Stories by Kiera Dellacroix

by Dellacroix, Kiera

  I was on a roll.

  Tish had a bogus rack that defined ludicrous. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I poked her with a sharp object, and I conjured up images of her flying all over the place like a deflating balloon. Aside from hooters that made the room feel somehow confining, the woman was apparently trying to fight off middle age with the assistance of pancake makeup and a rivet gun. A Tammy Fay Baker clone used hard and put up wet, one could almost see the stretch marks around her mouth. She must have gone down on a few guys that bred horses for a living.

  Far less impressive than his wife, Sidney was nothing extraordinary. A balding little man that had given over to fat and grown comfortable with it.

  "Was it necessary to threaten my doorman?" Sid asked.

  "You wanna tell me why you were at Gus Ledoux's the night he was killed?" I asked.

  "Mr. Ledoux was an acquaintance and we were delighted to accept his invitation to dinner."

  I sighed. "Okay, let me rephrase. Mr. Ledoux was a cop. Why would he invite a hooker and a fraud into his home?"

  Tish stood up so fast she almost overbalanced, but Sid beat her to the microphone. "How dare you!" he spat. "Get out of my house!"

  The door opened behind me, and I didn't have to turn around to know the Binkowski's had a thug. I ignored his presence and leveled a bored look at Sid. "I can rephrase the question again if I haven't made myself clear."

  Sid sneered. "I'm under no obligation to answer you. Now if you'll excuse us? Michael, please remove this, woman."

  I felt the thug place a hand on my shoulder and I spun immediately, kneeling slightly to grab a handful of his package through the crotch of his slacks. The hand on my shoulder fell away and landed on my wrist in a futile attempt to break my grip. When the barrel of my gun made contact with his chin, he reluctantly brought both hands away and raised them above his head. Almost comical since he couldn't stand up straight and was close to tears.

  "When I let go, you're not going to test me are you?"

  He shook his head violently.

  I released my grip and he let out a whimper. "On the floor, lie on your back," I said, gesturing to a spot several feet away with a wave of my gun.

  He did what he was told, moving with small, hunched over stutter steps. Lowering himself to the floor with a groan, he cupped a soothing and protective hand over his mangled jewels.

  "Spread eagle and look away from me," I said. "If you open your mouth or look in my direction, you'll piss blood for a month."

  He complied and I turned my attention back to the Binkowski's. "Now, I want an answer to my question, and don't dick me around."

  Sid pursed his lips, the expression striking me as ridiculously queer. "What do you intend to do with the gun?"

  "Bend over and I'll show you."

  "Don't talk to me like that!"

  I lowered my sunglasses to the end of my nose and cast a lascivious look at Tish. "I wasn't talking to you."

  I got a sharp gasp from the whore and a furious look from both for my joke, and I smiled nefariously. "Now that the pleasantries are over, answer my question."

  Sid struggled with himself but finally relented. "Mr. Ledoux and I had bumped into each other several times in the past. He invited us over to discuss an old case he had been working on."

  "A case involving you?"

  "No, but he claimed to have come across a connection that he thought I could help him with."

  "What case?"

  "I don't know exactly, he only asked us about a person I dealt with many years ago."

  "And this person was?"

  "Sabrina DiCarlo."

  The name rang a bell, but I couldn't place it. "I feel I should know that name."

  "The DiCarlo's have ceased to exist, they were wiped out by the Sirico family in a vendetta almost seven years ago. Sabrina was the daughter of Salvotore DiCarlo."

  "What was your association with her?"

  "She was heir apparent to the DiCarlo family. Appointing a woman to be head of the family offended many old world sensibilities and led to DiCarlo's downfall," Sid hesitated. "I met her once to discuss, uhm, laundry. She disappeared soon after and I'm glad."

  "Why's that?"

  "She was just a teenager, but she was a snake. Ruthless even by harsh standards."

  "Is that all you and Gus talked about?"

