Hit List

by Darcia Helle

  Graham sank into the chair beside the desk. He leaned forward, shoulders hunched. His voice took on a soft conspiratorial tone as he said, “I ran the license plate. From last night.”

  “Oh.” Sterling glanced back down at the sheet of paper. “Damn.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Lucianna Martel of Martel Investigations. A P.I. Damn.”

  “Heard of her?” Graham asked.

  “No. You?”

  “I didn’t place the name at first.” Graham rolled the cigarette between his fingers. He shook his head, fixed his gaze on the single sheet of paper. “But it sounded familiar for some reason. So I did a little discrete digging. Care to wager a guess?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Vinnie Martel’s niece.”

  “Vinnie?” A moment later the name connected with the memory and Sterling muttered, “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Think she knows anything?”

  Graham stuck the cigarette in his mouth, flicked his Bic a few times. Stared at the flame but didn’t light the cigarette. He said, “Let’s hope to hell she doesn’t.”

  “What now?”

  “We find out.”

  Graham rolled the cigarette between his lips. For the hundredth time since this all had started, Sterling wished he had simply come clean at the beginning. Taken the fall. Now it was too late. He’d gone too far.

  He said, “How are we supposed to do that without exposing ourselves?”

  Graham frowned at him. His eyes roamed the room, taking stock, making sure no one was overly interested in their conversation. Then he said, “The kid must have hired her.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “Because he knows something. Or has suspicions.”

  “He doesn’t know anything.”

  “You’re so sure?”

  Sterling sighed, shrugged. He stared back at Graham, wanting to tell him to go fuck himself. Instead he said, “Maybe not so sure anymore.”

  Graham picked up the sheet of paper. He stood and said, “Let’s keep an eye on this Lucianna Martel. See who she’s talking to. Maybe she can help us out. Speed this up.”

  “And if she’s as good as her uncle?”

  “Then we’ll put up some road blocks before she gets too far.”

  “You think that’ll stop her?”

  The lines on Graham’s face deepened. His tone was flat as he said, “At some point she will have no choice but to back off. We’ll have to make sure of it.”

  “Look Graham, I’m not about to -”

  “Don’t start whining to me now. You got yourself into this mess, not me.”

  “But what you’re talking about… Innocent people could get hurt.”

  Graham lifted his palms to the ceiling, said, “Then get the information we need first.”

  He turned and walked away, leaving a cold silence behind.

  ***

  Ian swung his truck into the driveway, punched the remote button to raise the garage door, and waited impatiently for it to rise out of his way. He was running late. The owners of the property he’d been working on wanted to make some changes to the loft of the garage. And they’d decided to show up to discuss these changes fifteen minutes before he needed to leave. It had been that kind of day.

  Finally the door slid open far enough and he pulled into the empty stall beside his mother’s car. He only hoped that she was ready to go. He’d called earlier to remind her. Of course, that meant very little.

  The house smelled of lemon and perfume. His nose wrinkled in protest. Having the house closed up through the long winter would not be a good experience.

  “Ma!” he called. “Where are you? We need to get going.”

  Corinne came down the hall, trailed by a stream of perfume so thick that he was surprised a cloud didn’t form. Again he reminded himself to water the stuff down. Otherwise he was pretty sure he’d suffocate in his sleep.

  “I’m ready,” Corinne said. “Are we going to see Doctor Hartley?”

  “Yup.” Ian didn’t bother correcting the name. Some things weren’t worth the bother these days. He said, “You look great today, ma.” And she did. She wore black slacks and a deep green angora sweater. She’d even put on sleek black boots with a three-inch heel. By all appearances, she looked completely normal. An educated woman ready for a date. A reminder never to judge a person based on appearances.

  They took Corinne’s Nissan. As always, Ian drove. He’d taken her keys the day he’d found her curled up in the back of her closet. She’d never asked for them back.

  Corinne marveled at the multi-colored leaves falling from the trees while Ian navigated through the traffic. They made it to Endicott’s office at one minute before one o’clock. Ian even managed to drop her off and escape without an ordeal. Sometimes the gods were on his side.

  He arrived at the diner at six minutes past one. He’d been expecting one of those places where the grease from all the food clung to the air like a rancid rain cloud. But as he pulled the door open, the odors that struck him were of gourmet coffee and freshly baked bread. His mouth actually watered in response.

  Lucianna was seated in a corner booth. She smiled and waved and his heart did a little flutter that he told himself was anxiety. Still, all his morning stress seemed to evaporate as he slid onto the bench opposite her.

  ***

  Lucianna spotted Ian as he strode up the sidewalk toward the entrance. The sight of him caused her breath to catch. What was with her and this adolescent crush? He was a client. Their relationship needed to remain strictly professional.

  She almost laughed at her own inflated ego. What made her think Ian even had an interest in moving beyond a professional relationship? Maybe one night of mind-blowing sex. But after that?

  Then again, there was nothing wrong with one night of mind-blowing sex.

  She waved Ian over to the table. Professional, she reminded herself. Concentrate on the case and pretend the thought of touching his muscular body is not a major turn-on.

