“Gabriella, that’s rude,” Gianna said.
Parker smiled. “It’s okay, Gianna.” She handed the present to Gabriella. “Happy birthday.”
Gabriella tore the wrapping paper. “How did you know I wanted to read Nancy Drew? I’m going to be a detective like you and Auntie Chiara.” She threw her arms around Parker and kissed her cheek.
Parker flushed with pleasure and hugged her back. “Nobody told me. You just seem like a detective kind of girl.” Gabriella dashed off to show her presents to her friends.
Parker and Corelli sat with Simone, Maria Carmela, and Marco and talked about West Virginia and whitewater rafting. The group decided to go rafting in September and invited Parker to join them. She promised to think about it, knowing she wouldn’t go. She’d never done anything like that. Corelli seemed subdued, but with everyone laughing and talking at once, no one seemed to notice.
The doorbell rang. Corelli glanced at her watch. “The big guns have arrived.”
Parker assumed she meant her parents, because she could feel the tension rise around the table. Gianna led them in and introduced Parker. First, her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Corelli, then her sister Patrizia, her husband Joseph and their children, Nicolo, the young man she’d met outside Corelli’s building, Antonio, Elena, Joseph Jr., and baby Luca.
Nicky bowed. “Nice to see you again, Detective Parker.”
Parker smiled. “Yes, though a little less tense this time.”
“Nicky, Anthony, get more chairs so everybody can sit,” Gianna said.
Corelli pulled her nephew Joseph Jr. to her. He whooped and giggled as she tickled and hugged and kissed him. The ruckus attracted Gabriella and she skipped over to greet everyone, one eye on the gaily-wrapped presents.
Gabriella opened her gifts with more decorum than she had shown earlier, but she couldn’t contain the shouts of joy as she tore the paper off each gift. When she finished her round of thanks, Gianna sent her and her young cousins to join the rest of the gang. Their departure left an awkward silence.
The two teenagers carried in four more chairs for the adults. Nicky put a chair for himself next to Simone. “Hi, auntie,” he said, hugging Simone before sitting.
Nicky and Simone could pass for twins. They both looked so much like Corelli, it was eerie. What would it feel like to have someone else with your face, your body, your mannerisms, Parker wondered?
Simone threw her arm over Nicky’s shoulder. “Want to go whitewater rafting with us in September?”
Before the boy could respond, Patrizia, his mother, said, “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. And you shouldn’t be going either.” The baby in her arms stiffened and began to howl at the harshness in her voice.
This sister was small and dark like Gianna, only older and angrier.
Patrizia bounced the baby and patted his back, continuing to coo in a voice that was softer but still angry. “Nicky has better things to do with his time. And you two,” she said, thrusting her chin in the direction of Simone and Maria Carmela, “should be thinking about getting married, not going on some wild trip.” She turned her attention to Corelli. “It’s bad enough you’re a cop. Next thing you’ll be trying to sign them up.”
Patrizia opened her mouth to go on, but Corelli tilted her head toward Parker, and she clamped her mouth closed. Nevertheless, Patrizia managed to communicate anger and disapproval through her facial expressions and body language. An uncomfortable silence followed, and Gianna jumped in to smooth things over, offering food and drinks.
Corelli stood. “We need to get going. We have a murder to solve.”
Patrizia pursed her lips, but didn’t comment.
Grinning, Corelli whispered in Marco’s ear.
They said their goodbyes and once they were outside, Corelli relaxed. “Maybe I should send Patrizia’s address to McGivens,” she said, and then seeing Parker’s shock, “just joking. She’s my sister and I love her, though God knows she’s not easy.”
Parker started toward the car.
“Thanks for being there Parker. You saved my life.”
“What do you mean?”
“You probably detected Patrizia hates my being on the job. She takes every opportunity to nag and harass me, but she would never, ever, air the family’s dirty laundry in front of a stranger.”
“Is that why you were nodding toward me?”
“Reminding her. Unfortunately, if I can’t come up with something before Monday afternoon, she’ll get her wish.”
