Some Like it Hot

by K. J. Larsen

  “You think you’re smart.”

  I shrugged. “Cleo thought you were a drug dealer.”

  His eyes darkened. “You’ve been a very busy girl, Ms. DeLuca. Sniffing around places you have no business. My house. My storage unit. Will Peterson’s house. I need to know why.”

  “You should have given me the St. Christopher necklace, Jay. Mrs. Bonham only wanted to bury it with Billy.”

  “I told you I didn’t have it.”

  “It was upstairs in a ballerina music box. Billy has it now.”

  His jaw tightened. It was obvious his roommates were supposed to get rid of it.

  “Gee,” I said. “Did I get someone in trouble?”

  I kept him talking and worked the blade behind my back.

  “I understand you were Bonham’s partner.”

  I nodded. The only person he could have learned that from was the Prada woman at Billy’s Wake.

  “I’m going to ask you a few questions. I need you to answer them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the sooner we’re done here, the sooner you can go home.”

  “Would that be in a box?”

  “So cynical. I’m not a monster.”

  “Why did you kill him?” I said.

  At first I thought he wasn’t going to answer me. But then he thought, why not? The dead don’t talk.

  He said, “Will Peterson drove and I made the hit.”

  Keep him talking.

  “How do you know Will?”

  “I worked at his dealership. Before me and Freddie went into business together. A couple months ago we run into each other. Will’s wife is gonna leave him. She’s a greedy bitch. She’ll ream him. He wants to stage a robbery. The thing with your partner wasn’t personal. It was business.”

  “Not personal?” I choked.

  “Your partner knew too much. It was an unfortunate necessity.”

  “Billy didn’t know crap.”

  “Bonham was working for the insurance company. He photographed Will and me splitting the insurance money. He was gathering evidence. We didn’t have a choice. We would have gone to prison for insurance fraud.”

  “You dumb-ass. The insurance company didn’t hire Billy. Will’s wife did. She wanted Bill to get her dog back.”

  Jay Pruitt was big and dumb and at a loss for words. He looked stunned, like I hit him. “I’ll be damned.”

  Freddy’s boxy square body walked in the room. “My guys are picking your girlfriend up.”

  “So what happens now?”

  Freddy gave a twisted smile. “You know too much. You and Ms. Jones will argue, a lovers’ quarrel, if you will. You’ll kill her and then yourself.”

  “Seriously? That’s the best you can do? No one will believe it.”

  “Forensics will prove otherwise.”

  “Think of my family. I’d rather die in an accident. I’ll go over a cliff. I think you owe it to me a little dignity.”

  “There are no cliffs in Chicago.”

  “I’ll go over a curb.”

  A car approached. Pruitt crossed over to the window and shoved the dark curtain aside.

  “Your friend is here. It would be a good time to make peace with God.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  My hands were free. I sliced the rope around my chest and feet and exploded out of the chair.

  The window opened easily. I threw the ropes outside as if I’d shed them running away. My 9mm was on the table begging me to shoot someone. I picked it up. It was still loaded. Then I opened the door on the left side of the desk. Twisting and bending in places God never intended, I slinked inside and closed the door. I peered through the keyhole and aimed my gun at the door.

  Who’s the human pretzel now?

  I picked up voices and snatches of conversation through the open window. They were deciding where the fatal lover’s quarrel would take place. My curb idea wasn’t even on the table.

  Freddy wanted to finish us up in the greenhouse and move the bodies. The greenhouse has cement floors and a hose. Somebody said they’d pick up bleach.

  “It’s risky to move a body and stage a suicide,” Pruitt said. “They always catch those guys on CSI.”

  Cleo shrieked. “You’re dead. All of you. D-E-A-D! When Frankie DeLuca hears what you’ve done, he’ll chop you up in little pieces and feed you to the fish.”

  Pruitt laughed. “Let’s go see your friend.”

  He tromped through the door, Cleo slung over his shoulder. She kicked and pummeled his back. His eyes cut sharply to the empty chair, and he almost dropped her.

  “What the—Shit! She’s gone!”

  Freddy raced inside, swearing viciously. “Find her.”

  “The gun. She took the Goddam gun.”

  There was shouting, and the car peeled away in hot pursuit.

  There were just two of them again. Pruitt and Freddy the Fence. I could take them both out before they knew what hit them. If only Cleo would step out of the way. It was too risky to have guns blazing with her smack in the middle.

  Cleo gave a hard laugh and shouted at the window. “You go, girl!”

  Freddy’s lip snarled. He whacked the back of her head with the butt of his Smith & Wesson.

  Her knees buckled and before she hit the floor, a deafening howl—like the wail of a rabid animal—sliced the air. Frankie soared through the open window with a reckless bravado that would have done the FBI proud. Before Freddy’s fumbling fingers could regrip the gun, he was pinned to the floor.

  A thundering of footsteps followed. Rocco and Jackson led the Bridgeport Brigade in a charge through the door. Papa, the twins, Michael and Vinnie, Uncle Rudy, Tommy, and Leo were all hot on their heels behind, guns blazing.

