.” Mia slammed her phone on the seat and wiped away a few angry tears.
Jamie shot her a dark look and muttered a few choice descriptions of the scammer. “I’m tempted to call one of my dad’s goons and have him track down whoever was on the other end of that call.”
“You’re so sweet. Believe me, the thought crossed my mind. But we can’t go there. Once we do, we can never come back.”
“You’ll find Pizzazz, Mia.”
“I hope so. But I’m beginning to think I may not.” Tears bubbled over her lower eyelids. She pulled a tissue from her purse and blotted them away.
Jamie glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his gaze filled with compassion. “Should I put on some music?”
“Thank you, I’d like that.”
Jamie put on a soft rock station, which played comforting classic hits as they crossed over the Queensboro Bridge into Manhattan. He deftly navigated midtown traffic and pulled up in front of the Koller Properties headquarters, a dull office tower on Third Avenue in the Fifties. “I’m sorry, I can’t pick you up. I have stuff going on tonight.”
“Please, don’t worry about it. I can get myself home.” Mia started to unbuckle her seat belt. She paused. “Jamie . . . does your father have people looking into what’s going on at Belle View? My dad may be running the place, but it’s still a Boldano Family business.”
Jamie sighed. “My dad stopped talking to me about family business once I told him I wasn’t going into it. Not to be mean, to protect me. What I don’t know can’t hurt me. I’m sure he’s got people keeping an eye on what goes on at Belle View. But that’s because he has to keep it a clean operation. The Feds are always breathing down his neck. They can’t wait to throw him back in jail, and the rest of the Family with him. Dad needs Belle View to stay legit. If there’s any hint of involvement . . .”
Mia finished his sentence. “It’s over.”
“Yup.”
Mia resumed unbuckling her seat belt. “This meeting better pay off.” She got out of the car and waved Jamie off, then turned to face the Koller building. Mia closed her eyes and murmured a mantra a new age-y friend once shared with her to help overcome stress: I am having a safe, uneventful journey. Whether the journey was physical or emotional, Mia discovered repeating the simple sentence a few times did create a sense of calm. She threw her shoulders back and marched into the building, hoping she exuded a confidence she didn’t fully feel.
The lobby, whose salmon-colored marble walls, floor, and ceiling were meant to convey luxury, felt oppressive. Mia approached a uniformed guard sitting behind a gilded rococo station that would have been at home with Rose Caniglia’s gaudy furnishings. “Hello. I have an appointment with Bradley and Kevin Koller.”
“Sign in and I need to see ID.”
Mia signed in and handed the guard her Florida ID card. The guard, who looked like a former drill sergeant, eyed it suspiciously. “I don’t drive,” Mia explained. “And I only moved back to New York a couple of weeks ago.”
The guard passed the ID card through a scanner. A few beeping noises later, a machine produced a nametag featuring Mia’s ID photo. He attached it to a lanyard. “Fifty-third floor. Second elevator bank. Swipe this over there,” he said, pointing to a row of what looked like subway turnstiles. “Then wear it during your stay here.”
“Yes, sir.” Mia suppressed the urge to salute him. She approached the turnstiles and followed the guard’s instructions. The turnstile arms retracted and an elevator in the second bank opened its doors to her. Mia stepped into an elevator decorated with hints of salmon-colored marble and was whisked to the fifty-third floor, where the elevator doors opened onto a reception area covered in . . . salmon-colored marble. Italy must have sacrificed an entire mountain for this place, Mia thought as she stepped off the elevator. She approached a receptionist wearing a headset. “Hello, I’m Mia Carina,” she said in her most officious voice. “I have an appointment with Bradley and Kevin Koller.”
The receptionist, a well-dressed woman in her forties with a demeanor as cold as the building’s omnipresent marble, spoke into her headset. “Their one o’clock is here.” She addressed Mia. “You can take a seat over there. An assistant will be with you in a minute.”
Mia took a seat on one of the creamy leather couches the receptionist pointed to. She sat all the way back. The couch was so deep her feet dangled over the edge, half a foot off the floor. Feeling like a kid at the grown-up’s table, she perched on the edge of the couch, firmly planting her feet on the marbled floor. An impossibly thin and tall woman in her late twenties walked down the hallway toward her. To Mia’s horror, she saw that they were wearing the same blazer. She pulled hers off and slung it over her arm. “Mia?” the woman said. She managed a condescending smile that reeked of doing Mia a favor.
