by William Cain
Chapter 13 Reggi
September
That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet. Emily Dickinson
Reggi opens the cupboard and retrieves a coffee cup along with a k-cup and sets the Keurig to work. Once the coffee is made, she settles at the kitchen table and begins to read her paper she had picked up off the driveway earlier. Her mind is heavy with thoughts, and she soon drifts to the evening before, when she had appeared at a friend’s drop-in.
She was introduced to a gentleman and they spoke at length. He was kind of an old-looking guy, even for a seventy-six-year-old. She knew it was a set-up, her friends pairing them together. Of the available single men in the area, meaning Heritage Hills, this man is probably the best of the crop. Even if she herself looks fifty, sometimes you have to settle for less.
On one hand, maybe she’s not ready to date after Joe passed away. On the other, she’s not getting younger, and he is said to be quite wealthy—at least, that’s the word. Heck, everyone in the gated community is wealthy…except for her.
The man asked if he could call on her and she said yes. She does like the company, and she does like nice things. When she and Joe had money, they really spent it well; always tip-top, first class. She imagines this man knows she’s living month to month on social security. Everyone knows it. However, he never let on. At least he’s polite.
She’s staring into her cup when the phone rings and she jumps, startled. “Almost gave me a heart attack,” she utters out loud.
Answering it, she finds Frank on the other end. “Well, hello, Francis. How are you? It’s nice to hear your voice.”
“Hey, hey, don’t get formal with me, Mom,” Frank replies, smiling. “I’m thinking about coming down tomorrow. Have any free time to spend with your only son?”
“Let me check my calendar. I’m very busy,” she tells him in mock seriousness.
“I won’t be staying with you, Mom. I have some things to do in Asheville, but I want to come out and spend time there. Maybe take you to Lake Lure for a long lunch. I’ll be in town for three days, so you decide when is good and I’ll work around it.”
Reggi’s perturbed but also curious that Frank won’t be staying with her, “Of course, you have to stay with me at least one night. I am your mother, and I always look forward to it.”
“We’ll see,” Frank tells her, which means no. “What’s new?”
Reggi decides to tell him, “I went to a small cocktail party recently. I met someone. I was set up, rather. It was obvious.”
“And?” Frank wants to know more.
“He’s a younger man. I think he’s seventy-six. At least that’s what he said. But he’s a really old-looking guy. He asked if he could call me. You know, for a date.”
“And?” Frank says, pumping her for more information.
“And I said yes. Your dad’s been gone for a while now, with his Alzheimer's it's like he died over two years ago. And it can be very lonely here at times. Especially in the wintertime when over half of the people with homes here leave for warmer places. You know the drill. I’d go too if I had a home in Florida or Arizona.”
“Nobody’s judging you, Mom. I get it. Tell me about him,” Frank asks.
“Well, he’s very wealthy. And like I said, he’s not like Dad, who was so young-looking. He’s got a mop of gray hair. His wife died from cancer I think, so like me, he’s a widower. He has five kids. One, a daughter, lives in Asheville, but they’re estranged. Another daughter lives in San Francisco. She’s an attorney and so is her husband. One of his sons lives in Denver, and I forget where the others live. It was a lot to take in. I know he has homes in Wyoming and Savannah. But I think he told me he’s selling the one in Georgia. The Wyoming place is a ranch and he takes his buddies there to ride horses and hunt Elk. There’s a caretaker and his wife who take care of him when he uses the place. Let’s see, what else,” she pauses, and Frank lets her regroup. Continuing on, “He has a driver, Dennis. Ken doesn’t drive at night anymore, and he uses Dennis instead. Dennis has a dog. Anyway, he seemed like a nice older man. And like I said, he’s supposed to be pretty well off.”
“You have an ironclad memory, Mom,” Frank tells her. “He sounds nice enough. Maybe I can meet him when I come down?”
“What, are you screening my dates now? No way. Anyway, I just met the man. You can meet him some other time. I don’t even know if we’re going to go out or like each other, or anything. Now you tell me what you’re doing in Asheville if you won’t stay with your poor old mom,” Reggi says, changing the subject deftly.
