Killer Tied

by Lesley A. Diehl

  Back at the motel room, I called Sammy and said goodnight to the boys, making kissy sounds over the phone.

  “Any news about Eleanor’s whereabouts?” I asked.

  “She seems to have vanished into thin air. I can’t imagine where she could be or why she left,” he told me.

  “I can think of several reasons, and they all begin with Jerry. I think he put the moves on her and she felt crowded by his attentions. From what I’ve learned, the Montrose family members are good at keeping a low profile. Eleanor and her mother may not be easy to locate.”

  “Maybe it’s not Jerry at fault here. He told me Eleanor was preoccupied the last few days he was with her. He also said she seemed worried and jittery, as if she expected something unpleasant to happen.”

  It sounded as if Eleanor was on the run again. But maybe she had word of her mother and was following a lead.

  I had just disconnected with Sammy when my cell rang. It was Grandy, hopping mad. “I thought you might call, but no, I have to find out through my contacts that you were almost run down by a car and that you fainted at the police station.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you. And what contacts are you talking about? I didn’t tell anyone about that.”

  “Humph. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “I would. And I’d love it if you wouldn’t let on to Sammy about my, uh, accidents.”

  “I’ll keep my lip buttoned, but only if you keep me posted on anything that happened. I mean anything. Don’t be using your no-one’s-business-but-Eve’s filter.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry. I should have let you know what was happening.”

  Grandy sounded more than just angry I hadn’t called her to tell her about my “accidents.” I might not have Grandfather Egret’s sixth sense, but I knew Grandy well enough to realize there was something else on her mind.

  “So tell me,” I said.

  She chose to intentionally misinterpret what I was asking. “I found out about all this from Frida. She stopped by the shop today.”

  So Chief Raleigh had again been in contact with Frida, who then blabbed to Grandy.

  “I waited for you to call, certain that you would want me to know.” Her voice was still frosty.

  “How long are you going to stay mad at me?” I asked.

  She gave me one of those lines parents like to use. “As long as it takes.”

  “What in the world does that mean?” I asked to a line that had gone dead.

  Whatever was bothering Grandy, aside from feeling I was leaving her out of the loop, she chose to keep it to herself. She’d tell me when she was good and ready or when pigs fly, whichever came first.

  When we left the motel the next morning, the car that had been following us earlier pulled in behind, dogged us until we headed south toward the highway, then dropped out of sight.

  “They know where we’re going. Just as I thought,” Nappi said. The tension in his shoulders dropped away, and he let one hand rest on his knee, steering expertly with the other.

  “So much for taking those guys off Chief Raleigh’s hands.”

  “If I’m right in my suspicion that they’re confirming we’re heading for Connecticut, they won’t bother Tillahook. They’re interested in us.”

  “Were you worried about the tail?” I asked.

  “I can handle the situation, and if it comes to that, I will. It’s just nice for now not to have to think about it. We can enjoy the ride through the Berkshires.” He tuned to a jazz station on satellite radio and began to tap his fingers in time to the music.

  Lack of sleep and a delayed sense of what could have happened with the hit-and-run caught up to me. The music lulled me into sleep.

  “Okay, Eve. Here we are in Monroe. Wake up,” I heard Nappi say.

  “How long did I sleep?”

  “Over three hours. I’ve never seen you so tired. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we can find a walk-in clinic. You took quite a spill when that car came for you. I should have insisted you get looked at then.”

  I was as surprised as Nappi that I’d fallen into such a deep sleep and for so long. When I got involved in a murder investigation, I survived on little sleep, a lot of barbecue ribs, and a few Scotches. And thinking of ribs, I realized it was after one in the afternoon. Breakfast had been more than four hours ago.

  “I’m starved,” I said, sitting up and examining my face in the mirror on the visor.

  “That’s more like the Eve I know.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair to perk up the spikes that had been smooshed on one side from my nap. Smiling at Nappi, I said, “Look. There’s a fast-food place ahead. I could use a burger and some fries. Maybe a chocolate shake too.”

