Fuck. Another shower, a new layer of makeup, and two cappuccinos later, I’m good.
Fifteen people crowd my Mom’s huge kitchen when I arrive but they all stop talking. Rose, Joey, and Mia look guilty as sin. Uncle Vinny looks pissed but Aunt Emmy takes me in a huge hug, her sauce spoon still in hand.
“It’s so good to see you.” She points the utensil at the rest of my extended family. “None of you give her a hard time or you answer to me. Capice?”
I squeeze her again. “Thank you, Em.”
“You’re welcome.” She turns her weapon at my cousin Joey. What? Were you brought up in a barn? Get Sammy here a glass of wine.”
I don’t dare mention I’d rather have water and Joey already knows I’m hung over which is why he brings a friggin’ giant brandy glass with at least twelve ounces of sweet white wine.
I grab his baby, reaching for me. “You can put it on the table, please.”
Kimmy has a crust of wet bread, and gnaws on it. “Teething, sweetie?”
I give her a kiss and inhale her sweet baby smell. At the rate I’m going, I’ll never have one of my own but I will be damned if I’ll let anyone take my spot as favorite aunt.
I refuse to let Mia or Rose hold her. “You guys have had her for years. I need to catch up.” My mother hears the comment and raises her brows but thankfully says nothing.
Then, my dad moves the crowd into the dining room with a long table that seats twenty. A few more people ring the doorbell and we sit, all talking at once.
Emmy puts the baby in a high chair next to her dad. Mia and Rose take the seats on either side of me.
My head of the table clears his throat and stands. “Thank God for good food, a good wife, and family. Let’s eat.”
Mia mutters. “That’s hardly grace.”
“Whatever. It’s better than Father O’Donnell’s sermon.” I eye Rose, laughing.
“Today was actually good compared to most.”
Two huge salad bowls are passed around and Uncle Vinny eyes me. “Frankie said you two talked?”
“Ah, yeah.”
He butters his bread with a sharp knife then points it at me. “He give you what you need?”
“”Uh-huh…”
“So, you going into his business or what?”
The whole table stops talking and mouths drop open.
“No, no. I, ah, I’m staying with my original five-year-plan.”
“Good girl. You stick with Marion and you’ll be cutting hair in no time and in the meantime, we’ll find you a good man from the neighborhood. Next Sunday, Em, invite, Angelo. He’s an accountant, does my taxes. Great guy.”
While all my relatives murmur their agreement, Rose mutters, “I think he’s close to fifty.”
Mia nods in agreement. “He has grandkids.”
“Great.” I smile and raise my wine glass. “Salute.”
Then, I whisper under my breath to my cousins. “Next Saturday, I’m thinking I’m coming down with pink eye. Will that work?”
Mia giggles. “Just make sure you use an Urgent Care in the city. Everyone knows Dr. Luongo around the corner and his receptionist is the biggest gossip for fifty blocks.”
“Jeesh, hasn’t anyone around here ever heard of HIPAA?”
“Not in Bensonhurst.” Rose stands, gathers salad bowls and brings them into the kitchen and after dinner, Vinny grabs my arm while I’m cleaning pots and pans.
“Walk with me.” Outside he lights a cigar. “I hear youz working the Bannerman murder.”
I nod.
“What do you know so far?”
“Only how the murderer’s body will probably never be found.”
“That it?”
“Me and Sebastian drove to DC. We found out the congressman’s wife was donating a lot of money to stop some company called Agro-grow from using DCSST. Frankie said to follow the money. That’s as much as I know.”
He shakes his head back and forth. “Was the guy’s name, Holden?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“The man met with an unfortunate accident last night.”
“Shit.”
He uses his cigar to make his point. “You, my girl, are in over your head. Stay out of it. Wash hair and don’t leave town. Do I make myself clear?”
“I have work in Manhattan. Patten’s offices are more secure than Fort Knox.”
