No Such Thing as a Lost Cause

by Shelly Fredman

  I scrounged around in my pocket book for more loose change and came up empty. Boy, being unemployed put a real crimp in my junk food consumption. I shook my head. “Thanks. That’ll do it.”

  The window seat was occupied, so I had to content myself with a long table in the rear of the café. I took out my laptop and got to work. Or, I would have, except that someone had left a copy of Fifty Shades of Gray on the table, and it seemed only right to see what all the fuss was about.

  At around chapter three I reluctantly put it down and started my research. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for. As a reward, I picked up the book again.

  “I hear that’s fascinating reading.”

  Startled, I looked up. DiCarlo stood in front of me, grinning. He was in his gym sweats and looked especially sexy…or maybe it was just the lingering thought of one of those fifty shades.

  I slammed the book shut and slid it down the length of the table. “I thought it was a book on monochromatic interior design.”

  “Is that what they’re calling porn now?”

  “It’s not porn. It’s erotica…and shut up.”

  His grin got wider. He pulled a chair out and sat down across from me.

  “How’d you know I was here?” I asked.

  “Frankie told me this is your new hangout. I stopped in to pick up a book for Sophia, so I figured I’d come by and say hello. Actually,” he added, “I thought I saw you the other day at DiVinci’s.”

  “Nope, wasn’t me.”

  “I’m pretty sure that it was.”

  “You’re wrong. It happens. Listen, as long as you’re here, I want to run something by you.”

  Suppressing a smile he said, “I’m all ears, Sweetheart.”

  “Okay. But first, promise me you won’t get mad.”

  DiCarlo’s eyes narrowed. “Do I have a reason to get mad?”

  I pinched my thumb and index together to indicate incremental measurement. “I may have stepped ever so slightly over the legal line.”

  DiCarlo leaned forward on his elbows until his forehead was right up against mine. “How slightly are we talking here?”

  “Hardly worth mentioning. And, the good news,” I hurried to explain, “is that I didn’t interfere with police business.” Mainly because Wade Stoller wasn’t on anyone’s radar but mine.

  Bobby blew out a big breath. “Just tell me.”

  When I got to the part where I checked out Stoller’s computer, Bobby gritted his teeth but he didn’t say anything. I finished up with my visit to Sherese’s and the break-in.

  “I’m afraid for her and her kids, Bobby. I didn’t want to alarm her, but this was no ordinary burglary. Whoever did this felt threatened enough by what they think is in that house that they came looking for it. And if they didn’t find it, they might come looking for it again.”

  “Calm down, Sweetheart. You said Sherese didn’t know if Cal was hiding anything in the house. But if he were, how could she know it was missing if she wasn’t aware that it existed? Maybe they already found what they were looking for.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “So what makes you so sure Stoller was involved in the break-in?”

  “Because of the brochure. The first time I went to see Sherese she mentioned that Doyle had promised to take her on a cruise. I thought it was odd at the time. I mean he didn’t strike me as a Sperry Topsider deck shoes kind of guy. But, if he was working for Stoller on the sly, it makes perfect sense.”

  “I’m not following you. Why would the mention of them going on a cruise be significant?”

  “Stoller’s records show he has three clients for his drug detection business. There’s a private rehab center, a high school out in Langhorne, and a cruise line called Island Dream Vacations. They’re a small, private company that takes off from Penn’s Landing to the BES islands.”

  I gulped a bit more of my redeye and continued. “I’ve been doing a little research. Cocaine traffic coming out of those islands is on the rise. Drug enforcement agencies have cracked down hard on cargo vessels, yachts, and the like. So, drug gangs have turned to cruise ships as a way to get their stash into the country. According to what I’ve read, cruise ship security isn’t particularly effective at winning the war against the smugglers.”

  “Not enough man power, for one thing,” Bobby said. “And imagine being the unlucky passenger to run across a multi-million dollar transaction. People accidentally fall over the side of the boats all the time. Not a big incentive to turn someone in.”

  “Exactly. So the cruise ships hire outside agencies to at least give the appearance that they’re doing something about the problem.”