  Ian slid onto the bench opposite Lucianna. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

  “You’re fine,” Lucianna said. “Everything okay with your mom?”

  “Yeah, she’s safely tucked away with her psychiatrist.”

  “Good. Have you eaten?”

  “No. And it smells great in here.”

  “I was hoping it would spark your appetite.”

  They gave the menu a quick glance and ordered lunch. A veggie wrap for Lucianna and a turkey club for Ian. Lucianna suggested they split an order of French fries. Belatedly she realized that came out sounding like something you’d do on a date. But Ian didn’t seem to notice any implication other than sharing the fries when he readily agreed.

  Once the waitress left them alone, Lucianna said, “I have some information for you.”

  Ian stared into her eyes. He said, “You’re not smiling. I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  “No, probably not.”

  The waitress returned with tea for Lucianna and Sprite for Ian. She said, “Your meals will be right out.” Lucianna thanked her and the waitress quickly moved away.

  Ian fiddled with the straw. He said, “Okay, fill me in.”

  Lucianna picked up her teabag, dunked it slowly in and out of the darkening water. She was still trying to put it all together in her own mind. Nothing clicked. She said, “Sam Evans. How much do you know about him?”

  “Not much beyond what I already told you,” Ian said. “Why? Is he involved?”

  “No. I mean, not that I’m aware of.” Lucianna set the teabag down on the side of her saucer, then leaned back in her seat. “Did you know about his connection to a local gang? They call themselves K Unit.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I wish I was.”

  “Sam is in a gang?”

  Ian’s voice had risen. Lucianna glanced around her, glad they were in a booth toward the back of the diner. She said, “Technically no. He
has ties with them.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He does things for them when asked. I don’t believe that he has much choice in the matter.”

  Ian stiffened. Something flashed in his eyes. Lucianna said, “Sam must have gotten himself indebted to these guys somehow. I don’t have the history at this point. We’re working on it.”

  Ian nodded, fiddled with his straw some more. “What is this gang into? Drugs?”

  “That, yes. Also prostitution. Gambling. It may go way beyond that. I’m not sure.”

  Ian nodded again. His eyes were far away, looking through rather than at her. The waitress brought their food. She smiled, made a few of the standard comments along the lines of enjoying their meal. Lucianna smiled back. Ian stared down at his Sprite as if life’s answers were hidden in the bubbles.

  Lucianna gave Ian a few moments to absorb what she’d just told him. She picked at the French fries. Ian frowned down at his turkey club, didn’t take a bite. Lucianna said, “Do you think that your mother knew about his gang connection?”

  “No.” Ian sighed, shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. I’d like to think not. But my mother, well, she’s a little unconventional. Maybe it wouldn’t have bothered her.”

  Lucianna thought about that for a moment. She asked, “Do you think she would have been willing to be part of it all?”

  “No. That I’m sure of.”

  They fell silent, working their way through a lunch that no longer seemed as appetizing. After a few moments Ian gazed across the table, met Lucianna’s eyes, and smiled almost boyishly. “I’m sorry. I’m not being very good company.”

  Lucianna’s heart thumped harder. Something about his smile made her want to giggle and kiss him at the same time. Neither was appropriate. Amazed by her self-control, she managed to offer a normal smile in return. “It’s a lot to absorb,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Do you think they did something to her? Sam and this gang?”

  “I don’t know what to think yet,” Lucianna replied. She dunked a fry in ketchup, put it back down on her plate, and met Ian’s eyes once more. “There’s something else.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “I’m not sure what to make of this either.”

  “Okay.”

  “That car that was parked across the street last night? Have you seen it before?”

  Ian shook his head. “I don’t think so. But I didn’t really see it then, either.”

  “It was a tan Impala. I have no idea what year, though it didn’t look very old.”

  “I haven’t noticed a car like that around.”

  She watched him carefully as she said, ‘My uncle ran the plate for me. The car belongs to a cop, Ian. A detective, actually. Works in vice.”

  “Why would a detective be sitting outside of my house?”

  “I don’t know. Could be a coincidence and have nothing to do with whatever happened to your mother. Then again…”

  “It could have everything to do with my mother,” Ian filled in. “This doesn’t make any sense. I never even called the cops the day I found her. Just an ambulance. She hadn’t been beaten or anything. Not raped, according to the doctor at the hospital. The cops weren’t involved then. Why would they be now?”

  Lucianna said nothing. She watched Ian fidget, saw the muscles tensing in his jaw. No way was he involved in any of this. He couldn’t possibly fake this kind of reaction.

  Ian seemed to latch on to an explanation. He said, “The cops would be watching if they connected my mother to Sam. If he did something. If they thought she was part of it all.”

  “That’s one possibility.”

  “What’s going on? And why would something Sam did make her go crazy?”

  Lucianna had no answers. She said, “I need some time to sort this out. In the meantime, I need you to watch for that car. Or any strange car parked near your house. Let me know if you see anything out of the ordinary.”

  Ian ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay.”

  “And if you run into Sam, try to behave normally. We don’t want to set off any alarms with these guys, just in case they are somehow tangled up in it all.”

  “This is crazy,” Ian said. “I don’t know what I expected you to find. Maybe nothing. Certainly not this.”

