Babs groaned. “Mob boss out on bail. Shit. Bootsie, do you think it’s possible Mr. C has something to do with this?’
I shrugged. “As good a guess as any.” I was restored. Shock over. Sebastian lived. Life was good again.
I stood. “Okay, troops. Let’s head to the hospital.” I fluttered my lashes. “Don’t y’all just know that Sebastian will be pissed as hell to have the two jailbirds and his loving mom trooping in and cooing and being disgustingly cheerful and sweet and making him feel like he’s a first-grader who got toppled from a small slide? I think we should get him a quart of ice cream too.”
Wicked grins all around. Babs and I grabbed our purses and prepared to follow Mrs. Laramie to annoy her injured child. Babs stopped midway in the doorframe. “I have to call Joey and let him know we can’t make the show tonight. Do you suppose I should ask if he wants to join us there?”
Lorelei was a step or two behind the conversation. “Hang on, you two. Did you just say ‘mob boss,’ young lady?”
This was addressed to fifty-eight year old Babs Harrison who now preened at the salutation, then sobered immediately. “I did. Giuseppe Carmosina, aka Mr. C, has been inserting himself into the lives of his son, me and all my buddies and I have to wonder if Sebastian found out something that would keep Mr. C behind bars without bail and Mr. C. got thoroughly put out. And ordered one of his minions to take a shot at Detective Laramie.”
Lorelei pursed her lips in thought. “Naw. Can’t buy that.”
“Why?”
“I know all about Giuseppe Carmosina and I know he’s not that dumb. And he likes Sebastian. Sebastian told me the pair of ‘em had a really nice conversation at that New Year’s party.”
“What? When was this?” I demanded.
“While you were sleeping off the effects of numerous vodka tonics. That’s what Sebastian said. He went looking for you and Babs told him you’d be down when you were a bit more sober.”
I groaned. “Oh God. I didn’t know he knew I’d been sloshed prior to the fireworks.”
Lorelei winked. “Honey, he also knew why. He didn’t blame you. Said that nasty magician person was being a toad about your ex-husband to deliberately get your goat and I know I’m mixing some metaphors but really—what person hearing news about an ex’s engagement to a rich bitch isn’t going to react in a way that might seem less than dignified? Hell, if Sebastian’s dad had ever dumped me and found himself some little floozy, I wouldn’t only have gotten drunk off my ass, I’d’ve shot him and ended his chances to reproduce for the rest of his lifetime.”
I quickly hugged her. “I do think you’d make an excellent addition to Sweet Cream Ladies, Lorelei Laramie.”
She grinned. “Limited.” Then her expression hardened. “Let’s hit the road, girls. I want to see my boy and I want to know who put a bullet in him and I want a little retaliation. I know Sebastian isn’t big on vigilante justice but he’s never been a mother and he doesn’t get it.”
Neither Babs nor I had an argument for that. We all hugged one another, then headed out the door, Lorelei leading like Queen Boadicea on her way to decimate a Roman army.
We’d all silently agreed that since this was an emergency we’d forgo the freebie ways onto the Island so we grabbed a cab to take us through Brooklyn and across the Verrazano Bridge. But even using transport that was much faster than the Ferry we didn’t make it to the hospital until an hour and a half later. It took us another thirty minutes to track down Dr. “Wingnut” who was actually Dr. Whittington (“Wingnut. Whittington. What’s the difference?” Lorelei had shrugged.)
And then, finally, we were admitted to the fallen hero’s room. He took one look at the trio and immediately groaned. “Crap. Mother? I told the nurses and doctors and every orderly in this place to tell you to stay home and not come trotting out here so you could do your doting mama routine over your baby boy.” Sebastian completely ignored the presence of the other two doting women, aka Babs and me, and continued to glare at his maternal parent.
After five minutes of listening to Lorelei suddenly decide now would be a nice time to let loose with the hysteria she’d kept bottled for the last few hours and waiting for Sebastian to acknowledge my existence, I’d had enough. “Sebastian!” I yelled over Lorelei’s snorting sobs. “What the hell happened?”
He sighed and finally let himself focus on me. His friend and New Year’s Eve kissing partner. “I got shot. That’s what happened.”
