Stories by Kiera Dellacroix

by Dellacroix, Kiera

  I chuckled. "You won't"

  "Good," he said cheerfully, rising from his seat.

  I leaned in to give him another hug and turned to walk for the door in back, pausing on a thought and turning back in his direction. "Joey, what did Sabrina DiCarlo look like?"

  He ran a hand over his hair. "God, Maddie, I only saw her the one time and she didn't stand as tall as my waist."

  "Hair color, eye color?"

  He lit up. "Her eyes. They were so blue they could appear almost white. She was a pretty girl."

  I nodded. "Okay, I'll be in touch."

  "Maddie," he said before I could get through the door. "Gus wasn't the only one who loves you."

  A smile of the kind that I was woefully unfamiliar with made itself known. "I know, Uncle Joe," I said and suddenly uncomfortable, I hurried through the door.

  The weather assaulted me immediately, and I was enthusiastically grateful for the little Grand Am parked a short distance away that undoubtedly had a working heater. I looked at my watch as I sat down behind the wheel and started the car. It was late enough in the day to expect the Frank Brothers to be at work and I decided to pay them a visit.

  The skinny from Billy informed me that the brothers owned a nightclub on the outskirts of the projects that was nothing more than a front for drugs and prostitution. I shook my head as I pulled out onto the street, wondering where a couple of pimps fit into the scheme of things.

  ----------

  I chose to park in the alley behind the club and when I got out, I undid my belt so I could accommodate the roscoe Joey had given me. Holstering the little pistol at the small of my back and keeping big brother on my right hip. It was beginning to get dark but I kept my sunglasses on anyway, I found it an advantage to conceal my eyes when dealing with people. It tended to make them nervous.

  I circled the building that was nothing more than a converted warehouse sitting in the middle of a demilitarized neighborhood. The entrance was locked so I looked around for a buzzer or at least a bell and came up empty. Finally, I knocked loudly on the door, waiting almost two minutes before starting up again. I was startled when in the middle of my pounding an eye level slot in the door opened abruptly.

  "What?" came the harsh inquiry.

  I dug my ID out of my jacket and held it up so he could see it. "I'm looking for the Frank Brothers."

  A long silence and I put my ID back into my jacket and cast a bored look at the eyes peering out at me from within.

  "Why?" he asked finally.

  "I wanna sell 'em some Amway."

  "Fuck off," he said, slamming the slot closed with a thud.

  I sighed, and pounded on the door again. When the slot opened this time, I was ready.

  "Look bitch, don't make," he shut up when the barrel of my gun protruded through the slot to make contact with his forehead.

  "Maybe you didn't hear me," I said. "I'd like to see the Frank Brothers, now."

  "Damn, woman," he stuttered. "All you had to do was say so."

  I heard the locks being turned back and the door opened a crack. "Put your hands through the slot and pull the door open."

  He did what he was told and I stepped in quickly, moving a safe distance away from the door. "Close it and lead the way. Keep space between us."

  Pulling open the door had trapped him behind it and I waited for him to reveal himself and pass me in the narrow hallway. Once he was in front of me, I holstered my gun and followed him inside. Emerging from the hall revealed one big room with a dance floor, a bar and tables set up off to one side.

  My guide pointed toward a group of people congregating at the far side of the room. "They're over there."

  "Thank you," I said, moving in that direction.

  There were several people lounging around and a few girls were goofing off on the dance floor, but the building was pretty much deserted. I couldn't help but notice the attention directed at me as others became aware of my presence. Most of the glances were of an offended nature; even a few of the girls shot me looks of revulsion. I almost had to laugh.

  How many black girls could walk into a club in America and get the looks being directed at me? Odds are that no one would look at her just because of her race. She certainly wouldn't be getting the attention I was now receiving based solely on the fact that I was white. It's kinda funny that racism is a word still often spouted. Funny because whites were increasingly the focus of it and ever more seldom the cause of it.

  As I drew closer, I guessed the Franks to be the twins with a woman on each arm. They eyed me with interest as I came abreast of their table and stopped.

