by J R Pearson
"I'm sorry." Josie frowned. "I wasn't thinking." She hadn’t stopped to consider what she was asking of her younger brothers, who might end up putting their careers in jeopardy. Reese nudged her shoulder with his.
"I can, however, find out who the other number belongs to."
A few taps on the keyboard later, Reese unveiled the name and license photo of Betty’s correspondent
"Jacob Ramirez."
Holy salsa on a chip.
"I know him! He's a waiter at Tortillas and Beans." She recalled those cocoa-colored eyes boring into hers as he held her hand and reciting the tacky line he likely stole from a poetry book.
“Betty, no doubt, was cheating on Marco," Reese said.
"You don’t know that."
"Josie, this guy and Betty have been corresponding for two months straight." Russell gestured to the screen.
"At all hours of the day," Reese added. "If they weren’t sending kissy faces, then what was so important for them to talk about from midnight to four in the morning? Certainly not a marathon debate on the difference between corn and flour tortillas."
Point taken.
"There's only one way to find out." Josie read aloud Ramirez's address. "Let’s go ask him if he's having an affair with Betty Gonzales."
Russell checked his watch. "I can’t. I have to be somewhere in fifteen minutes."
"Seeing Amber from the analysis division again?" Reese smirked.
“Maybe,” Russell mumbled, blushing, and escaped out the door.
"How about you?" Josie asked the remaining twin. "Do you wanna come with me?"
"To be honest," Reese said, snapping the computer closed, "seeing your sudden interest in unpredictable situations, dangerous characters, and a lack of mental prowess of common sense—I think it'll be perfect for Tony to accompany you."
For the first time, Josie actually growled at her brother.
"All righty, it’s time we talked." She moved a pillow aside to scoot closer to him. She blamed herself for not addressing this sooner. "I don’t know what your problem is with Tony—"
"I don’t have a problem. I just don't like the guy." Reese leaned back, crossing his arms.
"—but you need to get over it. Your attitude towards him makes no sense since we all used to hang out together when we were kids, remember? You played soccer with him."
"So? I don’t have to be cool with everyone forever." He glared at the coffee table. His jaw muscle twitched.
There's more, she thought.
"Okay." She waved a hand. "You have the floor. Tell me what this is all about." He remained silent and bobbed his right knee. Thirty knee-bobs later, he sighed before finally facing her.
"I'm afraid."
"Of what?" she frowned.
"When Tony's mom was murdered, I was devastated for him. It upset me that he no longer had a mother anymore. I thought of Ma. She may be a bit overbearing—"
"A bit?" Josie raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, she’s the Queen of Smother. But I can't guarantee where I’d be in life without her. And then to hear Tony's dad was the one who killed his mom....I remember thinking, 'You can never truly know a person'....not even your own spouse." He swallowed audibly. "For so long I had nightmares of Ma being the one getting carried away in a body bag. Now, ten years later, it’s happening again." He paused to look directly into Josie's wide-as-saucers eyes. "But instead of Ma this time...it's you."
"Oh, Reese. Nothing’s going to happen to me," she said softy.
"How can you be sure?" he countered. "Ever since Tony came back, you’ve been involved in murder investigations, asking Russell and me to look up background information on suspects. You never did that until Tony showed up."
"You’re right. I didn’t," she shrugged. "But I am now because he needs my help. Manny needs my help and you know, Reese, I can’t turn my back on a situation where I can make a difference. As for my relationship with Tony—who knows where that'll lead? What I do know is, he’ll keep me safe, and I irrevocably trust him. Can you at least take my word and live with that?"
Reese nodded. I can live with it, he thought. But if she was harmed in any way and Tony was to blame, then heaven have mercy on that bastard's soul.
"Good. Come here." Josie opened her arms. "Give your big sis a hug,"
"Ya know what? I think I do have somewhere to be—ACK!" He was yanked into a constricting hug. His sister's seemingly flimsy arms squeezed his ribcage.
"I-I c-c-can’t breathe," he gasped.