“Well, duh. Can you tell us the events that led to your arm getting a large round hole in it or is that a state secret?” I sneered.
“Fine. Take a seat, ladies. You too, mother.” He eyed the woman with some suspicion. “And stay away from the pudding. It’s the only palatable thing on my plate and I’d like to believe I can still call it mine after the three of you have returned to the fair isle of Manhattan.”
“Sebastian,” I growled. “Spill the story and quit being such a grouch. And be nice to your mama.”
“Hey! I hurt, damn it!”
So does your pride, I thought but wisely kept that opinion silent.
I pulled up two chairs and led Lorelei to one of them. Babs remained standing, hanging out in the doorway waiting for Joey to arrive.
“Sebastian?”
He sighed. “I was leaving the One-hundred-twenty-second Precinct in Staten Island when someone fired a gun at me. Either the person was a really, really bad marksman or a really, really good one, depending upon the reason behind the shooting and the outcome the shooter was hoping for.”
Lorelei started to cry again. “You could have been killed.”
Sebastian softened his tone a bit. “Yes, I could have. But I wasn’t.’
I eyed him suspiciously. “Why were you hanging out at the Precinct in the first place?”
“If you must know, I was there checking out a gun which had been used in a prior shooting that had a damned close ballistics match to the weapon we believe was used to plug your bastard ex in the ass. Pardon my language, Mom.”
Lorelei snorted. “I’ve heard—and said—far worse. Go on.”
I ignored her. “Todd? The gun that shot Todd was found on Staten Island? Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Babs and I stared at each other then I turned back to Sebastian, who was calmly spooning chocolate pudding from the cup and slurping it up before his mother could steal it. “So we’re off the hook?”
“That I didn’t say.”
Babs sighed. “Well, shit. And I’m not apologizing for saying that.”
“Now, ladies, it’s not all bad. Staten Island. Who do we all know in Staten Island who might have access to a weapon?”
With impeccable timing, the answer came from the pony-tailed, jean and hoodie-clad man who gave Babs a quick peck on the cheek then stated, “My father.” Joey Carmichael.
“Who was standing two feet from me when the bullet whizzed through,” stated Sebastian.
“What?” came from our female trio and Joey.
Sebastian nodded. “I wasn’t shot in front of the Precinct. I was shot on the steps of the courthouse where I’d gone to check on the arraignment for Giuseppe Carmosina. We were engaging in a pleasant conversation about baseball at the time.”
I held my hand up in the ‘Stop’ signal. “Wait. So is it possible that Mr. C was the target?”
Sebastian smiled. “You’re a sharp, lady, Ms. Kittredge. Yes. It is possible. Of course, between the pair of us as cop and—businessman—I imagine we’ve each accrued our share of persons willing to risk taking a pot shot at either of us in front of God, man, reporters and various hangers-on at the Staten Island Courthouse.”
I nodded. “Which, to me, makes it more likely that Mr. C. was the intendee for that bullet. I mean, who knew you’d be at the Courthouse—or should I say, who among various felons and just generally riled and ticked-off citizens who might have reason to shoot you knew you’d be there?”
“I
can’t think of anyone, but then again I can’t really think right now. I do not believe the good officers at the One-hundred-twenty-second were aware I planned to make a side trip. So, unless my cab driver decided he didn’t like my looks or someone happened to be hanging out waiting for a warm body to use as target practice, my guess is that Giuseppe Carmosina has an enemy who’s willing to risk anything to take him down. Then again, he was on his cell from the moment he set eyes on me so he might have ordered the hit from one of his own hired hands."
Babs grinned at Sebastian. “All of which mean, that for once, that you can’t blame Sweet Cream Ladies.”
Four voices immediately chorused, “Limited.”
Chapter 3 4
“You’re a crappy, whiney, irritatingly annoying patient and I’m sorry I carried you for nine long months! If I could I’d return you for a nicer model.”
Sebastian glanced up from his perch on the couch in his parents’ living room and waved his hand in dismissal at the woman delivering the tirade. I stared at the ceiling and tried not to snicker.
