by Nick Dorsey
Eason caught her at the elevator and they rode up together. He toasted her with a giant coffee. “For the home stretch.”
“Your double? On a Friday night?”
“Filing motions first thing. I’m a procrastinator.” He sighed deeply, then said, a little too cheerfully, “Who was your friend out there?”
“Where?”
“Guy in the suit. Little guy.”
“He wanted to buy me a coffee.”
“He’s hitting on you?”
“He’s trying to hire me.” She flashed him DiAngelo’s card.
“Hunh. That’s an okay firm. Did you get your client to take a plea? Adelfi?”
“I’m coming from back-to-back court, I’m not having this conversation again.”
“No? Juanita is asking me. You go for involuntary manslaughter and the DA can probably make it work.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Enjoy your coffee.”
Rain was coming down in sheets by the time she made it back to her shotgun double. She opened a beer and called out, “Chicory? Chick? Chickie?” No Chicory. The tortoiseshell patterned cat was allowed outside, but he would usually be mewling at the door before a storm or waiting on the porch for her if he was caught in the rain.
Jean decided she would lay down on the couch, just for a minute, before she made herself dinner. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Eason and DiAngelo and Judge Finley muscled for space in her thoughts.
I’m a fighter.
Involuntary manslaughter. Shit.
I’m a warrior.
She was asleep before she could finish it.
Her phone woke her.
She scrambled to answer it, taking in a deep breath. “Hello?”
“I woke you up.”
“Mr. Connelly.”
“Yeah, sorry. I can call back tomorrow.”
Jean sat up and turned on a lamp. She could hear the rain coming down outside. Still no Chicory. She dug a heel into her eye. “No. No. I was just taking a nap. What time is it?”
“Uh. Eleven-thirty.”
Some nap. “Oh.”
“It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not. What do you need?”
“I just dropped Patton off. Listen, this will be easier if I explain in person.”
A cold, raw feeling coiled into existence in the pit of her stomach. “It’s that bad?”
“Bad isn’t the right word.”
“But it’s call-me-late important?”
“I think so.”
Jean opened her front door to check the porch for the stupid cat. She turned the light on. Chicory had probably found some garage or other porch and was waiting out the storm. She said, “I slept through dinner. You called me late. So. Chinese.”
“Chinese?”
“Tofu and mixed vegetables. That’s the price you pay for disturbing me at home.”
“Alright. Any particular place?”
“Asia Gardens is close to my house, but Five Happiness is my favorite. Think about what you’re going to tell me, and the degree to which it’s going to piss me off. Then choose wisely.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tom drove to Jean’s place near City Park with his car smelling like six different kinds of Chinese food, the rain coming down in sheets of white noise. He had dropped Patton off at his apartment. The kid said he was burnt out, but Tom thought he was a little freaked out from their field-trip. That was fine. He had been upset and Tom didn’t want that anxiety leaking into his conversation with Jean.
He ran through the rain with the plastic bags of Chinese cradled in his arms and knocked on Jean’s door with an elbow.
Her place was clean, with a few small stacks of mail and random bits of paper scattered on various pieces of furniture. A sure sign of a quick cleaning job before some company shows up.
Tom held up the food. “Where do you want it?”
“The dinner table.” There wasn’t one. Jean threw a stack of paper plates on the coffee table in the thin living room, then disappeared into the kitchen. She called out, “I’ve got a jug of wine from last week, if you want some. Maybe a beer. Hold on. No, just the wine.”
Tom spread take-out containers on the coffee table. “Water’s good.”
Jean brought out a bottle of water for him and a water glass full of wine for herself. She said, “Let’s hear it.”
Tom bit into a crab puff and began. “We went gambling tonight.”
She scowled. He told her everything.
Tom and Patton had gone back to the strip mall around eight o’clock that evening. There were cars scattered throughout the parking lot, though the lone liquor store remained curiously empty. There in the back of the parking lot, a lone police cruiser still sat quietly, keeping watch.