Parker put her hand on the car door just as Marco wheeled the big black and red Harley out of the garage. She straightened and stared.
“Here you go. Be careful, Chiara,” he said, his Italian accent evident in the quiet.
Corelli kissed him on the cheek and said something in Italian.
“What’s that?” Parker asked.
“It’s a Harley Davidson,” Corelli said, removing a helmet, leather jacket, and leather boots from the storage area. She stepped into the boots.
“Don’t play dumb, Corelli.” Parker moved between the bike and Chiara and stood with her hands on her hips. “No way are you riding that thing.”
Marco rocked on his heels. “Buona Notte. Come back soon, PJ,” he said, and escaped into the house.
“Out of my way.” Corelli moved into Parker’s space. “There’s something I have to do and I don’t want you involved.”
Parker held her ground. “If it’s too dangerous for me, then it’s too dangerous for you.”
“Go home, Parker. Pick me up in the morning. That’s an order.”
The front door opened and Gianna came out. “Marco said there was trouble. What’s going on?”
Neither responded.
“Chiara? PJ?”
Corelli tied her boots and rose with her jacket, helmet, and shoes in her arms.
Gianna looked from one to the other. “You’re acting like children.”
Corelli ignored Gianna and stowed her shoes in the cargo area.
Gianna focused on Parker. “What is it, PJ?”
“The chief ordered me to protect Detective Corelli at all times. Now she’s ordering me to let her go off somewhere on her motorcycle without me.”
“It’s not like you to be so unfair, Chiara.” Gianna touched her sister’s cheek. “She is responsible for you.”
Corelli threw her hands in the air. “Two against one. That’s what’s not fair. All right, Parker will follow me in the car.” She turned to Parker. “Will that do?”
“As long as you don’t try to lose me.”
“You have my word.”
“Now that we’ve settled that,” Gianna said, “can I ask where you’re going that you need to be alone?”
“To visit a sick friend.”
Parker followed Corelli to the Belt Parkway where they made a left, heading deeper into Brooklyn. About twenty-five minutes later they left the Belt, drove over a bridge and turned onto local streets. A few minutes later, on a block with neat bungalow houses that looked exactly like the streets they’d just passed, Corelli signaled and Parker pulled over. She rolled down the window. The car filled with a salty breeze and the sound of a giant breathing.
“Is that the ocean?” Parker asked. “Exactly where are we?”
“Belle Harbor, Queens. The ocean is just down that block. McGivens lives on this street and he walks his dog every night before the ten o’clock news. Stay back. I don’t want him to see you, in case he calls it in.”
“What if he—”
“I’m just going to talk. But use your judgment. Jump in if you feel I’m in danger.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I need to do what I can. Understand?”
Parker nodded. Corelli continued down the block and parked the Harley. She stepped back into the shadow of a large tree and waited. Fifteen minutes later, the beer-bellied six-footer in shorts and flip-flops strolled in their direction with a Chihuahua on a leash.
Corelli stepped of the shadows, gun dr
awn. “We need to talk.”
“Hey, it’s Mata Hari, sneaking around as usual. Where’s your shadow?” He scanned the area. “Ah, no shadow. Just you and the mighty Harley. How brave.”
“Leave my family out of this, Jimmy.”
“You wired?”
She opened her shirt. “Pat me down if you want.”
“Nah, I tried that once and we know where that got me. Besides, you’ll be in as much trouble as me if anybody hears this conversation.” He pointed at her gun. “Put that thing away, Chiara. You know you’re not going to shoot me.”
“You misjudged me once, thinking I would join your dirty game. Maybe you’re wrong again.”
“Maybe, but you were doing the right thing then,” he said. “Killing me isn’t. Anyway, it’s not me you have to worry about.”
She kept the gun pointed at him. “Maybe I’m desperate because you’re targeting my family and they have nothing to do with this. Call off your dogs, Jimmy.”
“Arlo is the only dog I have and he’s sitting nice and quiet.”