  Freddy’s men had found Cleo. But Rocco got to her first. He knew they would come after her. And when they did he followed them.

  “Where’s my daughter?” Papa shouted.

  Pruitt’s voice sneered. “She’s gone, old man.”

  Jackson pulled Papa off him and Rocco delivered a blow that should’ve knocked him to his knees. The ogre had already been hit in the head too many times. He shook it off.

  I took a quick breath and prepared to sail out of that cupboard. Ready to unpretzel myself to the sheer amazement of all. When I tried to push open the door, my arms were tangled in a knot. I couldn’t move. Anything. And my nose itched.

  “Help! I’m here!”

  My chest was crunched and my sorry whimper was lost in the sickening sound of pummeling flesh and a head bashing the floor.

  I heard Max and Tino arrive, and they went straight to the twins.

  “Where is she?” Max demanded.

  “Gone,” Michael choked. Vinnie stifled a small sob.

  Max and Tino leaped onto the pile hammering Pruitt.

  “Hello!” I croaked.

  My pistol hand was asleep. Everything cramped and ached with an intensity I wouldn’t have thought possible. I tried rocking. Pushing myself frontward and back, nudging a little further with each rock, until the barrel of my gun goaded the door open. I spilled forward.

  “A little help here,” I said and fell on my face.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  The hostess gave us a table by the window. It was where I confronted Tierney the other day. Before beefy-boy slung me over his shoulder and hauled me away like a sack of potatoes.

  Good times.

  “Can I start you with something to drink?”

  I nodded to Savino, and he selected a bottle of California red from the wine list.

  I said, “And would you tell Tierney that Cat would like to speak with him?”

  “Cat?”

  “Thank you. He’s expecting me.”

  Kyle Tierney appeared shortly with a limited French private
reserve label and three glasses. He’d soon regret the upgrade.

  “We can take care of this in my office,” he said.

  “This is fine. I prefer witnesses.”

  He shrugged. “As you wish.”

  “Kyle Tierney, this is Chance Savino from the FBI.”

  Chance flashed his badge.

  Tierney’s ice blue eyes didn’t flicker.

  I pulled a napkin from my purse, unwrapped it, and placed Marilyn’s diamond earrings on the table. His pupils got big. I thought he was going to kiss me. He kissed the diamonds instead.

  He cradled the ice in his hands. “How did you find them?”

  An image flashed in my head. Mitchell’s honking huge Adams apple. And me rolling up the Philip Marlowe coat sleeves.

  “Billy helped me,” I said.

  “For Godsake, Cat, I didn’t kill your friend.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “You know?”

  “My bad.”

  “Was that an apology?”

  “It’s almost enough to make me feel bad for what I’m going to say next.”

  “Which is?”

  “I kept my word, Kyle. I brought you the earrings. Now I need them back.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I’m returning them to Marilyn’s estate.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “Cuz it’s the right thing to do.”

  I placed my recorder on the table with the conversation my gold cigarette lighter caught in Tierney’s car. I pushed play.

  I said, “This is you kidnapping us. And admitting your part in the Some Like It Hot diamond theft.”

  Tierney cut the air with his hand. “I’ve heard enough.”

  I stopped the tape.

  He sneered. “And you couldn’t come here and talk to me without your FBI boyfriend behind you?”

  Savino’s voice was ice. “No one speaks for Cat, Mr. Tierney. I’m here for Cristina McTigue.”

  “Does Crissy know you’re speaking for her?”

  “No. I’m here to inform you that I intend to ask the FBI and the San Francisco County authorities to put Cristina on their watch list. If you hunt her down or threaten her, the FBI’s Chicago office will be notified. If she’s harmed in any way, if she’s hit by a bus or chokes on a peanut butter sandwich, I’ll know. I’ll hand this tape over to the prosecutor and charges will be brought against you. You will go to prison. Do you understand?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Cat is arranging transportation for Cristina and her daughter to return home to California. They’ll leave in the next few days.”

  Tierney swallowed a smile. “Maybe a little sooner than that.”

  We followed his gaze out the window. A black Lexus sedan rolled to the curb. It had been washed and spit-shined since I saw it in front of the Marco Polo Hotel.

  Cristina climbed out and danced around to the curb.

  He stood saying, “Excuse me.”

  Savino held out a hand saying, “The studio is sending out a courier for the diamonds tomorrow.”

  Kyle pulled the earrings from his pocket and dropped them in Savino’s hand. He gave a crooked smile.

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  Tierney walked outside and Cristina ran to him and threw her arms around him. He held her a long moment and said something in her ear that made her laugh. Then he let her go. She stood on her toes and kissed his mouth.

  Halah sat in the car jamming to the radio. Close to her pepper spray. She gave Tierney a thumbs-up.

  “Awesomity!” her lips said.

  Cristina scooted over to say good bye to her friends. I gulped my wine, squeezed my eyes shut, and opened them again. I hadn’t imagined it.

  “Did you see that,” I demanded. “Unbelievable.”

  Savino shrugged and looked at his menu. “What’s good?”

  “Order for me.” I scooted outside and joined Tierney on the sidewalk.