As they walked to the empty storefront Tom thought held the illegal poker room, Patton said, “I can’t lose all this money, though.”
“Then you should leave some in the car.”
“Shit. Really?”
“No. Just play slow. Okay? It’s poker. Fold before you get in too deep.”
“I don’t like this stuff.”
Tom waved away. They knocked on the door they saw Hair Curtains enter hours before. A voice inside called. “Alright.”
Tom pushed the door open and found himself in a small receiving area. Just a box with a door on either end and a bouncer sitting on a stool, reading a magazine.
The man rubbed his bald head and looked them over. “How y'all doing?”
Tom looked at Patton, who shrugged. Tom said, “We’re okay. How about yourself?”
The man shrugged, then he gestured back to the front door. “Guess y'all have a good night. Go on.”
So Tom needed some sort of password. He didn’t have it and he had already screwed up. He thought this might happen. Patton turned but Tom caught his arm, then turned back to the bald man. “Wait. Hey. Dominic said we should stop by.”
The man on the stool sniffed and thought about that. “Dominic said so, hunh?” He threw his thumb at the inner door and leaned back. As he did so, Tom could see the pistol and holster on his hip. “Y'all enjoy y’allselves. Good luck.”
If it was once an office, Tom couldn’t tell what kind of place it had been. Any walls or partitions had been removed. The space was now wide open, holding a gaming room with three poker tables. Every table had a game up and running. A bar was built into one corner and two women looked bored behind it. A line of mismatched pictures hung around the room, everything from a Playmate spread from 1998 to a picture of an LSU running-back plowing through the Crimson Tide.
As they entered, the man they had followed earlier, Hair Curtains, peeled himself off a wall and gave them a used-car salesman smile. His eyes crinkled. He was older than Tom first suspected. “Hey, kids. Welcome to our little establishment. We got your classic five-card over there. We got Texas Hold ‘Em over there and over there, okay? Hold ‘Em is on the TV, the World Series, so everybody wants to play.” Tom picked up some sort of accent. Italian, and not exactly the native New Orleans flavor, like Sal. Hair Curtains was the real deal.
Tom looked over the room. “This place is nice.”
“Let’s keep it that way. Nice friendly games, okay? You need a drink, you got your game girls over there. Alyssa and Ginny. They’ll fix you up. I’m Nino. You let me know if you need anything else, okay?”
Tom smiled and produced eight twenty dollar bills. “I guess all I need is a couple chips. Pat?”
Patton dug into his wallet and came out with a few bills. “Yeah. Same. I’ll play the Hold ‘Em.”
Tom lost two hands early on and then folded every hand he could. Patton surprised Tom by knowing how to play and quietly doubling his money. “Thought you didn’t like this stuff?”
“When did I say that? I play online a couple times a week.”
“Online. Of course.”
“Hey, I seen you play chess on your phone.”
“Fair enough.” Tom folded again and looked
around. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t know he was a shark when I brought him.” The other guys at the table laughed through their poker faces.
Tom sat through another three hands before he won a small pot off a pair of sevens.
The guy next to him grumbled, “Never shoulda been in that hand.”
The dealer expertly palmed the house’s take from the stack of chips he pushed to Tom. Everyone expected it to happen, but it was best if the house collected as covertly as possible. Tom flipped the dealer a chip. “I once played a game with this guy who mentioned working at a place like this. His name was Eddie? Or Ernie?”
The dealer shrugged. “They got a couple dealers that come in.” He dealt Tom a crap hand, ten-two offsuit. Almost like he meant to do it.
“He was an alright guy,” Tom said. Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Nino, or Hair Curtains, start to move around the place. He went to the bar and had a girl make him a drink. Tom folded his hand. “It was Ernie, yeah. Like Bert and Ernie.”
