by Gina LaManna
“I know.” Angela nodded. “I’ve been telling you that for ages—it’s not good for you. Anyway, I thought they wouldn’t let you work this case.”
“Why not?”
“On account of it’s personal.”
“It’s not that personal,” I said. “I mean, you’re family, but it’s not like I know Tony Colombo from Joe Blow down the street.”
“I wasn’t talking about me and Tony. I was talking about your old man.”
“What about my dad?”
She stared blankly at me. “Nobody told you?”
“Told me what?”
“He was in here tonight.”
“My dad?”
“Your dad.”
“My dad.”
“For crying out loud, your dad was in here tonight,” she said. “What more do you want me to say?”
“I haven’t... I didn’t know he’d been hanging around here lately.”
“He hasn’t been. Not much. A few times over the last month or so but that’s it. I’m actually surprised you haven’t run into him, seeing as you come here regular with your girlfriends. But he’s usually here late at night or at lunch, and you’re more of a dinner crowd sort of gal. Speaking of dinner crowds, I like your dress. You got a hot date tonight?”
“I had one. It’s cancelled.”
“Damn dead bodies getting in the way of things.”
“I can’t agree more,” I said. “What’s my dad been doing around here? Have you talked to him?”
“He’s my uncle. Of course I talked to him.”
“Why’s he been hanging around?”
“Because we’ve got the best Italian food on West Seventh? I dunno. I just say hello and take orders. I’m not nosy.”
I waited a beat.
“Okay, I am nosy,” Angela corrected. “But I know better than to ask for specifics from a certain crowd.”
“Let me guess. My dad is of a certain crowd?”
“He’s been to prison, hasn’t he? If the answer is yes, then he’s of a certain crowd. Half my family is too, Kate. More than half. I don’t mean anything by it.”
“Believe me, I know. I’m just trying to figure out what’s brought him out of retirement.”
“Funny you should say that,” Angela said. “He’s been meeting his old buddies around here. I was actually wondering if he was coming out of retirement myself. Maybe he was short on cash? Doing some work for his old friends?”
“Any old friends in particular?” I fought the urge to get out a notepad and start jotting down Angela’s words. My cousin was a straight arrow—or mostly straight, if you ignored a slight bend now and again—but even she had the tendency to clam up in front of cops. It ran in her blood.
Sure enough, Angela leaned forward, batted her eyelashes. She was torn between the need to gossip to a trusted confidant and to keep her secrets close to her chest. Eventually, she caved.
“You know the ones,” she whispered. “Joe Ricci. Mo from the garage. Stinky.”
I groaned. “My dad met with men named Joe, Mo, and Stinky?”
“I’m not sure those are their real names. I mean, Mo is kinda weird for a grown dude, don’t you think?”
I was thinking Stinky and Peg Leg were more on the strange end of the spectrum than Mo, but in Angela’s world, I could see her point. “I haven’t heard of Joe. Mo’s fixed my car a few times. I’d be scared to meet him in a dark alley, but he’s always been nice to me. And Stinky sounds...”
“He’s a butcher,” Angela said. “Best prosciutto in the state. Maybe the continent.”
“That’s helpful,” I said, even as I felt my heart sinking into my toes. “And were these gatherings more on the business end of things, or more like a coffee date?”
Angela’s eyes squinted. “I see where you’re going with this, and I don’t like it. Your dad’s family, and I’m not snitchin’ on him, even to his daughter.”
“This is a homicide investigation.”
“Yeah, well, I already told your partner over there that I didn’t see nothin’.”
I sighed. “It’ll be easier to protect you, and the rest of the staff of Bellini’s, if we catch this killer. We’d hate to have him come back.”
“You know how these things work,” Angela said, sounding more confident than she looked. Her eyes shifted from me to the hustle around the refrigerator room. “Hits like this happen for a reason. They’re not random and nobody’s coming back. Why would they come back, anyway?”
“That’s a great question,” I said cryptically. “Hopefully we’ll find out before it’s too late.”
“Yeah, hope so.”
“Let me know if you think of anything else.”
“Aren’t you gonna give me your card? Tell me not to leave town?”
“Angela,” I said. “You’ve got my cell number, and I’m in here at least once a week.”
“Yeah, but I want to be treated like everyone else.”
I sighed, reached in my clutch and pulled out a card. I handed it over. “Call me if you think of anything.” For good measure, I added, “And don’t leave town.”
She grinned. “Sure thing. Night, cuz. Get back to your date, will you? Do us all a favor and get laid. Maybe it’ll loosen you up.”
“Thanks, Angela.”
“I’m just being honest.”
I blew out the breath I’d been holding, wishing more of the Bellini family would be honest about what they’d seen this evening, but it wasn’t happening. I spent another three hours at the bar, questioning witnesses—begging, threatening, appealing to their humanity, but nothing worked. Lips were zipped. If anyone had seen or heard anything, they weren’t saying.
Jimmy and I reconvened around midnight and compared notes.
“Big, fat, goose-egg,” Jimmy said.