  “Enter K-Nine Security.”

  “Which looks perfectly legit until you examine the company Stoller was keeping.”

  Bobby mulled this over in his usual way, fingers drumming rhythmically on the table. A minute went by and then the drumming stopped. “Okay,” he said. “Say someone on the ship is smuggling drugs. Stoller is hired to ferret out this person or persons. But—what if he found a way to make it more profitable?” He arched his eyebrows and looked up at me expectantly.

  Slowly, the light dawned. “Oh my God, Bobby. How could I not have seen this? Stoller must be on the take to not find the drugs. But how would that work? I mean assuming the dogs are properly trained, wouldn’t they react to anything that smells like the drug?”

  “There are ways to get around it. The dogs are not infallible, especially if they’re getting help not to succeed. Anyway, how he manipulated the results isn’t important right now. The real challenge is proving he did it.”

  “There’s also the question of Doyle and the Lewis boys. They had to be able to offer Stoller something he couldn’t achieve on his own.”

  “Yeah. But, what?”

  “Distribution? They would know how to deal on the streets better than Stoller would.”

  “That’s assuming he got paid in drugs.” Bobby frowned. “Bran, everything you’re saying makes sense, but it’s still just conjecture. Have you talked to the officer in charge of the Doyle investigation about any of this?”

  I sighed and drained the dregs from the bottom of my cup. “No. But it’s not for lack of trying. And after the Claire Dobbs incident, I’m probably not high on their list of credible sources.”

  “Claire Dobbs, the council woman?”

  “You mean you didn’t hear about that?” Me and my big mouth.

  “This should be good,” he said and settled comfortably into his seat again.

  “Well, I wish I had time to regale you with embarrassing tales of my ineptitude, but I’ve got to get going.” I stood and picked up my laptop and empty coffee cup.

  DiCarlo stood, too. “Hey, you want to hang out tonight? I’ve got the Peter Manfredo fight on Pay Per View.”

  “Can’t. Carla invited me over for dinner.” (which sounded like a great idea at the time, but, in the light of day, and the re-appearance of sanity, now fell under the category of “What was I thinking?”) I had actually thought of cancelling, but Alexanders aren’t quitters. We muddle through no matter how ill conceived an idea may be.

  “Could I get a rain-check?”

  “Absolutely. Listen, Sweetheart, I’ve got some buddies that patrol the docks. I’ll see what I can do to look into this. In the mean time—be careful.”

  “I will, Bobby. And thanks. I really appreciate this.”

  DiCarlo reached over and grabbed the book off the table and held it out to me. He teased me with a grin. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  I smiled back, innocent as hell. “I’m pretty much all caught up. Keep it. You might learn something.”

  *****

  My mom called as I was getting ready to go to Frankie and Carla’s. We were due there in an hour. I thought about not answering, but she’d only keep redialing until I picked up.

  “Hi, Mom. I’d love to talk, but I’m kind of in a rush.”

  “Your brother met a
girl,” she interrupted, turning selectively deaf. “What do you know about her?”

  I balanced my cell phone on my ear, grabbed my tooth brush off the bathroom counter and loaded it with toothpaste. “Paul met someone?”

  “Yes. She has an unusual name. Daisy.”

  I brushed, rinsed and spit. A big glob of toothpaste landed on my shirt. Crap. I wriggled out of the shirt and walked into the bedroom. Nick was there. He eyed me and smiled.

  “Mom, did Paul specifically say he was seeing someone?”

  “Not exactly. I called him, and he said he’d call me back, because he was taking a walk with Daisy.”

  “Are you sure he didn’t say he was taking Daisy for a walk?”

  “Why would he say that? She’s not a dog.”

  “Uh, Mom, she is.”

  “Brandy Renee, what an insensitive thing to say. We can’t all be great beauties. I’m just happy your brother found someone.”

  “Okay, Mom. Well, I’ve got to go. Nick’s taking me for a ride in the car.” I hung up with promises to call her if I heard anything.

