by Sibel Hodge
‘Don’t you ever go food shopping?’ Brad banged around, opening and closing cupboard doors.
‘Yes, when I have time. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been very busy working on your cases.’
‘There’s more to life than work.’ He gave me a suggestive grin.
‘Ha! That’s good, coming from you. You’re always working, too.’
‘Have you managed to catch out Paul Clark yet?’
‘No, but I will this week, even if it kills me.’
‘How about a strawberry omelet?’ Brad said when all he’d discovered was a few bottles of red wine, a can of baked beans, and a jar of strawberry jam.
I pulled a selection of takeaway menus out of the drawer, waving them at him. ‘Or not. How about a nice, greasy takeaway instead?’
‘I’m going shopping. I’ll be back in an hour or so.’ Brad picked up his keys.
‘Keep an eye out for Paul Clark,’ I shouted after him.
When Brad returned, he had all the ingredients to make a roast with all the trimmings, and a bottle of wine.
‘You wouldn’t be trying to get me drunk, would you?’ I asked as he prepared the vegetables.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ He opened the oven door to put the chicken in.
‘Because it won’t work, you know.’
‘What’s this?’ He peered inside the oven and pointed to a plastic, blobby mess on the bottom.
‘Er…slight accident. The one and only time I ever actually used my oven was to cook a pizza, and I forgot to remove the plastic tray it came in, so I cooked that, too.’
When he finished scraping off the plastic goo with a knife, he gave me a glass of wine and a smile. ‘You really are incredible.’
I didn’t know if that was a compliment or not, and I wasn’t about to ask.
‘Did you know that Enzo Fetuccini is on his last legs?’ he said, changing the subject.
‘No.’ I adjusted myself on the sofa, making room for Brad.
‘He’s got lung cancer. My sources tell me that there’s some new guy who’s taken over as head of the Fetuccini family, and no one knows who it is.’
I took a sip of wine. ‘Someone must know who he is.’
‘Apparently, this guy has never even been seen or photographed before, by either the FBI or the organized crime squad in America.’
I tapped my glass, wondering about this. ‘You don’t think – no, it’s a ridiculous idea.’
‘What?’
‘You don’t think that Fandango has disappeared because he’s this new Godfather, do you?’
‘The thought has crossed my mind. We know that he already had some kind of connection to Fetuccini.’
‘So, six months ago, Fetuccini starts making large payments to Fandango. What if it wasn’t about money laundering or blackmail? What if Fetuccini was paying him for future services, like taking over as the head of the family?’
‘But if that’s the case, why would the mob be looking for him?’ Brad said.
I let this sink in while the nerve impulses in my brain flickered to life. ‘When I was in Heather’s apartment, the mob goons asked me where ‘it’ was, not where ‘he’ was. Maybe they’re not looking for Fandango because they already know where he is. I think they’re looking for something else. If Fandango is this new secret Fetuccini Godfather, I can understand why he suddenly appeared nineteen and a half years ago with an assumed identity, but it doesn’t explain all this stuff about Tia and Samantha or the fashion collection.’
Brad steepled his fingers as he considered this. ‘I think Fandango married Samantha to become a British citizen. What better cover could there be for a secret, American Godfather? No one would suspect a British citizen.’
‘I need to find out if Tia remembers anything about her mother, because either there’s a frantic woman out there somewhere who’s been looking for her daughter for the last twenty years, or her mother must be dead. If you were Fandango, would you have taken Tia away to an assumed life?’
‘My moral code isn’t very extensive, but I’d stop short of kidnapping a baby from her mother. Unfortunately, I don’t think the mob have much of a moral code about anything. But we only have Samantha’s word to corroborate that Tia is Fandango’s real daughter, anyway. Hacker can’t find any actual proof.’
‘No, I think Samantha was telling the truth about that part.’ I downed the last dregs of my wine. ‘But I don’t think I buy this business about Fandango being a secret mob boss. It seems a little far-fetched. Did you hear about Heather’s spending habits?’
‘She’s withdrawn seventy-five thousand pounds from her account in the last nine months. Seems to me, she’s got some sort of problem. I’m guessing drugs or gambling.’
‘It’s also a possible motive. People who are desperate for money do desperate things. Maybe she thinks with Fandango out of the way, she can take over his empire and embezzle a bit of petty cash.’
‘It’s a possibility,’ he said.
‘I don’t think we’re looking at this from the right angle. Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, something new gets thrown into the mix. And the disappearance of the fashion collection doesn’t seem to fit in with any theory I come up with.’
Brad paused, glancing at the floor. ‘I didn’t just offer you this job because you and I had unfinished business, you know.’
I should’ve told him that we didn’t have any unfinished business. I should’ve told him that, as far as I was concerned, our business was definitely, one hundred percent finito. But the wine was going to my head on an empty stomach, and to be honest, a little light flirtation was on my mind. There’s nothing wrong with that, I told myself, feeling in a playful mood. As long as I don’t actually do anything, flirtation is fine, isn’t it?
‘Oh, tell me more.’ I smiled, elbowing him in the ribs.
