Incognito

by Adrienne Giordano

  “I don’t. I swear.”

  Dad crossed his arms. “Five minutes, Tim. That’s all I need.”

  Any color left in Sonny’s face bled out. “Mr. Rizzo, I swear I ain’t lying. The guy who hired me didn’t want anyone to know. He sent someone to talk to me.”

  “An emissary,” Lucie said, “interesting.”

  “A what?”

  Joey shook his head. “Jeez, even I know what that is.”

  Tim once again ignored the chatter and pressed on. “Okay. You used a middleman. They paid you in cash or what?”

  “Yeah. We did a drop. They left the money in a garbage can behind a building. Twenty grand to grab Natalie’s kid. Once I had her, they’d tell me where to take her.” Sonny turned to Dad. “I saw your daughter walking the dog and figured it was her kid. Not yours. Please don’t kill me.”

  Oh, ouch. As much as Lucie liked to avoid thinking about her father’s day job, episodes like this reminded her, no matter how civilized and educated she considered herself, she’d always be a mob princess.

  Tim snapped his fingers, bringing Sonny’s attention back to him. “Hey, focus here. What building did you pick the money up from?”

  “Right. Yeah. It’s in Boston. I can give you the address.” He pointed to his phone sitting on the nightstand where Tim had told him to leave it. “It’s in there.”

  “Fine. And I want the middleman’s number, too.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  Joey made a buzzing noise. “Now he’s lying.”

  “I’m not. I hang out in a bar in Boston. The guy came in. Told me his name was Jerry and he had a job for me. Ten grand up front. The other upon delivery.”

  “And you don’t know who this Jerry is? You just took his word for it? How do you know he wasn’t a cop?”

  “I didn’t. When I took the ten grand, I didn’t get arrested so I figured it was legit.”

  Ro faced Lucie. “Told you he was a dumbass.”

  By ten o’clock, Lucie knew she wanted a bed. What she couldn’t decide on was whether to sleep or jump Tim. The man was an ace. An absolute warrior when it came to getting her out of sticky situations. Quite the aphrodisiac.

  After leaving the crappy motel, O’Hottie had artfully managed Sonny’s arrest by calling in a tip. In a world full of black SUVs the chances of actually spotting the correct one while driving home from dinner were slim. Beyond slim. Invisible.

  The cops didn’t need to know that, though. Twelve minutes after Tim’s call, the detective in charge of the case notified Lucie they’d caught Sonny turning the rental in at the airport.

  The jerk was lamming it. Or attempting to.

  Tim unlocked Uncle Henry’s front door and pushed it open for her.

  “I’m exhausted,” she said. “What a day.”

  “Interesting start to our vacation.”

  Lucie snorted. “At least it’s not my fault. For once.”

  “There is that.”

  Inside, swaths of light from the kitchen illuminated the short hallway to the living room.

  “He’s still up,” Tim whispered.

  “You bet I am,” Henry said. “I’m old, but not deaf.”

  Poor Henry. The man had to be exhausted. Ignoring the fatigue laying on her like a cement blanket, Lucie headed to the kitchen.

  Oh, boy. Henry sat at the table with a half empty bottle of wine in front of him. At least he hadn’t gone for the hard stuff.

  Yet.

  He peered up with a droopy-eyed sadness more than likely attributed to a wicked combination of heartbreak and exhaustion.

  “Unc,” Tim said, “go to bed. You’ve had a long day.”

  “Soon. I’m not drunk yet.”

  “Switch to bourbon.”

  Lucie whirled on Tim, holding her hands wide.

  “What?” He asked. “It’s been a long day. I’m not up for an all-nighter. If he wants to get drunk, he deserves it after this mess of a day. I’m helping him along.”

  Even as he said it, Tim stared at his phone. While on their stakeout, they’d done a quick internet search for Helen Craft, registered agent. Their efforts resulted in bupkis. Well, not exactly considering the five hundred and forty-three thousand results that’d take days to click through. Will the real Helen Craft please stand up? Who knew it was such a common name? All in all, not a big deal. They could contact the secretary of state in Wyoming in the morning.

