Cold Moon Dead

by J. M. Griffin

  “Your father has something to do with this, doesn’t he?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because only family would keep you from telling me. Is Jabroni threatening your family?” Anger threatened to overtake Free. I could see the telltale signs.

  “No, he isn’t. There’s something else going on between him and my father, but I don’t know what it is. Neither one is sharing, so I can’t tell you any more than that.”

  “Where is Jabroni?”

  “He’s in hiding. That’s all I can say.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “I guess so. He’s watching his wife’s actions. She tried to have him killed, so I’m sure he plans to return the favor. All I want is to get my damned car back. Then they can kill each other, or go to jail, or to hell . . . or wherever.”

  A chuckle escaped Free as she listened to me rant.

  “Vin, we know Jabroni’s wife has a base of action in Olneyville. We’ve had that section of the city staked out for a while with plainclothes officers. When she makes a move, we’ll grab her. That’s where you come in.”

  “How’s that?” Did this mean I was going to be the bait, or that I would actually have a chance to slap the old bat upside her head?

  “You’ll go to Olneyville and walk the streets, ask questions, and make a nuisance of yourself—which shouldn’t be hard for you.” Free shook with laughter. “We’ll be watching your every step. Don’t worry about being shot or injured. When she makes her move, we’ll take over.”

  “This plan has some flaws . . .but yeah, I’ll do it. Don’t tell Marcus or Aaron, whatever you do, and definitely don’t tell my parents. I’ll be in more trouble than I can handle if that happens. My life has been in the toilet for a while now, and to be frank, I’d like to have a few mundane moments.”

  “Mundane? You?” Her laughter bounced off the interior of the car.

  I started to laugh with her and knew mundane would never happen in my lifetime. One catastrophe after another was the path my life followed and mundane just didn’t travel anywhere along that path with me.

  “Go to the substation and park in the rear lot. The lieutenant wants to talk about the plan. He’s waiting for us.”

  “Was this a setup or what?”

  “Yeah, it was. I knew you had a connection to Jabroni the minute I heard his body had disappeared from the hospital and you’d been there when they said he died. We’ve been working hard on the car theft ring for a while now. I figured you’d be glad to help us out. Especially since you can’t mind your own business.”

  Knowing she was right, I left the car.

  I parked in the back lot of the substation alongside unmarked vehicles and other police cars. I sauntered down the few steps into the dugout-style building. The lieutenant stood at the front desk talking to a detective dressed in civilian clothes. The lieutenant turned toward me and nodded. The detective just stared without acknowledging me at all.

  Three chairs sat before the front windows. I settled on one of them and waited. Once their conversation ended, I was summoned into the back of the building to the lieutenant’s office. Freedom joined us there along with two other cops. The room was small and the bodies were close to one another.

  Two officers from the night shift had volunteered to help out, and while I was acquainted with them, it was nothing more than that. Free and the lieutenant were the only two people in the room that I trusted to any extent.

  It didn’t take Free long to explain that Jabroni was considering ways to end his wife’s life without causing himself any inconvenience. She ended with the fact that I had agreed to be the bait to draw the old crone out of her lair.

  Lieutenant Candoro listened intently, though his eyes never left my face. He didn’t make me uncomfortable, but his attitude annoyed the hell out of me. Why? I didn’t know—it just did.

  “So, where is he staying?” Candoro asked me.

  “I can’t tell you. I just know he’s planning to off his wife.”

  “Can’t tell me, or won’t?”

  “Does it matter? I said I would help with your plan, so let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

  “The colonel has questions about this, and about your involvement. I don’t want to make the mistake of allowing you to help us if it means you’ll aid and abet Jabroni in any way.”

  Turning to Free, I said, “This isn’t going to work out if your people don’t have confidence in me.”

  Her look told me that I should shut up, but it wasn’t an option for me. I turned back to the lieutenant. “I don’t care what Jabroni plans for his wife. I just want my damned car back. That witch should get what’s coming to her, so let me help you make the damned arrest.”

  His hands came up in a stop gesture. He smiled, clearly knowing full well that my Italian temper was about to explode. As an Italian himself, he probably recognized the signs. “Fine, then I’ll make the arrangements. Freedom will call you when everything is in place. Be ready at a moment’s notice because this will go down soon.”

  “Keep me posted,” I said to Free. Gathering my jacket and gloves, I left the crew huddled around the desk. I wouldn’t be included in any plans since I was an outsider and would have to work on a need-to-know basis. It wasn’t a great basis, but it was one I just had to accept at the moment.

  Chapter 24

  Classes would commence within the next several days, and I was glad for it. Program guidelines for evidence gathering filled my head while I waited for word from Free that it was time for me to jump into my car and drive to Olneyville. The days moved at a snail’s pace, but I stayed busy.

  My mother called to say she and my father had worked out most of their issues. Jabroni remained a guest of the household. I stayed as far from my family as I could manage, using class preparation as my excuse. It wouldn’t bode well for any of us if my part in the police operation became known. Jabroni seemed able to look into my soul when we were in the same room. Visiting my family wasn’t an option.

