by Susan Fleet
“He drove around a residential neighborhood with expensive houses. I was afraid he would spot me, so I parked on the main street.” Conti shrugged. “And lost him.”
“Where is Orazio now?” Renzi asked, gazing at her with his dark, penetrating eyes. Eyes that seemed to probe her inner-most soul. She hoped he couldn't read her mind.
“After lunch he and Tommy went out. I don't know where.”
“I received some bad news from Venice last night,” Conti said. “The girl's father—”
“Quiet!” she hissed, glancing at Bianca. “My little friend is not deaf and she understands a bit of English. I'm not sure how much, but if something happened to that person, keep your voice down.”
Conti shrugged. “Okay. The game is over for that person. Is that cryptic enough for you?”
Her heart sank. How would she tell Bianca? Maybe she wouldn't. That wasn't part of the deal. Now it was more urgent than ever to escape from the 'Netti brothers. Especially Orazio.
“Do you feel safe?” Renzi said, gazing at her.
The question stunned her. How could she possibly feel safe? Playing spy to get information for Conti, hoping Renzi didn't arrest her.
“No,” she said curtly. “But what choice do I have?” But she did have a choice. She had a rental car, a credit card, her iPhone and a small amount of cash. Maybe she should leave Bianca and Catarina, get in the car and drive away. But if she did, would Catarina protect Bianca?
She looked over at Bianca, who was spooning melted ice cream out of the cup and dribbling it over the table, pouting. Any minute now she'd throw a tantrum. Natalie left her chair, went to Bianca's table and mopped up the mess with some napkins.
“I want to go buy my dress,” Bianca said.
“And soon we will.” She looked around saw a kiosk with small plastic toys. “Let's get you a toy to play with.”
Bianca hopped off her chair and they went to the kiosk. Natalie said to the clerk, “My little friend needs something to keep her busy.”
The clerk, a teenager with braces on her teeth, held out a clear plastic bag with a colorful assortment of tiny rings. “All the kids love these.”
“Perfect.” She paid cash for the toy, took Bianca back to her table, opened the plastic bag and gave it to her. In Italian, she said, “Let me say goodbye to my friends. So we can go shopping.”
“For my dress,” Bianca said, sliding a red-plastic ring onto one of her tiny fingers.
She returned to the other table, perched on a chair and said, “I need to go. She's getting antsy. I promised to buy her some new clothes.”
“Why is she dressed like a boy?” Renzi said.
Trust the sharp-eyed detective to notice this. “It wasn't my idea, believe me.”
“We need more information,” Conti said. “I will text you and tell you when to meet us again.”
She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. “I can't keep meeting you. I was lucky to get here today. Already Orazio doesn't trust me. He is a killer. Have you forgotten that?”
“When you agreed to do this, you knew it might be dangerous. Find out who Orazio went to meet this morning in the limousine.”
“But she's right,” Renzi said. “Undercover work is dangerous. If she turns into a problem, Orazio might decide to eliminate the problem. Then you won't get any information.” Turning to her, he said, “We'll figure out a better way to meet and send you a text.”
Support from an unexpected quarter, and Conti didn't seem happy about it. Without a word, she left the table.
Renzi hadn't arrested her, but that might not matter. With Dominic and Sophia dead, Bianca was the only witness.
If Orazio decided to kill Bianca, he wouldn't need a nanny. He'd kill her, too.
____
Frank watched Natalie gather up the plastic toys she'd bought for Bianca. To his surprise, she seemed comfortable with the girl, almost protective of her.
“Why do you care what happens to her?” Conti said angrily. “She has killed four men. You said so yourself.”
“Why get angry at her? Focus on your goal. You won't get any information if she's dead. She can't keep sneaking out to meet us. The Mafia thugs will get suspicious. We need to find a better way to meet.”
Clearly annoyed, Conti took out a package of cigarettes. “Fine. Got any ideas?”
“Put the cigarettes away. You can't smoke in here.”
“Right,” Conti said. “You Americans are so worried about my health.”