She moved to his side and raised her gun to his temple. “How many meals have you eaten with my family? How could you threaten Simone and the others? What’s happened to your decency?”
“What is it with you Italians and family?” He pushed the gun away. “What do you think will happen to my family and my decency if I go to jail?”
“You should have thought about that before you started stealing and killing.”
“I did, sweetheart, and you’re more likely to rot in jail than me.” He faced her. “You should have thought about the danger of fooling around with people who have everything to lose. It’s amazing how upset cops get when they think they’re going to jail.”
“How about I kill your wife and kids if anything happens to Simone or any member of my family?”
“You don’t scare me, Chiara. You’re too decent to kill innocents. Now excuse me. I don’t want to worry my wife.”
“You truly are a bastard. I’m warning you. Stay away from my family.”
“Or what?” He smiled. No, it was a snarl, lips pulled back, teeth showing. “I can’t wait to see you on TV.” He laughed and strolled away, his back to her, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She holstered her gun, followed and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. “Get lost, Chiara.”
She put her hands on his shoulders, pulled him toward her and kneed him. He went down with a scream and she kicked him in the balls. “You harm one hair on anyone in my family and I’ll show you ‘or what.’”
She watched him struggle to catch his breath. After a few minutes, he stood, hands on his knees. “Bitch.” He straightened. “You know, Chiara, it’s too bad your whore Marnie died in Afghanistan. Otherwise you might have come home and fucked your brains out instead of turning on your friends.” He staggered in the direction of his house.
Bastard, bringing Marnie into this. That was the trouble when friends became enemies. They knew how to hurt you. She walked back to the Harley. Parker pulled up next to her, a big grin on her face.
“Did kicking him in the balls change his mind?”
Corelli shook her head. “It was satisfying, but the only way to deal with people like Jimmy is to be as ruthless and unprincipled as they are. I’m not, and he knows it.”
She’d always believed the law, good cops, and the judicial system would protect good people, but now, for the first time, she understood in her gut that sometimes the only way to protect someone you love is to kill. And she wanted to kill the bastard. She might, if she knew who was lined up behind him.
“C’mon, I’ll follow you home.”
“No. I’ll be—”
“You promised.”
Damn. She was in a rage at Jimmy McGivens, at the department, at Chief of Detectives Harry Broderick, and at all those “good” cops who failed to step up and stand behind her. She needed to be wild and reckless, to open the Harley up to maximum speed, to confront death and choose life. It was her drug of choice to deaden the knowledge that she hadn’t protected Marnie, to deaden the fear that she couldn’t protect her family, and to deaden the pain of living. But she’d given her word.
Parker sensed Corelli’s anger and expected her to zoom away. But true to her word, Corelli kept to the right lane and maintained the speed limit, enabling Parker to follow at a safe distance. Traffic was light, or what passed for light on the Belt Parkway. Parker drove with her window down, enjoying the warm breeze, the briny smell of the New York Bay, and the flickering light of the full moon on the water.
A burst of light alerted Parker to the swift approach of a vehicle. As she checked the rearview mirror for its position, the car zoomed around her into the center lane, restoring the darkness. One after another, faster moving cars zipped by.
As they neared the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, Parker relaxed into the ride, from time to time checking the rearview mirror. A black pickup came up fast in the middle lane, narrowed the distance but didn’t pass. Parker couldn’t see through its tinted windows, but it seemed harmless enough. After a few minutes, the pickup sped up until it was parallel with Corelli, and a Mini took its place in the lane next to Parker. Corelli glanced at the pickup and dropped her speed slightly. Parker leaned forward. Did Corelli see something she’d missed? The pickup stayed in place for a minute, but slowed until it was next to the Harley again. Now Corelli sped up and so did the truck. Maybe some macho guy trying to freak her? Except he couldn’t know that a woman was riding the Harley.
The pickup was trouble. Corelli had no place to go. Parker was behind her and another car was ahead of her. Parker slowed to allow Corelli to fall back, but she too was boxed in, a car behind her and the Mini to the left of her behind the pickup.
