Dead of the Day (2007)

by Karen E. Olson

  The Prius sailed over the Q bridge and down Townsend Avenue toward the airport, where I'd rented the Kia.

  Tweed New Haven Airport had a terminal that was about the size of one of the new McMansions along the shoreline in the suburbs. I'd never flown in or out of here, and judging from the weeds growing between the cracks along the runway, I doubted I ever would. There was a feud going on between the city of New Haven and the town of East Haven, which owned some property adjacent to the airport that it was holding hostage so the city couldn't expand the runways and bring in bigger planes.

  The rental car companies had a couple of rows earmarked in the parking lot, and I began to wonder if they'd even rent me another car. As I stood at the counter, the middle-aged man in charge of the rentals wasn't so sure, either.

  I handed him the police report and the rental car documents that I'd had in my bag.

  He inspected all of them, tsk tsking a little before finally looking up at me. ''You don't have collision insurance.''

  I had a fucking 1993 Honda Accord with over two hundred thousand miles on it. Why would I need collision insurance? If I got into an accident with it, I'd call it a day.

  I forced myself to remain calm. ''But, sir,'' I said firmly, ''I purchased the collision insurance your company offered when I rented the car.''

  He rustled through the paperwork and finally saw it and nodded. ''And where's the car now?''

  It had been towed to a garage in East Rock, and I gave him the address and phone number. I didn't even want to think about how much my insurance premiums were going to go up with this on my record.

  He was still looking through the documents. ''Everything looks in order. Have you contacted your insurance company?''

  In between Percocets and watching Dick Whitfield almost get run over, it had slipped my mind. But somehow I figured this guy would think my excuses would be akin to saying the dog ate my homework. I shook my head.

  ''You're going to have to call your agent immediately so we can get this filed,'' he admonished.

  I hesitated.

  ''Yes, Miss Seymour?''

  ''I sort of need a car.''

  ''I'm afraid that's impossible.'' The man's eyebrows were arched so high and his squint so pronounced that he looked like Mr. Magoo.

  I glanced at Rocco, who shrugged.

  ''I need a car,'' I told Mr. Magoo again, but he shook his head sadly.

  ''I'm sorry,'' he said, ''but our policy is not to provide a replacement vehicle in a situation like this.''

  Dick was pacing, distracting me. ''How long is this going to take?'' he asked. ''I have to get back to work.''

  I didn't want to deal with his shit, but I needed his car. ''Just a few more minutes, okay, Dick?'' Mr. Magoo had put some papers in front of me that I had to sign, so I picked up the pen he offered and started skimming the fine print, ignoring Dick's heavy sighs.

  Rocco must have gotten sick of hearing Dick sigh, too, because he pulled out his phone and went across the small waiting area. By the time he came back, I'd finished signing and Mr. Magoo had made more copies of my insurance card and driver's license.

  ''We've got to go,'' Rocco said impatiently.

  I stuffed my copies of everything into my bag. Rocco was pacing now. ''What's up?''

  Dick had gone outside to wait, and he was hovering around his car, precariously close to leaving without us. Rocco and I went out to meet him, Rocco a few steps ahead of me. Something was bugging him.

  ''Take us to Annie's apartment, okay, Dick?'' Rocco said. ''Just drop us there, and then you can get going.''

  Dick looked from Rocco to me. ''What's going on?'' He wasn't as oblivious as I'd thought.

  I wanted to know what was going on, too. But Rocco kept mum as Dick pulled the Prius out of the parking lot and maneuvered the side streets until we came back out onto Townsend Avenue again.

  Dick drove like my mother as he careened back across the bridge, pulled off at the Hamilton Street exit, and took his right on red down toward Chapel without even looking to see if cars were coming. When he finally eased against the curb in front of my building, I was glad to be rid of him and happy I was still alive.

  ''Are you going to be in later?'' Dick asked sarcastically, like I usually blew off work.

  ''Marty gave me a couple of days off,'' I said reluctantly. ''But tell him I'll call him,'' I added.

  Rocco and I watched as he peeled out of the parking spot.

  ''Didn't think those hybrids could do that,'' Rocco said thoughtfully.

  ''Want to trade in the Beemer?'' I asked.

  He grinned, a lopsided smile that took over his whole face. ''No way.''

  We noticed his white car at the same time. It was parked catty-corner to my building, in front of Vinny's brownstone. Rocco and I walked over as Vinny came down his steps.

  ''Did you catch him?'' I asked.

  ''No,'' he said, pushing a curl out of my eyes. His finger was warm against my skin. He winked at me and turned to his brother. ''Cops found my SUV down on Ferry Street, near the bridge. They said it's okay, just looks like someone took a joyride.''

  ''No bodies inside?'' I asked, trying to keep my tone light, but didn't really pull it off.

  Vinny chuckled. ''No, not this time. But why don't we take the Beemer over there. What about another rental?'' he asked me.

  ''They think I'm some sort of risk.''

  Vinny laughed then. ''No shit.''

  ''I'm not quite sure what to do.''

