Nell picked up the empty plate. “Blueberry, apple-cranberry crumb, chocolate silk, coconut cream, pumpkin, and a bourbon pecan. We also have cheesecake. It’s from Junior’s, brought in from the city.”
Donna was slightly stunned by the selection. “What’s your favorite?”
“Apple-cranberry crumb a la mode. Or the bourbon pecan, but that’s a sweet one. You’d better like sugar if you order a slice of that.”
“I like sweets,” Donna said. “But the apple-cranberry sounds really good too.”
“Get both. I’ll box them to go, and you can have a bite of each. What you don’t finish, you can have for breakfast.” Nell glanced at the empty plate. “You clearly have the metabolism to burn it off.”
Donna smiled. Someone was getting a big tip. “I love that idea.”
“You want a cup of coffee to go with it?”
“Yes. Probably should make it decaf.”
Nell nodded. “Be right back.”
Donna sighed and leaned back. This was all so surreal. And she wasn’t even talking about the fangs. Although what was that about? Should she call her dentist? Maybe. But really, just being here on her own, that was something.
She’d do more of it too. Just as soon as she put everything with the Villachi crew behind her. Then she could move on with her life.
Except for this business with the overnight makeover and the new set of choppers. That couldn’t just be a stress reaction, could it?
Or was it time to stop pretending that what had happened in the cemetery hadn’t been just some freaks in cosplay?
If that’s what she was going with, it was so far-out it made the mob seem like the least of her problems.
Chapter Eight
Donna thought she’d go home and crash after everything she’d eaten (neither slice of pie ended up making it home), but she wasn’t the least bit tired. Because of that, she decided to get to work on the house.
Namely, Joe’s closet.
By six a.m., she had bagged up almost everything. She had two piles: donate and discard. Most of it was in the donate pile. Joe loved suits, and almost all of his were custom-made and very expensive. She already knew Joe Jr. wouldn’t want them. Not only was he three inches taller and fifty pounds lighter than his father, he wore a uniform every day. Hopefully, the charity shop would make some decent money off of them.
There were fifteen bags altogether, including the suits, shirts, ties, and shoes. She’d included some of his casual stuff and his big collection of team jerseys, but most of his around-the-house clothing had gone into the discard pile.
For a man who liked designer goods outside the house, inside he’d worn a lot of holey T-shirts and basketball shorts.
She’d held back a few things in case Joe Jr. wanted something to remember his dad by, but Donna doubted it. The kid had done his best to distance himself from his father. Still, things sometimes changed after a loved one passed.
Funny term to use for Joe. Loved one. She had loved him. And she was sure the kids loved him, because he was their father, but they certainly didn’t like him.
Lucky meowed and rubbed against her legs.
She looked at him. “You hungry?”
He meowed again and pawed at her.
“Okay, come on. I should get a cup of coffee too. Then I have to get ready. Big day today.” She was off to see Rico. Going to see the FBI agent who had the power to put most of the people she knew in prison shouldn’t fill her stomach with butterflies. But it did.
She also had an appointment with her therapist this afternoon. Maybe talking about how Rico gave her butterflies would be a good topic.
In the kitchen, she fixed Lucky a dish of food, gave him fresh water, then got herself some coffee and took it back upstairs.
She wasn’t hungry, not surprising after the enormous meal she’d eaten only a few hours ago, but if that changed, she could get something while she was out. She needed to grocery shop anyway.
Her fridge was filled with funeral food, but there wasn’t much chance she’d eat any of that. For one thing, she didn’t trust other people’s cooking.
For another, all of that stuff was filled with so many carbs. Which didn’t seem to be affecting her like they used to, but old habits died hard. And if she was going to indulge in carbs, it was going to be more pie from Blue Bell’s Diner and not Betty Francesco’s cream of chicken and asparagus casserole.
