Stella, Get Your Gun

by Nancy Bartholomew

  “Keep your seats, please,” he barked in a commanding voice. He looked toward the back of the room, saw one of his fellow officers guarding the door and said, “False alarm. I’ve got the situation under control now.”

  He hopped off the bench and made a rapid exit. His colleague, faced now with a panicked crowd, opened the doors and stepped back. Within seconds the room was cleared of spectators, leaving only Nina, Spike, the judge, the D.A., Lou Ann, Pete and myself behind.

  The judge looked at Spike. She smiled. “Motion to release Ms. Valocchi on her own recognizance until such time as a warrant can be produced, Your Honor.”

  “So granted,” he answered.

  “I object!” the D.A. screeched.

  “On what grounds, Alvin, stupidity?” the judge asked.

  “I just had that fool paper last night!” Lou Ann wailed.

  A side door to the courtroom opened, and another officer appeared. He went to the D.A.’s side, whispered something and then, when the D.A.’s face reddened, shrugged.

  The D.A. turned to Lou Ann. “What’s going on here, Officer?” he growled. But Lou Ann was already moving, fast, toward the rear doors.

  “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder. “Just hold on!”

  Spike Montgomery looked at Nina and me. “Let’s get while the gettin’s good,” she murmured.

  Without another word, Nina gathered up the file folders and papers, shoving them quickly into a briefcase. Spike took my arm and ushered me through the gate and down the hallway to freedom.

  As we passed Pete, I heard him call my name. There was a pleading quality to his voice that I secretly relished.

  “Baby,” he said, “I just want to talk to you.”

  I ignored him, walking by as if I hadn’t seen him and certainly hadn’t heard him.

  “Oh!” I heard Nina breathe behind me. “That Pete! Gotcha!”

  Spike didn’t miss Pete, either. “Pathetic,” I heard her whisper, but her stride never slowed. We were making a quick but dignified getaway, knowing that in all likelihood, it would only be temporary.

  Spike was humming again, but this time I caught the tune and smiled. She was doing a slightly off-key rendition of “Catch Us If You Can.”

  Chapter 13

  Spike accompanied us to the parking lot, but the farther away she got from the police department, the slower her steps became. When we reached our cars, Spike stopped dead.

  “Nina, baby, run down to Tony’s, pick up a couple of cheese steaks and come back for me, okay? I need to see if I can find out what’s going on.”

  Nina’s face clouded momentarily, only to be replaced by a here-comes-the-sun grin.

  “I guess I can wait a little bit longer,” she said.

  The look that passed between the two women smoldered of promise and a delayed reunion. I sneaked another look at the two reunited lovers and felt the seeds of envy blossom into full flower. How come I never found passion like that? Damn! I made a mental note to reevaluate my sexual orientation, just in case I’d overlooked the true source of everlasting romance.

  The image of Jake bending close to kiss me jumped unbidden into my head. I looked at my cousin and her girlfriend, then held Jake up for comparison. I had to admit the potential I felt every time Jake looked at me was a close runner-up to the heat I saw reflected in Nina’s eyes. I shivered and looked away. This was no time to be thinking about that.

  “Well, if you two don’t need me, I think I’ll go on back to the house. I want to spend some time looking around Aunt Lucy’s room. Maybe I overlooked something. Maybe she left a note.” I knew my voice sounded as hopeless as I felt.

  Nina and Spike seemed to return to reality, and Nina tried to comfort me by patting my shoulder. Spike seemed to sense my mood and left us to talk as she headed back inside.

  “We’ll find her, Stella,” Nina said.

  I tried to smile but couldn’t. “This is all so crazy,” I told her. “Just when I think it can’t get worse, it does. I can’t figure out why Pete and LouAnn are here. What do they want?”

  Nina shook her head. “I guess we’ll find out sooner or later,” she muttered. “Go home. Take a shower or something.”

  I left her, sliding behind the wheel of my car and slowly driving away from the police department. The events of the day crowded into my head, tumbling over and over in a riot of vignettes that left me feeling more unsettled than ever. Maybe that’s why, when I got back to the house, I mistook the voices I heard for the TV. I was distracted and exhausted.