"Whoops, sorry," she giggled, letting him go. They shared an all-is-right-for-the-Rizzo-siblings smile, and the universe was instantly back to normal.
Or so they thought.
"Uh, I have a confession to make..." Reese suddenly looked everywhere but at her.
"What did you do?"
"First off, please keep in mind—"
"Spill it, Reese."
"I told Ma about you and Tony."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"You...did....WHAT?!"
Reese raced into the kitchen, behind the island, putting space between him and his lava-spewing sister.
"I'm sorry! I thought you'd heard from her by now."
Josie hadn’t....which was odd.
That could only mean something big was brewing.
"You owe me." She pointed a finger at her terrified brother.
"I- Yeah," He nodded. "Definitely."
"I'm collecting now." Josie advanced on him, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"What do you want?" He eyed her suspiciously.
"A checkup on Ramirez—" She held up a hand to stop him from commenting. “I honestly have no clue when Tony will be back and I'm not waiting for him. You can either take me and play the role of overprotective little brother and watch over me all you want, or I can hail a cab and collect my I.O.U another day. Keep in mind, future collection of you owing me may or may not be a risk you should be willing to take." She topped her wager with an evil grin. Reese exhaled heavily.
"I’ll get my keys," he grumbled.
***
The sun had set, causing streetlights, car headlights, and indoor lighting to make the city sparkle far brighter than the stars. Josie wasn't used to so much activity.
Like humans, JewelCove and Greenville also slowed, winding down from a busy day and eventually falling asleep. Here in the city, life pulsed faster and drummed harder, as it did during the day.
Just as loudly, too.
A few times, she thought she spotted the white dot of the moon but was mistaken—just a passing helicopter.
"Do you miss JewelCove?" she asked Reese, who maneuvered his car through the nocturnal traffic like a pro.
"Sometimes."
"Any plans of returning?"
"One day. When I'm ready to settle down. Same with Rus. Though I suspect he'll go before me." Josie smiled in the dark. She was relieved to hear her brother say that. He and Russell had the eyes and brains of city men. In time, their skills and instinct would enlarge, but their hearts forever beat as small-town boys. Josie, herself, would always remain partly in the large green fields of Greenville, and floating on the salty water of JewelCove.
Jacob Ramirez inhabited a loft in the artsy district of northern West Emily. His building was surrounded by steel-junk-turned-antiques shops, pottery spinning hangouts, and hand-made jewelry boutiques. Thick-framed oil paintings were displayed on easels outside a museum, beckoning people to gaze at beautiful brushstrokes made by aspiring artists.
The eateries contained juice bars, vegan pizza, and gelatos galore.
Josie bit her tongue to keep it from rolling out of her mouth.
The young and the hip clustered on sidewalks and in outdoor seating, soaking in the nightlife with friends, dates, or independently, sketching the scene before them.
Reese parked in front a karaoke bar, and he and Josie trekked to the building entrance. The opaque door was vaulted shut. Reese hit the buzzer listed for Ramirez’s loft number. They waited a minute before
a groggy voice came on the intercom. Josie recognized Ramirez's exotic lilt.
"Who is it?"
"Hi, it's …" Wait. How could she introduce herself? She never gave him her name at Tortillas and Beans.
Unless…
"It's the woman whose beauty frosts the mid-summer eclipse," she said. A bewildered Reese mouthed, 'What?!'
"Is that so?" Ramirez covered his surprise with charm. "Are you alone?"
"Yes," she lied.
"Got tired of that stuffy boyfriend and wanted a real man?" The smug smile in his voice was evident. Josie faked a gag. Reese grew annoyed.
"Yep, that’s precisely it. Can I up?"
"Of course." The buzzer flipped green and the door unlatched. They dashed inside and stepped into an elevator.
"I haven't even seen the guy yet and he already sounds like an ass." Reese remarked, pressing the button.
"What I don’t get is why Ramirez hadn’t asked me how I found his address."
"I seriously doubt that’s what’s on his mind right now, Sis."
***
As always, Reese was correct. Ramirez opened the door wearing nothing but silk shorts and a cloud of cologne. Behind him, a bottle of wine sat on a coffee table, accompanied by two glasses.
