Simple Intent

by Linda Sands

  “Who said the truck drivers were dock workers?”

  “What are you saying, Sailor?”

  She scribbled something on the message pad. “Did you see the door of the truck? The one they kept showing on the roof of that building?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How’s your Italian?”

  “Besides cannolli, spaghetti and Chianti, not so good.”

  “Look.” Sailor turned her pad of paper around. She had written, ‘apirs a vicen’, the words as they appeared on the wrinkled truck panel and under that, ‘capirsi a vicenda’.

  Reilly ran a hand through his hair. “That sounds familiar.”

  “It should. It’s one of Lou Gallo’s favorite sayings. He said it at least four times during the trial. It means ‘to understand each other’.”

  Reilly lowered his voice, “That was Gallo’s truck?”

  Sailor nodded.

  “And we know Berger and Gallo have a past,” Reilly said.

  “Right. So now we—”

  “Do nothing. Yet.” Reilly looked at her. “Deliver the message to Deluca. He’ll have to contact his pal, right?”

  “Probably won’t call him, not if it’s someone involved in that.” Sailor pointed to the TV screen and the smoldering remains of the semi.

  “Okay, so he’ll meet the pal in person, or–”

  ”E-mail him.” Sailor picked up the phone, punched in three numbers.

  “Who are you calling?”

  Sailor spoke around the receiver. “Early. He’s a computer genius. I wanted to talk to him about the disc, anyway. He’ll help us. He likes me.”

  Reilly rolled his eyes. Didn’t she know? All the guys liked her, some more than others.

  Ten minutes later, Richard Early left his cramped corner in the firm’s basement and made his way upstairs. He wondered what Sailor needed and why the air seemed better up here.

  CHAPTER 18

  I Know You Know That He Knows What We Know

  SO, that’s it?’ Sailor stepped back. She’d been leaning over Early’s shoulder. She enjoyed watching his fingers fly over the keyboard, hitting all those F keys like he knew exactly what each one would do.

  Early wanted to turn his head and sniff. Just one long, deep inhale. Sailor was close enough to lick. Not that he’d lick her. He was just trying to place the high points in her cologne. It was driving him insane. He got the floral undertones of peony and gardenia, but there was something else, something that reminded him of tabouli or baby powder. It was an intriguing mix. Usually commercial colognes were simple, but Early had been distracted by the programming, and by Sailor’s breasts.

  He’d been asked to do a few unusual things since he began with MDB&S, but it was usually by pudgy men who bore the aroma of bacon and Crest with a hint of desperation. Not like Sailor. Early had been able to follow the anonymous email back to the internet provider. Now he was hacking the customer base.

  “You’re amazing,” Sailor said. “Where did you learn all this?”

  Early grinned, his eyes on the screen. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  Sailor’s eyes went wide, until she realized he was joking. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

  Early snorted, his laugh more of a choke and gurgle.

  A flashing warning appeared on the screen.

  Sailor said, “Uh-oh.”

  Early hit a few keys, watched the download figures. “Ten more seconds, come on.” He typed faster, opening and closing windows.

  The screen went blue. Then blank.

  “Darn it.” Early smacked his hands on the keyboard.

  “What happened?”

  “They slammed the door.”

  Early sunk back in the chair. “You know, it’s probably not such a good idea to do this here.” He looked around Deluca’s office. “But, I could work on it at home.” He looked at Sailor. “If you wanted to come over.”

  Sailor said, “Are you saying you’d be able to find out who sent the message and if there are any more?”

  Early rocked rapidly in the chair. “No sweat. I’d be glad to help you.”

  Sailor wished he’d quit bouncing. She touched his arm. “So, something that’s encrypted would be…”

  Early stopped rocking. “As easy as finding a geek at a Star Trek Convention.”

  Sailor wrote on a notepad. “Here’s my number.” She handed it to him, then grabbed Deluca’s computer disc from her purse and held it up. “I’d be interested to see what you can find on this.”

  She leaned close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek. “Richard? This is just between us, right?’ She nodded, waited for him to nod back. “Call me as soon as you know anything.”