The dealer shrugged again. Nino walked over to another table and said something to their dealer, then ambled toward Tom. He stood over Patton for a moment. Tom decided he should go ahead and ask Nino. He could make up a game, a place where he would have met Ernesto Adelfi. Hopefully, Nino wouldn’t dive too much deeper than that.
Tom was about to ask his questions when the door opened and Dominic walked in. He was still in his restaurant uniform, only now his sleeves were rolled up. His artful stubble looked like it had been painted on. Tom put his head down a bit, thinking fast. The guy had seen him at the Pan Dell’Orso, that was a sure thing. He would probably recognize Tom. The only question was, what would he do about it?
Nothing at first, it turned out. Dominic made a line right for Nino, his mouth turned down, looking more like he was about to cry than looking like he was pissed off, but he was pissed off. Nino turned from the table. The move blocked Tom from Dominic’s view.
Nino said, “Dom, how’s the Pan?”
“Dead. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m sort of at work, okay? I got full tables.”
Dom tried to lower his voice, but it just made him sound more petulant. “You know I was supposed to make the rounds with the guy today.”
“You seriously come here for that?”
“We got a whole schedule, that’s why we got that schedule. We drive the guy different days.”
“Jesus, he asked me .”
“You should have made up an excuse. You got to go to the dentist or something.”
“The dentist?”
“Or something like that. The point is, you knew it was my day. I wanted to have a conversation with him.”
“I’m busy, okay?”
“Don’t high-hat me, Nino. You know we got a schedule as much as I do.”
Tom glanced over at Patton to see if he was listening. He was intently studying his cards, so Tom took that as a ‘yes’. The guy they were arguing over driving was Sal, it had to be. Two employees jockeying for face-time with the boss.
Nino tried to put a hand on Dominic’s shoulder but the younger guy shrugged it off. Nino said, “Not here. You know that.” And he did something Tom gave him a lot of credit for. He turned his back. He didn’t escalate the argument or raise his voice. Nino simply walked away from Dominic and walked around the tables. The young guy had been dismissed.
Dominic watched Nino walk off and stood there like an angry toddler with his fists balled up. His eyes dropped down and met Tom’s. Tom nodded at him and went back to the poker game, but it was too late. He had seen the surprise and recognition on Dominic’s face. Tom cursed under his breath.
“Hey,” Dominic said, and walked over to Tom’s shoulder.
Tom ignored him. When Dominic poked him in the shoulder Tom jumped. “What?”
“I know you.”
“I don’t think so,” Tom said without looking up.
“My mistake.” Dominic walked away, but Tom knew that wasn’t it. That couldn’t be. Tom made eye contact with Patton, and the kid wasn’t jumping out of his seat, but he wasn’t as cool as he had been a minute ago. Patton nodded at something behind Tom and he looked. He knew he shouldn’t look, but he couldn’t help himself.
One of the fattest men Tom had ever seen was coming toward them. His head was stuck between his shoulders, no neck to speak of, and he had an XXL Saints jersey stretched across his stomach. Somehow, Tom didn’t think he had ever played.
Nino and Dominic were close behind, whispering something. In the next second the Saints jersey blocked his view.
“Y'all gotta leave now.”
“What? Why?”
“Because.” The guy was breathing heavily from his walk across the room. His piggy eyes were glaring at Tom.
“I’m in a hand.” Tom showed the fat man his cards. Chubby fingers grabbed them and threw them into the pot.
“Not no more.” The chubby fingers waved Tom up.
Tom turned to the table for help. “This isn’t right. I should be able to win my money back, right?”
The table was no help. Tom gave Patton a meaningful look, and he said, “Yeah, why’s he gotta go?”
“Because he’s got someplace else to be.” That was the bouncer standing in the doorway. He stood with both hands behind his back in something like parade rest. He didn’t look relaxed, but the stance did show off his holstered weapon. Tom pushed himself up from the table.
“Alright,” he said. “I guess I can gamble elsewhere.”
Nino called out, “The black kid, too.”