  When I walked into the kitchen, I didn’t notice the smell of a recently prepared meal, the waft of Aunt Lucy’s cologne or Lloyd, still sitting in Uncle Benny’s chair, gobbling fettuccine Alfredo in a frenzy of doggie ecstasy. But when I heard a door slam somewhere in the house, its retort cracking like a gunshot, I woke up and smelled the proverbial coffee.

  “Aunt Lucy?” I called.

  The voices went silent. The house was tomb quiet except for Lloyd’s unabashed gobbling.

  “Where’d she go, Lloyd?”

  The dog looked up briefly, cut a glance toward the basement and resumed eating.

  I headed for the steps, not even conscious of the fact that I was now assuming Lloyd heard, understood and was capable of answering me.

  “Aunt Lucy?” I called, fumbling for the basement light switch. I smelled her cologne. I knew she was down there. Why wouldn’t she answer me? I hit the light switch again. Nothing.

  My heart was pounding. I stopped in midstride, realizing I’d left my gun in the glove compartment of the Camaro.

  “Not a problem,” I muttered. “It’s not like my body isn’t a deadly weapon. This is, after all, what I do for a living.” But that didn’t stop me from wanting a nice piece of hardened steel in hand, complete with bullets. I didn’t feel whole without my Glock.

  I stood, listening for any tiny sound in the darkened basement. Off to my left I heard movement, the slight scuff of a shoe, the barest click of a door closing.

  “Shit!” I breathed. It was pitch-black. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t see anything. I closed my eyes, inhaled and cleared my mind of all emotion, just as I’d been trained. I envisioned the basement filled with light, saw the furniture, the windows and, finally, the cellar doorway leading up to the backyard. I counted the remaining stair steps and began to move, eyes closed, toward the room below.

  As I stepped down from the last riser, I opened my eyes. The room seemed somewhat brighter now that I’d adjusted to the darkness. I listened for a moment, heard nothing and walked swiftly toward the cellar exit. I reached it, found the padlock hanging loosely by one hinge and swung the wooden door open.

  Sunlight flooded the room, spreading in a circle that took in everything but the remote corners of Uncle Benny’s workshop and the laundry area behind it. It was empty. No Aunt Lucy. No dead bodies. No intruders.

  “What the hell is going on?” I muttered. “I heard voices. I smell you, Aunt Lucy. I know you’re in here!”

  No answer.

  I searched the place, upended the sofa, wrenched open cabinet doors, even went so far as to fling open the dryer and stick my head inside the cavity. It was as frustrating as searching for an Easter basket hidden by Aunt Lucy’s sister, my mom, all those many years ago.

  “Come on! I know you’re in here somewhere. How else could Uncle Benny be eating fettuccine?”

  This brought a response. I heard a muffled creaking sound and strained to catch its location. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

  “All right,” I said loudly. “Two can play this game. I’m going to sit right here on these steps and wait. I’m not leaving until you come out.” I had the bizarre urge to issue a stronger threat. Like “Nobody move or the dog gets it!” But I could not do this to my aunt. She was too fragile emotionally. So I settled for the Boy-are-you-gonna-get-it-when-your-father-gets-home variety of threat and said again, “I’m really not going to leave this room until you come out and explain yours
elf!” Young lady!

  This brought absolutely no response, except from Lloyd. I heard him belch, jump down from the table and pad over to the kitchen door. He whined softly and scratched the screen. A few minutes later he yipped twice. He moaned a short while after that. I was not at all surprised by the next sound, the soft splash of liquid hitting linoleum. Damn!

  “You hear that, Aunt Lucy?” I called out into the darkened basement. “You made Uncle Benny wet his pants!”

  When in doubt, we Catholics are prone to using guilt. Shamelessly.

  I sat absolutely still, waiting for someone to forget I was there, or to think I’d given up. My back began to ache. My butt was sore from sitting on the hard wooden step. It was a blessed relief when I heard Nina and Spike pull up in the driveway. If someone was in the basement, I hadn’t seen them. They certainly wouldn’t reveal themselves now, not with three of us in the house. I could leave my sentry post with the relative assurance that any intruders were gone for now. And if Aunt Lucy was somewhere hiding in the house, she’d reveal herself in due time, with or without my interference.