  Richard Early slipped his first beautiful girl’s phone number into his left front pocket next to the rabbit’s foot and smiled.

  Sailor walked him to the lobby, where Early got on an elevator and went back to the dark halls of taxes, with tabouli, baby powder and peony on his mind.

  Paris Kendrick, jilted mistress, unhappy wife, keeper of secrets, watched from the reception desk. The call to Mrs. Theodore Wells Montgomery hadn’t gone as planned. The old bag said she’d known all along, and that it would take a lot more than a two-bit floozey pumped up with silicone and Botox to get the best of her. What Paris hated most was how Alice said, “Dammit, now he’ll expect me to sleep with him.”

  Here was Paris, actually missing her husband, Arnold, who was thousands of miles away and not due back for a week. She would have thought the idea of Ted and Alice going at it under the silk sheets would be enough to turn her off sex for the rest of her life, but oddly, she felt her blood rising.

  It was a toss up. Her optometrist had a nicer ass—and a voice that said, I’m looking at more than your pupils when I blind you with my penlight. Paris was sure that brush against her thigh last week was not accidental. She sighed. Of course, there were plenty of opportunities right here at MDB&S, and don’t forget Jerry, the delivery guy. There was something about that curly chest hair peeking out of his brown shirt that bugged her, but the guy had eyes the color of Yves St. Laurent’s spring collection, and she knew she looked good in blue.

  A girl’s got to be choosy, or else she’d end up with something like the geek who was getting on the elevator. What did Sailor see in him? And what were they doing in Deluca’s office?

  Paris didn’t like this girl. She was too beautiful, too savvy. She made Paris feel old and resentful. Paris sipped her tea and was thinking of tanned cabana boys in Oaxaca when Deluca stepped off the elevator smelling like gin and trouble.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Eddie.”

  “So when are you going to leave that husband of yours and run away with me?”

  “Who says I have to leave him?”

  Deluca raised a brow. Paris winked. She’d invented this game. She leaned over her high desk, twisted her headset mic out of the way and lowered her voice, “You might want to keep a better eye on your intern.”

  He looked up from her cleavage.

  “Leave a girl alone in your office, and you never know what she might find—or hear.”

  Deluca unlocked his door, saw tomorrow’s calendar on top of the in-box, just where he’d told Mimi to leave it. Everything seemed in order. Sailor could poke around all she wanted. There was nothing for her to find here. He sat at his desk, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt then pulled a glass and a bottle of Macallan from the bottom drawer. What a fucking mess. He poured himself a snoot and kicked off his shoes. On the third sip, he saw the message pad. He slid it over and read it, then downed his drink. Goddamn Berger.

  Deluca tore the paper from the pad, balled it up and dropped it in the nearly empty wastebasket by his desk. It joined another pink paper. This one was neatly folded. Deluca fished it out and read Sailor’s precise writing, “Capirsi a vicenda.”

  It was late and all Reilly wanted was another cold beer and a soft bed. That wasn’t true. What h
e really wanted was a line of coke the size of his middle finger, a girl who never said no and a week in a hot tropical climate where clothes were optional. But he was trying to be good. He knew things could get out of control. Hell, look at Shelly. It wasn’t going to happen to him, he was too smart for that, and the way Sailor felt about drugs, he was seriously thinking about giving the whole thing up, just as soon as this caseload lightened.

  He opened the door to his apartment, paged his dealer and grabbed a beer. While he waited for the call back, he flipped through TV channels, watched the end of a bad movie and finally settled on a shopping network where a gorgeous brunette sold jewels from her cleavage. He had his hand on the phone when it rang.

  “Hi. It’s Sailor. You busy?”

  Reilly hit the TV mute button, saw the ticker across the bottom of the screen, ‘…last chance for the Executive Hotdog Rotisserie…’. He tore his eyes away. “It’s late. What are you doing up?”

  “I’ve got something you might want to see.”

  Yes, you do. Reilly thought.

  Sailor said, “Can you come over?”