He smiled. “Not me. I'm worried about that security guard leaning against the wall over there. Light up in here, he might arrest you.”
Frowning, Conti put the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. “Okay, how do we meet her?”
“The carabiniere general in Venice rented a house to snoop on the 'Netti brothers. Maybe we could do the same thing here.”
Conti stared at him. “This is possible?”
“Maybe. I need to find out who lives on that street. Some people go away for the holidays. We get lucky, maybe we can convince one of them to lend us their house.”
“Excellent!” Conti exclaimed, all smiles now. “She could walk there with the girl.”
Exactly, Frank thought. Then he could arrest Natalie and get Bianca away from the mobsters so she'd be safe.
“How soon can we do this?”
“I've got a directory that lists the names. The tricky part is finding someone to help us. It might cost you to use the house. I don't know how much, but NOPD won't pay for it.” He watched Conti, saw the wheels grinding in his mind.
“I will call and ask my superiors about this. I cannot promise, but they are eager to find out who is this Mafia kingpin the 'Netti brothers have come here to see.”
Frank rose from his chair. Conti and his boss didn't seem to be in any hurry to arrest the men who'd murdered Bianca's parents. “Okay, call your supervisor. I'll check the directory.”
If he found a safe house, he wouldn't be telling Conti about it.
He wanted to arrest Natalie, but that wasn't his only problem. Vobitch would keep hounding him until King Rock was behind bars. And Kelly was cruising the mean streets of New Orleans with a gun, hunting for the bastard.
Tonight he was having dinner at her house. That brought a smile to his face. After dinner, he'd take her to bed and make her forget King Rock. For a little while anyway.
CHAPTER 21
Bianca waited beside the metal clothes rack, getting madder and madder by the minute. Laura was choosing shorts to go with the ugly shirts in the big red basket on the floor. She wasn't going to wear them. A little boy stood on a table beside the rack, dressed in a hideous olive-green shirt and matching shorts. Not a real boy, a plastic model with painted-on red hair and a stupid smile.
Laura had promised to buy her a dress after she talked to her friends, not shirts and shorts for boys. She loved ice cream, but she didn't like sitting by herself while Laura talked to her friends. She couldn't understand what they said. They were speaking English, even Laura.
Maybe they were her boyfriends. She was pretty sure Laura wasn't married. She didn't wear a ring like Catwoman. It seemed like one man was mad at Laura, but not the other one, the one with a tanned face and friendly dark eyes. He looked a little bit like Papà, only not as handsome. Except when he looked over at her and smiled. When Owl smiled at her his eyes stayed as mean and hateful as ever. When Laura's boyfriend smiled at her, his eyes were smiling too.
What if Laura decided to go live with him? Who would take care of her?
She held out her hands, admiring the rings Laura had bought for her, a different colored one for each finger. She loved them. She liked Laura better than Catwoman. Laura let her stay up late to watch TV and read her stories before she went to sleep.
What if Laura went away and left her, too? Like Mamma.
Tears filled her eyes. Christmas was coming. She couldn't remember how many days from now, but it had to be soon. The store had a lot of Christmas decorations. B
ut she wouldn't be decorating a Christmas tree or getting any presents. Santa probably didn't even come here. It was too hot and there was no snow.
No presents. No Santa. No Mamma and no Papà.
Her throat closed up and tears ran down her cheeks into her mouth. Laura didn't even notice. She was too busy picking out ugly shorts for her to wear. A little girl in a red-velvet dress walked past them, talking to her mother, pointing at the big Christmas tree with blinking white lights at the end of the aisle. It wasn't fair. That girl had a pretty red dress to wear for Christmas, but she didn't.
She picked up the red basket and dumped the clothes on the floor. “I don't want these! They're ugly and I'm not going to wear them!” The girl in the red dress and her mother stared at her. So did Laura. Then she came over and took the basket away from her.
“I hate you! You said you would buy me a dress!”
“Shhh,” Laura said, and knelt down beside her, saying in her strange Italian accent, “Don't make a fuss, Bianca. People are staring at you.”