  The Frank on the right leaned over to whisper in his brother's ear and looked me over carefully. "You've got the goods but the harem is full, Cinderella," he said, instigating a round of laughter at my expense.

  I smiled and took a seat across from them. "I'm not looking for a job but I could use a drink. Have one of your sluts fetch me a Guinness."

  Their smiles faded.

  "What country you think this is?" Frank on the right spoke. Apparently, Frank on the left was a mute.

  I shrugged. "Do you have 'Danny Boy' on the jukebox? This rap shit makes my teeth hurt."

  Frank on the right leaned over to speak to one of the girls and then gestured them all away. A few seconds later, we were alone and the jukebox was silenced. "You're riding the wire, lady. What the fuck you want?"

  I flipped my ID on the table and slid it across to him. He wiggled his fingers in the air and I didn't have to turn around to know that a gun was pointed at the back of my head.

  "I hope your woman likes tongue service because if the guy behind me twitches, they'll be sending out a search party to find what's left of your Johnson."

  He went perfectly still and studied me carefully, finally reaching out to nudge his brother. Frank on the left slowly leaned over and looked under the table, he came up a second later and gave a nod of confirmation.

  Frank on the right gave me another long look and finally cast his eyes to my ID, spending all of a second with it and sliding it back to my side of the table. "Tell me a joke, Cinderella."

  I smiled. It was a game of brinkmanship. "What kind of joke?"

  "Something you might think I'll find funny."

  I raised an eyebrow. The Franks were cool customers. I had a .45 leveled at the guy's crotch and he was brave enough to issue a dare. If I backed down now there was a good chance things would go bad for me.

  "Alright, this little Irish midget walks into a bar and orders a beer,"

  Frank on the right leaned forward with a little smile.

  ", He gets his beer and asks the bartender to point out the toughest son of a bitch in the room. The barkeep points to the Marine sitting at the end of the bar so the midget downs his beer and slams the empty bottle on the counter. He wipes his chin, hops up on the bar and waddles over to kick the Marine in the face and proceeds to just beat the hell out of him,"

  A little chuckle from both.

  ",Every other day for the next week the midget comes and pulls the same act. Always having a beer and beating the crap out of the toughest guy in the place. Finally fed up, the bartender has his brother the zookeeper smuggle a gorilla into the bar and locks him in the bathroom. Sure enough, the midget returns the next day, orders his beer and asks the bartender who the toughest guy in the room is. The midgets slams down his beer and stomps into the bathroom,"

  Another chuckle.

  ", As soon as the door closed the walls started shaking so hard pictures began fall to the floor and the bartender covers his ears to drown out the screams coming from the bathroom. Half an hour later, the door opens and the midget stumbles out covered with cuts and bruises, his clothes in tatters and barely able to walk. The bartender is amazed, unable to believe the little guy is still alive. The midget takes a deep breath and says,"

  Eyes widened expectantly.

  ",When that nigger wakes up, tell him his fur coat is in the toilet."

 
I couldn't help it; I started to laugh even though the looks I was getting from across the table were less than friendly. Finally, Frank on the right began to smile, eventually emitting a very reluctant chuckle and waving off the guy behind me. When he started to walk away, I holstered my own gun.

  Frank on the right shook his head amusedly. "You a bigot, Cinderella?"

  "No more than you are."

  "Then you're lucky I'm not."

  "The ink is black and the page is white. Together we learn to read and write."

  He laughed. "You gotta be either crazy stupid or scary smart, lady."

  "Probably a little of both," I said with a smile. "And my name is Maddie."

  "Yeah, I looked at your ID. You're Gus Ledoux's kid."

  I nodded.

  "Well, what can I do for you?" he asked amiably. "Gus usually comes by in person to give us a hard time. He's gettin' lazy to be sending his kid instead."

  He suddenly had all of my attention. "Gus was murdered the night he had you over to dinner."

  Two sets of eyes widened in surprise. "Say what?" Frank on the left finally spoke.

