by Wendy Tyson
When she was finished, Allison said, “Holy hell, Mia. You want to talk dangerous, you’ve had a far more adventurous run than I have.”
“Look, Allison, adventure aside, we think Benini Enterprises is involved with the Mob. The Russian Mob.” Mia explained the land in Italy, their theory that Benini Enterprises and the Gretchko family could be connected.
Allison considered what she was hearing. On some level, it fit—and she and Vaughn had wondered the same thing. The secrets, Razinski’s odd behavior at the coffee bar in Ithaca. An organized crime family would have friends in high places. Police could be compromised, or at least silenced. Or an upright cop, like she believed Razinski to be, might be unwilling to act without proof. Afraid of the repercussions for being wrong.
Allison thought about the land deal pulled at the last minute. Because something more lucrative was at hand? Something that had the potential for pulling Benini Enterprises from potential ruin? If the Gretchko family had connections overseas, Benini Enterprises could be a perfect target company. Land for dumping, plus, with the variety of Benini’s legitimate business operations, the opportunity for money laundering. The Gretchko family maintains respectability. The Benini family keeps its shareholders—and the corporate bottom line—happy.
Allison saw the business as the thread, the thing that seemed to weave together a few of the pieces of otherwise disparate cloth.
But whole squares of cloth in this odd patchwork mystery still remained. Like how did Tammy fit in? And what about Gina Benini? What did she have to do with any of this? And what about the Pittaluga brothers?
And where the hell was Francesca?
Allison told Mia about the ownership structure of Benini Enterprises. “Things are starting to make sense. Someone in Benini could have made a deal with the devil to save Benini Enterprises from financial ruin and to maintain control. The most likely candidate is Dom. And he has the most to lose if Francesca heads the company.”
“Especially if she’s against this deal.”
“Exactly. But we have some missing pieces, and we can’t go to the police without a clearer picture. One of the main things we need is something tying Benini Enterprises and the Gretchkos. That is, anything, other than me.” She took a breath, thought about her list of open questions. “Can you ask Jamie to look into a few things?”
“Shoot.”
“One, ask him to see if there have been any large influxes of cash into Benini Enterprises. Money that may have been given to seal a deal with the Gretchkos.”
“Two?”
“Get me what you can on the Gretchko family. Articles, bios, anything. Scour for a connection.” Allison thought about Tammy, music, Alex’s saxophone. “And it may be a long shot, but see if you can find anything that ties Alex and Tammy within the music world.”
“We tried that angle and came up empty.”
Damn. Allison thought of her dinner with Alex. Of the easy way he slipped between business persona and playboy. “How about the Benini family? Can you check out each one? Simone, Alex, even Jackie? Especially Dom. What are his vices? Criminal history, gambling, drugs, prostitutes. Anything you can dig up that could make him vulnerable.”
“Anything else?”
“Not for now.”
“Allison?”
“Yes, Mia?”
“Stay safe.”
Allison smiled. “I intend to. Call me tomorrow?”
“First thing,” Mia said. “We’ll get on this stuff tonight.”
Thirty-Seven
Morning couldn’t come quickly enough. Allison tossed and turned her way through another night, high on adrenaline and the feeling that they were on the cusp of a breakthrough. She lay in bed, thinking about Jamie’s discovery and Mia’s information about the Gretchko family. They were connected. Tammy on the run, Francesca missing, these were not coincidences.
She wished there was a way to find Tammy. Maybe there was.
At 6:19, Allison pulled open her laptop and did a search. She remembered reading about metadata, the information imbedded in photos to pinpoint the location the photo was taken. Maybe they could home in on Tammy’s whereabouts that way.
Energized, Allison took a quick shower and got dressed. At 6:48, Allison’s phone rang. It was Vaughn, calling to fill her in on what they’d found and to hear firsthand what she’d been doing in Ithaca.
She told him about her side trip to the Pittaluga brothers’ farm and dinner with Alex Benini and he’d reacted just as she expected. With barely-disguised rage. “Allison, I’m coming there. This has gone far enough.”
“No, I’m fine. You need to stay there.” Allison pulled on one shoe, then the other. “Anyway, there are a few things I need you and Jamie to do. And I’ll be on my way home later today.”
“This isn’t up for debate.”
“You’re right. It’s not. I’m fine. I have a few loose ends to tie up here, and then I’ll be home.” She softened her voice. “Look, I know you’re worried. I promise to be careful, Vaughn. I don’t want any history repeats, either. But this thing is bigger than any of us. Let’s put it to bed. At least our part. We’re finally getting somewhere.”
“Maybe.” Vaughn hesitated. Exhaustion seemed to have won out over anger, because next he said, “Let me tell you what we found.”
“Please.”
“You were right about the cash. A shell company in the Bahamas paid a years’ cash up front for lease of the land in Calabria. Payments began before the other deal was revoked. Care to guess how much?”
“Twice what they would have gotten for the land if they’d sold it outright?”
“Three times. And that’s not all. We checked out Dom’s personal credit. Your hunch was right.”
“Player?”
“Gambler. In debt for half a mil this year alone.”