“Guess you’ll need to quit.” He pats me on the back. “Nice having this little talk with youz. It’s like old times.”
I go back into the house and after coffee motion to Rose and Mia, to meet me outside where I repeat my conversation with my uncle.
“The lobbyist is dead?” Mia gasps.
“Yeah. And Vinny thinks I might be targeted next.”
“Why?”
“Not sure but he certainly would know.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, I’m not becoming a hairdresser, for damn sure.”
Rose snickers. “Do you remember how you tried in high school?”
“Oh my God. Remember what I did to Mrs. Murphy?
“I never saw anyone’s hair stick on end like that.”
I shrug. “It’s a gift.”
Mia turns in circles as we walk home. “What if there’s a hit man following us right now?”
Rose shakes her head. “After Sunday dinner? Not likely.”
Still, we all heave a sigh of relief inside the apartment and work quickly to close the blinds.
As we settle down for a Netflix night, I sink into the living room couch. “I need to talk to Doctor Jones, tomorrow. Will you girls cover for me?”
“You sure? Uncle Vinny will be pissed.” Mia flounces down beside me in her flannel PJ’s.
“More so than ever now.”
Chapter 19
Suds
After I dropped Sam off at the subway, I drive north to where my pal Lucky guards Bannerman. As I approach the safe house apartment, the volume of their argument increases. Apparently Friday is the congressman’s evening to spend with the girlfriend but, his lawyer has forbidden it and Lucky is making loverboy stay put.
I knock, wave at the camera, and my pal opens the door, quickly shutting it behind him.
“The bloke’s a bloomin’ disaster.” Grinning, he takes me in a bear hug and slaps me so hard I need to step back to keep my balance. “How the hell are ya?”
“Good.”
He assesses me from head to toe, then punches my arm. “Nah-yeah. You look like shit.”
I grin and take him in a headlock. “And y’all look like somethin’ the cat dragged in.”
Caught in my arm, Lucky glances up and down the hallway. “Where’s your pretty sheila? I thought for sure you’d be shagging your way through the weekend.”
“I dropped her off at the subway… I ah, told her we were through.” I let him go.
“Oi, it’s like that, is it? Sorry to hear it mate.” He checks the stairway then leans against the wall waiting for me to start talking.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” As sweat drips down my sides and my heart races, my pal’s eyes narrow as he senses my fear.
“Sure. Fire away.”
“You know how me and everyone staged an intervention for-”
“Not something I’d likely forget. I was fookin’ pissed as hell.” He crosses his arms and his fists clench. “But I get it, now. You were right. I needed some help.”
“The dreams and shit? Are they gone?” I search his face, praying somehow he’s recovered because if he can, maybe I can, too.
“Not a hundred percent… Why… did Callie ask you to talk to me?” His gaze narrows.
I need to respond before he decks me but I don’t even know where to begin. Rasping my hand across the stubble on my chin, I pace the hallway until he grabs my arm.
“Oh for Crike’s sake. Spit it out, mate.”
“I almost killed Sam this morning.” The words tear my guts inside out.
“Fuckeroo.
What happened?”
“I have no idea. I woke up with my hands around her neck.” Perspiring like mad, I squat on my heels, elbows on my knees, and bury my face in my hands,
Lucky pushes me over, then squats beside me while I get up off my ass. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. “You should’ve dealt with this bloody shit when I did. Call my doc and tell him I asked you to take my appointment. What the hell you waitin’ for?”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“Well, pull up yer big boy pants, stop pissin’ and moanin’, and get the fook out of here because I got a job to do.” He lifts me up, punches me in the arm, then slaps me on the back. “I love you, ya batshit crazy mother-fuck-ah.”
“Same here… and thanks.”
At home, I pour myself a drink, and settle in to watch Netflix. Occasionally, I check my Sam’s whereabouts via my phone app.
Ah hell, now she’s at some bar. I tell myself I want to make sure she’s safe, but in truth, I want to know if she’s as miserable as me.