  “Sure. Give me a minute.” Reilly hung up the phone, saw the ‘sold’ banner flashing over the Executive Rotisserie and sighed.

  Ace called a meeting in the prison weight room. The CO outside the door had been plied with money and favors. He was one of theirs and they treated him well.

  “There better not be no miscommunication on this matter. You hear?’ Ace looked around at the blank faces. “What I mean is I want this done right, and nothing comes back on me, understand?”

  They nodded, four pale white heads bobbing.

  “The Man says Bentley stuck his nose where it don’t belong. He needs someone to teach him a lesson, show him where his black-ass nose do belong. Alright?”

  The CO knocked to signal someone was coming.

  Ace raised his fist in a powerful salute, and the others raised their fists in kind.

  Sailor answered on the first knock. If Reilly hadn’t known better, he would have sworn she was wasted, the way she was smiling, the way her eyes glittered.

  “Check this out.”

  Reilly followed her to the dining room. The blank spaces under the photos had been filled in and there were more lines connecting more people.

  “The email?”

  She pointed to a new card, “Shanahan.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head. “Early’s positive. He’s been sending me stuff from the encrypted disc. Emails about meetings and cases, and all of the files. I haven’t even looked at these yet.” She pulled a stack of papers from the printer and handed them to Reilly.

  He scanned a few pages. “Mostly business documents. Here’s one Deluca filed for Angelina Imports. He lists the owner and CEO as Maria Chetta, AKA Maria Rosarita Conchetta,” Reilly looked at Sailor. “Ring any bells?”

  “That’s not the same girl who lied on the stand in Ray’s case? Is it?”

  “Let’s run a search.” Reilly sat at the computer and keyed in ‘Chetta’, then waited.

  A list of files popped up. He opened the first one. It was a divorce decree between Maria Chetta and Louis Michael Gallo.”

  “Wait a minute. I thought Gina was married to Gallo.”

  Reilly said, “Don’t look at me. Maybe he was married twice.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or maybe he just marries people he does business with.”

  “What?”

  Reilly passed her a paper. “Look at the stockholders.”

  Sailor ran her eyes down the list, Gina Chamblee, Maria Chetta, Edward Deluca, LMG Enterprises, Paris Kendrick, Alice and Company. She looked at Reilly, her finger on LMG Enterprises. “That’s a Gallo Family business, right?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “But, Deluca and Kendrick? And who’s Alice and Company?”

  “Might be something you’ll want to ask Paris about in the morning.” He checked the clock. “Or should I say later this morning? I’ve got a meeting with Harry in New York. So, you’re on your own.”

  Sailor stared at the wall lost in thought, her thumb stroking her lip. Her voice was soft and dreamy when she said, “Ry, What does Angelina’s import?”

  Reilly read, “Celadon and carved jade…from China.”

  Sailor smiled. “Bingo.”

  “I think it was more like, Blam-o!”

  Sailor’s laptop dinged.

  Reilly said, “You’ve got mail.”

  Sailor clicked on the new message. “Looks like Early’s retrieval program worked.”

  Reilly leaned in as they read together, “quickE to LMG. Yellow Pages need recycling. Details at CC meet.”

  Reilly looked at Sailor. “What’s Fast Eddie up to now?”

  CHAPTER 19

  Just When You Think You’ve Got It All Figured Out

  THEY’D spent a sleepless night at Gina’s. She’d wanted to bring Hi home after the library, had wanted to be done with this whole mess. But when she’d driven down his street, he’d freaked out about a big blue van and kept going on and on about ‘them’.

  Gina had patted him down like a teenager and found his meds. She was pissed when she found the bottles almost empty. She tossed them into her purse, then brought him back to her place and set him up on the couch and told him to stay there.

  She wasn’t sure how much of his story to believe. Gallo hiding drugs in Chinese shipments. A million bucks in cash gone missing. The dock explosion and some guy named Four Eyes taking him for a ride.

  She knew he was in trouble when an early morning knock on the door was accompanied by a stranger’s voice.