“Mother. Mom. Lorelei. Go away. I do not want to be a frickin’ patient. I do not want you waiting on me when I am perfectly capable of doing things for myself and I don’t want you treating me like I’m a three-year in front of Ms. Kittredge here who is getting far too much pleasure out of watching the two of us bicker.”
I grinned. “I should probably stay out of this but I must admit it’s interesting watching the reality show of Laramie vs. Laramie.”
Lorelei winked at me, then headed for the kitchen. “It’s St. Patrick’s Day and I am not going to allow my injured son to stay home with a frozen dinner or get shoved around in some bar. Bootsie, if you can stand to deal with him for a few minutes, I’ll be back with corned beef, cabbage, potatoes and whatever alcoholic brew you’d like.”
Sebastian scowled but grudgingly asked for a beer. I declined the alcohol and asked for green tea. After New Year’s Eve I’d sworn off anything that could cause my brain to lose any extra cell or pickle my liver.
Lorelei trotted off.
Sebastian turned the scowl my way. “Why are you here? Are you deriving satisfaction from the fact that I can’t arrest you or your charmingly demented pal for shooting me in the arm since it was geographically impossible?”
“Now, now. Don’t be cranky. I am here to be supportive and do my duty to visit the sick. And also because I think it’s time we chatted, Mr. Laramie, and figured out exactly who is behind all the nefarious activities you originally associated with my pal and with me.”
Sebastian sat up straight. “Wait. Are you actually willing to enter a plea?”
I gazed upward toward the heavens, which in this case meant the ceiling of the Laramie senior’s Brooklyn residence. Nice. Freshly painted a soft sage color, which matched the room. It was homey and friendly without looking cheesy or cheap. I pointed. “Who painted?”
Sebastian grimaced. Could have been from his arm hurting. Could have been he didn’t like the question. “Who else? Lorelei, the wonder mom. She gets bored and repaints the house every two years or so. My father is thrilled. He says it’s far cheaper than having to move.”
I nodded. “This is true. My mom did the same thing for years. She had a very interesting costume she reserved for painting or wallpapering.”
An eyebrow lifted. “Yes?”
“Her slip. Lace-edged. Hose. And I’m not talking panty hose. I don’t think she ever owned a pair. Nope. I’m talkin’ stockings with a girdle and the little hookie-dos that clipped on to the stockings.”
Sebastian snickered. “Sounds cute.”
“Wait. Not finished. She would also wear her pearl earrings and her pearl necklace and top off the ensemble with a red beret. She said it made her feel very artsy even if all she was doing was slapping a new coat on in the dining room.”
Sebastian smiled. “You miss her.”
I closed my eyes, took a breath, opened them, and blinked back tears. “I do. I was an only and a girl—duh—so we were really close. She’d’ve loved the whole Sweet Cream Ladies thing. Would have come up with very creative, genteel ways of dispatching villains.”
“Limited.”
I laughed. “You’re learning.”
“I am. And not to change the subject but I believe we were discussing the possibility of you owning up to whichever crimes you and Babs might have committed.”
“Babs’ll kill me,” I mumbled.
“She won’t. I’m well aware that neither of you ever murdered anyone. You have, however, muddied a few waters. Yes?”
I smiled a bit too sweetly. “Define muddy.”
“Bootsie . . . “
“Okay. The only thing Babs and I are guilty of— and I’m talkin’ all the way back to Monica Travers and the wasp—is not being able to shut up when we come up with outrageous ideas—and we did sort of interfere with a crime scene—except it wasn’t a crime scene when we interfered with it.”
Sebastian blinked. “Would you care to explain that?”
I sighed. “The night Chuck had his party and Minerva died. Babs and Joey and I were on our way out—and I honestly don’t have any idea what time it was but we saw Todd lying in the snow. Wearing his tux and his jeans or something like that. I don’t exactly remember because he wasn’t wearing them for long. Anyway, he was obviously passed out. And so were the four boys near him—the ones from the drag show. All of them were passed out and yes, we had asked, through a friend of ours, if they'd like to come to Chuck's party and play a joke on someone. Honestly? We'd forgotten until we saw them in the snow. The boys were wearing their costumes from the show; all except one who was close to Todd’s size. He was in jeans and a cool black sweater and coat and he had a dance bag next to him. Our trio checked for pulses, saw everyone was alive. None of us had a cell and Joey checked the dance bag to see if one was there. There was. So he called 9-1-1 for help.” I stopped.
