Stone tracked Linda’s progress down the hall as her voice receded, only releasing his breath after she was out of sight.
“What was that all about?” Steele asked, lowering his weapon. “I’m kind of lost. Like, who’s on first?”
“It seems pretty clear,” Stone said. “You’re an idiot. Linda’s a genius. And we’re going to Chinatown.”
Chapter Thirteen
“You are something else, chica,” Rafael Sandoval said, leaning back in his chair and cutting another piece of waffle with his fork. “Between your games and your kisses you certainly keep a man on his toes.”
“Hey, on your toes,” Ruby said, chewing on a piece of grapefruit. “That’s one way I don’t think I’ve tried it. Maybe, if you keep on being real nice, we’ll get to see if you can really make me smile. Or scream.”
“Oh, is that all you want me for?”
“Oh, hell no,” Ruby said. “The real reason I’m here is that I love a man who can cook.”
Ruby sat cross-legged in a chair at the dining table, now covered by one of Rafe’s silk robes. Her hair was a riot of disorder. She was feeling about as satisfied as she ever had. The taste of an excellent omelet still haunted her tongue, and the kitchen still smelled of browned butter and sautéed peppers, onions, mushrooms and garlic. She smiled thinking of the warmth in her belly, and the warmth just below it that Rafe had sparked before they decided to cool things down a bit and have brunch.
“You act like no man ever cooked for you before,” Rafe said, reaching to rub the back of her hand. She rewarded him with one of her quick, flashing smiles.
“Truth is, hardly anybody ever cooked for me, sugar. In my house, Mama was always gone and the baby got stuck cooking for the rest.”
Rafe got up to push the button that would start more coffee. There came the grinding sound of coffee beans being pulverized, then the sweet aroma of the new grounds being bathed in hot water.
“So you’re the youngest? And you had to take care of all your sisters? Sounds a little like Cinderella.” Rafe asked.
“Yeah, that’s me. Cinder-fucking-Ella!” Ruby laughed her high-pitched laugh. “You sound like you don’t know nothing about Latin women. I told you I had nine sisters, baby. Eight were ahead of me, and every one of them wanted to sit on their ass or just go partying as soon as there was somebody smaller to boss around. By the time I came along, I had eight bosses. Cooked for that crowd, washed and ironed for them, and cleaned up after their messes. By the time my only younger sister popped out, most of the bigger girls were gone, so she got off pretty easy.”
“You’re putting me on,” Rafe said, pouring coffee into two large white mugs. He added a generous amount of cream to both and padded, barefoot, across the tile floor.
“I wouldn’t kid you, baby.”
Rafe delivered the coffee with a soft kiss and a brief hug. “And what were your parents doing while you were cooking for this crowd?”
“Well daddy, he had had enough by the time number ten came along, so he took off. Guess I was three or four, so I never really got to know the bastard.” Ruby’s smile became more ironic as she realized how easy it was to open herself to this man.
Rafe simply nodded over his coffee mug. “And your mama?”
“Mama, she crazy,” Ruby said, sipping from her own mug. She didn’t know what mix of beans Rafe used, but it was an outstanding cup of coffee. He was certainly an expert in pleasing the senses. Nothing like any drug smuggler she had ever met before.
“Crazy like institutionalized?”
“I should be so lucky,” Ruby said with a derisive snort. “Mama’s never been locked up. If she was, I wouldn’t have to support her. And you’d think she’d get rich between telling fortunes and running her other scams.”
“Oh yes, you said something like that before. She really tells fortunes?”
“Reads the cards, reads the tea leaves, the whole nine yards.”
“Now I know you’re putting me on,” Rafe said, giving a full, deep laugh.
“Yeah, well maybe I’ll introduce you to her sometime.” Ruby stood up and started collecting dishes. “Listen, sweet man, why don’t I clean up in here, then we can get ourselves together and you can drop me home. I gotta get myself some sleep so I can stay awake at work tonight. I got the evening shift.”