  ''I know a place where you can rent a car. But I have to warn you, it might not be the most beautiful car.''

  ''Right, like that's a big deal,'' I said.

  Vinny nodded. ''Okay. I'll take you there when we get the Explorer.'' He tossed the BMW's keys to Rocco and we all climbed into the car again.

  This was getting to be worse than a game of musical chairs.

  ''How're you holding up?'' Vinny asked.

  I was in the backseat again and Vinny had twisted around so he could talk to me. Even though he looked worse than I did, I could see in his good eye that he was thinking impure thoughts. And it was turning me on.

  Jesus, I was fucked-up.

  ''So was it an accident that you ran into Marisol after she saw the body getting dumped in the harbor?'' I asked him, trying to get my mind out of the gutter.

  ''What are you implying?''

  ''It seems so convenient that you were there right then. Why would you be at that spot? It's not like a place where you'd hang out for no reason.'' But as I said it, I remembered my mother and that fax with the names on it. And her question about how I'd known about the warehouse. ''It's my mother, isn't it? She's involved somehow in that warehouse. What are you working on for her?''

  Rocco snorted and looked at Vinny. ''She's like a pit bull, isn't she?''

  Vinny and gave me a wink. ''But in a good way.''

  ''Christ, Vinny, I don't know why you can't just tell me.''

  ''I can't violate a client's confidentiality,'' he said.

  ''But what about this: Did you see the guy who dumped the body?''

  ''No.''

  ''Did Marisol say if she knew who it was?''

  Vinny shook his head. ''No, I don't know if she knew him or not.''

  ''Did you follow her at all after that?'' Vinny had been at Rodriguez's shooting later that evening, and so was Marisol. And then I remembered how Marisol had been nervous at IKEA. I hadn't seen Vinny there, but maybe she had.

  Vinny raised his eyebrows as if to say ''I'll never tell.'' I wasn't going to get shit out of him. I changed gears. I was worse than a goddamn yo-yo.

  ''So, what's been going on at the warehouse?'' I asked.

  ''I don't know.''

  My memory flashed back on the green card we'd found in the abandoned lot. ''What about the fake green card? Do you know anything about that?''

  Vinny's lips curled into a smile, but he didn't say anything.

  ''Come on, Vinny. You've got to give me something.''

 
Vinny glanced at Rocco, who nodded. Jesus, they were both in on it.

  ''Okay, but this can't go anywhere.'' He was telling me it was off the record. Shit.

  But what choice did I have? I nodded. ''Okay.''

  ''There's a counterfeit green card operation going on. We're trying to track it down.''

  ''We?'' But as I said it, I knew. Vinny was working for my mother. ''My mother knew about the green card scam, didn't she? And she had you check it out. Who's she representing?''

  Vinny shook his head, but the small smile that played at the corner of his lips told me I was right.

  ''Those names on the fax—were they victims of the scam?''

  He still didn't say anything.

  It was starting to make sense. But I was still a few clowns short of a circus. Vinny was keeping mum; it was almost worse than Tom. For a second, I debated how much I could get out of Vinny using my ''feminine wiles,'' so to speak. Even as I thought about it, I knew it wouldn't work. It hadn't ever worked with Tom, either, although there were some pleasant payoffs.

  It didn't take too long to get over to Ferry Street. A lot of the houses on this street were being renovated, since the river view was considered pretty desirable. Even still, Fair Haven was dicey as far as crime went, and I doubted I'd sink any money into real estate here until it was fixed up a bit more and I'd be able to take a walk at night without taking a risk that I would be mugged.

  We spotted Vinny's SUV up ahead, parked near the Ferry Street Bridge, which was still under construction. The project had been stalled so long that I was beginning to doubt whether this bridge would ever be open again.

  No one was around. Vinny got out, and we followed.

  ''Do you want me to take you to get a car?'' he asked as we approached the Explorer.

  ''Sure.'' What the hell else was I supposed to do? Sit around my apartment and wait for Tom? I needed a car; that had to be priority and Tom was just going to have to deal with it.

  Vinny took his keys out of his pocket and was reaching toward the door of the SUV when suddenly he pulled his hand away and took a step backward. Rocco and I were just behind him.

  ''What's wrong, bro?'' Rocco asked.

  Vinny shook his head. ''Get her out of here,'' he said, quietly but firmly.

  I knew he was talking about me, but I wasn't going to go unless there was a damn good reason.

  ''There's not a body in your car, too, is there?'' I asked.

  He shook his head and backed up further. I peered more closely at the Explorer and saw some sort of shadow in the window. I took a step toward it, and as I did, the shadow moved and I jumped back. ''What the hell is it?'' I asked.

  Rocco, who was standing to my left, had a better vantage point. ''Bees,'' he said.

  Chapter 28

  Vinny stepped around the back of the SUV and looked inside. ''There's a hive in there.''

  ''A hive?'' I asked. ''Don't they usually just make hives in trees or under gutters on houses or something?''