  “Look. We’ve got a tail again,” said Nappi as he turned into the restaurant.

  “How long have they been back there?” I asked.

  “Hard to say. They picked us up when we hit the edge of town, but they could have been behind us all the way, just not making it obvious.”

  Nappi parked the car, and we watched our tail pull into a parking spot several spaces down.

  “You go on in and order, Eve. I’ll be right with you.” Nappi walked down the line of cars, and I watched him approach the black SUV that had been tailing us. Was a black SUV the official car used by the bad guys to tail the good guys? The driver’s side window slid down, and Nappi and the driver talked for a while. Finally Nappi nodded and walked away. The car backed out of the parking space and left.

  Nappi joined me in the order line inside, saying nothing. He feigned interest in the items on the menu overhead, examining the offerings as if he’d never been in a fast-food joint before. We got our food and chose a table by the front windows.

  “So? Tell me.”

  He took a big bite of his burger and held up one finger as he chewed and swallowed. “Hmm. This is pretty tasty.”

  “Nappi. Get on with it.”

  “I thought I recognized the driver of the car that just took up the tail here. He used to work for Freddy the Bull.”

  At the name, I envisioned a huge man with black-as-midnight hair and no neck.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but you’d be wrong.” He inserted several fries into his mouth, and I waited impatiently until he chewed and swallowed them.

  “Freddie is a short guy, barely five feet, got the most delicate hands you’ve ever seen, long fingers. He could have been a concert pianist, I think.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Where did he get the name?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think it’s because he’s full of it—never tells the truth about anything, exaggerates every story he tells. Pretends to be a harmless kind of guy, but he’s got contacts. The guys who tailed us in New York and this crew,” he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, “are contacts.”

  “Contacts with contracts?” I asked.

  “They’re the muscle Freddie provides when someone wants to scare someone.”

  “So what did you tell them to get them to leave?”

  “I told them they were stepping all over my space, that this was my case, not Freddie’s business. That’s Freddie for you. Always invading someone else’s territory. I keep telling him, ‘Freddie, there are rules, you know.’ ”

  “Did they tell you who Freddie is doing business with?”

  “Nope, but I gave them a message for Freddie that I’d like to chat with him sometime soon.”

  A shadow crossed our table. I looked up into the palest eyes I’d ever encountered. Something about them reminded me of a reptile. Slight as this man was, he looked far from harmless. Slender hands reached out and grabbed one of my fries.

  “I love fries.” The man’s voice was high and squeaky like Truman Capote’s.

  “See what I mean, Eve? The man just cannot keep his hands off other people’s property,” Nappi said.

  Freddie the Bull had joined us for lunch.

  Chapter 11

  Freddie seemed not to take offense at Nappi’s words
, but pulled over a chair from a table nearby and sat down beside me.

  “This must be Ms. Appel.” He held out his hand. I hesitated a moment, then reached over and shook it.

  “How do you know who I am?”

  “Now that’s a long story.”

  “Spare us one of your lengthy fabrications. There are any of a dozen ways you could have found out who she is.” Nappi was doing a good job of looking bored, gazing around the restaurant and languidly nibbling on his food.

  “Yes, but my story is a lot more interesting than any of those. And this time it’s the truth.”

  Nappi put down his burger and sat back in his chair. “I’m guessing I’ll have to listen to your story or I won’t find out what I need to know.”

  Freddie smiled. It was not a nice smile, barely lifting the corners of his lips a fraction of an inch. His colorless eyes hardened, and their glacial hue made me want to reach for my sweater, which I’d left in the car.

  “Okay, here’s the thing. A very prominent family approached me through their lawyer and asked me to do some investigating for them.”

  “Pardon me, Mister, uh, Freddie, but why wouldn’t they hire a private investigator rather than a ….” I stopped myself, struggling for words to describe Freddie’s work.

