by K. J. Larsen
Chapter Thirteen
The sun hung low in the sky as we drove across town and over the tracks to the Kids First Project warehouse. Rocco parked next to Dorothy and cut the engine. It had taken an hour to light a fire under the captain and three to shake a signature from the judge. Now we waited for the cavalry to show.
Two cars were parked in the warehouse lot and I was betting their owners didn’t drive a forklift. One was a brand new Mercedes finished in lemon with killer rims. The other a long black caddy I remembered well.
Rocco pushed his seat back and stretched his legs. “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”
“What I’m doing will get you a promotion, bro.”
“Or a gig working Security at Kmart.”
“You always have a job at Pants on Fire Detective Agency.”
“Mmm. Taking dirty pictures and talking to dead people. A tempting offer.”
A parade of flashing blue and red lights spun toward us and my heart raced with anticipation.
“We’re going in.” I shoved the door open.
Rocco reached across and pulled me back. “Not you, Cat. Captain’s orders. He’s overseeing the search and he doesn’t want any screw ups.”
Captain Bob Maxfield and my dad were beat cops back in the seventies. He was at my Baptism and I remind him of that whenever I need a favor.
“That’s not fair, Rocco. It’s my case.”
“No, if this was your case it would involve panties and Vaseline. Stay in the car. If this goes down bad you don’t want Eddie Harr to even dream your sticky fingers are involved.”
“Uh—”
“What?”
I grabbed my Dr Pepper Lip Smacker and slathered it on. “Nothing.”
When I told Rocco and Bob my story I somehow skipped over the part where Harr caught me in the parking lot and wrestled the camera from my hands.
Flashing cop cars and the local ATF whirled into the parking lot, screeching to a halt at the warehouse door.
“Show time. Stay,” Rocco joined the others across the street.
Flashing lights circled the building and covered all exits. Captain Bob Maxfield, surrounded by an entourage of uniforms pounded the door.
“Chicago Police,” the captain shouted. “We have a warrant to search the premises.”
The door swung open immediately and three suits filled the doorway. The short fat one in the middle was Eddie Harr. Godzilla on his right was the camera thief. And the tall thin guy studying the search warrant would be Harr’s lawyer.
Uh oh. Not good. Eddie knew we were coming and he was ready for us.
The seven dwarves in my head mounted a full fledged assault. The search took less than an hour and Eddie locked up. The black caddie and new lemon-colored Mercedes with the killer hubs drove away.
I was greeted with dead silence when I mustered my vibrato and joined the cluster of guys surrounding the sour-faced captain.
“What happened,” I protested. “You let them get away.”
“Why the hell did I listen to you,” the captain shook his head. “For chrisake, Caterina, see a doctor.”
Rocco fell over himself apologizing. “Let me say again how sorry I am, captain.”
“We’ll be damn lucky if Harr doesn’t sue the city.”
I faked outrage. “What? Are you saying you didn’t find the weapons?”
“We didn’t find weapons because there are none. Everyone can go now. Sorry to cut into your evenings. Stop by Mickey’s. The first drink is on me.”
Rocco snagged my arm and dragged me across the street as I pulled my keys out of my pocket.
“Terrific. I’ll be directing traffic in the morning if I still have a job.”
“I think I know what happened. The muscle who stole my camera looked at my pictures and moved the guns.”
Rocco stopped in his tracks. “What! They were onto you? Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“My concussion must have affected my memory.” I rubbed my temples.
“Do us both a favor. Forget this shit. Buy a new camera and take your dirty pictures. Liars and cheats are getting away as we speak.”
“A murderer is getting away too.”
He opened my door and stuffed me inside. “Follow me. We’re going to Mickey’s.”
“Uh, not tonight.”
“O, you’re going, sis. You owe me big time and you’re buying.”
I winced. “Everyone’s mad at me. They wouldn’t even wave.”
“Buy them enough drinks and they’ll get over it.”