He looked me square in the eyes. ‘I offered it to you because you really are a great investigator, and I hope you stay with Hi-Tec. Not just for my own personal, selfish reasons, but because I know you’ll be a great asset.’
I threw my arms around his hard neck and hugged him. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.’
He turned his head to face me, and I could sense that this might be the point of no return. I heard him take a deep breath, and the room turned very quiet. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and it was one of those strange moments when your senses are heightened and the colors around you seem brighter. One of those moments when you know that if you take that next step, nothing will ever be the same again. And although it would take one tiny moment for me to kiss him, I knew the dangers of giving in to one of those moments. I’d done it before, when I shot Janice Skipper, and the consequences had been dire. Suddenly, I couldn’t stare into his penetrating eyes any longer. I quickly detached myself from him and pulled back, mentally kicking myself.
Leaping up from the sofa, I retreated into the safety of the kitchen on shaky legs, astonished at the magnitude of my feelings. Pressing both hands to my cheeks, I stared out the window. What the hell was I doing? Maybe it wasn’t Brad who was dangerous. Maybe I was a danger to myself. It wasn’t him that I didn’t trust, it was me that I didn’t trust. I tried to slow my breathing. If I just concentrated on breathing, I could forget about these crazy feelings that I thought I’d finally gotten rid of, couldn’t I? Yes, of course it would work because I’d promised myself a long time ago that this would never happen again. And besides, I had Romeo now. I loved Romeo. There was no way I would ever betray him. I clutched the worktop until my knuckles turned white.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, listening to the sound of my heart thumping around in my chest. Eventually, I poured us another glass of wine. OK, maybe another glass wasn’t such a good idea under the circumstances, but I needed something to distract me. I went back to the living room and handed Brad a glass, then sat on the floor, knees bent, clutching my arms around them. Brad just watched me without saying anything.
I swallowed hard and took a desperate stab at sounding normal. ‘Samantha James is hiding something.’ It was my turn to change the subject now.
‘You said it yourself – everybody’s hiding something. Even you.’
What did he mean? How did he even know if I was hiding something anymore? I wasn’t the same person now that I was two years ago, and Brad wasn’t qualified anymore to know me so well.
I conveniently ignored his last comment and carried on. ‘She lied to me about not having any contact with Fandango for nineteen and a half years. I know, because I found a rhinestone from his fashion collection in her warehouse.’
‘Are you going to go back and question her?’
‘I’d like to get some more information first. I also found out that Callum Bates is working for Lennie and Lonnie Cohen. It sounds like they’re getting ready to ship a batch of stolen vehicles out of the country this week. If they’re going to torch the warehouse, I’m betting it will be after they’ve got rid of the goods.’
‘Good work, Foxy.’ He winked at me over the rim of his glass. ‘You can get your reward now for a job well done.’
I gulped. Oh, God, what kind of reward did he have in mind?
‘Don’t look so worried. Your reward is a nice roasted chicken dinner.’ As he spoke, a timer went off in the kitchen.
Phew! Saved by the chicken.
17
Luckily, throbbing body parts didn’t keep me awake that night. Mine or Brad’s – although I was quite sure that Brad would’ve liked the idea. However, he had left shortly after we consumed our dinner. Random thoughts deep in my subconscious kept me awake, instead. There was just something about the disappearance of the fashion collection. Something about it kept niggling away at me. I woke up early with an idea burning in my brain.
I crawled out of bed and toed through the discarded clothing piled up on the floor. I peered in the closet, only to discover that a clothes-stealing troglodyte had been wearing all my clothes and failing to return them, washed and ironed. All I had left in the closet were my girly clothes, which were far too nice and too expensive to wear while chasing criminals. I dug around a little more and finally discovered a pair of camouflage combat trousers and a sweatshirt in my laundry basket that appeared to be recyclable.
I didn’t have time for breakfast, so I gulped a glass of orange juice and grabbed a cold baked potato to eat in the car. My foot still felt a bit tender when I stuffed it into my stand-by pair of sneakers, which I kept in the back of the cupboard for just such an occasion. That proved the theory I’d had for a number of years now: a girl can never have enough pairs of shoes.
My first stop was Heather’s apartment. As I pulled into the communal parking lot, I noticed that her BMW was still parked in the same spot. A black and white cat rubbed himself against the tires in ecstasy, like he’d been snorting catnip. I took the stairs to her apartment, and rapped my knuckles gently on her door. As I did this, the door swung open a couple of inches. Either I had magic, door opening knuckles, or the mob goons had left it unsecured. My second guess seemed like the most plausible. I suspected they weren’t particularly security-conscious guys.
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open all the way. Everything seemed exactly as I’d left it when I ran out on Saturday, minus the goons. I wandered through the rooms with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Heather still hadn’t returned.
Next up, I went by Fandango’s office, just in case Heather had been mysteriously transported there in some kind of weird Star Trekky time warp. The only living thing that greeted me was a solitary sparrow, pecking about on the ground. The doors were still locked. I banged on them a couple of times just in case. While I waited, I peered through the leopard skin curtains, but the place was as deserted as the Mary Celeste.
I said goodbye to the sparrow and made my way to Tia’s apartment.