  “I know.” Lucianna sipped her tea, thought about the man across from her, and fought off the ridiculous desire to comfort him.

  Chapter 20

  Corinne sank deeper into the worn-out cushions. She chewed the inside of her lip while Dr. Endicott scrutinized her. He was waiting for her to say something. But what? Had he asked her a question and he was now waiting for an answer? She didn’t think so. And, if he had, maybe he should simply repeat himself instead of staring at her with those watered-down eyes.

  She’d like to touch the leather on his chair. See if it was as soft as it looked. Not like the scratchy fabric of this ratty couch.

  She hated when he stared at her this way. It reminded her of a game she used to play with her friends when she was just a kid. Stare at each other, no blinking or looking away. The first one to break the stare lost.

  Maybe this was a game, too. Maybe he’d explained that to her and she’d forgotten. Games were okay. She’d liked them once.

  “Luci and I play a game together,” Corinne said.

  “Luci?” Dr. Endicott uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “Who is Luci?”

  “My friend.”

  Dr. Endicott’s pants had no wrinkle marks. As if they’d been pressed just minutes before. No wrinkles and no stubble on his face. Too perfect.

  “Is Luci a new friend?”

  Corinne looked back up at Dr. Endicott’s pale eyes. “Yes. A new friend. She’s very good at the game.”

  “What game is that?”

  “A song game,” Corinne explained. “I say a line from a song and she tells me what song it is and who sings it. Sometimes she sings the next line.”

  “That sounds like a fun game,” Dr. Endicott said.

  Corinne glanced over at his desk. So neat. Everything in its place. Not even a paper or pen laying on the surface. Softly she chanted, “Perfect, perfect, perfect.”

  “Do you and Luci play this game often?” Dr. Endicott asked.

  “Aggravation is a fun game. But calling it aggravation makes it sound like you wouldn’t like it.”

  “Do you and Luci play Aggravation?”

  “Oh no,” Corinne replied. “I don’t know if she likes that game. Maybe she does. Or Uno. Is that still a game?”

  Dr. Endicott crossed his legs again. “Yes, Uno is a card game. Why don’t you tell me about Luci?”

  “Ian has a crush on her.”

  “A crush?”

  “Is that the wrong word?” Corinne chewed on her bottom lip, squirmed around a lump in the cushion. “He likes her. I can tell.”

  “Is Luci Ian’s girlfriend?” Dr. Endicott asked. “Or is she your friend?”

  Dr. Endicott’s voice had taken on a funny tone. Corinne wasn’t sure but he seemed irritated. Maybe it wasn’t okay to have a new friend. Maybe Dr. Endicott was jealous. Dr. Hartley wouldn’t be jealous. He’d want her to have new friends.”

  She needed new friends because she had no old friends. Well, she must have old friends. Everyone did, right? But no one ever visited her. No one called. Except the man who wanted her to join his long distance plan. But why would she want to join his plan if she didn’t know him?

  Besides, she didn’t make long distance phone calls. She didn’t make phone calls at all. She didn’t have family like other people.

  No, that wasn’t right. Ian kept reminding her that she has another person. Not a friend. Oh, what was he always saying? An aunt? Or maybe a sister? Was that right?

  Family. Other family, aside from Ian. Family made her feel queasy. Why was that? Her head ached. She couldn’t think about family.

  What kinds of flowers were on the wallpaper? Did Dr. Endicott pick it out because
he liked the flowers or because he liked the purple color?

  He was watching her again. He had that funny way of looking at her that made her nervous. She tried a smile and said, “What’s your favorite color?”

  ***

  Ian saw the flicker of relief on his mother’s face as she edged out the office door past Dr. Endicott. A wave of panic squeezed his stomach. Had something gone wrong? Neither one looked happy.

  “Ian, could I have a word with you?” Endicott said.

  He motioned into his office. His face was set in a grimace. Ian swallowed down the lump in his throat, glanced at his mother. She had moved to the opposite side of the waiting room and was now sitting, smiling happily. Odd. But then most things his mother did these days were odd.

  Ian stood, caught his mother’s eye, and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Corinne waved him away. “Take your time. I’m fine here.”

  Inside the office, Dr. Endicott moved behind his polished desk. He lowered himself into the shining burgundy leather chair and said, “Have a seat, Ian.”

  Despite the urge to flee, Ian sank into one of the padded leather chairs opposite Endicott. The desk stretched out between them and Endicott’s seat had him sitting up higher. Ian wondered if Endicott had deliberately chosen this seating arrangement in order to keep himself superior. Like a subliminal message or something. He then promptly decided that he was becoming paranoid. Pretty soon he’d be having his own sessions with Endicott.

  A thick silence had settled. Ian finally asked, “How are things going?”

  Dr. Endicott folded his hands on the desk, steepled his thumbs, and slowly tapped them together. He had adopted that grave expression that always precedes bad news. He said, “Your mother hasn’t made much progress. She is masterful at changing subjects when conversation turns in an undesirable direction.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Ian said.

  “Yes. I’m sure you are.”

  “Is there something I can do? Some way to help snap her out of this?”