The Blood of Saints (Tom Connelly Book 2)

by Nick Dorsey

  After, they drove back to her place accompanied by sleepy daytime talk radio. He yawned when he pulled up to the curb and tried to cover it with a fist.

  “You want some coffee?” She had her door open, one foot on the curb. But she was leaning back to him, taking him in.

  Tom shook his head. “I can get some on the way home. I have work tonight. Casino.”

  She reached over and squeezed his hand. Let it rest there. Then she said, “I’m going to look over my notes. I need to make a pot. Come on.”

  She got out of the car and walked to her porch. When she realized he wasn’t following, she stopped and gave him a look. He was just sitting there. She pinwheeled her arm in an exaggerated gesture. He cracked a smile and followed her in. The coffee pot wasn’t clean. Jean tossed the used grounds and rinsed the pot. Tom stood in the doorway, resting his head on the molding and watching her. “Do you want me here in case Dominic comes back?”

  She paused while drying the pot. “You think he will?”

  “I don’t know. I think he’s unpredictable. But I also think Sal’s just the face. Amelia LaRocca has her hand on the tiller.”

  “The old lady?” She thought about it for a moment. “Really?”

  “Not a hundred percent. But pretty sure.”

  Jean held the glass pot with both hands and thought about that. “You think she’ll tell Dominic to come by?”

  “Amelia?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tom rolled his eyes to the ceiling and exhaled. “I think she misses Ernesto Adelfi.”

  “So now you’re rethinking your whole theory?” She pursed her lips and rummaged around for the can of dark roast. “Maybe it wasn’t the mob side of the family. And you don’t think Sofia had it in her. So, you’re thinking now, what? Ernesto, slipped and fell? Somehow shot himself a few times?” Tom snorted, something like a laugh. Jean spooned coffee into a filter and in a moment the pot was bubbling and popping.

  “Just because she’s sad doesn’t mean she’s not guilty. And there’s Dominic and his girlfriend.”

  Tom shook his head and wandered to the couch. Chicory the cat jumped into his lap and made himself at home. “I don’t know. For guilty people, they’re pretty okay with having detectives and lawyers around.” He leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “You know, I had an okay time with you today. You know. Considering.”

  “Considering what? We ate with a bunch of mobsters?” Jean turned away from him and poured two cups of coffee. “I’m trying to figure out what to do here. I should be moving on, you know. I’ve got cases that need my attention. Hey. Shit. I put cream in both. Is that alright?” Jean leaned into the room and saw Tom asleep on the couch. Chicory was purring in his lap. She walked to them, set the cups on the table, and sat next to him. Chicory’s ear was soft and velvety under her fingertips. “What do you think? Do we wake him up?”

  Chicory purred and shut his eyes. So it was like that. Jean studied the curve of Tom’s jaw. The slight blonde stubble. She decided she liked how he smelled. Some cologne today, but nothing oppressive. She laid her head on his shoulder and tried to remember the last time she had taken a nap with a man. No fooling around, nothing like that. How long since she had been comfortable enough around to man to take a regular nap. Had it been years?

  In a few minutes, she was asleep.

  When she woke she was curled against Tom with her head nestled in his shoulder and it was dark out. Without moving too much, Jean grabbed Tom’s phone from the coffee table and looked at the time. Past six. She slid a hand up and touched Tom’s chin. His stubble prickled her fingertips.

  “Hey,” she said.

  He took a deep breath and shifted. If he was surprised to find her on the couch with him, he didn’t show it. “Sorry. I was resting my eyes.”

  “For four hours? Some rest.”

  “Shit, really?”

  “Yeah.”

  He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the couch. He took a deep, waking-up breath and Jean’s head moved with his chest. He said, “I’ve got to work in a few hours.”

  Jean’s heart thudded in her ears. She was nervous in this moment before action, but she had decided to act. She slid her face up his shoulder and pushed her nose into his neck. “What’s a few hours between friends?” She pushed her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. Felt the warmth of his neck under her lips.