“Do you really have to go?” Rafe asked, following her to the sink. “You are so exuberant, and such a great teller of stories. Today’s guests would just love you.”
Ruby’s smile dropped. “Guests? You got company coming?”
“Yes, more of my countrymen will arrive today, and they always stop here for a while. You could help me entertain my guests. Won’t you reconsider?” Rafe brushed Ruby’s hair aside to kiss the side of her neck. She hardly felt it. Her mind was elsewhere.
“Some more Colombians coming into the country today? Why, yes, I think I would love to meet them.”
Paul Gorman knew that there were things Patsy just didn’t understand about him. She didn’t get why it mattered that he arrive at the office at the exact same time every weekday morning. She didn’t see why it was important to put the peanut butter on one slice of bread and the jelly on the other, as opposed to her anarchist habit of putting the jelly on top of the peanut butter and dropping a second slice of bread on that mess. And she could not grasp the reason for a man getting fully dressed on a day when he had no intention of going outdoors.
Well, she could spend the day in her nightgown, and he certainly appreciated that, but he was working today. Even though he was in his home office, he had to be in shoes, slacks and a shirt. She should be happy he didn’t wear a tie. Still, being dressed put him in a different frame of mind for things like the conversation he was in the middle of with Chastity Chiba
“That was an interesting conversation you had with the little girl,” Gorman told the speakerphone. “Did she say anything else of importance?” He was busily rearranging the books on the shelves that lined one wall of his office. Somehow, a couple of his criminology books had gotten mixed in with his forensics texts. While repairing that snafu it occurred to him that alphabetical by title might make more sense than the present ordering by author’s name. The dewey decimal system might not be the right thing for his small library.
“No, the conversation ended pretty soon after that, G.” Chastity’s voice betrayed impatience. “I took her home and watched for a while. I wondered if they were church goers, or if they had any kind of regular weekend activity, you know?”
“Doubtful today,” Gorman said, still shuffling volumes. “Alex went home from the hospital with a prescription for sedatives. He’ll probably be sleeping in today. Like I should be doing.”
“That could be boss. But she sure isn’t. That’s why I’m in Manhattan.”
“You are?”
“I had a feeling Francine might head out for a nooner with Tubby,” Chastity said. “But she didn’t even wait that long. I called you as soon as I parked across from the car dealership.”
“Jesus!” Gorman roared, turning to face the telephone. “You mean she ran out on a Sunday morning to get boned?”
“That’s the way it looks from here,” Chastity answered. “But I want to gather some more incriminating stuff to bust her divorce case. She ought to get nothing when this guy dumps her, and he sure should dump her.”
“And what about the daughter?” Gorman asked.
“That bit’s all a put up job. Amy’s a sweet kid, but she’s confused and she was lying about her father.”
“You’re sure?” Gorman leaned forward on the desk, one fist on either side of the phone. A satisfied smile lit his face.
“Absolutely! Do you know why?”
Of course, he did know, but he said, “Why don’t you tell me, Ms. Chiba.”
“It was her description, boss,” Chastity said, with pride in her voice. “She described her father’s supposed deeds exactly as her mother had, word for word. I think they’ve been practicing their te
stimony a little too hard. I’m guessing these are the words the shrink gave her.”
“That’s very good, Ms. Chiba,” Gorman said, smiling at the phone. “We’ll make a great detective out of you some day.”
“Sure,” Chastity said, “but for now I need to be a spy and get enough to turn the tables on this lying bitch. I’ll check in later.”
Chastity clicked her cell phone closed and stared across the street at the car dealer’s office. She could only guess what was going on over there, but if her guess were right, she’d have some ammunition no judge could ignore. The sky was overcast, so she adjusted her digital camera accordingly. Then she got out of her car and dashed across into the car lot. The asphalt smelled of oil from poorly maintained cars and Chastity knew she’d have to clean the soles of her Adidas when she got home. The dealership wouldn’t open for a couple of hours so Francine could figure to be undisturbed for a while. That should allow for some fun and games.
