Stan looked in my direction for a brief second. “Straight up, a double.”
Nina squirmed slightly in Stan’s arms and he gripped her tighter around the waist.
“I told you not to move!”
“I can’t help it! The chocolate pudding’s starting to dry and it’s making me itch.”
Stan swore softly, words I couldn’t quite make out, but definitely not English.
I stood behind the counter, pretending to search for vodka and looked into the bar back mirror. The other gunman had his weapon aimed at my body. I could also see Spike slowly inching closer to Stan and Nina.
“What is taking so long?” Stan demanded.
“I’m sorry. I had a little trouble finding it.”
I poured the shot and walked down the bar to come up behind him, hoping I might be able to squeeze a round into his head without hitting Nina.
Stan was the cautious type. “Not that way,” he growled. “Come around front.”
I did as he said, holding the glass of vodka out in front of my body at arm’s length. Time for Plan B.
When I reached him, my script abruptly changed. Nina squirmed slightly and Stan reacted.
“You itch? I’m gonna scratch it.” His forearm tightened slightly and I knew he planned to slit her throat.
He started to take the shot of vodka from my hand, maybe intending to drink it as false courage. But before he could grab it, I flung the glass, aiming for his eyes, knowing the gunman behind me would take a shot but having no other option. There was no time to pull out my gun. I had to disarm him before he stabbed Nina.
I sprang forward and slipped both hands up, inside and behind his wrist. I pulled as hard as I could on Stan’s arm. Nina ducked down, screaming. I jerked Stan’s hand toward my body, using both hands to roll his knife hand down and back, twisting it painfully against his wrist. Shots rang out. Behind me something fell heavily to the floor. Stan’s wrist snapped, and the knife fell free.
Spike leaped, grabbed Nina and jerked her out of the way. Stan wasn’t finished fighting. His uninjured left hand came up in a fist and cuffed my ear with a nasty punch that made stars swim before my eyes. Behind me, all hell was breaking loose as the members of St. Anthony’s went on the attack. Stan, taking advantage of my temporary disorientation, spun me around to shield his miserable body.
“That was a mistake,” he whispered. “I have this also.”
I felt the cold metallic ring of a gun’s muzzle jab hard into my side.
I saw Spike shove Nina behind her and watched as the small group of Manello’s men slowly moved in to hide the two women with their massive bodies.
“Everybody get back!” Stan cried, waving his Ruger. “I will kill her if you move again!”
The crowd froze. For the first time I noticed the body lying on the floor. Stan stiffened.
“Who did this?” he yelled. “Who shot him?”
I eased my hand into my apron pocket, pulling out the Glock as I simultaneously brought my left arm up and inside his with a quick, sharp thrust. For a moment, Stan’s hold on my neck was broken. I spun, out and away from my captor and turned to face him. I held the Glock up even with his body and smiled.
Stan reacted without thinking. He held the Ruger in his uninjured hand, slowly turning it and edging the gun into firing position.
“Don’t do it!”
As his finger tightened on the trigger, I fired.
Stan screamed and crumpled to the floor in front of me. The room exploded into a chaotic frenzy of Italian testosterone. Cops and SWAT team members blew in through the front and back doors simultaneously.
In the resulting pandemonium, I dropped my gun arm to my side, slipped the Glock back into my apron and backed away.
A man brushed past me, bent over Stan, then looked up past the surrounding crowd and out toward the door.
“I think he’s still breathing,” he yelled. “Get the EMTs!”
One of the few women in the room stepped forward and sighed heavily. “I’m a doctor. Let me look at him.”
Weasel and Paint Bucket were making their way through the crowd of onlookers, bags in hand. The doctor knelt, ripped away the shredded clothing surrounding Stan’s wound and began CPR.
A voice, low and male, murmured in my ear. “Get out of here.”
I swung around to face one of Tony Manello’s men. He nodded slightly toward the back door and turned away from me. I felt the pressure of Spike’s hand on my arm, turned and realized she had heard him, too. Nina, her face ashen, seemed oblivious to anything other than Spike’s instructions. Without another word, the three of us used the chaos of the crowd to make our escape.