  They scooted out the back way to the neighbors, leaving Gina’s car in plain view on the street. Right in front of the stranger’s black sedan. Maybe Hi wasn’t paranoid after all. If anyone knew what Lou could be like, and what both these men were capable of, it was Gina.

  “Jesus, Hi, why didn’t you tell me that you were low on meds?” She spoke over her shoulder.

  Berger caught the look, like he smelled as bad as the back of the fucking car. He lay on the floor between the seats, wounded leg propped up on a few towels, pint of Jack Daniels in his hand. From here all he could see clearly was blue sky and a little tan air freshener someone had stuck to the underside of the driver’s seat.

  “Smells like shit back here.” He snorted, “Who the hell still drives a station wagon, anyway?”

  “Hi, you know what they say about beggars. My friend was nice enough to lend me her car, what was I going to say, ‘No thank you, I’d prefer a Cadillac?’” She shook her head.

  “I’m just saying, it smells back here, like a fucking farm.”

  “Must be the compost. She hauls it for the community garden. Stop distracting me. What about the meds, Hi?’ This time she tweaked the rear view mirror so she could see him.

  Berger said, “I’m fine, Gina. Really. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got you.” He smiled at her reflection in the mirror, tears welling in his eyes.

  It broke her heart. He could be such a softie at times. Not all the time, she reminded herself, and flicked her eyes back on the road, squinting against the glare.

  Gina’s family kept a hunting cabin in Dauphin County. It was a simple place in the woods and seldom used anymore, as there was no electricity or running water, which meant no Nintendo for the boys, no showers or flushing toilets for the girls and no football or pizza delivery for the men. It was time to either renovate the place and bring it into the current century or sell the land to the cult across the water and let them expand their organic mushroom gardens.

  She hadn’t been there in years. Gina hoped the road was still clear and the key still in the coffee can. And she hoped the bears had left the outhouse standing. Being stuck in the woods with her bi-polar boyfriend who’d started a one-man war with her ex-husband, Philly’s favorite mobster, Lou Gallo, and having to pee in the bushes. Great.

  Sailor left Reilly sleeping in her bed. Last night, the
y had discovered a few things and not all of them had to do with the case.

  She showered, dressed, brewed coffee then peeked in on him, wondered what the hell she was doing and where she thought this was going. But things didn’t always have to go somewhere, did they? She put her extra key on the counter with a note then locked the door behind her. She’d never been good at the morning-after talk and was glad Reilly had a meeting in New York and that she’d be at MDB&S.

  Sailor needed to talk to Paris before the meeting with Banning and Judge Shanahan. Reilly said that if Shanahan was crooked with Deluca, he’d be crooked with Banning and that might be good for Ray. Sailor wasn’t so sure. All she wanted was help getting to Berger and a few answers. Reilly told her, things don’t work that way. This wasn’t Connecticut.

  She slid behind the wheel, all business until she remembered how Reilly had kissed her. That wasn’t like Connecticut, either. It had felt like a magnet. She knew if she closed her eyes—was even half a room away, her lips would still find his without a bumped tooth or an embarrassing last minute tilt of the head. Reilly kissed her as if he had been doing it for years. She smiled and drove a little faster.

  Sailor stepped off the elevator into the cold, empty foyer of MDB&S and headed straight for Paris on her pedestal. Nothing like stepping into the lion’s den.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Paris looked at Sailor like she was a bug to be squashed. “What is it?”

  “It’s about Angelina Imports.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. Perhaps you should ask Mr. Deluca.”

  “Oh, I intend to. I just thought you’d like to get a word in first, as a stockholder.”

  “I’m not a stockholder. Not anymore.”

  Sailor waited.

  “Check your data. I sold my shares to new investors.”

  “Who are these new investors?”

  Paris shrugged. “No one I know, I can assure you.” Her eyes flitted away, then back. “The others had different plans for the business. Let’s just say, I’m not like them.”

  Sailor let that go and asked, “How well do you know Maria Chetta?”

  Paris sniffed. “Not well. I mean we’re not friendly.”