  “Hit man? You think I’d do that kind of work? I’m hurt, terribly hurt to think you’d see me that way, but then you don’t know me. We’ve just met. Unless, of course, my friend here,” he gestured with his head toward Nappi, “has been talking about me.” He leaned forward and tried a stare-down with Nappi. Nappi ignored him.

  I gulped. The tension at the table seemed tight enough that I expected to hear a twang when it snapped.

  Nappi set down his burger and brought his face within inches of Freddie’s. “I told her you were a liar, and that this wasn’t the first time you’d intruded on my turf. You remember how that came out, don’t you?”

  Freddie closed his eyes, and when he spoke, I had difficulty hearing him.

  “What was that, Freddie?” Nappi asked. “Speak up.”

  Freddie’s posture had changed from arrogant tough guy to reprimanded child. He slid down in his chair and fiddled with the salt and pepper packets on the table. “This is different. I got this case fair and square. How was I to know it was infringing on your interests?”

  “Good point. You didn’t know, but now you do. So back off. Or I’ll do what I did the last time you interfered where you shouldn’t.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “And …?”

  Freddie threw the packets onto the table and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Good. Now, who are you working for?”

  “I don’t know. I’m working through their law firm.”

  I knew there were crooked lawyers. I’d met a few in the past, one who worked for the mob and then went off on his own to kill someone. Why was I surprised to learn that a Connecticut law firm would do business with a mob guy?

  “Freddie …” Nappi said with a warning tone in his voice.

  “Teller, Markowitz, Sterns, Babcock, and Tranho,” said Freddie. “And they’re not gonna like it when I don’t deliver.”

  “Deliver what?” I asked.

  He looked around at the restaurant’s patrons before continuing in a low voice, “Information. That’s all.” He wouldn’t meet Nappi’s eyes. He was lying.

  Nappi laughed. “Ms. Appel said it before. You’re not in the investigating business, Freddie. You’re in the disappearing business. Don’t lie to me.”

  Freddy again began to play with the salt and pepper packets. He kind of twisted his neck around as if he had a kink in it. “Information and other stuff,” he said.

  Nappi reached across the table and stilled Freddy’s hands. “A name.” He tapped one of Freddy’s slender fingers.

  I think Nappi and I already knew before Freddie could say, “The Montroses.”

  “But why?” I asked.

  “I don’t ask why. I just offer a service.”

  Nappi slammed his fist down on the table with a bang. The couple at the next table looked up. Nappi spoke through gritted teeth, his words coming out in a hiss. “That’s why I hate having guys like you in the business. You’ll do anything for money.”

  Okay, I knew Nappi had limits when it came to mob business. Now I knew he drew the line at murder. Did that make him more or less scary, more or less likeable, more or less mob-like, more or less likely to end up in jail?

  Back in Nappi’s car, after Freddie left us at the restaurant and after he stole another handful of my fries, I continued to think about the entire conversation. I had a few questions for my friend, and there was no time like the present to ask.

  “Are you allowed to call yourself a mob boss if you don’t engage in murder?”

  “I do,” he said.

  “Engage in murder or call yourself a mob guy?”

  “I’m pretty mob-like. You know that. You’ve seen the kind of connections I have. Should I be offended you asked that question?”

  “I know you’re connected, and I know you’ve been in scrapes with the law, but you’ve never been in jail, and I’m not aware of any really mobsterish things you’ve done.”

  “Now you’re doubting my word? That’s not like you, Eve.”

  “I’m not doubting you. I know you’ve never lied to me. So, now, I’m just asking you to say it. Say it. ‘I’m a Mafia guy.’ ”

  He gave me a questioning look, then laughed. “I’m a mob guy, Eve. I’m a smart mob guy. I don’t get caught.”

  “You could be undercover for the Feds.”

  He was silent for a while, then said, “I could be. Would that make you feel better about me, Eve?”