Donna showered, washed her hair, did her makeup with a lighter hand than usual, then picked out something appropriate. What did one wear to visit an FBI agent? Especially when one had to choose from a limited wardrobe of clothes that still fit.
She went with a black and red patterned wrap dress because it could be adjusted, but after she had it on, she realized it was the kind of dress that needed heels. There was no way she wanted to be in heels all day, even if she’d be sitting down for a good portion of the time.
Even so, she tried on her black studded Valentino pumps. She sighed longingly as she turned to and fro in the mirror. They were definitely the way to go. But her feet would be crying after an hour. It would be the funeral all over again.
Maybe she’d take a pair of flats to change into. She really wanted this look for when she saw Rico. It showed off her new figure. Which was a vain reason to wear them, but at least she could admit that truth.
She grabbed a pair of black flats and set them on the bed to take with her, then found the perfect structured blazer to wear instead of a coat. Late October weather was definitely getting chilly, but she’d been out last night in just a sweater, and the temperature hadn’t bothered her. Plus, the sun would probably be out. That would help.
Her engagement ring stayed in her jewelry box. She opted just to wear her diamond wedding band instead. That felt like a good compromise since she didn’t really want to wear either one. If she ran into someone she knew, someone who would judge her, this wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.
Some diamond hoops, a gold bracelet, and she was done. Pretty understated, considering she owned enough bling to open up her own shop.
Joe had always thought jewelry was the way to keep her happy. To keep her quiet. It wasn’t, but he’d never taken the time to dig deeper. She’d let it go, too, because if nothing else, it was inventory that could be sold for escape money.
Or for money to live on, like she still might have to do someday. But she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
Lastly, she found a big pair of sunglasses perfect for hiding behind. Anyone who recognized her would expect her to be red-eyed from crying. With these glasses on, it was impossible to tell what her eyes looked like.
She took the flats and her now-empty coffee cup and went downstairs. She put her cup in the sink. Lucky’s dish was empty, but he was nowhere to be found. Probably napping somewhere. He had dry food if he got hungry. “Bye, Lucky. See you later, baby.”
Then she headed to the garage, stopping at the coat closet to retrieve the duffel bag and the boot box. She also set the house alarm. No one was getting in while she was away.
Both packages were going into the trunk, then she thought better of it. The duffel with the cash went on the rear seat behind the driver’s seat, the boot box in its shopping bag went on the floor in front of the duffel. That way, if she showed Rico the duffel bag from the drop-off, there wouldn’t be a million dollars just sitting there.
There was almost no chance that anything would have come of the money being in the trunk, but with the way things had been going lately, those weren’t favorable odds.
Money secured, she opened the garage door and left for Westbrook Credit Union. The day was gray. Not what she’d expected, but even with the cloud cover, it seemed oddly bright. She kept the sunglasses on.
The bank errand took thirty minutes. She listed Cammie as a co-owner of the safe-deposit box, just in case something went horribly, horribly wrong. She also realized, based on the curious looks from the tellers, that bringing a duffel bag into the bank had probab
ly not been her best move.
She should have brought the money in gradually. As much as she could carry in her purse. No more. It would have taken longer to get the money out of the house that way, but it didn’t matter now. What was done was done.
At the last minute, she kept two bundles of hundreds. If her feet held up, she might do some shopping after her appointment with La. She’d have to pay the money back from the insurance when she got it, but she really needed a few things that fit. Besides, if a little mental and emotional therapy was good for her, so was a little retail therapy.
Not that she was going to spend all of that. But having some cash on hand was probably a good idea.
She was going to be early to Rico’s office, so she got coffees for both of them. The good stuff. She knew he’d appreciate that. The coffee at his office wasn’t worth drinking. She knew. She’d tasted it. And if she was going to tell him what had gone down the other night, she wanted a hot, comforting drink to keep her company while she did it.
Before parking at his office, however, she drove around the block twice, watching the cars behind her, making sure she wasn’t being tailed. That was the last thing she needed.