Caught off guard, Frank stammers a little, “Uhh, I made a friend in Asheville and I’m coming down to see her, that’s all,” he says, hoping to close out the subject with that, which never works with Reggi.
“Yeah? Hmmm,” she reflects, and, thinking out loud, says, “Does this friend carry a gun?”
“Why don’t you just get right to the point, Mom,” he says laughingly. “Yes, she carries a gun.”
Hoping to give some well-earned advice, she replies, “Long distance romances are hard to keep up. She seemed nice enough. You staying with her? Detective Henson, if I remember?”
“I’m not ready for that, neither is she,” he replies, then adds softly, “You’re not the only lonely person around. I liked her when we met at your place, and we’ve been talking.”
Reggi thinks about asking him to stay with her again, but decides against it. “What’s she like, you know, out of uniform?”
Frank answers her right away. He wants her to see Adelaide the way he does. “She’s quick and got an answer for everything, like someone else I know. She’s easy to talk to, and interesting. I think she likes me. We’re going to find out if there’s anything between us, starting with her picking me up on Saturday after she gets off the job.”
“Ok, I’ll let you know what day is good for lunch then. Try and fit me in,” she feigns hurt.
Frank brushes it off, “Hey, Mom, this new guy that you’re thinking about seeing, does he have a name?”
“Why yes, he does. His name is Ken…
Ken Jones.”
Chapter 14 Riggoti
September
Life is pain, so live it up while you can. Ernest Hemingway
Addie arrived at the marina mid-morning. Her partner Rob stayed behind again; he’s got legal issues with his soon-to-be ex-wife. She likes Miami, it’s a vibrant city. The Miami Beach Marina has some huge yachts. They’re bobbing up and down in the water lazily, the blue, blue sky and heavy white clouds above. She looks at some of the boats’ names, finding one that piques her interest, and reads the name out loud, “Monkey Business.” Something creeps into her head, an old memory, and she suddenly remembers that’s the name of the yacht her friend Bill Stranges told her about. One of his high school friends, a girl, got into big trouble with a politician on a boat with that name years ago. Now the girl's a woman, highly respected, and she runs a nationwide women's anti-exploitation hotline. Addie’s struggling to recall the rest, and then the memory fades as quickly as it surfaced.
She checks a few more boats out. This is big money. When Addie reached out to Joseph Riggoti’s office, she was told he could meet her here around 11 am. Just go to the marina office, ring him, and he’d come to collect her. The girl from his office sounded pleasant enough, and gave her his cell to call.
Addie already pulled Riggoti’s profile, like she does on everyone, especially for this business. His picture was that of a trim, near sixty-year-old man with a kind face that belied the nature of his business. His dealings covered largely the vice game—prostitution, drugs, gambling, loan sharking and the like.
She read the profile twice. She was a little surprised he didn’t deal with anything that involved children, having to do with underage drug use or pornography, things like that. She’s amused somewhat when she thinks that she’s going to meet a mobster with a conscience. To her, it’s ironic that he could on one hand have your arm broken if
you don’t pay your vig, the interest on your debt, and on the other hand, have scruples.
After she makes her call, she looks around the marina. It’s a busy place with happy people coming and going. Beautiful people leading a beautiful life. How many tortured souls lead a superficial life here? she wonders. Shortly after she enters the marina office, the door behind her opens and as she turns, the woman behind the desk calls out, “Good morning, Joey. Terrific to see you.” He leans near her to kiss her on the cheek. He looks at Addie and approaches her.
“Detective Henson, my pleasure.” He extends his hand.
Taking it in her own, she responds, “Thank you for having met me, Mr. Riggoti.”
He’s dressed in beige linen slacks with a white breezy cotton shirt meant to be worn untucked. He removes his designer sunglasses and reveals clear, blue eyes and a kind look with short curly brown hair and a friendly smile. “Please, call me Joey. We’ll talk better that way. I’m available most of the morning and afternoon to answer your questions.”
