Forget about it.
It was time to get his head back in the game.
Chapter 10
Saturday, 8:36 p.m.
Getting Hot
They drove only a few blocks from the Italian Market before Pete told Grace to park.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“My place.”
Grace and Nick followed Pete half a block to a redbrick row house, with one red door and one blue. He opened the blue one with a key, and stuck his head in the door. “Louis, it’s me.”
Pete led them into a foyer with wide wood-plank floors and silver-blue painted walls. Decoupage wall sconces cast indirect light onto the ceiling, giving the entryway a warm feel despite the cool colors.
“Who’s Louis?” Nick sniggered. “Your life partner?”
Pete looked over Nick’s shoulder. “Hey, Lou. You my life partner?”
A man slightly smaller than the Chrysler Building, with a stare that could freeze antifreeze, filled the hallway.
Nick postured for a few seconds, but when Louis trained hard, black eyes on him, all the wind went out of Nick’s sails.
Pete clapped his hand on Nick’s shoulder and said to Louis, “This is the jerk-wad who screwed up two friggin’ years of work.”
“Hey, watch the shirt,” Nick said, without much conviction.
“So what do we do now, boss?” Louis asked.
“I don’t know. I need a beer.”
“I thought you said you didn’t drink,” said Grace.
“I’m making an exception,” said Pete.
They all filed into a neat little galley kitchen with maple cabinets and stainless-steel appliances that looked brand-new. Set up on a small table in the corner was enough electronic equipment to make the place look like the StarTrek command center.
“Anything going on?” Pete said to Louis.
“Nah. The Russian left his apartment about an hour ago.”
“You got the place bugged?” Nick said.
Pete and Louis ignored him.
Pete opened up the refrigerator, revealing two six-packs of beer, a bottle of ketchup, an open can of succotash and something lying on the bottom shelf that looked like it could win the starring role in the next Alien movie.
Grace itched to get her fingers on Pete’s appliances. What she couldn’t do with a double convection oven.
Okay. How sad was that? The thought of using a guy’s stove was making her hot. She unzipped her sweatshirt.
Three pairs of male eyes immediately focused on her chest. She zipped her sweatshirt back up.
They all sat on wrought-iron bar stools around the tiny breakfast bar.
Pete passed the beers around. “Okay, here’s how I see it. Nick has to keep the meeting with Skobelov. Business as usual, just like we planned.”
“But I don’t have the memory key,” Nick protested. “And even if I did, didn’t you just tell me there was nothing on it?”
“Yeah, but you’ve got to convince him he’s still going to get the names.”
Nick shook his head. “No way. I’m not gonna lie to Viktor Skobelov. He’s fucking scary, man.”
“Oh, but you were going to steal thirty thousand names and social security numbers out from under him? What if he knew that, Nick, huh? What if he knew you were gonna cross him?” Pete took a swig of his beer.
“You wouldn’t…” Nick looked at Pete and then at Louis. Louis was smiling.
Nick pulled on his earlobe. “What if I say no?”
Pete shrugged. “You can do that. We’ll just have to get you into witness protection as soon as possible, so you can testify against Skobelov when I finally do manage to make a case against him, probably in two years or so. You’ll love Kansas, Nick.”
“What if I say no?”
“Not an option. It’s testifying or jail. That was our deal, Nick. And believe me, the Secret Service does not take kindly to those who mess up our cases. We’ll push for the maximum sentence. Right, Lou?”
Louis iced Nick with his stare.
Nick looked at Grace. “What do you think I should do, honey?”
“Me?”
“I’m not talking to Louis.”
Grace gave Nick the evil eye. “Can I see you in the other room, honey?”
Saturday, 8:54 p.m.
The Viagra Papers
“Are you out of your mind?” Grace said through clenched teeth. “Why are you dragging me into this?”
Nick raised one shoulder. “I just wanted your opinion.”
“You want my opinion? Why?”
“I don’t know. You seem like you got a good head on your shoulders.”
“Oh, sure.” She had a feeling Nick missed the sarcasm in her reply.
“Listen,” Nick said. “This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go between us. Why didn’t you meet me back at the room?”
“Because I came to my senses.”
Nick ran his hands through his hair. “You were supposed to come back to the room with the memory key. If you had, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Well, why’d you put it in my pocket to begin with? What made you so sure I was going to come to your room?”
Nick gave her a look she hadn’t seen since the Fonz on Happy Days. She imagined him in a leather jacket, hair slicked back, saying “A-a-ay-y-y.”
Grace put her hand on her hip. “Oh, I get it. Of course I would come back to your room. A middle-aged soccer mom desperate for a hot night with a young stud. Is that it?”
Nick shrugged. “I thought we had something going.”
Grace took a deep, cleansing breath. And another and another. “You said you want my opinion? If I were you, I’d just cooperate with them. Do whatever they want.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because…Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Nick smiled. “You always do the right thing?”
“I try to.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nick reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Let’s just say I got a look at some papers that might prove differently.”
Grace’s body began to buzz. “Papers?”
“Papers that release a large quantity of Viagra to a new ‘vendor.’”