  Tom shifted toward her. Jean’s dress rode up and his hand found the place where the wool fabric fell away from her thigh. He looked down and she craned her head up and she found she was not nervous anymore, not at all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Dominic drank his second glass of wine and watched the kitchen crew scrub the place down. The kitchen was a mess, too. Fish special all day, ziti all day. The Saint Joseph meal had thrown them out to sea and they never quite recovered, even with Dominic back there captaining the ship. Being banished to the kitchen for the whole of Saint Joseph’s day was embarrassing, but Dominic would swallow his pride this once. He messed up when it came to the cookies, he could admit that. Besides, when Sal handed the reins of the Pan over to him, he wanted the big guy to know he could accept responsibility. And part of that was humility, right? So that’s okay. He could take it.

  Sal looked tired when he banged into the kitchen. Coffee-stain rings under his eyes, moving like one hip was frozen. It was late and the old man had had a long day. He waved Dominic over and led him out to his favorite table. Sal was drinking something brown, which wasn’t like him. He gestured for Dominic to sit and poured the younger man a few fingers.

  “It’s the Bunnahabhain. Twenty-five years old, almost older than you, right?” The old man’s eyes crinkled and Dominic let himself smile. “Here, drink with me. Cent'anni.” Sal raised his glass and Dominic tilted his toward the other man.

  “Salud.”

  They drank. The booze was strong and smokey and Dominic didn’t like it at all, but he drank it anyway. When the boss offers you a drink, you drink. A whirlwind of flame circled his mouth and darted down his throat to ignite his stomach. Dominic tried not to wince.

  Sal raised his glass again. “Saint Joseph, pray for us.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Dominic followed suit and drank the fire again.

  Sal hunched over his glass and peered at Dominic. He did that. Like he was peering into your soul or something. Dominic didn’t like it, but he didn’t look away, either. You couldn’t. You just had to face the man. Sal drank and rolled the liquor around his mouth. He sucked his teeth and said, “You’re getting the restaurant.”

  Dominic lit up. He collected himself. He was supposed to be cool and calm and ready for the job, not some excited kid on Christmas morning. “Listen, Sal,” he began, but the old man cut him off.

  “Don’t go getting ideas. It’s just the Pan, for now. You manage the place and manage it right, okay? You’re gonna be my right hand, now. But I need you to focus. I don’t want another biscotti incident.”

  “Okay, that was a one-time thing, and short notice.”

  “What, Saint Joseph’s Day sneaks up on you? It’s on the calendar. Happens every year.”

  Dominic wanted to tell the old man, of course, he knew what day it was, he knew more than the old man could guess. He sucked his teeth instead. “I understand. Okay? I was gonna say, I take full responsibility.”

  Sal frowned but he nodded. “Nino still has the game room. Don’t get any ideas. But the Pan is yours. I’m going out on a limb, giving you the restaurant. Some guys aren’t gonna be happy. Don’t let them give you any shit, either. But you run this place. And you keep up with everything, and we’ll talk about you stepping up for real.” Sal poured himself another and set the bottle down. He didn’t offer Dominic another one, and the younger man was alright with that.

  “I can do that,” he said. “I’ve got ideas.”

  Sal grimaced. “Not tonight, okay? We’ll go over your ideas another time.” Dominic understood that. Sal peered in
to his drink and Dominic was wondering if he had been dismissed or there was more.

  For an answer, he got Sal saying, “Ernie was on the ball, over here. Lot of movement. Lots of things to consider. I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

  “I know.” Dominic leaned forward, full of emotion. “I can do it. I’ve been in the restaurant a while. I’ve been watching.”

  “You’ve been watching?”

  “And learning.”

  “That’s good.” Sal swished the scotch around and when he swallowed he made a sound like the last exhaled breath of a dying man. His eyes drooped. He said, “Let me ask you, I hear you got a little girlfriend, where was she tonight?”