“Sheesh.”
“It gets better. He’s been paying off debts, one by one, in increments less than ten thousand dollars.”
“They’re paying him off, too?”
“Looks that way.”
“Alex? Simone? Maria?”
“Nothing on Maria or Alex. Paolo was Simone’s fourth marriage. First one was at eighteen, lasted three months. Other than a crappy history with men, she checked out.”
“So Dom, huh?” Allison thought about recent circumstances, how this could have gone down. “He’s in bed with the Mob?”
“Looks that way.”
“So you think the Gretchko family took Francesca? And killed Maria?”
“We think so.”
“Do you have information on the Gretchko family members yet?”
“Jamie and I are working on it. When we come up with some, we’ll email it to you.”
Allison told Vaughn about the key she’d found hidden in Francesca’s underwear.
“You can pursue that, Allison, but I think it’s another dead end. If the Russians have Francesca, we won’t find her. That’s a job for professionals.” He hesitated. “I really think you should come home.”
But Allison wasn’t listening. Something else was bothering her. “Vaughn, if the Mob took Francesca, who’s been following us?”
“The Benini family?”
“They’ve been here. And anyway, why would they follow us?”
“Maybe they think we took her.”
“I don’t believe that.” She paused, making connections in her mind. “What if the family kidnapped her, as we originally thought? And the Gretchkos are following us because they think we have her. If that’s the case, you and Mia could be the ones in danger.”
Vaughn remained silent. Allison stretched on the bed, feeling the tug on tight, unused muscles. “And what about the connection to Tammy? Even if the Gretchko family is involved with Benini, how did we end up with Tammy and Francesca? Something’s missing.”
“What are you going to do next?”
“Talk to Simone, figure out what the hell this key is for.” Allison opened the laptop. “And I think I may know a way to locate Tammy.” She told him about the metadata.
“You want to pinpoint Tammy’s location based on the Facebook page photos? That won’t work. Facebook erases the metadata. The location coordinates won’t be there.”
“I did some reading on it, Vaughn. You may know more, but some social media sites don’t erase the metadata. Try some of the newer sites. Maybe Kai will have an account. And if Jamie can scour the Net for more pictures, maybe he can start to home in on Kai and Tammy’s hangouts.”
“Create a scatterplot map?”
“Exactly. With the right picture posted to the right site, he can get the coordinates of the places they frequent. From what I saw on Kai’s Facebook, there aren’t many. Maybe one will be the place where Tammy is hiding.”
“Find the coordinates, plug them into Google Maps, and find the kids. Simple enough.” Vaughn gave a strained laugh. “We’ll give it a try. But then what? If we can locate Kai’s hangout, or even get something close, what do you want me to do? We do have paying clients, Allison. I can’t hold them off forever.”
Allison took a quick look in the mirror. Her hair had air dried and was flat and lifeless. She wore no makeup. And her shirt was wrinkled.
She picked up her purse and said into the phone, “One more day, Vaughn. That’s all I need.”
On the way to the Benini estate, Allison called Jason. He answered on the first ring.
“I won’t even tell you how worried I’ve been.”
“I miss you,” Allison said. “I know this is hard for you. Letting me do what I need to do, coming here. But I want you to know...I appreciate it. And I love you the more for it.”
“Yeah, well—”
“Yeah, well, what?”
“This patience won’t last forever.”
Allison’s stomach knotted. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing, Al. I know you’ve been keeping me in the dark because you’re worried I’ll try and talk you out of whatever cockamamie plan you have up your sleeve. If this is what you feel you need to do, fine. But let me help you.”
Allison pulled to the shoulder near the Benini home. Out of habit now, she glanced behind her, looking for a tail, but the road was empty. It was nearly eight, and she wanted to be mentally prepared before she drove up the long driveway that led to the estate. But even more, she wanted to give Jason her full attention. This trip had made her realize how much she cared for him. And how badly she did want him. But on terms they both could live with.
“Truce? We table all of this until I’m home and we can talk face-to-face?”
Jason didn’t speak for a moment, and Allison found herself counting the seconds. Finally, he said, “Truce. But I’m going to hold you to that.”
“You’re a lawyer. I’d expect nothing less.”
He laughed. The sound was sunlight. “Tell me what’s happening.”
Allison relayed bits of what she, Mia, Vaughn, and Jamie had learned over the last few days, ending with their theory about the connection between Benini Enterprises and the Russian Mob.
“Why the Russian Mob? Why not the Italian Mob? Not to stereotype, Allison, but they are from Calabria.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been wondering that myself. The only thing I can think of is supply and demand. The Gretchko family needs to keep their collective noses clean, and they have a demand for cheap land and a legit company that can help them launder money. Benini is going under. That’s no secret. The Beninis have a need for cash, but what they have is a legit business and vast amounts of acreage in Italy and developing countries in the Balkans.” She paused, thinking. “I wish I knew who did the matchmaking.”
Jason was quiet for a moment. “If it is the Russian Mob you’re dealing with, Al, you can’t handle that alone. You’ll end up in the bottom of a river somewhere.” His voice got tight.