  "Business wise, yes. The rest of the evening was spent socially. Mr. Ledoux was an interesting and entertaining host."

  "Yes, he was," I said under my breath.

  "You're his daughter aren't you?" Tish finally spoke. "I thought you looked familiar. There were several pictures of you in Mr. Ledoux's home."

  "Yes," I said brusquely. "What time did you leave that night?"

  "Around eleven I think."

  "Where did you go after?"

  "Home."

  "Did you stay at home for the rest of the night?"

  "Yes."

  "Can anyone confirm that?"

  Sid's brow wrinkled. "I think the staff had already retired. So other than my wife, I don't know."

  "I see."

  "Miss Ledoux, my first intention was to call the police after you had left, but realizing who you are, I'll swallow my pride. I liked Gus. He seemed an honest man and that's a rare thing."

  "That he was," I agreed. "I'll call if I need anything else. Thank you for your time."

  "Good day, Miss Ledoux," he said dryly and I turned to make my way through the house.

  When I sat down behind the wheel, I reached for a cigarette but didn't light it. Sometimes you learn that even fake people have a trace of reality in them. It was unsettling.

  ----------

  My cell phone rang on the way back into the city, it was Billy.

  "Maddie, ballistics came back."

  "And?"

  ".357 magnum. It was carved."

  I ground my teeth. "What?"

  "You heard me the first time."

  I fought back a violent outburst. A carved round was a personal touch designed to aid expansion after impact. The effects in flesh were brutal.

  "Anything else?"

  "That's all I got so far."

  "Do me favor. I need all the info you got on a Sabrina DiCarlo."

  "As in the DiCarlo crime family?"

  "Yeah."

  "Alright, I'll look into it. Wanna tell me why?"

  "Not quite sure yet, gimme a little time."

  "Fair enough, I'll have a uniform drop a copy of the ballistics off at your office."

  "Thanks, Billy."

  "Be in touch."

  I slipped the phone back into my jacket and saved my hate for a day in the hopefully not too distant future. The next name on my list was one Billy had provided details for since I had never heard of her. Sarah Caruso was a do-gooder that ran a halfway house on the east side, active in many of the local charities and community volunteer. I groaned. Her name might as well have been Mary Poppins. The woman probably tortured and killed small animals for fun and used a bidet to wash her ass.

  The address Billy had given me turned out to be a respectable looking building, despite the bums assembled in groups out front. I parked next to the curb and hurried inside to escape the cold. The interior was surprisingly clean and was even equipped with a secretary who smiled at me as I approached, no doubt pegging me as another vagrant to cater to.

  "May I help you?"

  "Maddie Ledoux to see Sarah Caruso, please."

  "Do you have an appointment?"

  "No, but she'll make time," I said, whipping out my identification.

  Unimpressed, she picked up the phone. "Miss Caruso, there's a private detective here to see you."

  A second of silence and she hung up as she rose from her seat. "Follow me, please."

  I trailed her to an old elevator that took us up exactly one story and I rolled my eyes. When the doors opened, I found a populated floor covered in cubicles and I caught a snippet of conversation as I was led through the maze. A woman
was loudly complaining that her welfare check wasn't large enough to pay her cable bill and the bastards had discontinued her service.

  Gee, what a kick to the head.

  I didn't need an aerial photograph to know the woman was so fat that if she went to the zoo, the elephants would probably throw her peanuts. I'm glad my tax dollars fed her while she sat around watching cable TV and inhaling raw bricks of Velveeta cheese.

  Now I'm a hard ass, but not as hard as you probably think. I'm more than willing to admit that some people need help, and by God someone should be there to give them a hand. I know that life sometimes throws you a curve and though you may fall down, the country I live in is there to help you get up. However, that same country shouldn't be held hostage by those who want to stay down, and there isn't one fuckin' reason why I or anybody else should have to tolerate it. Far too many people sat around expecting a free ride. Me, me, me. That's all they cared about. Happily content to take and take and never give anything back. Nobody owed these people an existence, and I resented every penny the government gave to a woman who probably drank ketchup straight from the bottle as she watched cable television. I wouldn't let her mow my lawn for a dog biscuit. It's a fuckin' crime they let people like that vote. They didn't give a shit about their country, yet demanded that the country give a shit about them. It was a liberal tragedy inflicted upon us all that so many could care less about anything other than the next handout they felt they somehow deserved.