The coast seemed clear. She parked but sat in the car a few minutes longer making sure no one pulled in behind her. Finally satisfied, she grabbed her purse and the coffees and walked in. She took her sunglasses off. Seeing the FBI insignia etched into the glass door always filled her with courage.
This was the right thing to do and the right place to do it.
She went straight to the front desk and the receptionist battle-ax, Marlene, who was always there. “Hi. Agent Medina, please. He’s expecting me.”
Marlene looked up with hard eyes and an unforgiving jawline. “Name?”
“Donna Barrone.” This was the third time Donna had been here in two months, but Marlene must not have a memory for faces or names. Odd for someone who worked at the FBI. Especially at the office of one of the FBI’s Organized Crime Units. Or did Donna look that different? Either way, Donna decided to give the woman a big hint. “The wife of the late Joseph Barrone.”
The older woman’s eyes widened momentarily, then she regained her composure. It happened so fast, Donna wasn’t sure she’d have noticed it if she wasn’t paying attention. “I’ll call Agent Medina for you.”
“Thanks.” Donna backed away as the woman picked up the phone. She walked over to the bulletin board showing pictures of the FBI’s most wanted. Had Joe been up there before his death?
“Agent Medina, your appointment is here,” Marlene said into the phone. “You’re welcome.” She hung up and looked at Donna. “He’ll be right out.”
“Thanks.”
He was right out too. Less than a minute later, the door on the right opened, and Rico appeared in navy pants and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His navy tie was patterned with gold handcuffs, and she instantly wondered if it had been a gift. His gaze raked her, but he snapped his head up as if he’d forgotten himself. “Donna. Good to see you.”
“You too.” She smiled at him. What wasn’t to smile at? He was a few years her junior, fit in that lean, rangy way of the ex-military, and ruggedly handsome. There was something the slightest bit feral about him too. Like he wasn’t the kind of man you wanted to make angry. “I brought you coffee.”
There was concern in his eyes. She hadn’t expected that, only because their relationship had always been very businesslike. Probably how the agency wanted it. Although, he’d also left those messages for her. Something had changed. “That was kind of you. Are you okay?”
She nodded, a little confused. Did he mean because of Joe’s death? He knew how she felt about Joe, though, so that didn’t seem like what he was referring to. Based on everything that had been happening, her inability to follow Rico’s comments seemed on track. “Sure. I’m good.” She shrugged one shoulder. “You know.”
He gave a quick nod to the woman behind the counter. “Thanks, Marlene.” Then he held his arm out toward the door he’d just come through. “Let’s go to my office and talk.”
“Great,” Donna said. She preferred the privacy of that space, even though she knew everything she said became part of her record.
She walked with him through the bullpen into his office. A few heads turned, but mostly she got side glances. Joseph Barrone’s widow was in the building. That didn’t happen every day. She waited to sit until he’d shut the door.
She held out his coffee, which he took. “Black, right?”
He nodded. “Yes, good memory.”
Black coffee wasn’t hard to remember. She sipped hers. She’d had the barista add a shot of mocha. “Sorry I was out of touch for a bit there.”
He drank a little of the coffee, then set it on his desk. “I understand. But you had me worried. Especially after what happened two nights ago.”
“Oh?” She sat up a little straighter. “What happened?”
He glanced toward a file on his desk. “You haven’t heard? I guess you wouldn’t have. With Joe gone, you’re probably not as keyed into the Villachis’ goings-on.”
“No, I’m not.” She wasn’t sure it had as much to do with Joe being gone as her being busy fighting off an ambush. “What happened?”
“We don’t know all the details yet, but a deal went bad. Very bad. Two of Tony’s boys ended up dead.”
“Oh no. Who? Frankie? Vinnie?” They might all be part of the problem, but she’d rather see them locked up than taken out.
Rico flipped open the file on his desk. “Turo Sanudo and Sam Doria.”