I concurred. I briefly debated telling him what Angela had said about my dad showing up around the restaurant lately, but I decided it wasn’t relevant at this point. Plus, I wanted a crack at him before I turned it into a big thing. For all I knew, my dad and his old buddies had a standing coffee date at Bellini’s.
Yeah, right, I thought. Still, I owed him the chance to explain.
“Can I give you a ride home?” Jimmy asked. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Or, you know, wherever you’re going?”
I almost snapped back a retort, but I stopped myself as I remembered my promise to Russo. “One second.”
I stepped away from the crowd and out into the night air. After a long and arduous winter, spring had finally become official in the Twin Cities. The night had a zippy chill to it, but the stars were crisp and clear above, and several of the lilac bushes had bloomed early and perfumed the evening with the pretty scent of their tiny flowers.
“Russo,” he answered on the first ring. “Kate, how’s it going?”
“I’m wrapping up here for the night. I just figured...well, I promised to call.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Where?”
“I’m about ten minutes from picking you up.”
“You really don’t have to. Jimmy can drop me at home.”
“Does Jimmy have a hot pizza waiting for you?”
“Jimmy’s never offered me food in his life.”
“I happen to have a nice bottle of white wine chilling, a microwave and paper plates, and real silverware. It’s not fancy, but maybe we can call it a date?”
“I have to be up early tomorrow. There’s an autopsy. I’m sorry.”
“I can drop you at home.”
I chewed on my lip, glanced at my shoes. “What the hell,” I muttered finally. “I’m starving and pizza sounds great. I’ll see you in ten.”
“Five,” Russo said. “I’ll pick up the pace.”
“Russo, one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Rule number three.”
“What about it?”
I hid a smile. “Remember it.”
Chapter 3
Th
e next morning, I woke in an intense bundle of confusion. Light beamed in from outside, the smell of coffee tickled my senses, and the steady stream of water sounded from one room over. The bathroom.
I blinked, then shot up in bed. I reached reflexively for the gun on my nightstand, but I couldn’t find it. Mostly because I wasn’t anywhere near my nightstand. I wasn’t even at home.
I inhaled a shaky breath and tried to piece together the previous night. Somehow, I’d ended up in Russo’s room. His bed, specifically. A king-size bed in a hotel that was much nicer than most I’d ever been inside before. It hadn’t been booked on a business card; no way would the feds cover a room with this sort of view.
Glancing down, I found myself in a pair of old FBI sweats and a sweatshirt. I had a vague sense of déjà vu. Which wasn’t really déjà vu, seeing as I’d actually worn Russo’s sweats once before.
Closing my eyes, I leaned my head forward and only opened my eyes when a voice startled me from my thoughts. I’d been so distracted I hadn’t heard the shower turn off.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Russo, a towel tied around his waist, brought a cup of coffee over to the bed and plunked it down on the nightstand. “How’d you sleep?”
“Um—”
My memories returned slowly. Russo picking me up in his shiny black car outside of the restaurant. Coming back to the hotel, eating pizza, drinking some wine. A lot of wine.
I’d told him about the case the previous night, or bits of it. And among the bits of case files and murders, I’d dripped information about my dad. My past. My fears. The embarrassment of joining the same police force that had shunned my father years before.
“We didn’t sleep together.” Russo interrupted my thoughts looking amused. “If that’s what you’re trying to figure out. I didn’t realize you’d had so much to drink.”
“No, it’s not the wine. I remember everything, I was just disoriented. I slept like a rock,” I said. “Though I almost wish we’d slept together. It would be less embarrassing than what actually happened.”
Russo shrugged. “We talked. I liked it. I’m not making a big deal about it, so you shouldn’t either.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t spill your guts about your daddy issues.”
“Neither did you.” Russo shifted, looking uncomfortable. “I’d sit on the bed next to you, but I should probably put some clothes on first. Even after a few glasses of wine, you were adamant about rule number three.”
“Sorry. It’s nothing personal.”
“I have to hope so,” Russo said with a grin. “Don’t worry, I slept on the couch.”
Sure enough, the couch had the ruffled look indicating it’d been well used the night before. A blanket and pillows rested on one arm. A small relief.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own bed. I would have taken the couch.”
“I didn’t get the chance to ask,” Russo said wryly. “I ran out to get some more ice and came back to find you snoring.”
“I don’t snore.”
“It was cute.”
“Please. Shoot me now.”
“I didn’t have the heart to move you to the couch, though I admit the idea of climbing in next to you crossed my mind. Just to sleep. But things had been going so well that I didn’t want to push my luck.”
I reached for the cup of coffee Russo had deposited on the nightstand. “Thank you,” I said softly. “For last night, and for everything. And especially for not making a big deal out of things.”
“Anytime. So, are you still going to that autopsy today?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot all about that. You had made plans for us today.”
“It’s fine. My plans can be moved.”
“What were they?”
“Nothing important,” Russo said quickly. “I understand you have to work. The case is personal; I wouldn’t take you away from it. Maybe we can get some dinner tonight. In the meantime, I’ll get in a run and a couple of hours of work.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” he said. “Now, let me take you home. You can keep the sweats.”