  Vinny chuckled. ''Those are natural hives, Annie. This one's man-made. It's a small wooden box, and it's been dismantled.''

  ''Didn't the cops see this when they found it?'' I asked.

  Vinny shrugged. ''Maybe, maybe not. Maybe someone put the hive in there between the time the cops found it and now.''

  ''But why?''

  Both Rocco and Vinny rolled their eyes at me. Okay, so that was a stupid question. ''Wouldn't whoever put it in there know you'd see it before you opened the door?'' I asked after a second.

  I could see he'd thought of that but didn't have an answer, either.

  ''So who would do this?'' I asked. ''How pissed is Hector at you?'' And as I said it, I wondered how the hell Hector would get bees. The only person I knew who had bees was Lin Rodriguez, and she was out of commission because someone tried to kill her with the bees.

  As I mulled this over, I heard Vinny ask Rocco, ''Do you have time to take us to the car place?'' He didn't seem all that concerned about his Explorer or the obvious message that had been left for him.

  ''Aren't you worried about this?'' I asked him.

  Vinny chuckled. ''Not a whole helluva lot I can do about it, is there?''

  He must do yoga or meditate or some shit like that.

  Rocco cocked his head toward the Explorer. The bees were moving across the front windshield. ''What're you going to do about that?''

  ''Call an exterminator.''

  Made sense to me. We piled back into the Beemer, and Vinny gave Rocco directions to a used car lot on Main Street in East Haven. We weren't very far, but it meant going back over the Q bridge again and dodging the construction on Interstate 95. The ten-year project to widen the highway and build a new bridge was under way and causing innumerable problems for anyone who had to go east of the city on a regular basis. Thank God I didn't have to.

  Vinny knew the owner at the lot, but since I wasn't prepared to actually purchase a car on the spot, he was willing to rent me a car at half the price I'd gotten the Kia for, but only for a week. After that, I was on my own. And I didn't get a choice of vehicle.

  The Ford Taurus was as old as my Honda and probably had more miles on it, even though the odometer swore it had only seen thirty thousand miles. But beggars can't be choosers, so I plunked down my credit card and got a key.

  I ignored the rust spreading along the undercarriage and shrugged when Vinny asked if it was okay.

  ''Sure,'' I said, just happy I'd have wheels now. And if someone decided to crash into this one, well, I wouldn't feel quite as bad.

  I climbed into the driver's seat. Remarkably, the car was clean, even though a little worn around the edges. As I started the engine, Vinny opened the passenger door and got in. I frowned at him.

  ''What're you doing?'' I asked, although I hadn't thought about where I was going to go once I got out on the road.

  He was looking around the car. ''Hey, pretty good, huh?''

  I shrugged. ''Yeah, sure. Where to?''

  ''Lunch?''

  Seemed like a plan, so I pulled out onto Main Street. The Taurus didn't handle too badly. Rocco was a few cars ahead, going in the same direction. ''Where should we go?'' I asked.

  ''Scupper.''

  I glanced down at my jeans and then at his fleece pullover. ''We're a little underdressed, aren't we? How about somewhere a little less, well, you know.'' The Rusty Scupper wasn't that fancy, but it was a ''fine dining'' restaurant as opposed to my usual haunts. It was the only restaurant in the city that sat on the harbor. ''How about Louis' Lunch?''

  Louis' Lunch on Crown Street invented the hamburger. And because of that, they believe you should enjoy said hamburger on two slices of white toast. You can get tomato and onion and cheese if you want, but absolutely no ketchup. They were the hamburger Nazis, but they were pretty good hamburgers.

  Vinny was knocking down my idea. ''Let's just go to the Scupper. It's right over the bridge.''

  ''Why didn't you get a car, too?'' I asked, not having the strength to argue. ''I mean, it might not be easy to get those bees out.''

  ''Temporary setback,'' Vinny said. ''It shouldn't be too difficult to get rid of the bees, so I won't be without a car for too long. Anyway, this way I can ride with you and I can keep an eye on you at the same time.''

  ''I don't need a bodyguard,'' I argued. I wanted to call Paula and see if I could get her on the record about the green card counterfeiting, since I was sure the FBI would be involved in the investigation. Maybe I could get my mother to tell me what her role in this was. And if I could get any information from anyone, maybe Marty would let me come back to work.

  As I pulled into the parking lot at the Scupper, I glanced across the harbor at the port, but a freighter was blocking most of the view.

  Vinny and I went into the restaurant, and he asked for one of the tables lining the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water.

  I sat down, dropping my bag on the floor next to me. I picked up the menu and scanned it, finding an open-f
aced crab-and-shrimp sandwich on a croissant. The waitress hovered, and I pointed to it. ''That, I'll have that,'' I said, and when she asked for my choice of drink, I glanced at Vinny and said, ''Heineken.''

  Vinny grinned as he ordered the fried fish sandwich and a Heineken of his own.

  I looked out over at the port.

  ''What do you see?'' Vinny asked softly.

  I shrugged. ''Ship. Fuel-storage tanks. Usual shit.''