  The kitchen door swung open as I finished printing the student roster. Marcus rambled into the room. His trooper hat hit the table as he took a chair opposite me. His uniform never seemed to wrinkle and I always found that amazing. A sly smile hovered around his mouth.

  “So Jabroni is staying with your parents, huh?”

  “Wh-what are you talking about?” As surprised by his gentle tone as by the fact that he knew, my heart raced around my chest doing the Indy 500.

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it? He’s been there all along.”

  Slumping against the back of the chair, I tossed the roster onto the desk.

  “How did you find out?”

  Marcus bounded from the chair and started pacing the room. I guessed he was making an effort to contain his temper. Of course he was angry over my deception.

  His voice on the rise, he asked, “You just couldn’t tell me, could you? You had to keep the secret and let me think your parents were getting a divorce—while all the time they were harboring a known gangster.”

  “It wasn’t like that, Marcus. Sit down and let me explain.”

  “I don’t want an explanation. I can’t be put in this situation, Lavinia. Your parents are involved with the mob, and I am involved with you,” he yelled. “That doesn’t sit well in a career such as mine. Aaron, well, he works you for information because he has to. He’s attracted to you, but his job comes first . . . just like mine has to. So be careful there. On the other hand, I’m in love with you and can’t for the life of me understand why you would align yourself with a mobster.”

  “I haven’t aligned myself with a mobster. Jabroni is a criminal who should be punished for his crimes, but I have no say in that. I’m simply trying to mind my own business for a change by letting my family do as they see fit. If they want Attila the Hun to stay with them, that’s their prerogative. Surely you can see that?” I was calm, too calm, and worried that Marcus would walk out of my life by choosing his career over me.
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  “When did you find out Jabroni was living with your parents? And why is he there?”

  “The night my father asked me to go see him. Jabroni was there, we had dinner, an argument, and my mother freaked out when she found Jabroni at the house. Those two have issues that I can’t get into with you since I have never been taken into their confidence over the relationship between the three of them.” It was kind of true and at that moment my little nagging voice entered the picture. Tell him the truth or you’ll lose him for sure. Just tell him everything—go ahead, confess. You’ll feel better.

  Yeah, right, shut the hell up. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

  Taking his seat again, Marcus leaned forward and grasped my hand.

  “You are the most annoying, beguiling, irritating, sexy woman I have ever come across. You make me nuts most of the time, and the rest of the time I can’t get you out of my mind. I don’t want to but I have to tell you this . . . if you and your family are involved in mob business, we can’t be together any longer.” His voice wavered a bit.

  I realized how hard it was for him to say that. My heart thumped while I stared into his handsome face. He’d choose his job over me. As amazing as it seemed, I understood. Cops are like that. They’re driven. The job is always first—no matter what. It just works that way.

  “This will work out. Just give it some time, Marcus. I can’t explain how I know this, but please don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

  “Jabroni’s stay with my parents is temporary at best. He is trying to get well . . . and by the way, how did you find out?”

  “I ran into a friend of mine who mentioned Jabroni was staying at a house not far from mine. It seems one of the doctors from the hospital has been making house calls to that residence and told my friend. It didn’t take me long to make the connection.”

  “Who else knows?” Fear rippled along my nerves as thoughts of what could happen hit home.

  “Just me. I made sure nobody else would find out.”

  “Keep it that way. I don’t want my family in any more danger than they have already put themselves in.”

  His eyes hardened a tad, and his brows hiked a notch. Marcus shook his head, took his hat, and kissed me goodbye. He left without a word. I leaned back in the chair, wondering what would happen next. It didn’t take long for me to find out.

  The phone rang about an hour later. Freedom issued the invitation to join the team in Olneyville for Act One of the operation. I agreed to meet them at the designated location and hung up. I changed into comfortable clothes and sneakers. Even though it was winter, there was no snow in Olneyville—or anywhere else in Rhode Island at the moment. Sneakers would make running easier. I knew that speed might be my only option for safety.

  I left the driveway and headed for a side street under the expressway overpass in a not so wonderful section of Olneyville. But then, there really weren’t any wonderful sections in that district of Providence.

  I parked on the corner and sauntered toward a group of plainclothes cops that I recognized from classes and other places around the city.

  Some were dressed in dirty clothes, their ragged knit caps pulled down over their cropped hair. The two days of stubble covering their faces added to their disreputable appearance. Reeking of alcohol, they grinned when I stepped away from them. These three officers fit their parts so well . . . Look out, Hollywood. With that thought, I turned to the lieutenant for my orders.

  An officer stepped forward with a small box that contained a tiny microphone and some wires. He smiled as he lifted my sweater and attached the box inside my jeans waistband. Knowing what came next, I took the wire from him and snaked it up inside the front of the sweater, attaching the tiny microphone out of sight, just under the collar. The cop had such a disappointed look on his face I burst into laughter along with everyone else.

  “You really know how to spoil the fun, Esposito,” he said with a grin.

  The lieutenant stepped forward. “Walk the streets and question those who are hanging out. Don’t be obvious about what you’re looking for. Just ask for someone who might want a car you need to get rid of.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “That Mercedes down the street . . . it belongs to my wife, so don’t screw this up, understand?”