Needless to say, Ramirez was pissed to see Reese.
"Hey! Who is he? You said you were alone."
"I lied. Sue me." Josie shrugged, inviting herself into the spacious loft. She was short and fast, and the look on her face dared him to mess with her. She had come here for answers, and she wasn’t leaving until she got them. She flicked a wink at her brother, who stood silently guarding the door. It was cute that he (the width of a green bean) had adopted the position of a large bouncer at a club.
"I'm assuming you heard by now your boss, Manny Epstein, has been arrested for murder," she started, watching Ramirez closely. He was still struggling to comprehend that a secret, intimate rendezvous wasn’t happening. Finally her words hit him and he about-faced to uncork the wine.
"Yeah. The restaurant closed early this evening." He poured himself a drink. No offers to the Rizzos. "Everyone's pretty shocked about it."
"And you?"
"I guess I am, too," he said, without much feeling.
"How long have you worked at Tortillas and Beans? Do you think it’s true your boss killed someone? "
"Five years, and it’s none of my business." He lifted a tan shoulder and took a seat on his leather loveseat. Josie could see he lacked any emotion for his employer. Even after half a decade of working for Manny. A dead end. Moving on, she switched tactics before Ramirez shucked up the nerve to throw them out.
Aim for the point. She thought, Shoot it down quick.
"Are you familiar with a woman named Betty Gonzales?"
Ramirez remained stony, but his throat tightened.
Gotcha.
"No, I’m not.” He swirled the burgundy liquid, averting his eyes, then faked a sleazy smile. "Then again, I know a lot of women. So, who knows?"
"I think you know. She's the wife of the man who was murdered."
"My condolences," he said, rolling his eyes, "to whoever the hell she is. Are we done here? If I’d known we were gonna play cop and suspect, I would've brought handcuffs." He winked. Reese stepped forward and grabbed his sister.
"We're leaving." He glared at Ramirez. Josie waited until they were at the door before leaving Ramirez a departing gift.
"I find it odd that an affair takes place between a man and a married woman, and suddenly her husband is found murdered." Josie nonchalantly shrugged. Ramirez’s arm spasmed, spilling wine all over his silk shorts.
"Then again, it could just be a coincidence."
***
Ten minutes from the twin’s penthouse, Reese spotted a dark-gray vehicle, two cars behind. He hadn't mentioned to Josie that the same vehicle had been present when they left for Ramirez’s place. And had also been near the karaoke pub. When he came clean to her, she wasn’t frightened in the least, but was fed up and instructed him to pull over. They watched in the rearview as the suspicious car mimicked their actions a couple of spaces back.
“Can you see who it is?” she asked, practically cheek to cheek with Reese—to catch who their new friend was.
“No. I think it’ll be best to continue home and not do anything reckless. Josie!” She had swung open her door and was hoofing it to the grey vehicle.
“Did I not say I was fed up, Reese?” she said over her shoulder. She rapped her knuckles on the stalker’s driver’s-side tinted window. It rolled down, and Josie was immediately met with a police badge.
"Huh?"
"Officer Hugo," a uniformed man said. He had frizzy blond hair and a scowl smeared on his face. He pocketed his credentials and glanced between the two. "Where's Santino?" he asked. Josie ignored the question. Although, at that moment, she would have liked to know where her boyfriend was, too.
"Why are you following us?"
Hugo’s reply was nonexistent.
"Perkins and Gibson told you to tag us," Reese said.
"Not specifically you, Agent Rizzo." Officer Hugo nodded to him. “Yes, I know you work the cyber-crimes unit for federal. But your sister and Santino? I'm just doing my job. And that’s classified."
“How is stalking classified?” Josie folded her arms. “Let alone a legit job?”
Hugo grew purple.
"I suggest you go back to yours, Ms. Rizzo, serving sweet tea and corndogs back in podunk town." Hugo started the engine. “Manny Epstein’s crimes have nothing to do with you. He'll get what’s coming to him, just like all the other murderers—locked away behind bars for a very long time."