That made her even madder. She stamped her foot. “I don't care! You said I could have a dress. These clothes are for boys! I don't want them. I want a new dress!” Sobbing, she kicked the basket aside, wrapped her arms around Laura's neck and buried her face against her chest. “I want Mamma and Papà.”
Laura rubbed her back and whispered, “I'm sorry Bianca. I know you miss Mamma and Papà. I don't blame you for being sad. It's Christmas time and you should be having fun. Tell me what you want most in the whole world for Christmas and I will try to get it for you.”
She tipped back her head and looked into Laura's eyes. “I want Mamma. And Papà.”
Laura's eyes got sad, like she wanted to cry. But she didn't. She sat on the floor and said, “Sit in my lap, Bianca. I have a secret to tell you.”
She crawled onto Laura's lap and said, “About Mamma?”
“No. About my mother. She died when I was young and it made me very sad. I was older than you when it happened, ten years old. But it still hurt and I missed her very much. She used to buy me ice cream and tell me funny stories and take me for walks along the river. And I was angry because would never do that again.”
Bianca gazed into her sad eyes and patted her cheek. “Did you cry?”
“Yes. Every night for weeks and weeks.”
“And then you stopped?”
“Not really. Even now, thinking about her makes me cry sometimes.” Laura heaved a sigh. “But after a while I decided to be the person she would want me to be. Mom always told me I was smart. So I worked hard in school and made some new friends.”
“Will I go to school here? And have new friends?”
Laura hugged her. “I'm not sure, but I know you will have many friends wherever you go. You're very smart and you're going to be beautiful like your mother. All the boys will like you.” Laura kissed her cheek. “Come on, let's go find you a pretty dress.”
Bianca pointed at the pile of clothes on the floor. “Do we have to buy these?”
“No. We'll get you some shorts and shirts in the girls' department.”
“I'm glad you told me your secret, Laura.”
“I am, too, but we need to hurry. We have to meet Catarina soon.”
_____
Lurking behind a rack of blue jeans, Clint Hammer eyed the dressing room where the Brixton bitch had taken the kid. Five minutes ago the kid had thrown the mother of all tantrums. When he'd seen Natalie with Renzi, he'd felt like throwing one, too. If Renzi arrested her, his magnificent plan would go in the toilet. Renzi didn't arrest her, but who the hell was the guy with him? Another greaseball, one of Renzi's NOPD detective pals probably. He hadn't stayed to find out. When Natalie left the food court with the kid, he had tailed them through the mall to Target.
A stout woman with scraggly hair and a thick waist came to the blue jeans rack and gave him a dirty look. He glared at her and pretended to check out the jeans. Jeans for little boys. Christ, he'd never had a kid and he never would. Kids were trouble. Especially the brat with Natalie Brixton. How the hell could he snatch the serial-killer bitch if the kid was with her?
An hour ago when the two Mafia thugs left the mob house, he'd told Festus to follow them. He didn't give a damn where they went, but he needed to know so he could call his boss and deliver his report. His boss wanted him to grab the Mafia hoods and make a big splash in the media, which would be a big feather in his cap. Fuck that.
He wanted to make Natalie pay for killing his friend Oliver. But now she had a rental car. What if she didn't go back to the mob house? What if she skipped town with the blonde and the kid? This didn't seem likely, but it would complicate matters if she did.
This was turning out to be more difficult than he thought. His original plan—grab the bitch, bring her to a secluded spot, yank her chain for a while, then kill her—no longer seemed feasible.
But CIA Agent Clint Hammer wasn't going to let a few complications defeat him, not with his twenty years of experience. He'd think of something.
_____
She took Bianca across the aisle to the girls' department. It was 3:20. Maybe she'd put Bianca in the rental car and leave now. But how could she deny Bianca a new dress? She was already pointing at a mannequin at the end of one aisle, modeling a dress with a red-velvet top and a puffy red skirt with white sequin snowflakes on it.
“I want that one,” Bianca said. “Isn't it beautiful? I love the sparkly snowflakes.”