  Dominic hesitated. He could feel himself hesitate, too, which worried him. If he saw it, maybe the old guy was still sober enough to notice it. He said, “She was busy. Work.”

  “We like to see everybody in the Pan for the big holidays. Okay?”

  When Dominic left, Sal stood and grunted. Everything was stiff. His right leg was the real trouble maker, and a long day of shaking hands and giving toasts had only antagonized the bastard. He walked over to the bar and shuffled through the crap by the register until he found the spiral notebook that Dominic used to make the employee schedule. After a few minutes of flipping through pages, he picked up his cell phone and dialed.

  “You know, it’s not good,” he said.

  Amelia LaRocca’s high voice spoke. “Does that mean you had a productive conversation or a pointless one?”

  “I’m still deciding that. The night Ernie died? The kid wasn’t working.” Sal slid the schedule away from him, disgusted with the thing. “He took Valentine’s Day off.”

  The woman on the other end inhaled. “That doesn’t mean he did it.”

  “I know. But I’ve been keeping an eye on him. Taking measures. And, you know, he’s a little squirrely. More than usual.”

  Amelia’s voice came over the phone. “You have to be sure.”

  Of what? Sal was thinking. Sure that the little prick was making things difficult? That he was a goddamn magnet for attention? He was sure of that. The problem with the new generation was, the kids always thought they were the first people in the history of the world to dream up something. He got it, or at least he thought he did. He remembered the feeling. Like when he first started fooling around with a girl, Paulina something, and everything fit, it was all going well. Felt like he was Lewis and Clarke exploring the untamed wilderness. Or Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. It was the same when he first started pulling penny-ante jobs and dumbass scams. Him and his little crew thinking they thought up insurance fraud. That’s how the new generation was, though. That was the way of the world. The young ignored the old guys because they knew better. Because they had the new ideas.

  Like taking out a made guy to clear some room at the top. That was one of the oldest ideas a guy in their line of work could get, and here was Dominic trying to make it new again.

  Sal said, “He’s been different.”

  “I know,” Amelia said.

  “So that’s your answer?” He asked. Waiting for her to give him the OK.

  She spoke in almost a whisper. “What’s the point of growing old, Salvatore, if the world’s just going to break your heart?”

  So that was that.

  Tom walked the floor of the casino in his gold coat, not watching the gamblers and the slots and not even hearing the machines ping and call out and play their endless tunes. The afternoon had been good. Real good. Jean Perez. Who woulda thought? He felt almost high, now, almost a little drunk, and like it was with every drink, it wasn’t too long before he saw the hangover coming around the bend. What did any of that mean, today? What was it going to mean for their case?

  He needed to take his mind off of the whole situation. He was thinking about trying to track down Ray and badger him into a game when his phone rang.

  Patton didn’t say hello. “You can talk?” A little out of breath. Excited.

  The afternoon vaporized and Tom’s focus snapped back to the case. “One second. Let me call you back.” A few minutes later he was in a back emergency stairwell that smelled like cigarette smoke. Some of the pit bosses would sneak in there and take a break now and then. He called Patton back and there was no hi, how are you? They got right to it.

  “I told you I was going to walk the neighborhood again with Eason Kandinsky, right?”

  “Yeah,” Tom said. “I’m surprised he wanted to. I got the impression that he wanted this done yesterday.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Patton snorted laughter. “Dude is full of shit. Anyway, we went down there. Talked to some of the same folks on Bluebird. Eason ran the show, asking about Sofia and Ernesto’s marriage. But he only wanted to know if Ernesto was a mean drunk, or if he slapped her around, that sort of thing.”

  Tom leaned against the scarred wooden banister and nodded to nobody. “Sure. Same song he’s been singing. Trying to call it self-defense. Battered wife is forced to take a last resort.”

