Karina had a new adversary to defeat. A new player to outwit. Someone to take down who was screwing around on her turf. She let the terrified look on Carmella’s face when she opened the door fill her mind. The way the fear exuded out of Carmella as they locked eyes for the first time. Karina remembered her first words, spoken with a twang of a New York accent.
Jerking her eyes open, Karina whistled for Ranger. “Come on boy, inside! Mommy’s got an idea!”
“Find anything?”
LiAnn was back on her spot on the edge of the bed, rummaging through her notepad. “A few things that make things even more confusi…Karina, what’s wrong?”
Karina sat down in the chair and let her fingers fly across the keyboard. “Nothing. I just had an epiphany while outside with Ranger. The heat actually made my brain cells all fire at the same time. I’m going to do a bit more sleuthing from a different angle. I’m tired of waiting to hear back from Cal. So, what did you find?”
“Carmella’s website said her company provides services to facilities all over the state, including two locations in Hot Springs. The Magnolia and another, bigger facility called Green Pastures. The second place isn’t just an independent living facility. It also has a memory care section and a skilled nursing facility. I went to the secretary of state’s website to see who owned Caring Hands, Loving Hearts, Inc. healthcare. No surprise, really. Carmella D’Nucci is listed as the President and Franco D’Nucci as Secretary and Treasurer. I pulled up the obituary for Ray-Ray D’Nucci, and sure enough, Franco is her husband.”
“Uh-huh, and?” Karina mumbled as she typed.
“What I was hoping to find was she was also the registered agent, you know, so we would maybe get lucky and her home address would be on there. It would make finding out where she lives much easier since we aren’t having much luck finding anything else. I mean, seriously, not one social media account! Not even for her company.”
“Hey, let’s not hate on those of us who aren’t on social media.”
“Honey, you and I both stay away because we know how dangerous it can be, plus we never wanted our identities compromised. The only other type of people in the digital age now, besides ones like us, who steer clear of it don’t want to be found for a reason.”
“True. Okay, so what else did you find?”
“I was a bit disappointed they used someone else as registered agent, but decided to follow my hunch. Guess where it led me?”
“To the end of this story?” Karina clicked on a link.
“Nice, daughter. You sure get cranky as the evening wears on. Did you want to hear what I found or not?”
“Sorry. Go on,” Karina muttered.
“The registered agent for both companies is the same person, whose mailing address is in Hot Springs. Name is Vincenzo Molinero. On a hunch, I searched all companies in Arkansas with the same registered agent. Turns out, there are four of them, and all in Hot Springs. The Magnolia, Caring Hands, Loving Hearts, Lombardo’s Ambulance Service and Slumber Land Funeral Parlor.”
Karina stopped typing. She turned around and looked at her mom, who was doing her best to sit still on the edge of the bed. “Wow, that’s odd. No, creepy. A senior living facility, a funeral parlor and an ambulance service?”
“I’ve saved the beefiest morsel for last. Vincenzo Molinero is not only the registered agent of Slumber Land, but the president. And Franco D’Nucci is the president of Lombardo’s Ambulance Service.”
“Well, this just zoomed past creepy to downright sinister in a hurry. What the hell is going on at The Magnolia?”
LiAnn tapped her notepad. “I’m not finished. I typed in Vincenzo Molinero’s name into the search engine, and get this: I found an article from a newspaper in New York from over twenty years ago. A Dr. Vincenzo Molinero had his licensed revoked from the State of New York for ethical violations. What I don’t know is if he is the same guy or not, but if he is, what is he doing here, running an ambulance service?”
Karina went back to the search bar. This time, she typed in Franco D’Nucci Carmella D’Nucci birth death marriage New York. Her fingers drummed on the desk as she waited for any results to pop up. “I don’t know about you, but my gut is in a knot. Usually, that means I’m on to something.”
“Oh, mine too. Where is that mind of yours taking you to?” LiAnn moved to the other side of the bed for a closer look at the computer screen.