  Or fast track it by using Tim’s contacts to find an address for Helen.

  He’d been waiting all night for a call back from one of his cop buddies who’d said he’d run Helen’s name. Crime being what it was in Chicago, that detective got called out on an armed robbery. Go figure that rotten luck. Could the gangbangers not take a night off?

  Lucie gave him a light shove. “Go to bed. I’ve got this. After that cart ride with Ro, I could use a glass of wine.”

  Henry cut his eyes between Lucie and Tim. “What ride?”

  She grabbed a wineglass from the hanging rack under the cabinet and set it on the table. “Pour and I’ll tell you.”

  Henry smiled, but it was rueful, packed with a whole lot of…something. Still, he picked up the bottle, gave her a healthy pour, then topped off his own.

  “My sister always says you can’t trust anyone but family.”

  Lawdy, that sounded like a Joe Rizzo-ism. “Had she been hanging with my dad?”

  That made Henry chuckle. “I don’t think so.”

  Huh. She got a laugh out of him. Go, Luce! She held up her glass in toast and took a slug. “And which sister is this? Tim’s mom?”

  “Yeah. She’s a slippery one. Brainwashed all the others. I always thought it was a horrible way to live. Who wants to go through life suspicious of everyone?”

  “It’s not fun, that’s for sure.”

  Lucie would know. Her entire existence hinged on paranoia. Were the phones tapped? The house bugged? Surveillance outside the house?

  For years, she’d avoided going home. The whole idea of the Feds listening in on their family conversations gave her the creeps. Every sound—a pipe knocking, the furnace kicking on, a squirrel on the roof—unleashed a round of paranoia worthy of a Hitchcock flick.

  He met her eye, then sat back, dropping his hands to his lap. “Tell me about it.”

  He knew. At least the public stuff. Being from Chicago, unless he lived in a cave under the city, he’d have heard all the drama. Dad, in his own way, was a local celebrity. The benefactor who donated toys, coats, and food to homeless shelters. And not just at Christmas. All year long—even from prison—he set up toy and food drives in the Rizzo’s Italian Beef locations and in their hometown of Franklin. And people gave. Mightily. When Joe spoke, people listened.

  Unfortunately, it was for all the wrong reasons.

  That was dad.

  Good hearted mobster.

  And total puzzle.

  Lucie fiddled with the stem of her wineglass, dragging her index finger up and down, up and down. “Not much to tell. My father makes his choices. I don’t agree with most of them, but he kept us warm in the winter with food in our bellies. We lacked nothing. We weren’t abused. Aside from being labeled a mob princess, I had a solid upbringing.”

  “Tim says you have a master’s from Notre Dame.”

  “I do. In my naive, idealist mind, I thought if I could prove myself, be educated by one of the finest schools in the country, people would see I was different. That Joe Rizzo’s daughter was more than what everyone thought.”

  “How’d that work out?”

  “Could be worse. I have a growing, multi-faceted, and extremely legitimate business, yet there are days I’m still Lucie Rizzo, mob princess. My mother and I, and to an extent, Joey, are casualties in my father’s war with the government.” She leaned in, propped her chin in her hand. “I’ve been judged my whole life by people who don’t know me. I try to block out the noise. I can’t let it define me.”

  “It can’t be easy.”

 
Lucie smiled. “I have a good man who loves me. If a Chicago cop can hold my hand and walk with his head high, what more do I need?”

  A door closing on the other side of the wall drew Henry’s gaze. “He was always a smart kid.”

  And he’s all mine. “You know,” Lucie said, snapping Henry’s attention back. “In a lot of ways, Mattie and I are similar. We’re both stuck with the legacy our fathers dumped on us. Doesn’t seem fair.”

  At the mention of Mattie, Henry bolted upright and reached for his wineglass. “You think she’s innocent?”

  Too soon to tell. But the woman deserved an opportunity to prove herself. “I don’t know. All I’m saying is I could see it. When I was young, my father was my world. I adored him. Actually, part of me still does and I’m grateful for that. I can look at him and see the daddy who took me to the beach or for ice cream or threw me in the pool when we went to the Dells. Back then, I believed everything he told me. I had no reason not to. As I got older, I’d hear the rumors. I’d see how people treated him. The respect. The fear. It confused me until someone called me a mob princess on the playground. I cried for a week.”