It’s a stupid notion, one beneath me, and yet I can’t stop myself from driving to Bensonhurst. What I picture happening goes something like this. She’s crying in her beer with her friends, I’ll sit down beside her, and I’ll explain everything.
That is my state of mind when I find her dancing surrounded by guys with lust in their eyes.
Jesus Lawd have mercy, I am such a fucking idiot. My chest all tight and my thoughts all fucked up, I turn and walk out the door without saying a goddamn word.
Once in my apartment, I grab a bottle and sit down for some serious drinking.
Saturday goes by in a blur and by Sunday evening, I sober up. Monday, I’m ready to face the woman who ruined me and doesn’t even know it.
“It’s your bloody fault for not telling her how you feel.” Lucky’s voice booms through my cellphone’s speaker as I make another pot of coffee.
“I don’t know how I feel, dammit. We just met.”
When he curses in his thick Aussie accent, I don’t quite catch anything but the tail end. “Tell her.”
Hell, I can’t do it. Not with her having so much fun and me being miserable. I need to look as devil-may-care as she did dancing with all those men. I take my time getting ready for work, donning my favorite t-shirt and putting on some expensive aftershave someone gave me for Christmas.
We would never work out, anyhow. She’s got no business pretending to start a detective agency. Already, I spend too much of my time keeping her alive. Even New York State agrees with me and they can’t get anything right. She needs more experience and should stick to being a damn good analyst.
Finishing the last of my coffee, I shut my door, grab my umbrella, and stride to where I parked my car, wondering how I’ll deal with her today.
I hadn’t told Sam how I feel because I fell for her, hard and she probably hates me by now. Worse, I scared the living daylights out of her.
Damn her and her cute little smile, her funny comebacks, and her impossible optimism.
Determined not to make an ass out of myself, I drive the SUV to the office, park it in the garage, and take the elevator. At least Sam won’t arrive until after lunch. Maybe by then, I can figure out how to apologize.
In front of my computer, I finger the small card Lucky handed me. The shrink probably will cost a small fortune if I try to pay out of pocket. My other choice is to use my insurance and hope no one finds out.
Unable to decide, I stuff the card back in my wallet and put it in my jeans’ back pocket. Maybe later…
In the meantime, I search through what we have on the Bannerman murder. Agro-grow is our biggest suspect but who at the company hired a hitman? There’s the CEO along with any number of stockholders to search.
I filter through the news, anything to do with Agro-grow, and stop when I see a familiar face with a headline, ‘Prominent Activist Dies.’ According to the article, Holden overdosed on prescription drugs. Holy shit. The timing can’t be coincidental. We’re getting close.
Heart thumping, I wonder if Sam is okay but her cell phone goes straight to voice mail.
I figure she’s at the salon so I call her Aunt Marion. “It’s Suds. Can I speak to Sam?”
“Are you the nice young man she brought in for a cut last week?”
“Yes ma’am. Is Sam-”
“Did you like what Rose did?”
“It’s ah, fine. Can I talk to-?”
“Rose!” The woman shouts so loud my head hurts. “Do you know where Suds can find Sam?”
“She said something about seeing a Doctor Jones.” Her cousin’s voice barely sounds over several blow driers.
“Tell her I said thanks.”
After I hang up, I poke my head into Slate’s office. “Be back in a few. Heading over to Jenna’s. The lobbyist we spoke with last week, Holden? He was found dead over the weekend.”
“Shit. Keep Sam close.”
“Copy that.” If only I could. Somehow I get the feeling she’s one step ahead of me.
Chapter 20
Sam
When I get off the train to switch lines, I get this feeling someone is following me but see no one person who stands out. There’s dozens of people exiting my car, any one of them a possible killer. Maybe Uncle Vinny or my Dad is having me tailed, who knows?
More likely, whoever killed the lobbyist, is cleaning up loose ends, and I’m probably next.
