He balanced the paper sack and groped for his keys as he walked up the outside stairs to his apartment, calling out, ‘It’s me,’ as he turned the key in the lock.
And then he didn’t know what hit him. Someone came up behind him and hurled him to the ground, shoving him inside the apartment with brutal force.
The paper sack of groceries went flying – milk spilt, ice cream splattered the walls, orange juice dribbled on to the floor.
‘What the fu—’ he began to say. But a sharp kick in the guts shut him up.
Both Brigette and Roberto started to scream in alarm.
‘What we got here?’ said Santino Bonnatti, stepping over Tim, nodding to the two hoods who had gained entry for him, and staring at Brigette and Roberto. ‘Family fuckin’ circle?’
‘Who are you? What do you want?’ Brigette gasped. And then she sprang at one of the hoods who was casually and methodically kicking Tim as he tried to curl up in a ball to protect himself. ‘Leave him alone!’ she yelled.
‘Leave him alone,’ copied Roberto, running to her side and clinging to her leg.
Santino’s lip curled in disgust. Where did Tim Wealth inherit kids for crissake?
Chapter One-Hundred-Twenty-Five
A very friendly Chinese man received no conversation at all from Steven on the five-hour flight to L.A. Up in first class Lucky gave the same treatment to an elderly businessman with bad breath.
Neither of them ate. Neither of them watched the movie. Upon landing at LAX they hurried from the plane and managed to disembark at the same time, coming face to face at the point where first class meets tourist.
‘Lucky Santangelo,’ Steven said.
She hesitated for only a moment, and then remembered. ‘Mister D.A.’, she said with a wry grin.
He grimaced. ‘No more.’
‘You gave it up? I felt for sure you’d end up Mayor of New York City.’
They walked together down the corridor linking the plane to the airport. He felt so strange seeing her again now that he knew there was a wild possibility they shared the same father.
‘Last time we met I was just about to be arrested.’ She turned to look at him. ‘Remember?’
‘Oh, I could never forget that,’ he said. ‘You shot the guy I’d been working two years to indict.’
‘Self-defence.’
‘Sure.’
‘Really.’
She recalled their meeting six years ago. The long sticky New York blackout of 1977. And she had been trapped in an elevator with Mister Steven Berkeley for a whole night – nine long hours. They had become friends – of sorts. They had almost become lovers.
A day later she had discovered he was the D.A. working on a case against Enzio Bonnatti. She hadn’t seen him since.
‘Do you live here?’ he inquired politely.
She shook her head. ‘Do you?’
‘Just visiting.’
‘What do you do now you’re not a D.A. any more?’ she asked curiously.
‘I sold out. I’m a lawyer.’
They stepped aboard the moving runway. She remembered going to his apartment that hot and humid morning because she had lost the keys to hers. He let her take a bath and borrow some of his clothes. God, he was so straight! But he had been tempted until his girlfriend invaded the mood that was starting to take place.
‘Did you ever marry that girl – Eileen, wasn’t that her name?’
‘Aileen. No I never married her.’
Lucky grinned. ‘Good. She ruined the start of what could have been a beautiful relationship.’
He forgot his anger for a moment and took her by the arm. ‘Many years ago your father, Gino, knew my mother.’
She stared at him. He was startlingly handsome with his tight black curls, chocolate cream skin, and deep green eyes. ‘Really?’
‘He owned a nightclub, “Clemmie’s”, in the thirties, I think.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well—’
‘Lucky!’ Costa was at the end of the runway waving frantically.
She waved back, wondering how he knew of her arrival.
‘My uncle,’ she explained to Steven. ‘It was . . . nice seeing you again. Take care.’
Was it his imagination or did he see a flash of himself in her goodbye smile?
He watched her out of sight and knew, once and for all, he had to find out who his father was.