‘Hi.’ Tia’s face lit up when she saw me. ‘Have you got any news? The police haven’t told me anything.’ She beckoned me inside.
Her apartment was exactly how I’d imagined it would be. A mix of vibrant colors and textures filled the spacious, open floor-plan apartment, which overlooked the Union Canal. A shrieking orange sofa took center stage in the living room, covered with leopard print cushions. In front of the sofa stood a modern-style chrome and glass coffee table, and a matching chrome and glass TV stand took up a corner wall. She must be Fandango’s daughter after all, I thought, as I observed her choice of décor. Again, I noticed the lack of photos or personal items. Maybe it was me. Surely I wasn’t the only person in the world with OCD: Obsessive clutter disorder?
‘What have the police told you so far?’ I asked, fishing for information. If I could learn what Janice Skipper had discovered with her investigation into the Fandango case, maybe I’d be able to beat her to the finish line and solve the case before she did. I got a shiver of excitement just thinking about it.
She brought her arms out to the side and let them fall again, hands hitting her thighs with a slapping sound. ‘They won’t tell me anything.’
‘I need to ask you some questions. They might seem a bit strange, but if we’re going to find out what happened to your dad, I need you to be completely honest with me, OK?’
Tia sat and patted the empty space next to her on the sofa. ‘Of course. I just want to help find my dad.’
I sunk down into the squashy fabric. ‘How old are you, Tia?’
‘Twenty.’
‘Have you ever seen your birth certificate?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Didn’t you see it when you applied for your driver’s license or passport?’
‘No, Dad always sorts out all that sort of stuff. Why are you asking?’
‘I’ll get to that in a minute.’ I gave her my best reassuring smile. I figured the next question would be a tough one for her. ‘What did Umberto tell you about your mum?’
Her body stiffened, and she glanced down. A clock ticking somewhere in the background was the only sound in the silence of the apartment. She sat like that for a while, picking at her thumbnail. When she looked up again, her eyes glistened with tears. ‘My mum died when I was really young.’ She sniffled and fanned at her eyes.
I reached out and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. ‘Did he tell you what happened?’
‘No. He said it was too horrible. Of course, I asked him about it loads of times, but he refused to tell me.’
‘Did you ever try to find out what happened yourself?’
‘I wanted to, but I didn’t know where to start looking.’
‘Have you ever had contact with any other family?’
‘No. Dad said that we didn’t have any family left.’
I let go of her arm and sank back on the sofa. If I’d kidnapped a baby, that’s exactly what I would’ve said, too. ‘Has anyone tried to contact you, since he disappeared?’
She shook her head and sniffed.
‘When I looked around your dad’s house, I noticed there weren’t any photos of the two of you, or anyone else, for that matter.’ I glanced around the living room. ‘You haven’t got anything either. Why is that?’
‘Dad isn’t flashy at all. He’s a very private person, and he’s not very sentimental. He doesn’t keep stuff like that around, and I just never bothered either, I suppose.’
I smiled at her. ‘He’s obviously sentimental about you. He’s bought an apartment for you, and presumably he paid for your schooling in America. He’s looked after you single-handedly since you were born. Unfortunately, I think Umberto was carrying around a huge secret, and I need to get to the bottom of it if I’m going to find out what happened to him.’
Tia gave me a sad smile. ‘That’s all I want, too. I just want to bring him home safe and sound.’
‘What was your childhood like? Where did you live and go to school?’
‘I went to private school in the UK. When I graduated, I went to the States to study fashion at university. I
’ve just finished a three year course.’
‘Whose idea was it to study in the states?’
‘Mine. Dad wanted me to stay here, but there are better opportunities in the States.’
‘What about friends?’
She gazed at the floor and rubbed her temples, sighing. ‘I didn’t have many friends. It was kind of just the two of us most of the time. I got the feeling that he didn’t want me to go too far away from him.’
‘He was over-protective?’
‘Yes, but in a good way.’
‘So, you didn’t have a nanny or someone to look after you? Someone who could’ve discovered something about your dad?’
‘No, Dad looked after me by himself.’
‘How about a cleaner or a chef?’
‘No, Dad did everything.’
Wow. A very rich, practical guy who ran a successful business, looked after his daughter single-handedly, and did the cleaning. I didn’t think there were many of those around. From what I’d learned so far about Umberto Fandango, he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy, which made this case even more peculiar. ‘And no one ever tried to approach you when you were younger? No one ever told you anything strange about your dad or asked questions?’
‘No.’
‘If you went to school in the UK, how come you never lost your American accent?’
‘I picked it up from Dad initially, but then the kids were mean to me at school. I got bullied a bit because I was different. But the more they tried to hurt me, the more determined I became to hang on to my accent. It’s good to be a little different from everyone else.’ She lifted her chin and looked me in the eye. ‘It’s strange, you know. We all start off the same, but I can’t understand why some people turn out mean.’
I sighed. I’d seen my fair share of mean people over the years. ‘There are beautiful people and ugly people in the world. And I don’t just mean on the outside. Unfortunately, that’s never going to change, but it really is true that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’
A half-smile flickered across her face. ‘You’re right.’