“Hang on.” Karina’s heart pounded when she saw the first link was from the obituary archives of The New York Post. She felt her mother’s warm breath inches from her face as she viewed the screen.
In silence, they both read the article. By the time Karina reached the end, she was shaking. She knew her mother got to the last part when LiAnn sucked in a huge gulp of air, followed by “Oh, my God.”
“As I was saying, I remembered Carmella had a hint of a New York accent. No wonder she isn’t on any social media sites. Now that I know exactly what family she belongs to…oh, damn. Carlos Calvanio was her father! Help me out here, Mom, because I’m kind of freaking out, but that name—he’s who I think he is, right?”
LiAnn gave a curt nod. “Yes. Remember, we watched that show about the mafia on TV years ago, and part of the segment was about him and his son, Caesar the Cat Calvanio? The one who fell off the face of the earth years ago not long after the murder of his father, Carlos.”
Karina hit print and saved the page as a pdf file on her hard drive. It took her several attempts because her shaking fingers kept hitting the wrong button.
“Honey, it’s time to call Cheddy Singleton. Like, right now. He can put us in contact with the Feds, because somehow, I think they might be interested in what Carmella Calvanio D’Nucci is doing down here. Oh, Jesus, what have we stumbled upon?”
Karina didn’t answer. Instead, she stood and went to the nightstand by her bed, opened the drawer, and retrieved the loaded Glock. “Remember my motto about blasting a hole big enough to kill them, then make up your own story? Well, it just went from motto to mantra.”
27
Into the Devil's Lair
Sweat trickled down his neck, and his back itched like crazy from the barbs of the holly bushes, but Lucas remained still. He’d been in the same spot since four a.m., and his knees, back and shoulders ached. Under the cover of darkness, he slithered through the streets dressed in all black, his hair hidden by a black skullcap, until he reached the house across the street from 119 Sycamore Lane. The entire edges of the yard were surrounded by mounds of the holly bushes, all uniformly manicured to precisely five feet high and five feet wide. A perfect hiding spot to burrow into to spy on Caesar Calvanio’s home.
Lucas had to pee like a sonofabitch, and he hoped his quarry would leave soon before he pissed himself. Finally, his patience was rewarded. A black car pulled up to the gate. Lucas adjusted the binoculars and watched Carmine poke his head out of the window while his stubby fingers tapped in the code. 9351*. The tall, wrought iron gate opened, and the vehicle disappeared up the curvy drive. The excitement, the adrenaline rush, quieted his bladder.
In the distance, Lucas heard the sounds of life from the other residents of Sycamore Lane. Doors slammed, cars started up, parents tugged their unwilling children to their vehicles so they wouldn’t be late for school. A school bus never appeared to haul the little brats away. Apparently, the rich bastards on this side of town refused to let their precious offspring get carted around like cattle.
Lucas listened to the familiar noises around him while he waited for the car to leave. Nick had given him Caesar’s address on Saturday, and it took him three days to work up the nerve to even look up the address on Google maps. He was so paranoid, afraid his every move was monitored, Lucas went to the Garland County Library to use their computer to do his recon. He spent hours looking at the aerial and street view. The house of his enemy was enormous, one of several in the neighborhood surrounded by a gate. By far, 119 Sycamore Lane was the biggest house in the area and sat on a small rise, ov
erlooking the city. A twisted grin danced across his face as Lucas wondered what the neighbors would say if they knew exactly who lived in the big house on the hill.
The Wednesday morning school and work rush over, the street was quiet. Other than the occasional yap of a dog, Lucas heard nothing. He focused his attention on the gate. It was attached to a brick wall, about fifteen feet high, encasing the entire property line of Caesar’s place. There were a few large trees around the perimeter, ones he could climb and jump into the yard from if careful. The biggest problem Lucas needed to work around was the security cameras. He noticed two by the gate and figured there were plenty more inside and on the house.