“Bellissimo! Let's find one in your size so you can try it on.” Natalie walked along a rack full of dresses, pulled one out and held it up. “Like this, right?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Bianca said, dancing around the aisle. “I love it!”
“Come in the dressing room and we'll see if it fits.”
The dressing room was small, but it had a full-length mirror and a wooden bench. Bianca sat on the bench and took off her shirt and jeans. Natalie helped her put on the dress and zipped it up. “It seems to fit. Stand in front of the mirror and see how you like it.”
Bianca studied herself in the mirror, then gave her a big smile. “This is my favorite dress in the whole world!”
“Then you shall have it,” she said. Aware of the passing time, she helped Bianca take off the dress and put on her shirt and jeans. There was no time to get the shorts and shirts. She'd pay for the dress, take Bianca out to the car and leave.
But when they left the dressing room, Catarina was standing there with a big smile on her face.
“I followed the map to this Target store like you said. Did you get a pretty dress, Bianca?.”
“Yes!” Bianca exclaimed, holding it up to show Catarina. “A beautiful dress! Laura helped me try it on and it fits perfect.”
Abandoning any thoughts of escape, Natalie forced a smile. “Let's hurry and get you some summer clothes. It's getting late.”
_____
When they got back to the house, she helped Catarina take her shopping bags out of the trunk. On the ride from the mall, Catarina had rhapsodized over her purchases: three pairs of shoes to match her three new dresses, two casual outfits, and two fancy sweaters.
Now she seemed subdued. Orazio's SUV was parked in the driveway. But Bianca was happy, clutching the Target bag with her new dress and her new shorts and tops.
When they got to the door, Orazio opened it, expressionless, his body rigid with anger. After they entered the house, he said in a menacing voice, “Where have you been?”
“Shopping,” Catarina said, beaming at him. “Stop frowning and get in the spirit. It's almost Christmas.” In an off-key voice she sang, “Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Cl—”
“Shut up,” Orazio thundered. “Give me the car keys.”
Catarina backed away, her expression fearful. “I don't have them. Laura does.”
An ice-pick of fear stabbed her gut. Orazio turned his terrifying gaze upon her and held out his hand. Fearing he'd grab her leather purse and find the cellphones, she quic
kly dug the rental car keys out of her purse.
He took them, but his terrifying eyes remained fixed on hers. “How did you get this car?”
“I called a rental car agency. They came and picked us up.”
This further enraged him. “You had them come here?” He turned to Catarina and said in Italian, “Idiot! Have you no brains in that pretty blond head of yours?”
She felt a tiny hand slip into hers. Bianca stood beside her, near tears, her chest heaving. She squeezed Bianca's hand and shook her head. Don't cry now. It will only make Orazio madder.
Turning back to her, Orazio said, “Give me your credit card.”
A bolt of anger overcame her fear. Damned if she'd give him her credit card. “No. I use my own money to buy things for Bianca. Before we came here, you said we would discuss my salary, but we didn't. You give me no money. What am I supposed to do?”
Orazio frowned and stepped closer, looming over her now.
Her palms dampened with sweat and her heart slammed her chest. Every instinct told her not to challenge this man, but she refused to let him browbeat her into submission. “Christmas is next week. I want to buy presents for my parents. I need the credit card to pay for them.”
A muscle worked in his jaw and his dark eyes were hard and angry.
Footsteps thumped on the stairs and Tommy entered the dining room. “What is this?” he said, gesturing at the shopping bags.
“Your idiot wife went shopping,” Orazio snarled in Italian.
Savvy enough to see that Orazio was furious, Tommy said nothing.
Orazio vented his fury on her. “Do not leave this house without my permission. When we finish our business here, you will get your salary, more than enough to buy Christmas presents.” He took out a leather billfold, extracted two fifty-dollar bills and gave them to her. “Use this to pay for whatever the kid needs.” His dark eyes bored into her. “If you need to go somewhere, tell me and I will drive you. If you have a headache and need to buy aspirin, tell me and I will take you to a drugstore. Understand?”