  Nick was clean-shaven and dressed in a gray, long sleeved jersey and black fitted trousers. It was the perfect choice; understated, yet classy.

  I rooted through my suitcase for a clean shirt. The only thing I could come up with was a lacy pink camisole. It looked like underwear, which it was. I yanked it over my head, tucked in the bra straps and was good to go.

  “Nick, do you mind if we take the Jaguar?” I asked when we got outside. “My uncle loves classic cars, and it would give you guys something to talk about. Hey, maybe you could let him drive it. Not far—just around the block—”

  He stared at me thoughtfully.

  “What?”

  “You seem pretty anxious about this get together, Darlin’.”

  “Anxious? I’m not anxious. Oh, and if Carla suggests we play Charades, just go along with it, okay? She’s really into party games.”

  The Jag was parked in the loading zone. Odd that it never got towed. Nick opened the door for me and I slid in. I leaned over and returned the favor by pushing open the driver’s side door.

  On the way over to Carla and Frankie’s we stopped off at Bon Vivant to pick up some candy. As soon as we got inside, I headed straight for the truffle case eying it as if it were a long lost friend. The woman behind the counter walked over to the other end and pointed to some hand dipped strawberries.

  “We have a lovely selection of chocolate covered fruit, if you would prefer something lighter.”

  Why would anyone prefer that? The fruit takes up space where the chocolate ought to be. “Thanks, anyway, but I think we’ll stick to the truffles.”

  I reached into my bag to get out some money, but Nick beat me to it. He bought two one-pound boxes and handed one to me.

  “I didn’t think you’d last the ride over, and it didn’t seem like good form to bring them a half-eaten box of candy.”

  “Eh, it wouldn’t be the first time.” I tore open the box and ate a truffle. After the third one I started feeling guilty about not sharing. “Would you like a truffle?”

  He leaned over and flicked the chocolate off the corners of my mouth with his tongue. “I’m good.”

  *****

  Uncle Frankie stood at the screen door as we pulled up curbside. His face was set in a grin of forced enthusiasm. It was the same one he used whenever my mom offered to cook for him.

  Carla stood beside him, her ginormous beehive towering over his five-foot ten-inch frame. She opened the door, simultaneously giving Frankie a quick nudge to his ribs. “Be nice,” she mouthed.

  I figured we weren’t meant to see that, so we pretended we didn’t.

  “Come on in, you two. Dinner’s going to be a little while. I forgot to turn on the oven.” She laughed. “Hope you’re not starving.”

  I was so hungry I could eat my own arm. “No, that’s great. It’ll give us all a chance to catch up. Uncle Frankie, you remember Nick, don’t you?”

  Frankie nodded. “How’s it goin’?” His tone, while not exactly hostile, wasn’t all warm and fuzzy, either.

  We followed him into the house. Nick and I took up residence on the couch, while Carla and Frankie shared the love seat. There really wasn’t room enough for two sofas, but Carla likes things “cozy.”

  “Carla,” Nick said, getting the conversational ball rolling, “I ran into your cousin, Benny, today. He said to tell you hello.”

  Frankie bolted upright. “Benny, the gun runner?”

  “Oh, for Lord’s sake,” Carla fumed. “He’s an insurance salesman. I don’t know how that silly rumor ever got started.”

  Frankie cut his eyes toward Nick. “How do you know Benny?”

  “He sold me some insurance.”

  An awkward silence ensued, which I, of course, felt compelled to fill. “Mmm, mmm. What is that terrific smell coming from the kitchen?”

  “Garbage. The disposal’s backed up. So.” Uncle Frankie thrust his chin toward Nick. “How’d you know Benny was Carla’s cousin? And while we’re on the subject, I never did hear how you and Brandy met.” He still had that ridiculous smile plastered on his face, but he was talking through clenched teeth. Definitely not a good sign.

  “Funny story.” Carla let out a nervous giggle. “I, ah, had actually arranged the introduction—through Benny.”

  “Did you, now?”

  “Yeah. Uh, remember last year when Johnny went missing? Listen, why go over old ground. It all turned out just fine. Would anyone like some iced tea?”