His skill set did not include breaking and entering. So, after countless hours staring at the dark ceiling of his cramped bedroom, Lucas made a decision. Stick to the basics. He knew the address, and that a security gate surrounded the place, so the logical next step was to scope it out. Get a feel for Caesar’s habits. When the old bastard left, came back home. His gut told him Carmine would be like his shadow, and sure enough, he was. Lucas picked the perfect time to hide in the bushes because his biggest obstacle just disappeared.
He had the gate code.
Seconds later, the gate creaked and whined. The black car waited until it could slip through the opening. Lucas watched, his heart pounding in his chest, as the vehicle passed less than twenty feet from him. The windows weren’t tinted, and he could clearly see Caesar in the passenger seat. The sedan turned left and disappeared.
For the next ten minutes, Lucas watched the rest of the neighborhood from his hiding spot. The mosquitoes came out, buzzing around his exposed face and hands. He ignored them. Lucas shifted his body and continued searching the quiet street until he was satisfied no one was around. Stowing his binoculars in the backpack to his left, he sat up. He removed the skullcap and black sweater, shoving them deep inside the bag. It was a tight fit, considering it was crammed full of everything Lucas would need to start his life over with, once the job was done. It also held water, a few energy bars, and several changes of clothes.
Holding his breath, he stood and darted out from the holly bushes. In six quick strides, Lucas was across the street, standing next to the security box by the gate. His mind screamed at him to turn and run. It followed the command with a warning. Sweat poured down his forehead and back, and his body shook with terror. Ignoring the internal warnings, Lucas punched the code in and the gate cranked to life. When the opening was big enough for his slender torso to slide through, he stepped inside.
Lucas ran up the steep driveway. When he reached the top, he pushed all doubts about the decision from his mind. This was meant to be. It was his destiny. Or the powers above were smiling down on him. Fate intervened. Whatever it was, Lucas couldn’t help but squeal like a little girl as his gaze settled on the garage.
It was open, and attached directly to the side of the house.
Can it really be this easy?
Once inside the garage, Lucas paused to listen. With his luck, a pack of hungry, half-starved guard dogs would descend on him, feasting on his flesh until their master returned. Fear pulsed through his body. His heart thumped so hard, Lucas wondered if he was on the verge of a heart attack. Never, in his whole life, had he been so terrified. He stared at the door leading into the house, swallowing a mouthful of spit. There was a security pad next to the door, and it was blinking. Taking a deep breath, Lucas closed his eyes, promising himself if the passcode wasn’t the same as the one to the gate, he would get the fuck out. Get on his bike and ride. Ride until he reached Mexico. Disappear and never be seen or heard from again.
But, if the code is the right one…
He wrapped the edge of his shirt around his hand. No sense in leaving any evidence, no matter which way the plan went. His fingers were trembling so much, Lucas had to hold his breath to steady them. He mentally counted.
One. Two. Three!
The code worked. The light turned from red to green. On instinct, Lucas reached down and tried the handle. The knob gave way and he opened the door, and Lucas Hill knew his life would never be the same. He’d just chewed his way out of the trap, and it was time to dispatch the hunter who set him up to begin with. His first order of business was to mark his new territory by pissing in the bastard’s own bathroom. Then, he would tromp through the place until he found the master bedroom.
And the perfect hiding spot to wait until his prey arrived back home.
28
On Pins and Needles
“I can’t stand waiting around. Jesus, you would think someone would give us some kind of update by now!”
“Shhhh. Karina, keep your voice down. I don’t want Gram or Grampa to hear.” LiAnn watched Karina pace back and forth on the porch. The light from the ceiling fan reflected off of Karina’s face at an odd angle, and it made the sneer on her lips look quite sinister.
Seeing her daughter so fired up wasn’t helping her own mood. LiAnn was just as mystified about the lack of contact. They’d spent over an hour on the phone days ago with Cheddy Singleton, telling him every detail. Karina had even emailed him all the links to the information they’d uncovered. He listened, and told them he thought it was worth looking into, and even called back a few hours later with the name and contact number of the local FBI field office. He promised to contact the agent first, to give him sort of an overview of what was going on, and then they were to call the next day.
They tried.
Twice.