“There’s more. Go on. Confession is good for the soul, Ms. Kittredge.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard that. Anyway. When Joey reached in for the cell, the kid’s costume fell out of the bag. So Babs and I decided to—redress Todd in the garter belt, heels fishnets and corset.” I smiled sweetly at Sebastian. “We had no idea a photographer would also show up with the ambulance and snap that lovely picture of Todd.”
“What about Minerva?”
I paused, then sobered. “I swear to you, she was nowhere in the vicinity while we were giving Todd the make-over. And there must have been a very short window of time because we waited until heard the ambulance sirens before we left so all the boys would be found before any more snow hit.”
Sebastian didn’t look happy. “Those kids and Todd still could have frozen.”
“No, no. Really. We spread coats over everyone, including Todd until we heard the ambulances. And it wasn’t that cold. Yeah, there was a little leftover snow but the night itself was actually pretty warm. Admittedly, we weren’t exactly sober ourselves so we weren’t thinking of much other than make sure someone arrived soon.”
Sebastian stayed silent for a few moments.”
“What?”
“I’m pondering that narrow window. The story is so stupid I believe you but that only leaves a moment or two to toss Minerva from the roof. So someone must have been on the roof, seen your shenanigans with Todd’s clothes, waited until he or she saw you leave, then tossed Minerva, who was already dead from the whack over the head with the Irish walking stick and doubtless hallucinating from the raw nutmeg she really had imbibed.”
I winced. “Not an image I care to think about.”
“Sorry. But maybe better than being thrown off the roof before she was dead.”
“That’s true.” I glared at Sebastian. “I didn’t like the woman, but I’d never truly wished her dead and certainly not have her experience the terror that must happen from a push off a roof.”
I sank back into the impossibly comfortable rocking chair Lorelei Laramie had suggeste
d I take when I first arrived at the Laramie house thirty minutes earlier. “Sebastian. That means it really was someone we knew who was a guest at Chuck’s party, doesn’t it? I mean—the person who murdered Minerva.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Why nope?”
“Because the fire escape in that building goes from first floor to roof on the outside and anyone could have shimmied up the ladder, popped in on the party with no one the wiser. Drugged Todd and Minerva and enticed Minerva to take a look at the starry night.”
“Well. Doo-doo.”
“Exactly.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I am very fond of you, Bootsie Kittredge, but I damn sure wish we’d known about this from day one. Would have helped with piecing together that timeline. Although I pretty much knew you and Babs had been the ones to created that charming portrait of Todd and boys in the snow.”
“How’d you know?”
“I’m a brilliant cop. And Babs was too drunk to realize that the earring she neatly placed on Todd’s ear matched the solo one she was wearing, which we noticed because the earrings weren’t pierced. They were clip-ons.”
“Ah. I told her that was a dumb idea. But she thought it would add to the whole ambiance of Todd in his new apparel. To repeat, none of us were exactly sober that night.”
Lorelei chose that moment to call us in to dinner. It was only we three. Apparently Sebastian’s dad and his brother and sister had been invited to some big bash over on Third Avenue in Bay Ridge at O’Malley’s or O’Hoolihan’s or O-dee-do-da-day’s. Lorelei was determined to play martyr mom and give her growing boy a good meal this March 17th.
She plunked down two plates next to the crock-pot filled with traditional Irish goodies. “I’m off.”
“Got that right,” Sebastian stated.
I bit my lip and tried to remain neutral.
Lorelei ignored the feeble attempt at humor from her wounded son. “I would prefer not to miss the festivities at O’Brien’s so now that Bootsie is here and you’re in capable hands, I shall slap on my green tam and my green pea coat and add a large green bow to my collar and leave.” She turned toward me. “Bootsie, there’s bread pudding in the fridge if you want dessert. I don’t have a dishwasher and never will and don’t want one so I’d appreciate it if you’d do up the dishes once you’re through.”
Sweet Cream Ladies, Ltd. Page 22