  “You gave her your car,” I said incredulously.

  “It’s a long walk to California.”

  “So why was she afraid of you?”

  “Mitchell is dead. I did four years in an eight by twelve box cuz she got greedy. She figured I’d want payback.”

  “You were never going to hurt her.”

  “No. I wanted my share of the money. I figured she was living high all these years.”

  “And then you heard she was staying at the Marco Polo.”

  “That’s when I decided she still had the earrings.”

  “You sent your meatheads after her.”

  “They were supposed to bring her back to the bar. I wanted to talk to her.” He smiled. “And I wanted the earrings.”

  I winced. “I’ll talk to my Uncle Joey about the meatheads. He knows how to make charges disappear.”

  He nodded. “Most appreciated.”

  Tierney was watching Cristina say good bye to her friends. She waved like Marilyn. She had the diva thing down. With or without the moola.

  I said, “I’m sorry about pouring the whiskey on your head. And the whole thinking you killed Billy thing.”

  Tierney nodded slowly. “That was a hundred dollar bottle.”

  “You’re still a schmuck.”

  He laughed.

  “So are you going to tell me what really happened that night?”

  “I met Mitchell before the heist. I liked him. He could make things disappear. But that night he was different. Nervous. I watched him make the switch. I said, ‘Put both pair on the table.’ I pulled my gun for a little encouragement. I wasn’t going to knock him off or anything.”

  “What happened?”

  “Crissy jumped me and grabbed the gun. It went off. We heard the cops.”

  “She ran to save herself.”

  He shook his head. “I told her to hide in the cupboard.” He smiled—like Max had—and his eyes glazed over. “She’s—”

  “A human pretzel.” I rolled my eyes. “I get it already.”

  Cristina hugged her friends and pranced around to the driver door. She blew Tierney a kiss.

  “Love you,” she mouthed and slid behind the wheel.

  His ice-blue eyes thawed around the edges.

  I didn’t get it. Men dissolve to mush around Cristina. And she throws them under the bus. They buy her cars. They fall down dead. They go to the big house.

  “Why didn’t you tell the cops the truth?” I said.

  “And face more charges? Fraud? Extortion? Burglary? I would have served more years in this state if they could have opened up that landslide than going down for this one charge.”

  The black Lexus sedan pulled from the curb and merged with traffic. He watched it drive away.

  “And,” he smiled softly, “I suppose I was in love with her.”

  “Really? Wow.”

  I turned around and glanced through the pub window. The cobalt blues held my eyes. My heart drummed in my chest.

  “Good night, Kyle. I think my date is eating my supper.”

  I strolled to the door, stopped short, and wheeled back around.

  “So you never would have chased Cristina to California anyway.”

  “No.”

  “And all that posturing back there. Savino flashing his FBI credentials. Me blackmailing you with the tape I made in the car. It was all for nothing?”

  He shrugged.

  I fixed my gaze like Bogie. I said, “But I was convincing, wasn’t I? Even a little scary.”

  Kyle Tierney walked over and opened the door for me. The frost all melted from his eyes.

  “You were…cute.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  I slipped back to the table, and Chance poured my wine.

  I stared at th
e glass. “Can you believe that? After all she put him through, I think he’s still in love with her.”

  “Probably.”

  “I had Tierney figured out all wrong. That’s a pricey car. He just gave it to her. He’s letting her go. That could be the greatest love of all.”

  Savino sipped his wine. “The Lexus has a tracking system, babe. By giving her the car, he knows exactly where she is. Always.”

  My eyes widened. “Ohhh. Duh.”

  The waiter brought our salads and crunchy loaf of sourdough bread.

  “Maybe she’s in love with him. I mean Cristina’s a pain in the ass and Tierney’s a schmuck. It could be destiny.” I popped a tomato in my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Who knows? After all these years, they may find a happy ending.”

  The bartender brought a bottle of champagne to the table. He popped the cork, and the bubbles danced in our glasses. It was a Dom Pérignon. The good stuff.

  “From Tierney?” I asked.

  “From the gentleman,” the bartender said with a nod toward Chance.

  Oops. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

  “It’s okay, DeLucky.” Chance smiled.

  I closed my eyes and willed myself to slow down. It had been a tough week. I realized I was racing inside, still chasing ghosts and bandits.

  I opened my eyes and looked at the bottle in the ice bucket. That was a chunky bit of change on a G-man’s budget.

  For an awful moment, I wondered if I’d forgotten something. Savino’s birthday? Our four month anniversary? Chance seemed better at those things than me. I suspected there was a glitch in my genes.

  I held the champagne to my face and let the bubbles tickle my nose.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  He touched his glass to mine. “You are.” He expelled an unsteady breath. “I could have lost you today, DeLucky.”

  The bubbles tickled my throat and a deep sense of happiness warmed me. I scooted my chair nearer, and we looked out the window and watched Bridgeport go by.

  Savino leaned close and murmured something in my ear.

  I smiled up at him. “What?”

  He filled my glass again and watched me swallow every last sparkle of happiness before answering.

  “Mom and Dad are coming next week.”