Rocco stomped to his car and I started Dorothy. In my headlights a small wrapper blew in the wind and caught my windshield. It was a red waxy paper, twisted in a tie.
“Wait!” I shouted and shoved the door open, caught the candy wrapper in my hand, and skipped to Rocco’s door.
“This candy wrapper proves it. It was Ratman who dropped it—uh, I mean Charlie Ross.”
“Right.”
“I found a wrapper in my office and one in Rita’s apartment twisted exactly like this.”
“Yeah. Only a killer would twist a candy wrapper that way.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
My brother growled. “Follow me. I need a drink.”
“Rocco, wait. Don’t you want to bag the evidence?”
“Cat.”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
I drove Dorothy across town lying to myself it would be a slow night at Mickey’s. The parking lot was jammed. I parked Dorothy on the street beside a fire hydrant.
Rocco met me at the entrance and pushed me inside. “Cat’s here!” he shouted and a flood of groans rocked the room.
“Hey, guys,” I called. “After you left we found a candy—”
Rocco jabbed me with an elbow and I sucked my breath.
“The next round of drinks is on me,” I choked.
“And the next round is on me,” Uncle Joey called. “Give Cat some slack. She has a concussion.”
“You saying she imagined the weapons?” someone said.
Uncle Joey shrugged and called to the bartender. “These guys are hungry. Bring them whatever they want.”
I was forgiven. I found an empty seat at the bar and ordered Absolut on the rocks.
“And easy on the rocks,” I told the bartender.
A rookie cop sidled up next to me, his uniform still crunchy new from the package. I gave him the once over. Not bad. He had a nice smile and his carrot top hair and pale blue eyes gave him a boyish look.
“Cat is it? Nice name.”
“It’s not real popular tonight.”
He laughed. “This was my first big bust. I’m Tommy. I just moved here from Wisconsin. Maybe we could go to dinner sometime.”
He was sweet. A few months on the force would change all that.
“I’d like that. I can show you all the hot spots of Chicago.”
Four large DeLucas closed in. I watched Tommy get the deer in the headlights look.
“Gotta go. My friends are calling.”
Tommy slouched to his table. He didn’t have any friends.
“Hey, give a girl a chance to get lucky. He was cute.”
My cousin Tony grunted. “Gimme a break. He isn’t even Italian.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
The White Sox played on the big screen and Uncle Joey kept the drinks coming until some of the guys thought they were celebrating my birthday.
Captain Bob slapped an arm around me. “Cat, when did you get here. I haven’t seen you since…” he racked his brain.
“Forever. Another beer, Bobby?”
“You’re tho beauteeful,” he slurred.
Rocco yanked Bob off my shoulder. “All right, captain. Time to get you a taxi.”
It was late and my head began to throb. “Thanks for the birthday party, guys,” I called. “Nood Gight!”
/> “You’re not driving either,” Rocco said. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
“Shull Bit,” I countered. “Where’s my keys?”
I emptied my purse in front of me. My diaphragm rolled down the length of the bar and dropped in front of the chief.
“For me?”
The room snickered and my cheeks flamed hot. Uncle Joey pried the diaphragm from the chief’s hands.
“You really don’t want to take that home to your wife,” Joey said.
Rocco waved my keys. “Looking for these?”
“You kole my steys!”
“C’mon sis, you’re riding with me,” Rocco said. “We’ll get your car tomorrow.”
Tommy stepped from the shadows. “I’ll drive your car for you and take a cab back here.”
Rocco tossed Tommy the keys. “You can follow us, but you’re not going inside. Ever.”
“He’s cute!” I sang.
Tommy settled his tab at the bar while my brother dragged me to his car. Tommy stepped outside. His easy blue eyes glistened in the glow of the street light. He spotted Dorothy beside the fire hydrant and walked toward her, flicking buttons on the key sensor to disable the alarm and unlock the door. Jack had spared no expense on Dorothy.