Caught off guard by this older handsome man’s warm manner, she’s a little lost for words. Still, she finds her way and she replies, “Joey. Ok. Please call me Addie.” No time like the present to ignore department policy.
He opens the door for her and they walk outside. Smiling, he tells the marina girl goodbye. Continuing to walk towards a small building, he has his hand alternating and slightly resting on her shoulders or waist. It’s as if they’ve known each other a long time. He looks over at Addie and tells her, “I asked to meet here because my home is my sanctuary. It spooks my kids when I meet people there. Here we can talk easily, and I’m here to tell you what I know. But I have to warn you, I don’t know much.”
Addie already knows his wife died four years ago from cancer, so she doesn’t ask about her. He has four children, aging from teenagers to late twenties. Rumor has it that Gennarro Battaglia had an affair with Riggoti’s oldest daughter. This infuriated Riggoti, and there’s been bad blood ever since. He’s definitely a suspect.
They enter into the building and walk up a spiral staircase to a plush living room-like office. Pictures of his family line the walls and tables. She eyes a picture of him with a colossal fish he caught. The place is airy, and outside, the gulls are screeching, calling out in the background. It’s sunny and warm, not too hot. They take their seats on a huge sectional near windows overlooking the marina. A maid appears and asks if they’d like anything to drink, to which Riggoti looks at Addie and tells her, “Have something, please. I’m going to have my usual, an orange juice with soda.”
Addie hesitates, but then, looking at Joey first and then the maid, says, “Unsweetened iced tea, please.”
Joey adds, “And a fruit platter, thank you.” The maid disappears, and they are alone.
Addie notes his polite and easy manner. It’s not what she expected. And she likes it, but she has to keep telling herself who he is. The problem is, it’s getting harder and harder to do that.
She tells him, “I don’t like to scribble, so I’ll record this if that’s good with you.” She leans over to turn her phone into a recorder, then looks over at him. He’s been looking at her, with a slight grin showing through. He’s not mentally undressing her, it’s more like an evaluating and expectant look. She’s not offended. She likes his genuine, confident style.
Then she tells herself again that he’s a mobster and this is all a front. Reality sets in. But she can’t help liking him.
“Tell me about your relationship with Gennarro Battaglia and his wife.”
“As you know, I worked for Battaglia. Now I work for his nephew Vinnie. Done so for decades. Elsie I know pretty well…uh, knew. Horrible what happened to her. I hear it was gruesome. Gangi told me, horrible,” he repeats sadly, and Addie finds herself sympathizing with the man’s genuine grief.
“Yes, the crime scene was a brutal one.”
“And she was so beautiful,” he laments. “Even a guy like Biggie doesn’t deserve that. Elsie even less. I’ll tell you she made the room come alive, she was Biggie’s better half. She made him human.”
Continuing, he adds, “I’m sure you know about him and my daughter. Even that doesn’t stop me from pouring my heart out to the guy.”
They talk a little longer, and the time passes quickly. Before she can get to her more important questions, she sees it’s almost one o’clock, and he asks—or tells—her, “I have to go to my boat and see the skipper about a few things. Let me show it off to you, it’s really neat.”
They both stand up, and, when they find themselves downstairs, he opens the door for her and they walk out into the refreshing ocean air. She can’t help thinking as they walk along, chatting about boating and fishing, “A girl could get used to this life, real easy. If I was a crook, this is where I’d want to be.” Then she spanks herself for even having this crazy thought at all. Still, she finds herself laughing at his jokes and peering over at him when she thinks he’s not looking.
Approaching a long yacht, Addie is in awe that this belongs to Riggoti, but it does, and he jumps aboard nimbly. He extends his hand over to Addie to help her aboard. Once they reach the bridge, Joey begs off so he can speak with the skipper, “Please, look around at your leisure. Nothing is off limits.”
Addie begins to stroll along the bow to the stern and soon, Riggoti finds her, “Addie like?”