* * *
There were drugs everywhere in Flash’s hotel room, and Olympia was floating in heaven. She and Flash had soared through the night on a trail of good times, and she never wanted to leave his side again. He was no longer a reformed heroin addict – he had been back on the stuff for a while – and seeing Olympia in Studio 54 had sent dollar signs doing neon dances in front of his eyes.
The truth was that Flash was broke, busted, and a bum. His former group refused to have anything to do with him; and his teenage wife had thrown him out.
Olympia appeared at the right moment.
Olympia was cool to get high with.
Olympia could buy him anything he damn well wanted.
They started off on coke, switched to freebasing, and ended up doing speedballs – a mixture of cocaine and heroin.
It was a long night – only interrupted by a series of drug dealers who came and went with their variety of wares whenever Flash summoned them.
Levine, a former groupie, turned addict and pusher, had serviced the happy couple at six in the morning.
‘Come back in a few hours,’ Flash instructed her. ‘Bring me everything you got – grade A.’
Levine promised she would.
Flash promised that if she delivered what he wanted he might strum her a few notes on his guitar.
Levine said, ‘Yeah!’
Olympia just smiled.
Levine returned at ten-fifteen in the morning with a whole bunch of goodies. She had stopped off at her apartment and collected a small Sony tape recorder. If Flash was going to play, she was going to get it down. Yeah!
The hotel was a dump, but it was a comfortable dump, and Flash liked the bohemian atmosphere of the place.
Levine knocked, and then opened the door with the room key Flash had given her.
She took one horrified look, turned around and ran.
Chapter One-Hundred-Twenty-Six
Santino Bonnatti strutted around Tim Wealth’s one-room apartment. ‘Ya got a dump here,’ he remarked, picking up a framed picture of Tim and smashing it viciously to the floor.
‘Wanta go home,’ screamed Roberto, clinging tightly to Brigette.
Tim attempted to get up, but Santino’s hood kept a heavy foot on his stomach.
‘WANTA GO HOME!’ yelled Roberto.
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Santino glared.
Brigette shivered. She wanted to go home too. She had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was she was scared.
She spoke up in a shaky voice. ‘I’m taking Bobby home, Tim.’ Nervously she edged toward the door.
Tim saw a million dollars taking off. He also saw a lot of trouble in store for him if he didn’t do something about it.
One of Santino’s hoods blocked the door.
‘Let ’em out,’ Santino said. ‘An’ don’t go runnin’ for help or your little brother’ll be missin’ an arm.’
‘We won’t,’ said Brigette gratefully. She gripped Roberto’s hand tightly. ‘Come on, Bobby.’
The hood stood to one side.
Santino walked over to Tim. ‘Pretty boy shithead actor,’ he snarled. ‘Ya really think ya gonna fuck my woman an’ get away with it?’
Brigette hustled Roberto from the apartment.
‘Ya really think that?’ Santino continued incredulously. ‘Cos if ya do, you’re a bigger prick than I thought ya was.’ He kicked Tim in the neck with the tip of his shiny pointed Italian shoe.
Tim began to gag.
‘I’m gonna break your fuckin’ arms an’ your legs. An’ I’m gonna smash that pretty b
oy face outta action for a while.’
‘I can pay you not to,’ Tim gasped, grabbing for survival. Better to share than to have nothing at all. ‘I can split a million bucks with you if you get those kids back.’
Santino poked at Tim’s throat with his shoe. ‘What kinda shit ya talkin’?’
‘Those kids are special,’ Tim choked. ‘She’s a Stanislopoulos, and so is the boy. He inherits the whole goddamn fortune. His mother is Lucky Santangelo and Dimitri Stanislopoulos was his father. I’ve got a million-dollar scam going.’
‘Are you shittin’ me?’ Santino’s beady eyes were ablaze.
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Tim said desperately.
‘Naw, ya wouldn’t do that’, Santino mused. He nodded to one of his henchmen. ‘Get ’em back, Blackie. Now.’
The man raced from the apartment.
Tim rubbed his throat where a purplish lump was forming. ‘Can I get up?’