I switch to the downtown tracks and exit underground near Doctor Jones’ building. I peek out from under the umbrella and stare up into the camera.
“Good morning, Jason.”
His male voice greets me from an overhead speaker. “Good morning, Miss Russo. I don’t see that you have an appointment. How can I help you?”
“I’m working on the Bannerman murder and could use some help, if Jenna has the time.”
“Just a moment. I will inquire.”
I wait in silence for a few moments, the door opens, and as I stroll across the marble floor, Jason’s voice follows me. “Please check your weapon into a locker.”
I put my pistol into the metal strongbox, grab the key, and when the door opens, enter the elevator.
Upstairs, I walk into the conference room and circle the glass table, staring up at the wall. Her Wonder Woman collection, dating back to the nineteen-forties, is second to none.
Wearing her famous red sneakers, Jenna approaches me with a warm handshake. “Sam. So nice to see you.”
“You too.”
At the small kitchenette in the back of the room, she opens a cabinet and pulls out a coffee maker. “I heard about your job. I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. “A sign of the times.”
“But artificial intelligence can only go so far. Coffee?” She throws a pod in and puts a white mug under the spigot.
“Yes, thanks.”
While she puts hers down, I make my own. When we sit, the shades descend automatically and Jason appears as a hologram, sitting across from us.
“Hello again, Miss Russo. Can I call you Samantha?”
I grin. “Sam is fine. I like your new look.”
“Do you? I’m still debating. He spins in his chair, showing off his suited attire. “I think I am more approachable in two dimensions. I am currently monitoring your reactions. Although initially shocked, you are mostly in favor of this appearance.”
Jenna laughs. “I told you, Jason.”
“Yes, you did, but I had my doubts. I need more data.” When he stops the banter and blinks, Dr. Jones turns to me, her face serious.
“So, how can we help you with the Bannerman murder?”
“How much do we know about the murderer?”
A screw-driver-like tool floats just above the table. “The police have pulled DNA from the dandelion puller. In addition to Sylvia and Thomas Bannerman’s, there were traces from their gardener and this man.”
A hologram of the driver’s license takes the place of the murder weapon.
“T
hat’s the photographer who punched the congressman! I knew it.”
Jason leans over the table on his elbows. “Stanley Jeffries received ten thousand dollars the week before Sylvia Bannerman was killed. However, I have not been able to locate him.”
“My friend Frankie says you won’t.”
“I will add this to my data. Did he say why?”
“He said the man gave his business a bad name.”
“I am confused.” Jason turns his head and blinks and Jenna who bites her lower lip then tries to explain.
“I am assuming Frankie is a killer for hire. His statement implies Stanley was murdered by someone in the same profession, for incompetence.”
Jason continues to stare into space, less human-like. “Strange. I will add that to my list of things to research and discuss at a later date. Please continue, Sam.”
When he smiles, I know whatever glitch he encountered in his programming is over and the computer is engaged once again.
Sighing deeply, I try to recount everything we have learned so far. “You probably know the money to pay Stanley came from an Agro-grow bank account but we don’t know who made the transaction. That’s where I need your help.”
The avatar nods. “I can find the information for you, Sam, but it would be inadmissible in court. This would require breaking into their firewalls illegally. Would you like me to continue?”
“What do you suggest? I’ve run out of options and we don’t have nearly enough for a warrant.” I share a glance with Jenna.
She thinks for a moment before asking, “Jason, will you be detected?”
“There is a fifty percent chance my intrusion will be noticed. However, there is only a slight chance, one in over one million, three hundred thousand, they will know it is me.”
“Go ahead then, do it.” She turns to me. “Once you have the person responsible, you must find legal links to the murderer. Understand?”
I nod. This is not my first rodeo.
A few minutes later Jason responds. “I have good news and bad news.”
“Seriously?” I grin at Jenna’s weird sense of programming humor.
She shrugs. “Don’t blame me. Some of his vernacular, he picks up on his own.”
Suds and Sam Page 10