Smiling, Addie turns to him, and, just as she begins to acknowledge his inquiry, she finds he has looped his arm around her waist, and he draws her near to him. He’s just looking into her eyes with a sincere, fond gaze. And she’s looking back, breathing a little heavily.
He leans in to kiss her.
And, she lets him.
Chapter 15 Addie
September
Nobody can hurt me without my permission. Mahatma Ghandi
Riggoti leans back to look at her, “I couldn’t help myself. Didn’t want to stop myself. I’ll understand if you want to break off the discussion. But I’ll tell you one thing.”
All this time, Addie’s head is swimming. “What.”
“I liked it,” and he breaks into a broad smile.
To which Addie replies, pointing and somewhat smiling, “See this, it’s a gun. You remember I’m a cop, right? Our chosen professions don’t blend well.”
He just shrugs and spreads his arms, saying, “I’m not married to this life.”
“How would I tell people who you are?”
“Make something up. Hey, we just met, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Listen, I know you have other questions. How does dinner sound? I have an appointment in twenty minutes.”
She looks skeptical. “I answered all your questions so far, didn’t I?” he asks.
“Yes, you did.”
“I can pick you up at seven.”
She looks at him; he’s no threat. He likes her. And she does have some other questions.
And she does have to eat.
“Fontainebleau. Suite 1362.”
He looks at her questioningly.
“Hey, it’s my nickel. The department had a Super 8 hotel room waiting for me. I’m in Miami, I said Addie, let’s do this right,” she says with an air of independence.
“I’ll be there at seven. Let me walk you back.”
After reaching her car, she leaves the marina.
She has to find something new to wear.
Chapter 16 Riggoti
September
It is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not. Andre Gide
There’s a knock on her hotel room door. Addie looks at her phone and sees it’s almost seven pm. Punctual mobster, go figure. She looks through the peephole and she sees a woman. Somewhat confused, she opens the door and the figure standing before her is a tall attractive brunette who is vaguely familiar.
“Yes?” Addie asks, opening the door.
“Mr. Riggoti is downstairs. He asked me to come and escort you myself. He says to tell you that if you’re
not ready, he can wait as long as you need,” the woman replies. “I’m his driver.”
Addie raises a brow and asks her to come in while she makes some last minute improvements.
“I’m Manny,” the driver tells her.
Pointing to herself, Addie replies, “I’m Addie.” After a few moments, “Ok, let’s go.” They leave, meeting Joey downstairs. When they approach him, he stands and looks at Addie. She’s dressed in heels with a loose billowy cream blouse and deep purple Aladdin pants split from ankle to thigh. Joey is not just surprised, he’s speechless. She sees the effect she has on him, and, frankly, they’re both excited and attracted to each other.
They walk to the stretch together, and, after having been seated inside, Riggoti nods in Manny’s direction, “Don’t let her good looks kid you. She’s my bodyguard. That’s Amanda Moones.”
Addie mutedly tells him, “I thought I recognized her. She kicks ass!” referring to Moones’s days as a female fighter on the UFC circuit.
They both find they’re laughing easily together.
Addie thinks, What are you doing, Addie? What are you doing? She’s looking out the window and just wondering, cursing herself on her stupid schoolgirl ways. But she’s having a good time. She likes Riggoti. She turns her head around and they share conversation like it never stopped since earlier in the afternoon. She finds him to be at ease, and that makes her comfortable, too. This is one night she doesn’t have her service weapon with her.
When they arrive at the restaurant, Joey tells Manny to go home, and he whispers, “she’s a detective!” It’s not like he hasn’t told her fifty times already. So, Manny smiles and drives away, thinking, He acts like he’s eighteen.
Inside, they’re ushered to their table after having passed the tables of wealthy businessmen, playboys, politicians—each waving and calling out to Joey as they pass by. Everyone is wondering who the stunning arm candy is Joey has with him. Addie looks over to Riggoti and laughs cutely at his witty commentary. She knows she’s being watched, looked at. She plays the game well.