  “Ack. Kids are vicious. I’m sorry.”

  Uncle Henry reached across the table, set his hand over hers, and something inside burst open. Just a flood of love for a man she barely knew but would, hopefully, one day be family.

  “It is what it is. I grew a thick skin. Another thing I’m thankful for.”

  He let go and, before relaxing back in his chair, took a long pull of his wine. Who said it was meant to be sipped?

  “You think I should give Mattie another chance?”

  “I think you should talk to her. Really talk to her. If she’s been duped by her father and put in danger as a result, she’s a victim. If she’s a willing participant and running from the law, that’s a different story. We’re trying to help find the truth, but aside from caring about you, we don’t have a dog in this fight. You’re the one in love. You need to figure out if you can stand by her, ride out the storm. And, believe me, that’s pressure. It’ll test you in ways you won’t even see coming. Depending on how big this is, friends will disappear. Reporters might chase you or call begging for a sound bite. Who knows?”

  Henry let out the long sigh of a man unsure of his resolve. If he loved Mattie, really loved her, could he deal with the chaos?

  Lucie paused, held up her hands, “I’m probably way out of line here, but I love your nephew. His family is important to him and that makes you important to me.”

  “Say it.”

  Heaven help her if this was the wrong thing to say, but… “Mattie’s alone in this. How will you feel if she turns out to be innocent and you turned your back on her?”

  A long pause drifted between them, the silence lingering. And lingering. And lingering.

  At least until Henry’s phone bleeped. He checked the screen, then picked it up, his lips dipping into a tight frown.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Mattie. She sent a link.” He poked at the screen. “It’s a news report.” He peered up at Lucie and held the phone out. “From Boston.”

  Lucie snatched the phone away. Onscreen was a paused video. She tapped the little arrow and waited. Buffering, buffering, buffering. Come on.

  Finally, the video rolled revealing a blond haired man in a suit standing at a podium. The caption at the bottom read “BREAKING NEWS: Boston District Attorney, Simon Torrance press conference. Arrest made in conspiracy case linking Boston developers to That Girl fraud.”

  No, no, no. Lucie dropped her head to the table. “It’s a press conference.”

  “Cliff,” the man onscreen said, “I can’t comment on that. Next question.”

  “What about other conspirators?” Someone shouted. “Is Paul Landon still a suspect?”

  Torrance nodded. “Mr. Landon, along with several others I won’t name, continue to be persons of interest. We’re looking at everyone. This is a major retailer who employs a lot of people around the country. Fraud of this level could cripple a company and we’re not letting it go. We’re going after everyone who was even remotely involved.” Torrance flipped his portfolio closed and picked it up. “That’s all for now. We’ll update you as necessary. Any further questions can be forwarded to our media relations department. Thank you all. Goodnight.”

  Goodnight? Ha! Horrible is more like it.

  Henry shot out of his chair, knocking it backward and sending it crashing to the floor with a thwack. “Dammit.”

  When he wobbled, Lucie leaped up and gripped his arm. “Whoa, Henry. Take it easy. Do you want help getting to your room?”

  “No. I need to see her. Mattie. Right now. I need my keys.”

  Um, no. If the man couldn’t get up from a chair without falling over, he shouldn’t be driving. At all.

  “You’ve been drinking. You can’t.”

  “Then you’ll drive me.”

  I will?

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Please, Lucie. Take me there. Before it’s too late.”

  Eleven

  Lucie hit the brakes in Mattie’s driveway a split second before Henry jumped out and high-tailed it to her front door. For an older guy, he could move.

  Interior lights glowed through a slit in the drapes. With the number of spotlights in front of her house, a 747 pilot might mistake it for a runway.

  Lit up as it was, no one would get close without being seen. Which, Lucie supposed, was the point.

  Life on the run.

  Lucie shifted to park. “I’ll wait here. Take your time.”

  On his way to the door, Henry turned back. “Come inside. You can’t be out here alone. Not after what happened.”