  Acting wasn't their forte and I began to mentally cross them off my list of possible suspects. "Someone shot him not long after the festivities wrapped up."

  "You're shittin' us?"

  "Wish I was."

  Frank on the right leaned back hard in his chair and threw a disbelieving look at his brother. "Goddamn."

  I was pretty sure but I had to ask anyway. "Do either of you own a gun?"

  Two condescending looks.

  "Alright, dumb question. Do either of you own a .357 magnum?"

  One shake of the head and one nod.

  "I'll need to take it with me."

  Frank on the left stood up. "No word of where you got it?"

  "Done."

  "Am I gonna get it back?"

  "Is it legal?"

  "Gimme a break."

  "Then I can't guarantee you'll get it back, but I'll see what I can do."

  "Fair enough," he said and turned to walk away.

  "I take it we're suspects?"

  "Five minutes ago you were."

  He nodded. "We've known Gus a long time, we knew better than to fuck around with him."

  "So what were you guys doing at his house the night he was killed?"

  "He invited us, wanted to know about some old business we had with Sal DiCarlo."

  "Wanna tell me what you told him?"

  "Will anything I say come back to haunt me or my brother in an official capacity?"

  "No."

  "More importantly, will anything I say be used against us in an unofficial capacity?"

  "No."

  "We always took Gus at his word and he never let us down. Can we assume the same of you?"

  "Yes."

  He pursed his lips thoughtfully in appraisal. "Alright," he said after a moment. "The business that my brother and I currently manage was purchased from the DiCarlo family."

  "Is that a fact?"

  "DiCarlo was attempting to legitimize. He found pharmaceuticals to be distasteful."

  "So he sold it to you?"

  "Yeah. That is, after he beat Sirico out of it."

  I leaned back in my chair. "Tell me more."

  He shrugged. "DiCarlo and Sirico were always at each others throats. Don't ask me why."

  "Is Sirico aware you guys are running a network he coveted?"

  "Hell no," he said, shaking his head back and forth passionately.

  "How could he not know?"

  "When we bought it from Sal, he provided the education that enables us to keep our involvement a secret."

  "Education?"

  He chuckled. "Would you believe that my brother and I attended a five-day seminar before acquisition and had people on call for several months to answer any questions we might have?"

  I smiled. "You're kidding me."

  "Nope. Sal had his shit together."

  "No doubt about that," I said. "But how did you keep it under wraps on the other end? Sirico had to have contacts with supply if he and DiCarlo were both jockeying for it."

  "The cartel won't betray DiCarlo. He has a long arm. Even today."

  "You still have contact with the DiCarlo family?"

  "I guess you could say that."

  "Keep talkin'."

  "DiCarlo may be dead but someone's still running the show. We have to annually donate a certain percentage of proceeds to charity. It's different each time, and we get a note telling us which one. It was a stipulation we had to agree to in order to obtain the contract. We've been late twice over the years and both times got a visit from the scariest damn dude I've ever seen."

  "You got a name?"

  "Fuck no, and if I had one there ain't no way I'd repeat it."

  "What's he look like then?"

  He shook his head determinedly. "No way you get info on this. The guy's a boogeyman. Just leave it at that."

  I sighed and gave up. "Alright, tell me about DiCarlo's daughter, Sabrina."

  "Never met her."

  "Ever talk to her?"

  "Nope, we only dealt with Sal."

  I grunted and reached for my smokes. By the time I had fired it up, the other Frank returned and placed a revolver on the table in front of me as he took up his seat.

  "So what are your names?" I asked, mainly out of curiosity.

  "I'm Bobby," Frank on the right said. "And my brother is Robby."

  "Bob and Rob?" I said with a grin.

  They both hit me with identical shrugs.

  "Did you guys know any of the people Gus invited over that night?"

  "I knew Woody from law school," Bob said. "And we both knew Joe Vendito by reputation. Never seen any of the others before."

  "Law school?"

  Bobby nodded. "Robby has a degree in Economics."

  I grinned and crushed out my smoke. "Thanks, you've given me a lot to think about," I said as I stood from my chair and picked up the magnum.