Chastity moved to the dealership building and leaned against the wall, beneath the bathroom window. She didn’t need her Bionic Ear to hear the moans and grunts from inside. The sounds were getting louder, but Chastity wanted to wait until she was sure they would be very hard to distract before she took action.
The wait wasn’t long. From above, Chastity heard Francine’s nasal voice. “Oh Marty. Oh God, MARTY! Give it to me now!”
Chastity reached up with her camera, only to realize that she was a couple of inches too short to get a shot through the window. So she turned to face the window and hopped. At the top of her leap, when the camera had cleared the windowsill, she clicked the shot. She landed and froze, but the action inside told her that she had not been heard. Now she needed to check that she had what she needed.
The viewer of her camera showed exactly what she required, as ugly as that was. The picture was a side view showing that Francine did choose to be bent over, but not at the sink. She was holding the toilet tank, her dress rucked up around her waist. Behind her, trousers pooled around his ankles, Marty was giving her the thing that she wanted, with gusto. Francine must have just thrown her head backward when Chastity snapped the shot, because her hair was flying back and her face was clearly visible.
“How attractive,” Chastity whispered to herself. Now she would just make a few more hops, for variety. She would leave the car lot with plenty of pictures to choose from. They could all be evidence in court, or they could always be used as a rather disturbing flipbook. Or maybe as a gift for Francine’s parents.
Chapter Fourteen
Ruby pushed the silver Nissan 350Z into fourth gear and felt it slip past seventy miles per hour with ease. She owned the Prospect Expressway in this ride. The transmission was butter, the suspension more reactive than she thought possible, and the steering as tight as Gorman’s ass. This would be her next car, she vowed.
“You should be a little more careful, chica,” Rafe said. His left hand rested on her knee but his contact was limited. With his seat pulled all the way forward and hers slid all the way back to accommodate her long legs, he could only reach so high. His only good fortune was that she had chosen a blue chiffon dress from her closet when they ran by her apartment. While she drove his car with unexpected skill, he was slowly inching the material higher on her thighs.
“Don’t sweat it, baby,” Ruby said, grinning as she eased past a Corvette. “You ain’t driving, and no cop is gonna take my license away.”
“Really? And why is that, my lovely drag racer?”
“Because,” she said with an even broader grin, “I don’t have one. Now hush, this is our exit.”
Ruby cut across three lanes of traffic to cruise onto the ramp and into the John F. Kennedy Airport parking area. They quickly parked and headed for the international terminal. Ruby’s indigo heels made her tower over Rafael. Still she was impressed by how striking a figure he cut, despite being only a couple of inches over five feet tall. His suit was a subtle blue pinstripe and the lack of a tie, combined with his white shoes and fedora to give him the look of a sport on his way to the racetrack.
At the reception area he checked the postings and glanced at the Breitling on his wrist. “Right on time,” he said. “And by the way, you made excellent time getting here.”
“Why thank you, sugar.” To reward his sweetness, Ruby bent to give Rafe a kiss. But just as her lips approached his, he turned toward the gate.
“Here they are,” Rafe said, grabbing Ruby’s hand and pulling her forward. He sounded as if he was about to greet some long lost relatives, but Ruby wasn’t as eager. She didn’t know what she expected, but this sure wasn’t it. A quartet of Latin men moved through the gate. They wore unexpectedly expensive suits and excellent shoes. All had thick, dark hair, styled in a wave that made it look longer than it was. They didn’t look like immigrants to her, but rather like traveling businessmen. The lead man took Ruby in at a glance, and cracked just enough of a smile to reveal a gold front tooth, on the left. Then he extended a hand, which Rafe accepted and shook with enthusiasm.
“Señor de La Fuente, es un placer de encontrarlo finalmente,” Rafe said. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.
“El placer es mío, Señor Sandoval,” de La Fuente replied. The pleasure is mine. Then his eyes returned to Ruby, who smiled with all the sweetness she could muster. “Y quién es su amiga encantador?” And who is your lovely friend?