Santino wasn’t listening. He was remembering.
No retribution, huh? That’s what they, thought. That’s what they all thought. Even that chickenshit Carlo. But now . . . with the kid in his possession . . . her kid . . .
Jesus Christ! It was manna from heaven.
Chapter One-Hundred-Twenty-Seven
On the drive to the Bel Air house Costa told Lucky the whole story. As she listened she went white and silent. Her black eyes shone with fury.
‘Where’s Gino?’ she demanded, when he had finished.
‘I don’t know, he left a message on the machine saying he wouldn’t be back all night, and he hasn’t called this morning.’
‘Does he have a girlfriend here?’
‘No one I know of He hesitated. ‘We did bump into Paige Wheeler yesterday at lunch. You don’t think—’
‘Call her home and her office.’
‘Good idea.’
Lucky’s tone was fast and businesslike, although inside she was burning with horror and frustration. The one thing she had always dreaded was happening, and she was out of control. ‘Has anyone checked the cab companies? Found out what driver picked Brigette up, and where he took her and Roberto?’
Costa shook his head. ‘No,’ he replied sheepishly. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
She didn’t want to look at him. He was just a tired old man who didn’t know what to do. But how could she blame him?
She glanced at her watch. It was near to noon. ‘God, Costa!’ she couldn’t help exploding. ‘Why didn’t you phone me the minute this happened? And how come Matt wasn’t alerted? You know we can trust him. We should have started getting the money the moment Alice received the call.’
He bowed his head. ‘I know. It was an error in judgment. You were on your way here anyway . . . so I thought . . .’ he trailed off miserably.
Don’t scream at Costa, she warned herself. Stay calm. Work things out. Roberto’s going to be fine. He’s with Brigette. She’ll look after him.
How come Brigette left the house with Roberto in the first place? And why hadn’t Costa checked the cab companies immediately?
Oh God! Where was Gino? He would have taken care of things by now.
Thinking aloud she said, ‘I’ll contact Boogie. I can arrange to raise the cash in Vegas, and I’ll charter a plane for him to fly in with the money. Once we get to the house I’m going to have to call in some favours.’
Alice, with an attentive Claudio and a red-eyed CeeCee, waited at the Bel Air mansion.
‘Who’s he?’ Lucky demanded at once, staring straight at Claudio.
‘My gentleman friend,’ Alice replied tremulously. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without him.’
Lucky immediately decided he needed investigating. It was impossible to decide who was involved in this. Alice could have engineered the whole thing with the help of her tiny friend and some outside accomplices.
‘Has anyone contacted Olympia?’ she asked.
‘Olympia’s not home,’ Costa said quickly. ‘I’ve left messages.’
‘How about Lennie. Isn’t he there?’
‘Apparently not. According to the maid, he’s moved out. They don’t have a number for him.’
Lucky paced restlessly around the room. ‘I need to be alone,’ she said.
They left, and she sat by the phone thinking. After a few moments she made a private call to an old business associate of Gino’s. ‘This is Lucky Santangelo,’ she said guardedly. ‘I’m calling in a favour you owe my father. I need a car with an experienced driver. And two armed men. I also want a surveillance van, and a two-way tracking system. I want the best, and I want them within an hour.’
Immediately after that she put everything in motion as far as raising the cash was concerned. Thank God for Vegas, Gino’s friends and Boogie. She could have gone to a bank, but most of her assets were not liquid, and although she was able to come up with the money, it would have taken time and hassles. The major problem now was whether the money would arrive in time. Boogie had to collect it, get on a plane, and arrive at Farmer’s Market before the four o’clock deadline.
She was only thinking as far as four. After that her mind went blank.
What if Roberto and Brigette were not returned?
What if they were never returned?
She shuddered and refused to think the unthinkable.
* * *
‘Why don’t we drive to San Francisco for the weekend?’ Gino suggested. ‘You’re supposed to be there anyway, so let’s go for it.’
‘Oh, you drive too,’ teased Paige.