“Despite what Vaughn and Jamie think, I don’t believe the Mob took Francesca. A deal with the Mob may be the motivating force, but kidnapping without ransom doesn’t seem their style. They’d just kill outright, dump the body.”
“Then what do you think’s going on with Francesca?”
“I have a hunch it’s a family affair, rooted in the past. And this creepy Benini mansion.” She looked out the window at the house looming on the hill. “I think the answers lie here.”
“I assume that’s where you are now?”
Overhead, dark clouds gathered, portending more storms. Allison studied the woods that hid the Benini property from view. A dark, tangled mass of vegetation, full of shadows. Funny how it could look beautiful one day, ominous the next. And today, with the darkened sky and the tasks ahead, those woods looked downright menacing.
“Yes, I’m here. I have a flight home at seven tonight. I’ll call you before then.”
“You’d better, Allison. If I don’t hear from you by tonight, I’m going to come looking.”
Allison’s rental car, a blue Ford, stumbled its way up the Benini driveway. A tomb of gloom enveloped the vehicle, a thick blanket of mist left over from the awakening day, trapped by the canopy of trees overhead. Allison patted her purse and, in it, the Swiss Army Knife she’d tucked within its depths. She hoped that Simone would be awake, alone—and willing to talk.
The mixture of gravel and chipped pavement under her tires felt bumpy and coarse, the headlights a weak foe against the fog. Simone’s Land Rover was parked in the circle, a few feet from the door. Allison climbed out of her car, remembering the first time she stepped foot on this property, only two weeks ago. A lot could happen in such a short time.
Shoring her shoulders, she rang the bell. It was Jackie who answered. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her normally rigid shoulders, stooped.
“Is Simone available?”
Jackie ushered Allison inside. She made her wait in the central hall while she fetched Simone, which only took a few minutes.
In contrast to her employee, Simone was impeccably dressed in a black suit, black veil, black pumps. The grieving mother? Or playing a part? Allison wondered. It was hard to decipher the difference anymore.
“Allison, please come in.” To Jackie, Simone said, “Two hot teas, please.”
Allison followed Simone into the sun porch, the room in which Allison had first met with Francesca. She took the seat she’d occupied before and watched Simone perch on a chair with a line of sight to the barn.
“They’ll miss her, you know.” She turned to Allison. “The horses. She loved them, but oh, how they adored my Maria.”
“I am so sorry for your loss, Simone.”
Simone nodded, dabbed at her eyes with a lace hanky. “She was a wild child from the beginning. Smart. Oppositional. She didn’t deserve to go this way, though.” Another dab, another long glance outside. Allison could feel the pain washing off Simone in waves. While she might be playing a role, there was sincere emotion at her core, and it tugged at Allison. She understood loss.
“Do you believe it was an accident?”
Simone shook her head slowly, back and forth. “No, I don’t. Maria was too smart for that, too good with machines. But the police seem convinced.” She rubbed her hands together, clearly agitated. “I hate that this happened. Everything’s changed.” Simone flipped up her veil, revealing features contorted by rage. “With their constant bickering, and their insistence...their insistence on...” Like that, the rage dissolved into grief and Simone broke down into sobs.
Confused by the shift in topic, Allison said, “Who is ‘them?’ Dom and Alex?”
She nodded. “They gave Paolo that stroke.”
“How did they do that?”
“More arguing, fighting. The business.” Her words were slurred and choppy. “I hate th
em.”
“Simone, this is important. Did you see either of them at the plant the day Maria was killed?”
She looked at Allison with horror. “How did you know I was there?”
Because you’re having an affair with the plant manager, Allison thought. Instead she said, “It doesn’t matter. Did you see your stepsons?”
Simone buried her head in her hands. “No.”
“Did you see anyone?”
Simone was quiet for so long that Allison thought she’d lost her. Finally, she whispered, “Just that man. Dom’s friend.”
“Reginald Burr?”
Simone looked up briefly, eyes watery pools, face streaked red. “Him. He must have been meeting with someone. I saw him leaving the parking lot.”
Jackie never came with the tea, which was just fine. Allison left the grieving Simone and headed through the labyrinth, to the Alice in Wonderland door and up to the library. There, the air was still, the books silent witnesses to years of family secrets. If only you could talk, Allison thought.
She scanned the room, searching for anything that might fit the key. But she came up empty.
She turned, disappointed, ready to head back downstairs, when she spied the large Bible, still on its resting spot where Francesca had left it just two weeks ago.
Gingerly, Allison lifted the book, feeling the worn pages that had given Francesca comfort.
Comfort? Or penance? And that’s when she saw the inscription. To Frannie. Blessings, Jackie.
Her next stop became clear. She sprinted for the steps and headed down to the kitchen.
She found the cook there, sitting on a stool, looking out the window.
Without turning, Jackie said, “She wasn’t a monster, you know. Neither was Paolo. They’re the ones who should still be alive.”
“I’m sorry, Jackie. I can see you’re upset.”
The woman wiped her hands on her white apron and stood. “What do you need?”
Allison held out the key she’d found in Francesca’s underwear. “Where can I find the receptacle that fits this key.”