“Schanks, Tommy!” I twisted around and waved giddily for the rookie to follow.
Tommy waved back, keys flapping above his head. His finger skimmed over the ignition key and Dorothy’s engine caught with a blinding flash of fire. The explosion was deafening, whooshing Tommy off his feet, hammering him against the wall. Glass and metal pelted the street. The fire hydrant shot off like a rocket.
In seconds the street was filled with cops pouring from Mickey’s. I body slammed the door and screamed into the street. I shoved and pushed my way through the crowd. I dropped beside Tommy. He was conscious. His boyish face twisted with pain. The squeal of sirens wailed in the distance.
Rocco pulled me back.
I stood in the jetting fountain of the busted hydrant and the cold numbing spray washed over me.
“You have really pissed off the wrong people, Cat,” Rocco said.
Eyes wide with shock, I turned to my brother. He pulled me to him. I buried my face in his shoulder and sobbed.
Chapter Fourteen
“Well, you’ve obviously pissed somebody off.” The captain was glaring at me across the table at Mickey’s with six of Chicago’s finest standing behind him. The moment Dorothy blew, the boys in blue had taken over the scene. Blockading the street. Keeping passersby and the curious behind yellow tape. Calling in the evidence teams and ambulance. It’s an amazing thing to see how fast a cop can sober up. But I’ve lived with cops all my life. They drink hard. They click into cop-gear harder.
Every one of them was looking at me with a direct, hard gaze. I could tell they didn’t like it that Rocco’s charming-if-annoying sister had just had an attempted hit made on her. But they were fuming, too. Their new rookie had almost bitten it. That doesn’t sit well with cops. They’re proprietorial. If anybody was going to get a chance to mess with the rookie first, it would be them.
“Think, DeLuca,” the captain said. “We’ve already been through the first two years of men who want you dead. Since you’ve started the agency, there’s got to be one or two that really stand out.”
“What can I say?” I said, batting my eyes. “I have this power.”
“This isn’t the time, Cat. Cut it out!” Rocco was on his last nerve, big brother that he was. I’d lost mine with Dorothy but I wasn’t going to let them see that.
“Listen. I’ve already told you. You can have a copy of my cases. All the info is in there, including follow up reports on some crazy cheater-behaviors after the case was closed. But if you’d just listen to me, and I’m speaking as a trained detective here…”
I waited for the belly laugh to subside.
“It’s possible the bomb has nothing to do with the Pants on Fire Detective Agency. We need to consider Eddie Harr. We were at his warehouse tonight. He’s running guns—”
“Enough!” The captain barked. “There are no guns!”
I could see a lot of eye-rolling from the cop gallery behind him.
“Let me explain something to you, DeLuca.”
The captain started talking like he was addressing a five-year-old. I resisted sticking out my tongue.
“The Chicago Police Department may not all be made up of Mensa members like yourself, brain surgeon that you are. But we have a certain protocol we follow. A certain line of suspects with motive, if you will. It’s proven to be amazingly effective in the past. It goes something like this. When there’s an attempted murder investigation, our first line of suspects is the next of kin. You know, the husband, the wife, the extended family members. I believe this first line of inquiry could be amazingly effective in your particular case. I can’t imagine any next of kin who would not be driven to kill you. I’m just surprised they’ve waited this long. While I will forever be puzzled about this, they truly have my undying respect. I, personally, would have wrung your scrawny neck long ago.”
Grind, grind.
“Sweet-talker,” I said.
“Tell me about your ex.”
“Johnnie Rizzo?”
“Is he jealous? Have you driven him insane?”
I flapped a hand. “Puh-leeze.”
“Would your death benefit Johnnie Rizzo in any way?”
“Absolutely not,” I said and a long forgotten detail flashed in my head. Shortly after we were married, Johnnie and I each took out a life insurance policy. Three hundred thousand dollars each. I had no idea what Johnnie did with his. I just knew Johnnie Rizzo was still my beneficiary.