Patton didn’t have to be told twice.
Tom tried to gather a bit of fried rice with his chopsticks and waited for Jean to respond. Outside, rain came down, a real racket. Inside there was just the steady tick of a clock on the hallway wall. She wasn’t yelling at him yet, which was good. But she was quiet and rubbing that old scar on her forehead, which Tom didn’t like.
Finally, she said, “What did we learn?”
Tom frowned. He liked the question. “Ernesto Adelfi was absolutely into the family business.”
“How’d you figure that out? You said nobody in the poker room knew him.”
“That was bullshit, first of all. Second, this kid recognized me from the restaurant. All the restaurant guys know the game room guys. It’s all mixed together.”
“It is?”
“The restaurant, the game room, the car dealership. All part of the same organization.”
“Which you can prove, right?”
“No.” Tom sat back on the couch and crossed his arms over his chest, furrowing his brow. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Alright. But you can prove that within all this bullshit is an ironclad chain of cause and effect that ends with the death of Ernesto Adelfi, right?”
Tom took a moment. He could feel that there was something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He shook his head. “No. Not yet, anyway.”
Jean cursed under her breath.
“But it’s turning in that direction. The LaRocca family isn’t on the straight and narrow, that’s for sure. Patton is going to look into the real estate, see who owns the property.”
Jean stabbed a chunk of tofu with her chopsticks and spoke with her mouth full. “If Sofia Adelfi wants to go to trial, we have to prove that Sofia couldn’t have done it. Which we can’t do. I need that. I need her story. Then we start throwing out theories about everybody else.”
“There’s a weak link in the LaRocca family. This kid, Dominic. I’ve run into him a few times. Sal, he’s a talker but he knows how to talk. He’s been around the block. Dominic is on edge. Loose. He’ll screw up if I give him half a chance. If I keep on him I might be able to come up with something more substantial.”
“What’s he got to do with Ernesto?”
“I don’t know yet. But I will. Like I said, he’s squirrely.”
“We still don’t have Sofia’s timeline.”
“We’re working on it. That’s part of this.”
> Jean thought about that for a moment. She said, “Shit.” Then she dug into one of the plastic take-out bags and pulled out a few fortune cookies. She passed one to Tom and cracked one open herself. Tom bit his cookie in half and unfolded the fortune.
Jean said, “What did you get?”
“A wonderful voyage is right around the corner. You?”
“Fortune is on your horizon.”
“Funny how everything is always on the cusp of happening, but nothing ever does.”
Jean cut her eyes at him. “Funny how that happens.”
The cry from outside was one of the most pitiful things Tom had ever heard. Jean cursed and shot up from the couch. When she opened the door a tiny whirlwind of mud and water shot inside.
“Oh, hell, Chicory.” Jean made a move to grab the thing but the cat darted away from her, leaving a trail of muddy footprints.
Tom half-rose from the couch. “Woah.”
Jean ran off behind the thing. “Okay. Okay. Wait just a second.” Tom followed her back through the house and found her cradling the ball of mud. Jean said, “He’s going to get mud everywhere if I let him loose. Let me lock him in the bathroom or something until later.” She walked down the hall. “Fantastic.”
“What happens later?”
“A bath.”
“I thought cats hate water?”
“Yeah, it’s going to be a struggle. He’s going to put up a fight.” She paused in the hallway and leaned against the wall, the ball of mud mewling in her arms. “Listen, can we call it a night?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. I’ve got court in the afternoon, but let’s get together in the morning.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I might be in the market for a used car.”
“You’re not angry?”
“I didn’t say that.” She turned down the hallway. “You can let yourself out.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tom couldn’t sleep. He stalked through his apartment and opened the window behind the couch. His mind was racing. He could feel that he was on the right track with the Adelfi case. The husband, his family, the crime connections, they all pointed to Sofia being innocent and to the LaRocca family being involved. He just couldn’t figure out the details.