Viagra? Was that what this whole thing was about? Tom needed Viagra?
She hadn’t read the papers before she signed them. She didn’t want to know what he was up to. But this was crazy. It didn’t make any sense. Tom would never risk all of this for Viagra. Would he?
An image of him with Marlene and a giant tub of mayonnaise flashed through her head.
That asshole. That stupid asshole.
“I don’t know what papers you’re talking about,” she said to Nick.
“The ones you forged, Grace.”
“Prove it.”
Nick grinned. “I have a ringing endorsement from your husband.”
“Tom?”
“You have another husband?” Nick slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her close, kissing her lightly. “Do you think meeting me was an accident?” he whispered.
“Oh, God…” She didn’t want to hear this. “How—?”
“Hey!” Pete shouted from the kitchen. “You done in there? ’Cause we’ve got to have an answer. Now.”
Chapter 10.5
Saturday, 9:08 p.m.
X Factor
C’mon, Balboa. Gimme the right answer.
Pete picked at the label on his beer bottle and tried to look bored.
The truth was, without Nick Balboa, he didn’t have much of a case. They could get the Russian, Skobelov, on a few minor fraud charges, but they needed the big pop.
The Russian was too well-protected. Pete knew he was involved in some pretty heavy stuff: money laundering, immigration violations, Internet drug sales. But the only thing Pete cared about was the identification fraud. It was the cornerstone of hi
s investigation. All the rest was gravy.
The Russian had put up sixty grand for names he’d bought from Morton, a computer geek who worked at a credit card processing center in Boise, Idaho.
The plan was simple. Balboa was supposed to fly out to Boise, pick up the memory key from Morton and bring it back to Philly. Then Pete would copy the information, enter it into evidence and, when Skobelov used the names for fraudulent purposes, they’d have him dead to rights.
But without Balboa, he couldn’t pull it off. Balboa was his inside man. The only one he knew who could get close to Skobelov.
But even if Balboa agreed to stay in, who was to say he wouldn’t cross them again? He was the loose cannon. The X factor.
Right now, the stupid jerk had his hand linked in Grace’s, who looked like she might chew her arm off to get away from him. Pete himself could have happily ripped Balboa’s head off.
He’d really begun to hope Grace wasn’t a part of all this. He’d wanted to believe her, but her arrest record made it unlikely. He was inexplicably disappointed.
“Well, what’s it gonna be, Nick?”
Balboa sucked down the last of his beer and plunked the bottle down on the counter. “I’ll do it.”
Chapter 11
Saturday, 9:35 p.m.
Big Red Nose
“I have to make a call.”
Pete looked at her like she was insane.
“I have to call my kids. My mother. They’ll be worried if I don’t.”
Pete thought for a minute. “Lou, go with her. Let her use the kitchen phone.” He went back to hooking a small device to the inside of Nick’s collar.
Grace followed Louis to the kitchen, where he pointed to an old-fashioned wall phone with a long, curly cord. It was exactly like the phone her parents used to have in their kitchen. Grace used to stretch it into the pantry, where she’d close the door, eat Oreos and talk to Cecilia and Dannie all night.
“Make it quick,” Louis said.
Grace dialed slowly, trying to think of what she was going to say. Her heart bounced around in her chest like a Super Ball. Megan answered the phone.
“Hi, sweetie. How’s it going?”
“Pretty lame. Grandma wouldn’t even let me go to the mall, and I have to get a dress for homecoming. I mean, when am I supposed to do that?”
“We’ll go on Tuesday, okay?”
As long as I’m not in jail. Or swimming with the fishes.
Grace’s voice broke. “I promise we’ll go. Just you and me.”
“Jeez, Mom. It’s only a dress. You don’t have to cry about it.”
Grace wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Is Grandma there?”
“Yeah, hang on.”
The phone clunked. A television blared in the background, and it was several minutes before her mother came on.
“Hello, dear.”
“Hi, Mom. Am I interrupting something?”
“No, no. We’re just watching Terms of Endearment. It’s almost to the part where Shirley MacLaine’s yelling at the nurses, ‘Give her the shot! Give my daughter the shot!’ So sad.”
“How are the kids?”
“They’re fine. How was your night out with your friends?”
“Interesting, I guess.”
“Does Cecilia still have such a fresh mouth? I remember she once told me to—”
“Mom, that was twenty years ago.”
“Well, still. You never get over something like that. By the way, I tried to call your cell phone, but I got the voice mail.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t charged up.”
“I was getting worried. Tom’s been calling here for you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I can’t believe he has the nerve.”
Louis nudged Grace with his elbow.
“Listen, Mom. I have to get going—”
“Oh, look. It’s the part where Debra Winger is telling the little boy she won’t be coming home. You always cry at this part, and your nose gets all big and red.”
“Mom, I really have to go.”
Her mother sighed. “Okay, then. Callie and Kevin are in bed, but do you want to talk to Megan again?”
“Sure. Real quick.” She dodged Louis’s elbow and gave him a look.
Megan came on the line. “Yes, Mother?”