  Uncle Frankie stood. “Carla, can I see you in the kitchen for a minute? I need some help with the antipasto.”

  “But it’s already made.”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Apparently, Frankie and Carla were under the impression that their kitchen was soundproof. Once the door swung shut, Carla exploded.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like a total jerk to Nick and you’re embarrassing Brandy.”

  “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You were the one who brought that guy into my niece’s life, and I’m just now hearing about it? I can’t believe you kept this from me.”

  “Yeah. I mean why would I keep it from you? You’re taking it so well!”

  “Look, if Brandy wants to be with him, that’s her business. But we sure as hell shouldn’t be encouraging it. He’s dangerous, Carla. Everybody knows that.”

  “Who’s everybody?”

  I slipped my hand into Nick’s. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “Maybe we should let them work this out in private.”

  “I have a feeling they think they are.”

  “Frankie, you’re not making any sense.” Carla continued. “You’re friends with Alphonso and he works for Nick. But you don’t have a problem with him.”

  “That’s different,” he sputtered. “Alphonso’s not sleeping with my niece. She’s gonna get hurt. He’ll break her heart and I’ll have to kill him.”

  “Is that what this is all about? You’re afraid of a repeat of DiCarlo?”

  Oh, God, don’t be bringing that up. I cut a sideways glance at Nick, but his face was unreadable.

  Carla’s voice softened. “Look, will you give the kid some credit, here? She loves him. And when you think about it, if it weren’t for Nick, Brandy might not even be here. She finds trouble all on her own, and he bails her out. If anything, we should be thanking the guy.”

  Carla had a point. I guess Frankie thought so too, because suddenly all the yelling stopped. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that—that kid means the world to me, y’know?”

  “I know.”

  “All right,” Frankie relented. “I’ll butt out…as long as he makes her happy.”

  “That’s the spirit, hon.”

  A minute later the kitchen door swung open and Frankie emerged with an enormous pot of spaghetti. “So, who’s hungry?”

  *****

  “Th
ree words…first word…sleep…Sleepless in Seattle!”

  “Yes!” Carla shouted. “We win again!” She leaped to her feet, no easy task in four-inch stiletto sandals, and took a victory lap around the cramped living room. Uncle Frankie high-fived her as she jogged by.

  “Congratulations.” Nick offered. “You guys are an unstoppable team.”

  “Congratulations,” I grudgingly conceded, having never fully mastered the art of gracious losing. Personally, I thought the teams were a little unfair. Carla and Frankie knew all each other’s references.

  We’d gotten through dinner in about ten minutes. It’s amazing how much can be accomplished when there’s no pesky conversation to get in the way. Now, we were in party game purgatory. On the up side, beating Nick seemed to put Frankie in a much better mood.

  Uncle Frankie squeezed my leg. “Don’t worry, Midget Brat. You’ll make up for it next round.”

  “You bet I will. We’re mixing up the teams. Frankie, it’s you and me against Nick and Carla.” I turned to Nick. “Sorry, Santiago, but I need a fighting chance of winning and you’re just slowing me down.”

  “Competitive little thing, isn’t she?” Frankie laughed.

  We played another round and Nick and Carla won. Crap.

  *****

  Nick was subdued on the way home. He was too polite to be moody, but I sensed something wasn’t right. This was confirmed for me once we got back to his place. He pulled into the loading zone and turned to me, the engine still running. “I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on, Darlin. I’m going to head over to the studio.”

  My heart began to pound. I knew the evening had been hard on him, but still, it felt like a big, fat rejection. “Talk to me, Nick.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Listen, Frankie didn’t mean all those things he said. He’s just looking out for me. And now that he’s gotten a chance to know you, it’ll go much smoother next time…if you want there to be a next time…were you bored? I’m sorry. I know it’s not the kind of evening you’re used to—”

  “I wasn’t bored, Angel. It was fine. They’re good people.”

  “So, then, what’s wrong?”

  Nick didn’t answer. Instead, he unhooked my seatbelt, pausing to brush his lips against my cheek. “I’ll see you later.”