“You’re remembering something,” Rocco said.
“It’s nothing.” I slapped my pockets. Where was my Lip Smacker? “Bob can continue yelling now.”
“Let’s just say that it’s not one of your long-suffering clan,” the captain continued in his best condescending voice. “Our next line of inquiry might be, oh, I don’t know. This might sound foolish to you, but it just might be, one of the hundreds of men IN THE CITY OF CHICAGO THAT YOU HAVE TOTALLY PISSED OFF BY SNEAKING AROUND AND TAKING PICTURES AND RUINING THEIR MARRIAGES!”
Grind, grind, grind, grind, grind, grind, grind.
Yada Yada Yada.
It was almost dawn when Rocco and I stumbled into the house. An officer followed us home and I turned over my case files.
“You’re not sleeping here another night, Cat,” Rocco said.
“I won’t be bullied from my home,” I mumbled without conviction.
“Stay with Maria and me.”
“And innocent children? That’s crazy.”
“Then stay with Mama and Papa.”
“You want to blow up our parents?”
Rocco reached for the yellow pages.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m ordering a security system that’ll scream when a cat lights on your porch.”
“Great. My neighbors will love that.”
“Then I’m going home to get cleaned up.” Rocco silenced me with a look. “This is Detective Rocco DeLuca of the Chicago Police Department. Who am I speaking to?”
I made a face. Rocco always pushes his way to the front of a line.
“Marcy, I want your very best alarm system and I need it installed today.”
“You’re getting crazy, Rocco.”
“And you’re still not staying here tonight,” he mouthed.
I was too tired to argue. “I’m going to bed.”
My hair and clothes reeked like a bad night in Baghdad. I showered and splashed my skin with lavender, tugged a soft cotton night shirt over my head, and fell into bed. Then I reached for the phone and called my mechanic.
“Jack. This is Cat.”
“Speak up, Cat. I can hardly hear you.”
“That’s cuz I’m whispering. I’m calling about your
car.”
“You mean Dorothy.”
“OK. Dorothy.”
“I love that car.”
“Does your car…”
“Dorothy.”
“Does Dorothy have insurance, Jack?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean does she have lots of insurance.”
“Why would she need insurance,” he said guardedly. “What are you trying to say?”
The seven dwarves were back with sledgehammers. I cradled my head.
“I’m saying Dorothy’s gone to be with your dad. Let her go, Jack. She had a good life.”
***
A loud bang shook the walls. I jolted from a troubled sleep. My heart slammed wildly in my chest. I listened. There it was again. An intruder outside my bedroom door. Eddie had sent someone to finish the job they botched last night.
Fear gripped my throat. My eyes swept the room for my vicious guard dog. I groaned. Inga was at Mama’s. I was home alone with Freddie Kruger.
I crept from my bed and tiptoed across the room to my dresser, opened a drawer, slid my hand beneath silk panties, and whipped out the pistol. The cool steel steadied my hands and my breathing came easier. Somebody better start talking. I wasn’t calling the cops.
I flung the door open. A man, his sandy hair cropped short strutted toward the living room. I blew the hair from my eyes and did my best Dirty Harry impression.
“Make my Day, Bucko. I have a bullet with your name on it.”
The man screamed like a little girl. His hands shot in the air. “Don’t shoot!”
“Turn around.”
“I can’t. You made me have an accident.”
I released the safety and he spun around like a top.
“Lady, you scared the piss out of me. Your brother let me in.”
My eyes froze on the lake expanding in his pants.
“Are you still going?”
“Hey, I drank a pot of coffee this morning.”
I checked him out. His standard company uniform had been tailored for a perfect fit and his nails manicured. I put the gun away. If this guy wanted to kill me I’d take him out with my bare hands.
“Sorry about the Dirty Harry thing,” I said. “Can I wash your pants?”
“Never mind,” he sniffed. “I have a dry pair in the van.”
“Go already,” I said.