“Megan, I want you to help Grandma with Callie and Kevin.” The tears started again, and Grace imagined her nose swelling to twice its size.
“Mom, are you crying again? Jeez, take a pill.”
“Just be good, okay?”
“Like, when am I ever not good? Can I go now?”
Grace sniffed. “Go ahead. Tell Grandma I said goodbye.”
Grace hung up the phone and looked at Louis. “What’s in these cabinets? I really need to cook something.”
Saturday, 10:44 p.m.
Rash Thoughts
“This is awesome.” Nick shoveled food into his mouth while bent over the sink, a paper napkin tucked into his collar so as not to short out the body bug he was wearing.
Grace had discovered a pound of hamburger in the freezer and an onion in the hydrator tray. Along with a couple of cans of succotash and a few squirts of ketchup, she’d managed to pull together a half-decent goulash. But the urge to cook still hadn’t subsided.
“Not bad, Gracie,” Pete said. “You a professional chef or something?”
“No. And please don’t call me that.”
“What? Gracie?”
“My ex-husband calls me Gracie. I can’t stand it.”
“Is he the one who gave you this nice diamond ring? ’Cause I know it wasn’t Nick here.” Pete wiggled the ring on his finger.
“Hey,” Nick said. “It could’ve been me.”
Louis’s spoon stopped midway to his mouth. “Heh.”
Nick shook his head. “Why is it so hard to believe that I gave my lady friend here a gift?”
“I am not your ‘lady friend,’” Grace said.
“Okay, okay. My woman.”
The protest was on her lips, but before she could get the words out, Nick leaned over and kissed her.
The scent of Aramis rendered her momentarily unable to function. She sat there, helpless, as Nick’s bionic lips moved over hers.
When Nick finally pulled away, Pete’s expression was black. “Save it for later. We gotta roll.”
“How about giving me my ring back now?” Grace said.
“Later.” Pete put the ring in his pants pocket. “Insurance.”
Pete and Louis collected some complicated-looking electronic gadgets and loaded them into a big, black duffel bag.
“We’ll stop by the hotel first, so I can get my car,” Pete said. “Then Lou will take the two of you on to the meeting place.”
“Where are you going?” Grace said.
“Boise. See if I can track down Morton.”
“I hope you find him,” Grace said. “I really do.” Because maybe then she could go home.
The thought brought relief and just a teeny sliver of regret. She had to admit, she hadn’t felt this alive in a long, long time.
Her role as Tom’s wife required a sophisticated hostess, not a party girl. A woman who could hold a conversation, not one who could tell jokes.
But, sometime in the last twenty-four hours, her impulsive side had been resuscitated.
The four of them piled into Grace’s car and drove to the Baccus Hotel. Pete and Nick went in and retrieved the rest of Nick’s things. Pete put everything into the trunk of Grace’s car and leaned in the driver’s side window to talk to Louis.
He smelled of decent cologne. It was no Aramis, true. But Grace was surprised by his choice. He had the beginnings of reddish beard stubble growing on his chin, like an unkempt version of David Caruso. It was the kind of stubble that could give a girl a nasty rash…
Whoa. Where had that come from?
She already had one more imaginary boyfriend than she wanted. The thought of getting a rash, or anything else, from Pete Slade was strictly
verboten.
“Don’t screw this up,” Pete said to Nick. “Louis will be listening. If you get into trouble, remember the emergency word.”
“Pineapple.”
“Right. But only if you’re in trouble. Convince him, Nick. Convince Skobelov the names are on the way.”
“Sure.”
Grace could see Nick’s face in the rearview mirror. He didn’t look so sure. In fact, he looked like he was about to puke.
Pete slapped the roof of the car. “Go get ’em.”
Saturday, 11:51 p.m.
Eavesdropping
Back to the Cat’s Meow.
The neon cat on the roof seemed to be running out of juice, its winking eye more closely resembling a palsy twitch than a seductive gesture.
“What time is it?” Nick asked.
“Five of,” Louis said. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” Nick got out of the car and leaned in Grace’s window, just as Pete had done. “Can I have a kiss for good luck?”
Her stomach knotted. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Nick flashed his thousand-watt smile. “You want me to be kidding you?”
She hit the button to roll up the window.
Nick straightened his collar and headed for the door of the club. Grace had a hard time keeping her eyes off his butt.
“Now what?” she said to Louis.
He rooted through the bag and pulled out a black box the size of a hardcover book and plugged it into the cigarette lighter with an adapter. “Now, we listen.”
“What is that thing?”
“A receiver. It records everything that comes over the body wire.”
Louis opened the lid of the box, revealing a row of knobs and buttons. He hit one and it crackled to life, lights jumping in little bars across the face of a tiny screen. A rhythmic sound spewed from the box.
“What’s that noise?” Grace said.
“Nick’s breathing. I guess that’s a good thing, huh?” He snickered to himself. Just then it struck her who Louis reminded her of. The old detective Fish, from Barney Miller.
They heard “Hey, Nick.”
“The bouncer at the door,” Louis said.
Blaring music. The Pussycat Dolls.
A Widow in Paradise & Suburban Secrets Page 26