  The porch screen door creaked open as Nina and Spike made their way inside.

  “Shit!” Nina cried. “Lloyd! Bad dog!”

  “What?” Spike said. Then, “Damn! A dog did all that?”

  “Stella!” Nina called. “Your dog wants you!”

  I leaned my head back against the wall and sighed. “That’s not my dog,” I said wearily. “That’s Uncle Benny.”

  “Whatever,” Nina groaned. “He left you a present.”

  I stood up, relinquishing guard duty in favor of something more productive. “Aunt Lucy, you should be ashamed of yourself, leaving Uncle Benny alone like this!” I didn’t have the heart to do more than whisper the words, but it made me feel better.

  “I’m coming,” I called out, and walked slowly upstairs.

  Spike and Nina had bypassed the smelly pile that waited for me by the back door and were in the process of making coffee when I reached the top of the steps. Lloyd was nowhere to be found.

  “Okay,” I said, heading for the paper towels and Pine-Sol, “What’s the poop?”

  Nina rolled her eyes. Spike walked to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. She sat down and ran her long fingers through her closely cropped hair. I looked up, noticing how pale her face was and how red-rimmed her eyes had become. I wondered how long she’d been up. She would’ve left L.A. in the middle of the night in order to arrive as early as she had. The woman had to be exhausted.

  “You’re not going to like what I found out,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think anyone at the police department likes it much, either.”

  I stepped out onto the back porch, lifted the lid to the trash can and made an odiferous deposit. When I rejoined them, Nina was bringing Spike a cup of coffee and indicating that mine was on the way.

  “Okay,” I said, joining Spike at the table. “Shoot.”

  Spike took a long sip, closed her eyes for a moment and then delivered the news.

  “First off,” she said, “Bill Slovineck is a good guy, a stand-up detective who doesn’t bullshit.”

  “And his partner?”

  Spike shrugged. “She has her moments. For the most part I try to ignore her.” Spike read the impatience on my face. “That’s really neither here nor there,” she said. “The problem is this—the case has been taken away from the department and handed over to another government agency. This agency, which no one would name, which means CIA or National Security Agency, has claimed an interest in it and has therefore claimed jurisdiction over your uncle’s murder case, as well as any and all issues surrounding said investigation. This includes the break-ins here and strangely enough, the explosion at Carpenter’s Auto Body.”

  “What?” Nina and I cried simultaneously.

  Spike nodded, raising her hands in mock defense. “I know, I know. It’s crazy. It doesn’t make sense, but nothing I could say or do would get them to say anything more than that. They just don’t know any other details, or if they do, they’ve been warned about talking.”

  “Can they, like, do that?” Nina asked. “I mean, it is murder, right?”

  “It’s your American dream coming slap up against the American nightmare,” I muttered. “It’s Roswell, New Mexico, meets the conspiracy theory. If the government says it didn’t happen, well then, sister, we ain’t seen nothin’ and we ain’t done nothin’. No, sir! They have ways of making you talk, but you ain’t seen nothin’ till you see how they keep you quiet!”

  Spike nodded. “Now you know why I quit,” she said softly. She looked at me. “And you also know why I came back. This isn’t right, and you’re not going to get anywhere without someone who knows the ins and outs of this business.”

  “I love you!” Nina sighed, her eyes glowing as she smiled up at her girlfriend. “I knew you’d know just what to do!”

  Spike frowned. “Well, baby, I love you for thinking it, but I have no idea what’s going on. I just know how to keep your cousin out of jail.” She looked at me. “If you want, I can call an old friend of mine in the Justice Department. She might know something, or at least know where to look.”

  Nina frowned. “Old friend? Like, how old? Like, a squirrel friend?”

  I didn’t know the term squirrel, but I could tell by Nina’s tone that this was an argument as old as time. The green-eyed monster had made an appearance at the sign of a potential threat from an ex-girlfriend.