"And that’s a promising outcome the justice system has for criminals." Josie's attitude amped up a notch. "Too bad you've got the wrong guy." Hugo worked his jaw, putting his car into gear.
"I hope you had fun in West Emily, but it's time for you to go home. Don’t hesitate to drag Santino along with you." The tinted window went up and Hugo disappeared into the roaring current of the busy street.
"Creep," Reese mumbled. "You okay?" He steered Josie back to his car. She hadn’t realized her whole body was shivering.
Was she angry at the ignorant officer? Yes, definitely.
But also fearful of letting the killer slip through her fingers, and not saving Manny? Absolutely. Right to the bone.
"He's wrong about two things, Reese."
“What’s that?"
"Well, for starters, In The Box bistro doesn’t sell corndogs," she said. Reese chuckled.
"And the second?"
"Manny being a murderer."
Was Perkins and Gibson keeping an eye on her and Tony after Manny's supposed "official” arrest a good thing? What threat could they possibly be if the case was closed?
Another emotion bloomed within her, alongside the anger and fear.
Hope.
CHAPTER NINE
Tony's chat with Luke ended just shy of ten o’ clock. He quietly entered Reese and Russell's apartment. It was dark except for a lamp beside the couch.
There, he met a snoozing Josie.
She was bundled underneath the blanket he’d slept with last night. One of her legs had escaped the cover, an arm was thrown over her eyes, and her mouth was wide open, emitting soft snores.
Sorry, Luke. But there's no way I’m trading Greenville’s sunshine and daises for slumming the streets of West Emily again, he thought. Greenville is where Jo is.
Tony shucked off his shoes, then slowly slipped in next to Josie, careful to not push her off. Her eyes fluttered open.
"You’re back," she whispered. "There’s leftover baked potato in the fridge." He fixed the blanket over them both.
"I'm fine. Thank you," he said.
"Am I still banished from your truck?" she asked in a small voice.
"No." He kissed her forehead.
"Good... Tony?"
"Hmm?"
"You smell like buffalo sauce."
&n
bsp; There was a reasonable explanation for that. Sometime during his discussion, one of the men who were beating the tar out of each other over the last chicken wing had flipped out a knife. Tony and Luke decided to step in.
It’s all fun and games until someone gets buffalo sauce in the eye. Tony couldn’t believe how long it had taken to separate three grown men from one little wing.
"It’s been a rough night."
***
The next morning, the twins left for work, leaving Josie and Tony drinking coffee alone, while both sharing their findings from the previous night. Tony wasn’t too happy to hear about Josie and Reese’s nighttime excursion.
As for Josie, she was speechless after Tony told her what he’d learned, as she had no clue what went on in the underbelly of West Emily.
Her nose was too busy, stuck in cookbooks, to ever look up and discover the world she lived in was full of crime families and art smugglers.
“I want to talk to Betty again and ask her if she knew Pico de Gonzales was being sponsored by the Giovanni family," Tony said, setting his empty mug in the sink. "My money is on: she did."
***
The Gonzales McMansion was without Betty's hot pink sports car again. In case she’d parked in the garage, Tony climbed the steps to ring the doorbell.
Nothing.
Just like before, they headed to the restaurant, and luck was on their side. However, Betty's loudly colored car wasn't the only vehicle there. Dark green with shiny rims, the car next to hers was sleek and its license plate read: RMZ.
"What are the odds it belongs to Jacob Ramirez?” Josie asked. Tony assessed the restaurant entrance, cutting the engine. Josie followed him through the door of the restaurant. The walls in the carpeted waiting area were decorated with funky red and orange wallpaper and paintings of desert landscapes. Tony continued on to the vacant hostess podium, then abruptly stopped short, causing Josie to bump into his backside.
"Wha-"
"Shh."
Muffled voices drifted towards them from deep within the building. Inaudible at first, Ramirez's loud shouts soon became clear as day.
"You cannot be serious! What happened to everything we planned? Us running the restaurant together?"
“I’m fine on my own," Betty said, sounding unfazed by Ramirez's burst of emotion. "I have been, this whole time."