“What the hell happened here?” I asked.
Nina said nothing. She was trembling despite Spike’s jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Spike shook her head.
“I think Nina stumbled onto something gone wrong. It happened so fast. One minute she was going back to the dressing rooms to take a shower—the next she was a hostage. I don’t know how it happened!”
We stepped out into the parking lot where Freddie the recruit spotted us immediately.
“Captain,” he called, waving. “I got your jacket!”
“Captain?” Spike echoed softly.
“Just go along with it,” I muttered.
I straightened up and stepped away from Spike and Nina. I took the jacket Freddie held so willingly and smiled at him. “Thanks, Officer,” I said. “I’ve got to get these two checked out at the hospital. Listen, do me a favor?”
Freddie was only too happy to do anything his newly beloved captain requested. “Yes, ma’am?”
“How about clearing a path behind my unit so I can get the hell out of here?”
“Yes, ma’am!” he answered, setting off at a trot.
“Oh, no, you didn’t!” Spike gasped.
“Oh, no, I didn’t,” I answered. “He just made a couple of assumptions, that’s all.”
Nina looked up at the two of us, her eyes wide. “I don’t want to go to the hospital,” she cried, coming to a dead halt in the middle of Bradford Avenue. “Really, I mean it! Stop!”
“Nina,” I soothed, “Shh. We’re not going to the hospital. We’re going home. I’m just playing a game with that guy. Don’t worry.”
Nina’s eyes were frightened, dark pools. “We won’t be safe there, either!” she whispered. “He’ll find us.”
“Who, honey?” I asked, but Nina clammed up then, refusing to say another word. She buried her head in Spike’s shoulder and started crying.
“Let’s get her home,” Spike said. “I think she’ll be all right if we can get her back in her normal surroundings.”
I turned around and kept on walking toward Aunt Lucy’s Buick. I was mentally shaking myself. I should never have sent Nina to St. Anthony’s. I hadn’t seen the potential danger. I’d thought she’d ask a few simple questions, listen to the gossip going around town about Tony Manello and come home safe and sound. What had gone so terribly wrong? Who were the two dead men? What was their part in all this?
Freddie had completed his assignment by the time I reached him. The street behind Aunt Lucy’s Buick was cleared of vehicles and his patrol car was positioned in front of it like a lighted beacon.
“Okay, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll get us to the hospital.”
Shit.
“No, Officer, that’s not necessary,” I answered. “I need you here. Start a log. I need the names and addresses of all the people inside the club, as well as those who were here waiting when you arrived.”
Freddie’s face fell. “But, ma’am, that’ll take all night.”
“Officer, do I hear reluctance in your voice?”
Freddie stiffened, instantly remorseful. “Oh, no, ma’am!”
I nodded. “Good,” I said, “because this is not a task I would entrust to just anyone. Usually I’d use an officer with more experience, but you’ve proven yourself to me. I’d hate to think my trust was unfounded.”
“Oh, no, sir—ma’am!” Freddie snapped. “I’m on it, Captain!”
I heard Spike snicker softly behind me.
“Thank you, Sergeant, er, I mean Patrolman!”
I let the slip linger between us just long enough for Freddie to feel the lure of promotion in the air, then turned away and climbed into Aunt Lucy’s car.
Some days are just easier than others, I thought.
Chapter 15
I wasn’t sure it was at all wise to return to Aunt Lucy’s house, but then I started thinking. Even if the cops showed up looking for me, they’d never suspect my aunt’s tiny row house of harboring its subterranean grotto. If I hadn’t been there and seen it with my own eyes, I would never have thought to seek it out. Nina and Spike were equally incredulous when I told them about it.
“Let me get this straight,” Spike said. “You opened up a hidden door in the laundry room. You then proceeded into a state-of-the-art laboratory where you witnessed your ex-boyfriend killing his estranged wife’s lover? Do I have that right? Is that really what happened?”