“I’m accruing quite the collection of your old clothes.”
He winked. “To tell you the truth, I don’t mind.”
Russo stuck to his word. He changed quickly and drove me home. I sat in his car for an extended moment on the street before my front door.
“I feel bad our weekend together is being cut short.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. I get it,” Russo said. “Though I wouldn’t mind a kiss to hold me over until I can see you again.”
My fingers froze on the door handle. “That’s such a boyfriend thing to say.”
“I have high hopes.”
I grinned. “I’m still firm on rule number three. Especially seeing as we haven’t technically finished our first date.”
“Tonight then,” Russo said with a cheeky wink. “Maybe I can change your mind.”
I leaned over, feeling a sudden burst of daring. Just before I connected my lips with his, I whispered, “I’d like to see you try.”
I broke the kiss a moment too soon. It took all my will power not to blow off the autopsy and shoot Jimmy a text telling him to take over the case. But I couldn’t shake the fact that my dad’s name had come up in a murder case. That, plus Tony ‘Peg Leg’ Colombo didn’t deserve to be gunned down in a refrigerator, even if he was a mobster at heart. He deserved justice, and I intended to hunt down whoever was responsible.
I made my way inside, feeling Russo’s eyes on my back. Anticipation burned in my bones.
Rule number three was proving pretty hard to keep, and we hadn’t even had a first date. I highly suspected that I was in trouble...in more ways than one.
I SHOWERED AND DRESSED for the day, sighing with relief as I slipped into my standard attire. I choose black slacks and a robin’s-egg-blue shirt that I rarely wore. I opted to leave in the delicate hoop earrings I’d donned the night before in preparation for my date. Just in case.
My outfit was complete once I unlocked my gun and badge and switched out my clutch for more deadly accessories. I was just popping in another cup of coffee when I got a text that Melinda was starting the autopsy.
I made it to the precinct, coffee cup in hand, twenty minutes later. I skillfully parked on the far side of the parking lot, opposite my mother’s café, in case business was slow and she was spending her morning peeping out the windows. I didn’t want to run into her just yet. For multiple reasons. Not least of all because she’d give me a hard time for ditching her latte in favor of a homemade cup of joe.
I also had no interest in discussing my date the previous evening with her, or the fact that it had ended abruptly. Then, there was the tiny detail about her ex-husband’s name coming to light in a murder investigation. Those were just a few of the reasons that Mama Rosetti was going to have to wait to see her second favorite daughter.
“Good morning.” Asha West did a double take as she glanced up at me. “You slept over at Russo’s, didn’t you?”
“What makes you say that?” I took a sip of coffee to hide my brightening cheeks.
“You have in hoop earrings. That shade of shirt looks great on you, and it shows off some cleavage. There’s got to be a special occasion.”
“I knew I’d see you,” I said. “That counts as a special occasion.”
“I notice you haven’t denied my assumptions.”
“I’d like to not discuss my private life over your keyboard.”
“Well, I’d invite you to dinner at Bellini’s to discuss personal matters,” Asha said with a smirk, “but it seems that’s turned into a crime scene.”
“Speaking of Bellini’s, I need a favor.”
“A favor. Of the personal variety?”
I studied my friend, gave her my biggest smile. Asha squinted at me, then brushed her long dark hair over her shoulder. One side of her head was shaved in a stylish way
, the other was braided in thin ropes. She had piercings in places I couldn’t pronounce, yet the computer genius managed to pull it all off beautifully.
“Spill,” she said. “I’ll do what I can.”
“I need my dad’s address.”
“Oh.”
“Angelo Rosetti.”
“I know who your dad is,” Asha muttered. “Are you going to get in contact with him after all this time? What prompted that?”
“That’s the part I’d like to keep quiet.”
A knowing glint appeared in Asha’s eyes. “Ah. You know, I bet your mother knows where he’s living.”
“She’s in a good place right now,” I said. “She recently signed up for a dating website. I’m not bringing this mess crashing back down on her without a good reason.”
A few keystrokes later, Asha had a sheet printed and in my hands.
“Thanks,” I said, glancing at the page to find that my father didn’t live far from me at all. “I appreciate it. And if anything becomes relevant, I promise to report it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Asha stared at the computer screen. “What favor?”
I squeezed her shoulder, then made my way through the main office of the TC Task Force. The walls were all exposed brick and rafters, an old building that’d been converted into a blusteringly cold space in winter and a scorching hot office in summer. The short burst of spring we were experiencing was about the only time it was comfortable at my desk.
For it being a Saturday, the office was quite busy. A few detectives plucked at their keyboards and nodded hello. Jimmy was behind his desk, pouring over a stack of papers.
“Morning,” I said. “Find anything?”
“I’m reading over the notes the officers got last night from the witnesses,” Jimmy grunted. “It’s a whole lot of nothing. Are you headed downstairs?”
“That’s my plan. I’ll let you know if I hear anything from Melinda.”
“What about your weekend plans?”
“They’re on hold.”
Jimmy stared into my eyes, a spark of interest there. “Are you sure taking this case isn’t all part of your plan to push away your agent?”