No one from the Little Rock office returned their calls until yesterday. When the agent did call, he was quite vague. Stated they were investigating, and should the FBI need any more information from either of them, they would call back. The wait was driving both of them nuts.
Karina stopped pacing and sat down on the swing. “Government, bureaucratic bullshit. Cal always said that’s why private investigators never lacked for work. No offense, former cop, but the law has a tendency to wait until something really bad happens before they get involved. I mean, yeah, some dude calls and gives us the song-and-dance routine, but that’s it. Ridiculous.”
LiAnn nodded in agreement. “Believe me, I know. Look at how long it took most of the domestic violence laws to change? I remember a time when an order of protection was only issued if the victim was in the hospital on life support!”
Karina’s gaze softened. “Sorry, Mom. I don’t mean to take my anger out on you. I just…I don’t understand. We handed them a hell of a lot, and one, two-minute phone call is all we get? Talk about frustrating.”
LiAnn leaned forward and patted Karina’s trembling shoulder. “Breathe, baby. Listen, you and I both know we aren’t nuts. Or overreacting. Something is going on at The Magnolia. Both of our internal shit-storm-o-meter alarms went off—loudly. At least we are keeping an eye on Cecil. That bitch has only been back in his place once and she didn’t find squat. Actually,” LiAnn said, hoping her next words would make Karina smile, “Cecil seems to be enjoying the whole covert-ops thing. At lunch today, he was full of piss and vinegar, grinning from ear to ear. He even got into a verbal sparring match with another resident, Wylie Wilson, about baseball. When we left, Cecil hugged my neck and whispered all was well. He followed it up with a big smile.”
Karina rolled her eyes. “Mom, he doesn’t know what we do. He thinks Carmella is just a random thief, out to score some quick cash from him. If Cecil knew who she really was, he would be freaking out.”
“Well, he doesn’t. And it’s our job to keep him, and everyone else, calm until all this gets sorted out.”
“I can’t wait until she is put in cuffs and led away. I just want five minutes alone with her before she’s hauled off. No, ten. She wouldn’t look like Morticia Adams when I finished with her. More like a jacked-up zombie.”
“Okay, let’s change the subject before you explode. Did you get all the materials purchased for the barn? Bo’s picking it all up tomorrow, right?”
Karina took a deep, long breath and exh
aled it slowly before she responded. “Yes and yes. And before you ask, he plans on staying with me while you all are in Branson. Not that I need protection, since I have my Glock and an arsenal of weapons, thanks to Grampa’s stash. Add Ranger and all the electronic equipment, I’m sealed tight. Remember the mantra—I will shoot first. Screw asking questions.”
“What about the cameras? Are they all set and working?”
They both glanced up at the small camera perched above the back door. “Yep. Motion detectors are all working, too. It was a tad difficult getting everything in place, since I did it all in the dark after Gram and Grampa went to bed, but I managed.”
LiAnn frowned. “I hate keeping this from them. Thank goodness neither of them noticed the equipment.”
Karina stood and stretched. “Bo noticed yesterday. He asked me about them. Told him we were being cautious after learning about the meth activity down here. Pretty sure he bought it, but when I asked him not to mention it in front of Gram and Grampa, he gave me an odd look.”
“You haven’t told him what’s really going on, right?”
“No, and I feel bad about that. After all, if something really sinister is going on that revolves around the freaking mob, hanging around with me sort of puts Bo in danger. I plan on telling him the basics when you all leave tomorrow. Give him a chance to make a decision on his own whether he wants to stick around or not. It’s only fair.”
LiAnn shuddered. “Well, that doesn’t make me feel any better about your safety while we’re gone. What if he decides he doesn’t want to play around with the mob? Then you’ll be left here alone. I’ll be a jumbled mass of nerves with worry.”
Karina lowered her voice. “Mom, stop. I’ll be fine. I won’t go anywhere without my gun. Besides, I have a feeling nothing I could say to Bo Barton would make him leave. I believe he has grown quite fond of me in the last few weeks.”
Blood Ties_A Magnolia Novel Page 26