  The thundering from my imaginary pulpit came to an abrupt end as my guide opened the door to a walled office and gestured me inside. I managed two steps before stumbling the last few paces into a chair.

  Wow! I was glad I still had on my shades so she couldn't see how dilated my eyes were. Sarah Caruso made my beaver twitch. She had long blonde hair that was tied up in a bun and moody green eyes that I would love to see looking up at me from between my legs. Her face was cute but held subtle signs of depth and maturity. Her body, well, I couldn't see her from the waist down because she sat behind her desk, but there was no doubt I'd still be a nursing long after the tit ran dry.

  She looked at me curiously and I resisted the urge to lick my lips. "What can I do for you, detective?"

  "I," I cleared my throat. ",I wanted to ask you a few questions about the night Gus Ledoux died."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

  "Maddie."

  "Can I see your identification, please?"

  I reached into my jacket and leaned forward to lay my ID on the surface of her desk. She reached out to pick it up, and my eyes strayed to her hand, wondering what it would be like to,

  "Matilda Ledoux?" she asked, her mouth quirking in amusement.

  "That would be me."

  "Actually, I know who you are. Gus had a lot of pictures. I could tell you were very important to him. I was saddened to hear of his death."

  "That's why I'm here."

  "Of course," she said with a nod. "I'm at your disposal."

  Yowsa! I fumbled for words and concentrated on the wall behind her head.

  "You're a bit of a local legend, you know," she said playfully.

  "Oh?"

  "Sure, there was a piece on the local news about you."

  "Is that a fact?"

  "Are you being modest?"

  " I'm just wondering what piece you were referring to?"

  She laughed and I instantly crossed my legs, suddenly debating the merits of a lunchtime liaison with Stephanie. "Alright, I've seen more than one, but I was referring to your time in the Army. Local girl flies Apache gunship into combat."

  I nodded noncommittally. "That's not the thing most people remember."

  "Unfortunately true. May I ask, just for my own curiosity, why you felt it necessary to stun gun Senator Hilary, drag him from his vehicle, beat him to within an inch of his life and then mace him in the face?"

  I squirmed in my seat. "He resisted arrest."

  "I see. Did you know that even today he still walks funny?"

  "Hadn't noticed," I lied.

  "Just between you and me," she leaned forward conspiratorially, "I hate that man. It boggles the mind he continues to get reelected."

  I might be in love.

  "So how long were you a cop?" she asked to hold up the conversation since I was no doubt staring at her in adoration.

  "Three months."

  She laughed again and I hoped my jeans would remain absorbent enough to keep me from sliding out of my chair. "I followed your trial rather closely in the papers. I was relieved to hear you avoided incarceration."

  I shrugged. "So how did you know Gus?"

  "He came to me about four months ago and asked about a stray that passed through here a few years back."

  "A Sabrina DiCarlo?"

  "Uhm, no, the name was Marissa Fiore."

  "What was her story?"

  "Not much to tell," she shrugged. "Came to us in the middle of the night six or seven years ago, stayed for two days and then completely disappeared."

  "Do you have any records on her, a picture maybe?"

  "No, she wasn't here long enough for much of a file, and at the time we suspected the information she gave was false. After she disappeared we never followed up."

  "Alright, what time did you leave the party the night of the murder?"

  "I think everyone left around eleven, but I'm not certain."

  "Did you come straight home?"

  "Yes."

  "Anyone able to verify that?"

  "I live alone."

  "No husband?"

  "No."

  "Boyfriend?"