‘I do things you ain’t never even heard of, kiddo.’
She smiled. ‘There’s not much I haven’t heard of.’
He was full of enthusiasm. ‘I kinda fancy a drive. We can take the coast highway – stop off at an inn for the night – hit San Francisco Sunday mornin’, an fly back Monday. What d’you say?’
She sipped her coffee. ‘You sound like a travel agent.’
‘C’mon, Paige, take chances.’
She laughed. ‘What the hell do you think I’m doing?’ She paused for a moment, then gazed at him meaningfully. ‘I’m a married woman, Gino.’
He met her gaze head on. ‘So what?’
‘So I shouldn’t even have spent the night, let alone take off for a dirty weekend.’
He considered her remark before answering. ‘So, that’s what I am to you, huh? One dirty weekend comin’ up.’
‘Just keep on coming!’
‘You got a mouth for a broad.’
‘And don’t you loove it!’
‘We goin’ or what?’
‘I think you talked me into it.’
* * *
Lucky paced Lennie’s study. It was so strange to be in his house, his room, among his things. She picked up a leather-bound script and gazed at it blankly.
She thought of her son. Roberto. He was so strong and full of curiosity and energy. So alive.
If whoever had him so much as touched him . . .
She would kill.
She had done it before.
CeeCee timidly entered the room and announced the arrival of the cab driver Lucky had tracked down with two phone calls.
‘Show him in,’ Lucky said flatly.
A bull-necked man with a dark complexion and bulbous nose entered the room. He wore ludicrous shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.
Lucky waved a hundred dollar bill at him. ‘I want to know everything you can remember about the girl and the little boy you picked up here yesterday afternoon.’
The man’s eyes stuck to the money like glue. ‘Picked ’em up at four-thirty,’ he said, licking fleshy lips. ‘Took ’em to the corner of Fairfax and Sunset – right outside the Thrifty drugstore. I kinda thought it wasn’t exactly the right neighbourhood for ’em to be in. Nice-lookin’ chick.’
‘What happened after they got out of your cab?’
‘Well she was kinda starin’ around as though she was meetin’ someone.’
‘And did anyone approach them?’
‘In the T-shirt she was wearin’, every guy on the street was stoppin’.’
‘What colour was it?’
‘Red an’ tight, an’ she had some kind of writin’ on it.’
‘What did it say?’
He made a face. ‘I got a memory – not that good.’
‘Was the little boy okay? Or did he seem upset?’
‘He was happy. Kept on talkin’ about gettin’ an ice cream.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I think they went off with some guy, but I’m not sure. The light was green an’ I was turnin’ the corner.’
‘What did he look like?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’ know. Young, thin. I only got a glimpse.’
She handed him the money.
He stretched it out and held it up to the light.
‘It’s real,’ she said.
‘I know that. I’m just checkin’. Habit, y’know.’
‘Would you recognize the man they went off with if you saw him again?’
‘Naw.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Thank you. Easiest money I ever made.’
Not much information there. But it showed that wherever they’d gone was of their own free will. Nobody had snatched them off the street.
Lucky thought about Brigette and the cab driver’s telling words. Everyone treated Brigette like a child – including her. But she looked like a woman, and a sexy one at that. Maybe some guy had gotten hold of her . . . some guy with big ideas and a dirty mind . . .
Abruptly Lucky hurried from the study. CeeCee hovered outside. ‘Where’s Brigette’s room?’
CeeCee escorted her upstairs, and they entered Brigette’s domain. It was a teenage mess.
Lucky stood for a few moments just looking and remembering when she was very young where she used to hide things.
Under the mattress. Nothing. Behind a picture frame. Nothing. Beneath a stack of magazines. Bingo! A small square book with MY DIARY printed on the front.
She opened it, and a scattering of polaroid pictures fell out. Quickly she scanned them, and knew her hunch was right. Some guy had gotten hold of Brigette . . . And how.
Lucky Page 59