  “Does your wife know her car is being used for illegal purposes?” I asked as the crew laughed.

  “No, so don’t do anything stupid or she’ll kill me. Make sure you lock the doors before you leave it unattended. Now get going. These guys will be watching you, along with some others who are already in place. We want this to go down easy with no shooting or violence at all—got that?”

  “Got it. Give me the keys to the car. Where do you want me to start?”

  “The Ready Mart on the corner near the bank is a place where she’s frequently seen. I know you saw her coming from a store near there as well, so work the neighborhood. You should know the drill by now, since you teach it.”

  Teaching and doing are two different things. I would do this, though, for a multitude of reasons. One of those reasons concerned family—my family. Yikes, the things we do for family.

  I drove the car through Olneyville’s shopping district. It didn’t take long, the rows of open shops were limited and the bars were abundant. I parked the car in front of the bank to keep it in full view. I wouldn’t want the lieutenant’s wife to go through the same thing I had when my car was stolen. Rental cars are just not the same as your own.

  Tired-looking families shopped the stores in search of bargains. I passed a few drunks littering the sidewalks. I leaned down to ask if they knew of anyone who dealt in stolen cars for a living. One threw up on my sneaker before I could step back and another swore at me and told me to do some rather indecent and impossible things to myself. Trying not to take offense, I moved away and found an old newspaper that I used to clean my sneaker. I knew the cops were enjoying my discomfort. They have a rank sense of humor.

  Sharp winds blew through the mean streets. I trekked from store to store and person to person. I neared the storefront where I had seen the old crone before. I hovered around outside, checking the alley before peering through the filthy windows covered with steel grids. A few people milled around inside.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see if I had company. Two undercover cops lingered outside the bar across the street while another stood on the sidewalk about ten feet away smoking a cigarette. With a slight nod, I entered the building.

  The goods offered were of the hot variety—I was sure of it. The items were not boxed or priced by a manufacturer. Instead, the merchandise was loose and consisted of car parts such as radios, disc players, and navigation equipment. I picked up a couple of items, looked them over with feigned interest, and then walked toward the person nearest me.

  His tall, thin, seedy form slouched against a rack of car paraphernalia. A nose ring and several stud earrings adorned various parts of his features. Thin, greasy hair covered his head and straggled over his collar. Scruffy chin hair passed for a goatee. He wasn’t clean, but wasn’t filthy either. I wondered about lice for a mere instant before I did a mental head slap and moved forward to question him.

  “Hey, how ya doin’?” I asked.

  “Good. You?” His eyes never left my chest except to travel the length of my torso.

  A slight shiver ran over me at the thought of this man admiring my attributes. Blech.

  “I have some cars I need to move. Would you know anyone who can help me out?” Acting nervous, I glanced around furtively. Well, maybe it wasn’t an act.

  “Don’t know anybody who could do such a vile thing.” He pushed away from the shelf with an innocent look on his face.

  “You sure?”

  “You a cop?”

  I put a hand to my chest and said in a shocked tone, “Good God, no. Are you?”

  “No way, no how.”

  With a false sigh, I said, “Thank God
for that. I don’t need those bastards poking their nose into my business.”

  “Just what business is that?”

  “I move cars by transferring them state to state, out of New York. Things are pretty hot there right now. I’m looking for an alternative.”

  “Your goods are only cars?”

  “Only cars.”

  “Wait here. I might be able to help you.” His skeletal body shuffled down the aisle toward another man who was hefty, broad-shouldered, and covered with a variety of tattoos spiraling up his neck and onto his shaved head. A huge gold hoop hung from one ear and a heavy gold braid chain slunk down over his sloping chest. Gold rings covered tattooed fingers that reminded me of fat sausages. He glared at me while the stupid, seedy guy whispered to him. After all, it hadn’t taken much to convince Seedy I wasn’t a cop.

  They moved toward me. It was all I could do not to run out the door as fast as my feet would carry me. Holding my ground, I waited until they stood before me.

  Seedy introduced Baldy. I had the unwanted privilege of shaking his hand. My skin crawled at the touch of his sweaty palm. The urge to wipe my hand on my jacket was strong, but I refrained from doing so. Instead, I smiled my most brilliant, and hopefully, beguiling smile. It wasn’t the Julia Roberts smile and didn’t have that same affect, but he smiled just a little in return.

  “You need some merchandise moved?”

  “Yeah, I have to get it out of New York. Can you help me with that?”

  “Maybe. What brands do you have?”

  “Mercedes, Range Rovers, Escalades, and other cars like Hondas and Altimas that do well on the market.”

  Baldy nodded and rolled his bottom lip outward as he peered into the distance. It must have meant he was deep in thought because he didn’t say anything for a while.

  His eyes finally came back to me. “I got someone for ya to meet. She can help you with your transportation needs.” He glanced at Seedy and nodded. The man strode toward the back room and disappeared. A moment later, he returned with Mrs. Jabroni walking behind him. He barked orders to the other guys hanging about. Her usual cigarette hung from lipstick-lacquered lips while the ash sloped toward the floor.