  They stood as well. "We're damn sorry to hear about Gus," Bobby said.

  "Thanks," I said uncomfortably, stuffing the revolver in my jacket and turning away from the table.

  "Ledoux," Robby spoke up and I turned a look over my shoulder. "It isn't wise to go looking for ghosts."

  "I believe you," I said and turned to make my way out of the building.

  III

  I wanted to grab something to eat on the way home and decided to stop at the first fast food place that popped up. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a Burger King but I was hungry enough to pull in anyway. Their fries tasted like salted strips of a Maxi-Pad but their burgers weren't half bad.

  I pulled into the drive-thru lane and ended up with two cars ahead of me, so I rolled the window down a crack and fumbled for my cigarettes. A little unsettled at the cool breeze that wafted into the cozy confines of the car. Having a heater for all of a few hours had already spoiled me. I vowed to never go without one again. I didn't realize how cold my feet actually were until they started to hurt as they began to warm up.

  My smoke was down to the filter when I pulled up to the menu and rolled down the window all the way to place my order. A last second sighting of a 'Lord of the Rings' light-up glass goblet deal prompted me to amend my selection and I excitedly sped around to the window to pick up my food and new toy.

  The geek waiting to take my money had a face that was nothing short of an explosion of adolescent splendor. He had several whiteheads that were on the verge of erupting and I cringed at the thought of pimple pus somehow making its way onto my food. I hoped fervently that he wouldn't open my bag and I abruptly decided not to ask for extra ketchup lest he be the one to handle it. He opened the window and spoke with a squeaky voice.

  "Four-twenty, please."

  I handed him a five that he had to reach for twice because he was busy staring at my tits. "Can I have my goblet now?"

  "Uh, sure."

  I rolled my eyes when he turned away and a seco
nd later he thrust the change and my new play pretty out the window. I stuffed the change in a jacket pocket quickly and examined my purchase. I was immediately disappointed. I didn't give a frog's fat ass about Frodo. When he returned to hand me my food, I extended the unwanted glass back out at him.

  "Frodo sucks, do you have any of the others?"

  "Uh, yeah. Which one do you want?"

  "Arwen."

  "Lemme look."

  I nibbled on my fries while I waited for him to come back, trying valiantly to pretend they really didn't taste like absorbent cotton. Finally, he arrived with goblet in hand and I grinned; Liv Tyler got my motor running.

  "Thanks," I said brightly and shot him a wave as I pulled away.

  I know it's ridiculous, but chicks get excited about the most trivial and stupidest of things. Regrettably, I'm no exception to the rule.

  The burger didn't last much more than a block and I even polished off the rest of the fries by the time I parked my ride in front of the three-story building I kept a small office in. The lobby was already closed so I had to use my key to get in and trudged off in the direction of the stairwell.

  My office was on the second floor and situated in the far corner. It wasn't much, but the price was right. The building itself was over sixty years old and primarily housed employees from small state sponsored agencies or nonprofit organizations. The décor was typical of an aging and mostly abandoned government building; cinderblock heavily painted in beige accompanied by the dusty smell of times well past their prime.

  The door to my office didn't have anything as romantic as 'Maddie Ledoux - Private Eye' stenciled on the glass, and I didn't have a gorgeous secretary, although I often considered the latter to be a grave oversight. The 229 in white paint at the top of the doorframe was the only thing that made my door different from any of the others in the building. I fumbled for the keys and stepped into the nerve center of my bordering on bankrupt private enterprise.

  I found a manila envelope on the floor and I picked it up, correctly guessing it to be a ballistics report from Billy. My eyes skimmed over it tiredly as I walked across the room to sit down behind my desk. Eventually, I set it aside and my gaze strayed to the phone, I sighed at the number of messages blinking for my attention. No small amount of wisdom went into the decision to listen to the calls in the morning, that way I could be good and cranky by the time I was ready to start my day. Instead, I closed my eyes and sank into my chair, going over the day's events until they slowly faded away.