She shook her head. “Those aren’t names I recognize, and I’m not that out of the loop. Everyone—and I mean everyone—was at the funeral and the reception that followed at the house. I’d remember if I’d been introduced to new people. Are you sure they’re Big Tony’s guys?”
His gaze stayed on the file. “Pretty sure. He was seen with them at the Starlight Lounge last week. And they all golfed together two weeks ago at the Westbrook Country Club.”
All the wiseguys golfed. Didn’t matter if you were a boss or a lunk, you had a set of sticks and knew enough not to get kicked off the course. It was a way to get together, smoke cigars, drink beer, and talk shop without fear of being bugged. “Yeah, well, I still don’t know them. They must be new. I didn’t realize Tony was expanding his crew.”
“These guys might have been a one-off for this particular job. We’re not sure.” Rico closed the file. “Anyway, how are things going with Joe gone? I’d ask you how you’re doing, but you look like you’re doing fine.”
She smiled. “I’m doing well. I keep having to remind myself that I’m supposed to be the grieving widow. I just can’t bring myself to be all broken up about a man who did such terrible things and made me fear for my children’s safety and my own.”
“I understand.” His smile went from jovial to tentative. “Are you still going to testify for us?”
“About that.” She sighed. “Not exactly. But I am happy to give you all the information I can. And I have a lot that you haven’t seen yet. I don’t want to do anything that would put myself or my kids in danger. Joe’s gone. I’m free.”
Rico frowned. “You really believe that?”
“Yes. Mostly. But I know it won’t be complete freedom until the Villachis are put away. I want that. That’s why I’m here.”
“Good. Anything new going on that you know about?”
“Sort of. Big Tony approached me after the funeral. He told me if I finished Joe’s last job, a package drop-off, that I would be free to live my life.”
Rico’s brow furrowed, and he laughed bitterly. “You don’t really believe that, do you? I mean, you’re not going to do this drop-off, are you?”
She sat back with a little attitude. “It’s already been done.”
His brows lifted.
She shrugged. “It was too good an opportunity to pass up. But here’s the thing. It wasn’t so simple.”
&nb
sp; “Of course it wasn’t. Nothing with Big Tony ever is.”
She held up her hands. “I was stupid to think it would be. I know that. Wishful thinking, I guess.”
“What happened?”
“Someone set me up. The bag I was supposed to deliver? Full of wrapped newspaper. And the guys I was supposed to deliver to? They tried to kidnap me. Or maybe they were going to do worse. I’m not sure. I managed to get free.”
His eyes narrowed. “How many guys?”
“Three. Why?”
“Because that’s how many new guys Big Tony hired. And that’s how many were involved in the deal that went bad.”
Chapter Nine
“No.” Alarms started ringing in Donna’s head, but she tried to shut them down. “These weren’t Tony’s guys. These guys were there to take delivery of the package. They had to be working for whoever Tony was doing business with.”
“Are you sure?”
She hesitated, not wanting to think Big Tony was behind this, even though she knew he had to be the prime suspect. Besides Vinnie, he’d had the most access to the bag, after all. It just would really complicate her life if he was to blame. “No, I’m not.”
“I know that’s hard to swallow. It means your brother-in-law was behind this.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that hard to think about. This is Tony Villachi we’re talking about. He’s ruthless. But why would he want to hurt me?”
“Maybe he knows you want out?”
“Maybe.” She suddenly realized what he’d said earlier. “Wait. So two of these guys are dead?”
Rico nodded. “Yes, but the third, Albert Moran, survived.”
Two men dead. So sad. But it was no surprise that Big Tony had taken his revenge for the failed mission. “Do you have this Albert in custody?”
“No, he’s at Mercy General. But we’re being kept in the loop. We’ll speak to him when he comes to. More importantly…” Rico’s expression hardened a little. “You need to tell me who went with you.”
Sucks to Be Me Page 7