“Yes, hi,” Mia responded, standing up.
“We spoke on the phone. The Kollers are ready to see you.”
The young woman led Mia through a maze of cubicles to a giant conference room with a spectacular view across the East River to Long Island City and beyond. Mia could see a plane taking off from LaGuardia Airport. “I can practically see where I work from here,” she said, awed by the panoramic vista.
The assistant didn’t respond and departed without bothering to introduce herself. Left alone, Mia went over her game plan. Small talk first—lots of flattery, apologies for the “terrible event” at Belle View, a segue into gossip about the murder, where she hoped to catch a flicker of guilt on either of the Kollers’ faces. Then a pitch for Belle View—because if neither Koller was a killer, it wouldn’t hurt having them as clients. The office wall was glass and Mia could see the brothers approaching. She noted how Kevin resembled an off-brand version of his older brother; a few inches shorter and a few pounds heavier, with the same sandy, thinning hair, but less of it. However, their facial expressions were an exact match. They wore the same smug, arrogant looks on their faces that Mia remembered from the bachelor party.
Since they were sans nameless assistant, she put her blazer back on. “Hello. Thank you so much for meeting with me,” Mia said with a bright smile. She stood up and extended her hand, taking turns shaking with each brother. Both offered limp, slightly clammy grips. The three took seats around the coffee table. “First of all, I can’t tell you how thrilled we were that the Koller brothers were at our venue.” Mia cringed inside at how thick she was laying it on, but the smirk on Bradley’s face showed the unctuous approach was working. “And I’m glad I get the chance to apologize in person for the horrible incident at the bachelor party.” She subtly scanned the men’s faces but much to her frustration, their expressions were impassive. “I can’t believe someone was brutally murdered on our property.” Mia added a shudder for effect.
“Stuff happens,” Kevin said with a shrug.
“You wanted to talk to us about Belle View’s catering services?” Bradley said.
“Right, yes.” Mia took a deep breath, then launched into her pitch. “As you saw for yourself, Belle View offers gorgeous views from both its luxurious ballrooms, and everything from linens to food is top-of-the-line. What you don’t know is that all of this comes at an incredibly affordable price.”
“But all of that comes in Queens,” Bradley said with a snort. “And we’re not going to be holding a Koller party in Queens.”
“Do you do outside catering?” Kevin asked.
Bradley turned to his brother. “Excuse me.”
Kevin looked embarrassed, yet resentful. “Sorry. I thought I’d ask. For the future, maybe.”
Bradley, annoyed, said, “What my brother means is, do you cater events not held at Belle View?”
Which is exactly what Kevin asked but with different words, Mia refrained from saying. “Absolutely,” she said, having no idea if this was true. “We can provide whatever you need, wherever you need it.” I hope, I hope.
“Before we’d commit to any large-scale events, we’d need to do a test run,” Bradley c
ontinued. “Kevin’s throwing a party for his girlfriend this weekend, here in our Koller event space. We’ll replace the people he hired with you and your people.”
“We will?” Kevin said. He didn’t seem too happy about the idea and Mia didn’t blame him. “I, uh, wasn’t thinking that we’d, uh . . .”
“I’d be happy to do a small event, like a dinner for you, as a test run,” Mia said, jumping in. “Small” meant closer contact with the brothers. “I wouldn’t feel right taking work away from a company you already hired.”
“Too late.” Bradley had pulled out his phone while she was talking. He held it up. “I texted them they’re out.”
“You did?” Kevin and Mia both responded weakly.
“Get me a list of everyone employed by Belle View and our security team will vet them. We’ll let you know if there’s a problem. We have strict security standards for anyone who might be involved with any Koller project or event, even peripherally.”
Mia’s heart sank as she saw a primo opportunity to spy on the brothers slipping away. “About that. I should tell you that my father’s done a couple of stints in prisons, my brother is finishing another sentence, and Donny Boldano, my dad’s boss, is both a godfather and my actual godfather.”
Bradley and Kevin shared a look. “You know what?” Bradley said. “Let’s just call your group vetted.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mia said, relieved.
“Let me get my girlfriend. It’s her birthday; she should have some input into what happens.” Kevin shot a dirty look at his brother and typed out a text.
“Let the girls do their party planning thing, Kevvo,” Bradley says. “We have work to do.”