  “Baby,” Spike cooed. “That was a long, long time ago.”

  “Yep, that’s what I’d say if I was you,” I murmured.

  “Huh!” Nina huffed.

  “Ladies,” I said, standing. “Save it for the honeymoon. We’re missing one aunt and one murder suspect. I believe those issues take precedence over any and all personal squabbles.” I looked at Spike. “Call your friend and find out what’s going on.” I turned to Nina, hesitating as I tried to come up with a task that would take her mind off Spike’s ex-lover.

  “Nina,” I said, “it’s crunch time and I need your help.” My cousin turned to look at me, suspicion written all over her face.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been going back over everything I know, and it seems to me I could’ve overlooked something.”

  I had Nina’s attention now. “What?”

  “Jake said his wife left him for a guy who worked for Tony Manello, Donna’s father. He said she and this guy had been steadily stealing from the shop. On top of this, Uncle Benny lends Jake money, but he denies it now and says he doesn’t have any money. Add to that the fact that Uncle Benny was killed at Jake’s shop and Jake’s now missing and what do you got?”

  Nina’s mouth dropped into an open O of surprise. “Jake killed Uncle Benny?” she gasped.

  I nodded. “Maybe. And maybe there’s a connection between the Manello family and Uncle Benny’s death—either they killed him or Jake’s working for them. Either way, I’m thinking we should see if anyone knows anything about Donna Manello, like did she really leave Jake for another guy, or does anybody know where she is?”

  Nina frowned. “But I don’t know those people. How would I find out anything?”

  “Didn’t you waitress at St. Anthony’s Lodge before you moved to L.A.?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t leave there on such good terms,” she said. “After they turned down Spike’s band, I lost the vision. I just couldn’t see my karma meshing with their corporate mission anymore.”

  Somehow I doubted that an Italian social club really had a corporate vision, but I worked with it anyway.

  “Well, don’t you still have friends there? I mean, couldn’t you go visit and ask around a little?”

  Nina seemed to mull this over for a long moment. “Hey, I know! I’ll go get my crown back!”

  I was lost. “What?”

  “Didn’t Aunt Lucy send you the newspaper article about it?” she asked. “She sent one to everybody!”

 
; I shook my head, puzzled. “What were you crowned?”

  Nina straightened in her chair, beaming. “Miss Chocolate Pudding!” she cried. “I won the women’s Pro Am mud wrestling competition. I only gave up the title because I moved to L.A!”

  “So if you show back up, they give you your, um, crown back?”

  Nina snorted. “No, dummy! I’d have to fight for it!” She looked at me with a very serious expression on her face. “I don’t care about the title anymore. I’d just do it to find out what people are saying about Jake and Donna. You know Tony Manello sponsors the competition, don’t you?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know, but it seemed fitting somehow.

  “Don’t get too wrapped up in this contest thing,” I warned. “Get what information you can and get out. Manello’s a bad guy, and if he’s wrapped up in this…”

  The eyes rolled again. “Stella, shut up!” she said. “When you’ve got the touch, concentration doesn’t even enter into it! I can win my title back and find out about the Manellos without even breaking a sweat!”

  She stepped away from the table, head held high, already the queen of chocolate pudding, and made her exit.

  I sat there for another five minutes, aware of Spike talking on the phone in the next room and the sound of running water upstairs where Nina prepared to meet her destiny. I was busy thinking over the latest turn of events, wondering why the government would take an interest in my uncle’s death and Jake Carpenter’s shop explosion. The bottom line was the two events had to be connected. Everything was interrelated in some way that just hadn’t become clear to me yet.

  I was still sitting at the table thirty minutes later when Spike and Nina left for St. Anthony’s lodge, thinking there had to be some clue to my aunt’s disappearance in the house. Eventually I stood up and headed down the hallway to the bedroom Aunt Lucy and Uncle Benny had shared for over forty years.

  I stepped into the room, flipped on the dim overhead light and found Lloyd up on the antique double bed, his head resting squarely on Uncle Benny’s pillow, snoring.