  Well, this was a dumb conversation. To be honest, I didn’t care whether Nappi was mob or fed. He was my friend, had come through for me always, and most importantly, Grandy loved him. I trusted her, didn’t I? This whole thing about my mother being alive couldn’t shake that trust. Ever.

  I leaned over in my seat and planted a kiss on his smooth-shaven cheek. “I don’t care if you’re an alien from another planet. I love you.” So why did I ask? Maybe the issue with Eleanor made me want to be certain I knew who people were, and what they were to me.

  He gave my hand a friendly pat. “There’s a motel up ahead. Let’s check in and get back to work.”

  “I’m worried about Eleanor. I’m going to call Grandy and see if they’re found her.”

  “Freddie may have sent some of his guys to Florida.”

  “You think they’re responsible for Mr. Montrose’s death? We should let Frida know what you found out about Freddie.”

  “I’ll let you make that call. You’ll do better than I at persuading her of a mob connection in Mr. Montrose’s death. She should be alerted that they could still be in the area looking for Eleanor and her mother.”

  I was relieved that he had an answer to Mr. Montrose’s death. We didn’t know why, but we knew who.

  Nappi must have read the look of relief on my face. “Don’t be so certain Freddie got to him. I didn’t get the feeling from Freddie that he’d been successful yet in his task. He likes to brag and embellish his accomplishments.”

  “Accomplishments? You call murder an accomplishment?”

  “I don’t, but Freddie might. I’m not through with Freddie yet. He’s got a lot more to tell me.” He changed the subject. “I assume you’ll want to continue your snooping here.”

  Yes I did, but where would I begin? At the school again? The records there on Eleanor were even older than the ones in New York. I’d been lucky to find Mrs. Falco in Tillahook, but I couldn’t count on my luck holding. I’d set that aside for the moment. For now I was more interested in finding out about Eleanor’s mother.

  I needed to take a look at hospitals that were in operation at least thirty years ago, before Eleanor was born or when she was young. Many public institutions had closed, moving residents into out-patient clinics or into residential treatme
nt programs. Other former patients fell between the cracks and found their way into the homeless populations. Eleanor’s mother was not one of those because she met Henry and had Eleanor. It was a long shot, but there was a private hospital near Monroe. It was a place to begin, a place where the rich placed family members who were having difficulties adjusting to society—in other words, an old-fashioned institution for those with mental problems, a place for a family to hide children or other relatives who might embarrass them. Freddie said he was working for a well-to-do family. Maybe there was a connection between those wealthy clients and the institutionalization of Eleanor’s mother. Could she be related to some Connecticut bluebloods? But why would they hire someone to kill the Montroses? Mr. Montrose was no catch for a woman from old money, but embarrassment at who your daughter or sister or cousin married wasn’t motive enough to kill her and her family. And hiring a mob guy sounded desperate and vengeful, not like social humiliation. Nappi wasn’t certain Freddie’s contacts were responsible for Mr. Montrose’s murder, and it didn’t appear to be the usual bullet-to-the-head mob hit. It hit me how blind we had been. I was so obsessed with Eleanor’s story about her mother, I had overlooked the obvious—Mr. Montrose. What about his family background, his associates?

  I filed the questions about Eleanor’s father in the back of my head for future consideration. Tracking down his background seemed more difficult than moving ahead with finding out about his common-law wife. And this mystery seemed to be all about her. For now, I decided to focus on determining if she had been in a mental facility. Maybe I was taking the easier path because I felt I had an “in” with the institution nearby. The legal leverage of a court order provided through either Chief Raleigh or Frida seemed problematic, as Raleigh had indicated. I decided to try a softer approach. Having lived in Connecticut for most of my life, I knew the blue bloods here. They would close ranks if they thought the authorities were trying to dig dirt on their private affairs. I’d try my contact at the institution first. Legal maneuvers might come later if I was unsuccessful.