I looked at her in the rearview mirror and smiled weakly.
“Something like that, yeah.”
I went back to thinking about our current trouble. Even with one hundred witnesses swearing it was all self-defense, I was developing quite a history with my hometown police department. It wouldn’t take them long to show up at the house, asking questions. In the meantime, Aunt Lucy had a million and one questions to answer.
“Tony Manello was at a table in the back room with those two guys,” Nina said suddenly. Her voice, strong and clear, showed no indication of the shell-shocked girl she’d been minutes before.
“What?”
“I was headed to the locker room when I saw them. They were arguing.”
I pulled into the elementary school driveway and rolled to a stop in the darkest corner of the parking lot. I turned the car off and swiveled to face her.
Nina tried to smile and failed.
“I thought I’d act like old times. You know, walk in the room, say ‘Hi, how you doin’, Mr. Manello,’ and thank him for letting me compete again.”
Spike nodded encouragement and Nina swallowed hard, a tear snaking down her cheek.
“It was a big mess. The little guy said he wasn’t paying any more than Donna asked, especially since she hadn’t shown for the meeting. He said he wanted proof Donna had what was promised. Mr. Manello got mad. He said he was in charge now and the rate had changed. That’s when I walked in. I swear, my hand to God, all’s I did was say ‘Hi, Tony! How ya doin’?’”
Nina smeared a chocolate pudding swirl across her cheeks as she swiped at the runaway tears.
“Mr. Manello says, ‘Sorry for your loss.’ The little guy looked at me, and I looked at him for a second and then I looked again. I was trying to figure out where I’d seen him before.”
“Where had you seen him, Nina?”
“That was the problem,” she whispered. “I didn’t know at first, but then I remembered and he knew I remembered. I stared at him too long, huh?”
“Who was the guy, Nina?” I could feel impatience surging through every nerve ending.
“Remember the bug guys?”
I nodded.
“He was the guy driving the van. I never forget a face, especially if I’ve seen it more than one time, and I saw him twice!”
“Twice?” Spike and I echoed.
“Yeah, remember when those guys broke in and you found them in Uncle Benny’s study?”
“Of course.”
“Well, when I was leaving that morning, there was a car parked across the street. He was the driver. I remember because I went to the mailbox first, to put a card in for Spike, and he had his window open, smoking a cigar. It smelled all the way across the street, and so I gave him a look like, hey, that stinks, and he just grinned at me. He was like, a dirty old man or something!” Nina shivered and huddled closer to Spike.
I couldn’t make sense of it. The men who’d broken in, the ones who’d come to play exterminator, they all had smooth American accents. The two men in St. Anthony’s were definitely not homeboys. How did it all fit together?
“What happened when he knew you’d made him?”
Nina’s eyes closed for a moment, reliving the next scene. “It got crazy then. The little man said something in a foreign language. The next thing I knew, it was like, chaos! That Stan guy came up behind me and grabbed me. The little guy pulled a gun and aimed it at Mr. Manello. He said he didn’t need Mr. Manello now. He figured he had something to bargain with. That’s when he took me and started backing out of the room. Tony’s men were right behind him, but nobody could do anything without shooting me.”
Nina exhaled loudly. “I guess they didn’t want to shoot me, huh?”
Spike gave Nina a hug. I reached into the back seat and touched her knee.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I didn’t ever think there’d be any danger in asking a few questions.”
Nina shook her head. “But I didn’t even get to ask anybody anything! I totally blew it!”
“Oh, no, you didn’t,” I said. “You found out way more than I expected.”
Nina frowned. “I did?”
“Yeah. Tony Manello is trying to sell something that his daughter had. He’s trying to sell it to people who want it so bad they’ll take big risks to get it. Must be important, whatever it is. I’m thinking it might be best for us to lay low for a little while,” I said. “Maybe stay down in the basement until we figure out what’s going on.”
Spike twisted in her seat, turning so she faced me.