Ruby took a step forward, raising her right arm gracefully to offer her hand, palm down, and introduced herself. “Mi nombre es Ruby Sanchez, Señor. Permita que mí lo dé la bienvenida a los Estados Unidos.” Allow me to welcome you to the United States. Then she flashed one of her patented smiles, like the surprise present you didn’t know you wanted so badly until you opened it on Christmas morning.
De La Fuente seemed taken aback at first, but quickly recovered, took Ruby’s hand and raised her fingertips to his lips. “You are indeed a pleasant surprise to find in this decadent land,” he said, switching to English.
“Gentlemen, let us go and get your luggage,” Rafe said. “Then we will rent you a car for your stay here and get you to my humble home.”
Rafe took the lead and Ruby slid her arm through his, allowing him to guide her. These visitors looked old school and she certainly wanted to play the old school Latina, both for Rafe’s benefit and for camouflage. She did not want to appear in any way to be a threat. As they walked, Rafe leaned toward her.
“You make me proud, chica. I am lucky to have found you.”
“Thanks, sugar,” Ruby replied. “So, can I drive us home?”
“I don’t think so, Ruby,” Rafe said. “I want them to be able to keep up with us.”
The Lower East Side of Manhattan had a peculiarly insular quality, making it possible to turn a corner and be in a different world. That was the way it was in Chinatown, and Sunday morning there was no different from any other time. Strangers were welcome because the residents had long since accepted that their entire neighborhood was one big tourist attraction. On the other hand, strangers were still watched by suspicious residents, many of whom still have not bothered to learn the primitive language of the Anglos.
Linda Perry felt every one of those eyes on her as she walked down the narrow streets, but they didn’t bother her as much as the other four pair of eyes that tracked her every movement. The Chinese eyes carried only distrust, or contempt, or sometimes prurient interest. The eyes of the white men walking with her were harbingers of danger.
Dashing Irv Jerome walked beside her, smiling at the faces that tracked them, looking aloof and unconcerned. Doc, Frankie, and Psycho, the men Linda had come to think of as the three stooges, trailed them more warily.
They had arrived in Jerome’s giant Cadillac Escalade, the kind of thing Linda thought of as an autosaurus. They had circled the block a couple of times until Linda spotted Steele’s little Hyundai SUV and assured Jerome that her contact was already in the area. Then they parked around the corner from the meeting point and walked up
to a corner around which they could see the narrow alley in question without being seen from it.
It wasn’t that cold, but the wind was slicing through Linda’s small frame. They stood at the corner only a minute or two before she saw what she most wanted and most dreaded. Steele popped out of his car and, without a glance left or right, marched across the street and down into the blind alley. They had heard her and his presence would probably keep her alive a bit longer. But, Lord, couldn’t they think of any better response than putting Rico in a blind alley alone?
“We’ve got that asshole now,” Doc said. “We can just walk right in there and take him apart. Nobody around here will get involved.”
Jerome backhanded Doc’s shoulder. “Sure, waltz right in there dummy. How do you know he hasn’t got a machine gun set up in there, huh? Maybe his partner you told me about is already in there with ten big friends. She says they’re rogue cops, but even dirty cops have friends. I know.”
“So what’s the play?” Frankie asked.
“The smart play is to send the girl in,” Jerome said. “They won’t want to get into any gunplay with her in the middle. And if things don’t work out, we can just take them all out. The girl’s no further use to us anyway.”
“Hey,” Linda called, waving a hand in the air. “Girl in question, right here. Quit talking about me like I’m not even here.”
“I never knew you had such a smart mouth,” Jerome said, crossing his arms against the wind. “You got that book?”
“He wouldn’t even talk to me without it,” she said, hopping from one foot to the other. “They don’t have any more use for me than you do. Me, I just want to be out of all this.”
“No problem, Ms. Perry,” Jerome bent to rub the back of a gloved hand against Linda’s cheek. “You just march your cute buns over there and talk to the nice policeman for a while. Then my boys will take over and you’ll be able to go on home to your son.”
Beyond Blue Page 12