  "No," she smiled slyly. "I don't have a girlfriend either. Not yet anyway."

  "Thank you for saving me the trouble of asking," I said, hoping like hell I wasn't blushing.

  "I'm glad I could help."

  "Me too. Besides Gus, did you know any of the people there that night?"

  "I knew Woodrow from a court case a few years ago, but other than that no."

  I smiled a little at that. Woody hated to be called Woodrow. "Did you notice anything suspicious or out of whack about the other people present?"

  "Just Tish's boobs."

  The answer caught me by surprise and I laughed, somewhat charmed at the bright smile I got in return.

  "You have a delightful laugh, Matilda."

  My smile faded a little. "Call me Maddie."

  "Of course," she said. "And the answer to your next question is yes."

  "Oh?" My eyebrows went up in surprise. "What question would that be?"

  "You were going to ask me to dinner."

  "I was?"

  "Tomorrow night would be perfect."

  "It would?"

  "Yes, it would. Let me give you my private number, call me later and we'll decide on a time and place," she said as she scribbled on the back of a business card.

  Oh, man! Stephanie was definitely gonna get a workout today. I tried not to look as desperate as I felt when I reached over her desk to accept the card. "You'll definitely be hearing from me, Miss Caruso."

  "Call me, Sarah," she said as she rose to her feet.

  "Alright, Sarah," I said with what I hoped was a beguiling smile. "Do you mind if I ask you one more question?"

  "Not at all."

  "Do you own a gun?"

  "Uhm, why yes."

  "What caliber?"

  "Nine millimeter."

  "Thank you for speaking to me, Sarah."

  "It was indeed a pleasure, Maddie. I look forward to hearing from you."

  I thanked God when she walked over to open the door for me. I was afraid I wouldn't get a chance to look at her ass. It didn't disappoint.

  She held out a hand and I stopped to shake it gently. "Talk to you soon."

  She just nodded and as I walked away I listened for the sound of her door closing. When it didn't come, I turned a look over my shoulder and caught her staring. My jacket got in the way so I lifted the back of it so she could get a look. When ya got
it, flaunt it.

  She smiled and I shot her one in return before continuing on my way. I avoided the elevator and hurried down the stairs, anxious to get home. I had an urgent need, uh, I mean I had something important to do.

  II

  Foolishly, I decided to save time and take the Interstate. But as luck would have it, I ended up at a complete stop and boxed in by traffic. That is to say that although my homeward momentum may have ground to a halt, my libido had done nothing but accelerate. When it became obvious that I was in for a wait, I ground my teeth in frustration and studied the people in the cars that surrounded me. Perhaps, I could sneak in a quickie and no one would notice. Besides, it might keep me from freezing to death. Looking around carefully, I undid the buttons of my jeans, my hand only inches away from the oven when traffic in the next lane began to move forward.

  Wasting no time, I grabbed the wheel and forced my way into the next lane only to travel three car lengths before coming to another halt. Angrily, I watched the lane I just vacated begin to move, the car I'd been sitting in front of passing me and disappearing from view. Teetering perilously on the edge of a tantrum, I was preparing to change lanes again when all movement ground to a stop and I threw my hands into the air. The beginnings of a sulk closing in on me from all sides until cars again began to move in the next lane. Thoughts of escape promptly turned to frustration as everything quickly came to another standstill.

  The tangible vibration and sound of an incredibly loud, annoyingly persistent bass suddenly assailed me, and I cast unbelieving eyes on the car that had pulled up beside me. My jaw clenched so tight it began to hurt. Rap music was tied with Al Sharpton as the first thing I would eradicate from the Earth if I were ever declared Empress. How do people listen to that shit? And why did I have to be rudely subjected to it from another person's car when all I really wanted to do was get home and butter my muffin? It was a cruel world.

  I waved to get Coolio's attention and leaned over to roll down the passenger side window. At first he looked at me as though I were an idiot, but shrugged and lowered his own window a crack.