“I don’t know who’s breaking in to your aunt’s house or what they want, but I know it’s not over with. And I’ll tell you another thing—I don’t trust Jake Carpenter. I don’t know the guy. I’m just basing this on what you’ve told me and the fact that he’s hands off to the police. I’d watch your back when you’re around him.”
I laughed, but not because I found the concept funny. Jake was one hell of a frightening prospect. I’d seen the way he’d looked into my eyes right before his shop exploded, when he’d been about to kiss me. In that one moment, he was all about me, all about the passion, desire, and raw heat that surged between us. But I’d also seen the look in his eyes after he’d shot his wife’s lover. There had been nothing but cool killer instinct mirrored there then. What made him the kind of human being who could kill without hesitation or remorse? Who had he become in the eleven years I’d been away?
It was after midnight when I rounded the corner onto Aunt Lucy’s street, slowed to a crawl and looked for signs of trouble. The row house looked just as it always did, neat and tidy, no more or less of a home than any of the other Mary Street row houses. There was no evidence that anyone was lurking outside, waiting for our return, no sign of intruders and no signs that anything inside was out of the ordinary. The light was on over the kitchen window, another spot gleamed over the back stoop and Aunt Lucy stood waiting in the kitchen door as we pulled into the driveway.
I wasn’t the only one looking over my shoulder as we hustled toward the house. Spike and Nina both cast worried looks back toward the street.
Aunt Lucy mirrored our anxiety, but for different reasons I supposed.
“We need to go downstairs,” she said before we’d even crossed the threshold. “The cops’ll be coming any time now.”
I braced myself for more bad news. “Why?”
Aunt Lucy’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you just shoot someone?” she asked.
The three of us stared at her in amazement.
“Aunt Lucy,” I said. “How do you know that?”
Nina touched Aunt Lucy’s plump arm. “You really do have psychic powers, don’t you?” she breathed.
Aunt Lucy shook her head impatiently. “No,” she snapped. “I am not an alien. I do not have extrasensory powers. What I do have, in case you’ve forgotten, is a police scanner and good friends who keep me informed.
Jake’s grandmother called.”
Spike smiled. Nina nodded and Aunt Lucy held open the basement door. “Let’s go, ladies,” she said.
Aunt Lucy was not the same woman I’d left leaning on Jake’s arm in the driveway. She seemed taller, probably because she even seemed to be standing straighter, and she walked with a decisive stride that left no doubt she was in complete charge of our situation.
We followed her like soldiers following a platoon leader, down into the basement, through Uncle Benny’s workshop and behind the panel in the laundry room wall. When we emerged into the well lit lab, Nina and Spike both gasped.
Jake was gone. Ron’s body was gone also. Gone, too, were the signs of death, the blood and spattered brain matter on the wall and the heavy cloying scent of blood. The room smelled of bleach and disinfecting cleansers. The only remaining sign of the violence was a nicked area in the cinder-block wall where the bullet had lodged, but even the spent slug had been removed.
It was almost as if I had imagined the entire scene, and for a moment I wondered what it would feel like to erase the videotape of Ron’s death that seemed to play in a continuous loop inside my head. I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I forced myself to inspect the entire room, focusing on everything but the spot where Ron had died.
“Where’s Jake?” I asked.
“He should be back any time now,” Aunt Lucy answered. She forced a small smile, a mere shadow of the carefree aunt we knew, and gestured toward a table at one end of the room. It was made of the same gleaming stainless steel that made up most of the lab’s shelving and countertops. Six chairs, also stainless but padded with white vinyl cushions, sat around the table, perfectly positioned with evenly measured spacing between each one.
“Have a seat, girls,” Aunt Lucy said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“No shit,” I muttered under my breath. “There’s a whole lot you need to be telling us!”
I wanted a drink, but in this sanitary shrine to stainless steel I doubted we’d find much more than denatured alcohol or some other tasteless, odorless fluid that would probably kill us before we swallowed. The place just had that kind of feel to it.
Stella, Get Your Gun Page 18