  Point there. But, hello? This might be a tad awkward.

  Awkward or not, she intended on not getting kidnapped and followed Henry to Mattie’s door, checking her surroundings as she went, scanning the bushes for any Sonny wannabes.

  Rather than ring the bell, Henry rapped on the door. “It’s me. Open up.”

  A second later, the door slid open and Henry paddled his hand at Lucie. “Hurry up. Step on it.”

  Yeesh.

  Once inside, Mattie closed and bolted the door. Next to it sat two large suitcases and a carry-on. Lucie didn’t need her master’s degree to know what that meant.

  Henry gave them a long, pensive look, then lifted his chin to Mattie. “What are you doing?”

  For a brief few seconds, she met Lucie’s gaze then let it bounce to the ceiling, the floor, the suitcases. Anywhere but Henry.

  “Leaving,” she said, eyes still on the cases. “I have to go. They’ve found me. And now this arrest has brought everything back to the public eye. I’m not safe. And neither are you. I put Lucie in danger. I can’t live with that.”

  “And what? You were going to leave? Not a word? And for God’s sake look at me. I deserve that much at least.”

  She snapped her head up. “You deserved a lot more, Henry. More than me, by far. I’d have called from the road. I won’t have you or your family in danger because of me.”

  “What about you? You can’t battle this on your own.”

  Unsure how much to contribute, Lucie nodded. Way to step to the plate, mister. And then, well, what the hell? “He’s right. If you stay, you have a support system.”

  Mattie eyed her. “Of all people, I can’t believe you’re saying that. You were almost abducted.”

  “But I wasn’t.”

  “Right,” Henry said. “And we have an update on the kidnapper. Tell her, Lucie.”

  Me? “Uh, okay.”

  Again, Mattie cut her gaze to the suitcases then faced Lucie. “I don’t have time for this. Please, I have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Atlanta.”

  Henry cocked his head. “Atlanta? Why?”

  “I can’t fly anywhere. Paul Landon knows my new name. I’ll have to disappear. I’ll drive to Atlanta, make sure I wasn’t followed and get on a train to C
alifornia. I already took Aphrodite to the kennel. When I settle in somewhere, I’ll send for her.” She held Henry’s gaze. “I have to pick up my daughter and we’ll run again. To Mexico. Or Canada. I don’t know,” she cried.

  Lucie shook her head. All this running. Having lived under the Rizzo spotlight, there’d been plenty of occasions Lucie considered getting in her car and taking off without a word. At one time, she’d begged her ex, Frankie, another mob kid, to move to New York with her. Start over in a city not so caught up in her father’s day-to-day drama.

  But Frankie, as much as he’d loved her, he couldn’t leave. At least not then. If only she’d been ESPN. When they offered him a job, he sure took off in a hurry.

  Bitterness filled her mouth and she swallowed hard. Forget that.

  She shook it off. It was for the better.

  “Mattie,” she said, “how long can you do this?”

  “What?”

  “Live like this. Moving every few months and constantly covering your tracks in case Paul Landon, or whoever is after you, catches up. It’s not fair to you or your daughter.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “It’s not a life,” Henry added.

  Lucie stepped forward, angling around Henry to grasp Mattie’s hands. “I can’t possibly understand. None of us could. But I know what it feels like to want to hide. To disappear for a while. You shouldn’t have to live this way because your father screwed up. Believe me, I tell myself that often.”

  “Does it work?”

  Lucie smiled. “Sometimes. I made a choice a couple years ago. I could go with the poor-me scenario or move past it.”

  “How?”

  “By figuring out that my father’s bad decisions are not my fault. I won’t take that on. It’s stifling and frustrating and…well…exhausting. My dad won’t change and once I accepted that, I figured out how to be Lucie Rizzo, entrepreneur instead of mob princess.”

  “This is different.”

  “It sure is. But you have a choice. Right now the universe has thrown a crossroad in front of you. You can run from a place you seem to love.” Lucie glanced back at Henry. “And the man who comes with it. Or you can stay and fight. We’ll help you. Tim is a great detective. He understands the law. And, hello, have I mentioned my father has one of the country’s greatest criminal defense attorneys?”