Suddenly, the pickup veered toward Corelli. She steered toward the shoulder. The pickup pulled back into its lane and the Harley regained the road. The pickup slowed until it was parallel with the Harley again. Parker saw Corelli jerk and realized that a hand holding a gun was extended out the window of the pickup. Sweet Jesus. Parker checked the right. No shoulder there, just large blocks of stone. Corelli was boxed in, but she slowed the Harley and fell back, closer to Parker. The pickup dropped back too. The arm extended again. Parker blasted her siren and flashed her lights, startling Corelli and apparently the pickup, because the arm with the gun was withdrawn. It also caused the Mini on Parker’s left to drop back allowing her to switch into the same lane as the pickup. Parker sped up behind the pickup, siren at full blast, lights flashing, spotlight shining into the truck, and rammed the truck’s bumper. Corelli dropped back a little, out of the line of fire for the pickup. Parker stayed close to the pickup, siren going, spotlight focused on the inside of the truck. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she alternately pushed and rammed the pickup’s bumper. Corelli sped up next to the pickup. What the hell was Corelli up to? She must be suicidal. The hand with the gun came out. Corelli dropped back.
Parker rammed the truck and the gun was retracted. Corelli sped past Parker and the pickup and slowed just ahead of the pickup. The gun came out again. Cursing the crazy bitch, Parker put her bumper to the pickup’s and pushed, then dropped back and rammed, pushed and rammed. As the gun was withdrawn, Corelli dropped back until she was parallel to Parker. Parker heard the sirens and noticed the flashing red and blue lights in her rearview mirror. The pickup must have heard and seen them too because it took off at high speed. Parker turned off the spotlight and the siren as two police cars sped past, lights flashing and sirens screeching. Parker waved Corelli to the shoulder. Several cars followed.
Her ears were ringing, her heart was racing, and she was covered with sweat. Parker rushed to Corelli who was straddling the Harley and waving her helmet. “Damn, Parker, that was exactly what I needed tonight.”
“Are you crazy? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Don’t be stupid. I just needed a little rush and those assholes provided it.”
Parker filled with rage.
“A rush? Is that what being run off the road and maybe shot is to you? A rush? They could have killed you. You are a fucking nutcase. What about the other cars you jeopardized by continuing to bait those guys? What about me battering the pickup to protect you? What if they’d shot through my windshield or stopped short forcing me to crash into them at high speed? Not only are you crazy, you’re fucking selfish.”
Corelli grinned. “But none of that happened. They didn’t kill me or anyone else. I’m alive, thanks to your quick thinking.”
Two police cars pulled over.
Parker stared at her. Is she nuts or is it me? “It didn’t feel like quick thinking. When I saw the gun come out of the window, I knew I had to do something and all I had was the siren, the light and the car. The siren startled them and got the other cars near us to pull away. I figured if they were blinded by the light and their truck was being rammed it would be hard to shoot. But what the fuck were you doing? You were taunting them.”
“Ooh, Ms. ADA said a bad word. Have I upset you?”
“You bet your sweet ass I’m upset. I’m playing bumper cars at ninety miles an hour, trying to save your life and you’re playing Russian roulette. How do you think your family would feel knowing you died because you needed a rush?”
That seemed to hit home. Corelli’s grin drifted away. She put her hands up in surrender. “I should have realized that since McGivens thought I was alone he would send them after me.”
Was that an apology of sorts? “Yes, but why did you deliberately put yourself in danger? I wondered but now I’m sure. You have all the symptoms of PTSD.”
“Me? PTSD?”
“No question.”
Two uniforms sauntered over. “Didju make the 911 call?”
Parker displayed her shield. “I’m Detective Parker. This is Detective Corelli. I was following Corelli in the unmarked. A black pickup tried to run her down and when that didn’t work, they pulled out a gun. I called dispatch and reported an officer in trouble. Maybe one of the civilians called 911.”
“Why would—” The uniform interrupted himself. “Corelli, you’re the one—”
A Matter of Blood Page 21