  “Yeah. I think so. Anyway, we got what we got. Not much. But leaving, I had an idea. Bluebird Street is a cul-de-sac, one way in, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, before the turn in there’s this gas station and a little strip mall. So I ask Eason, let’s see if the gas station has video. Because if we can see part of the street, maybe we can see somebody off going in or out of the cul-de-sac. Somebody that’s not supposed to be there. They got to have it, right?”

  “It’s not a bad idea.” Tom wasn’t so sure it was a home run, either. “Sort of a long shot, though.”

  “Exactly.” Patton snapped the words out.

  Tom waited , chewing on his lip. “And?”

  “Eason said no. Waste of time.”

  “Oh. Still, not a bad idea.”

  “It’s not just ‘not a bad idea.’ It’s a good idea. Give me some credit here. That’s why I went in there after work. Just on my own to holla at the girl behind the counter. She was alright.”

  “You did what?” Patton was going somewhere and leaving Tom behind.

  “I got her number and got the damn video is what I did.”

  “Shit. Really?”

  “Really. She brought me to the back room and everything. They got digital backups for six months. I got the night in question. February fourteenth.”

  Tom’s mind was racing. “Okay. So now we have to play the elimination game. We’re going to need to get plates from every house on Bluebird to check them against whatever cars we see on tape. Find out which one doesn’t belong.”

  “Or you could listen to me.”

  Tom paused. “I hadn’t thought of that. Alright. Go ahead.”

  “We’re talking six at night. Cars, buses, usual bullshit passing up Bluebird Street. Then there’s a grey Lexus, uh...hold up. Okay, I got it written down. A Lexus RX 350 pulls into the gas station, parks, and a dude hops out. Just leaves the car there.”

  Tom perked up at the mention of the car. He thought back to eyeballing Dominic and his girl coming out of their apartment. Getting into something like a Jeep, only not that. “What’s an RX 350?”

  “Like an SUV.”

  Shit. Tom said, “That could be our guy.”

  There was a moment of silence on the other end. “It looks a lot like the SUV that guy, Dominic was driving. When we were staking out the restaurant, remember?”

  “I remember.”

  “Okay. Whoever he is, he walks toward Bluebird. Can’t tell where he goes. Could be he goes down the street, could be he goes into this little park along the backs of the houses.”

  “Or he could go somewhere completely different. Take a bus downtown. Who knows, right?” That was Tom trying to play devil’s advocate and not even convincing himself of the job.

  “Sure. Sure. Anyway, he’s gone. Almost seven-thirty he comes back, takes the car, and off he goes.” Silence on the other end of the phone while Patton left him to his thoughts.

  Tom dug a finger in
to his temple. “I don’t have the paperwork. I mean, I don’t know if that matches the time of death.”

  “I know it does. I know for both of us.”

  “It fits?”

  “Damn right it does.”

  Okay then. Tom blew out air. “You get an ID?”

  “It’s kind of dark. But if you told me it’s that Dominic guy, I’d believe you. I got a plate. Little late for me to make a call, but I can do it tomorrow morning.”

  “But it’s the Lexus SUV.” It was all fitting together.

  “It’s the Lexus SUV. Yeah.”

  Tom straightened his jacket. “Okay. I’m at work. I’ll give Jean a call. No. Let’s take this to her. See what she says. Pick me up at my place in the morning, okay? I’ll lay out the whole case for you, as I see it. Let you tell me if it sounds insane.” Tom sighed. He would have to power through his shift and make it through tomorrow without sleeping, but he wanted to take this to Jean first thing. “Better make it early. Bring coffee.”

  Dominic called Erika as soon as he got in the car. He turned on the speakerphone and stuffed the phone in one of the Lexus’s oversized cup holders. Light rain fell and the whole world was a blur outside his windshield. He told Erika the good news, and not to pack for Lafayette just yet. They were going to go celebrate first. He was on River Road with the levee creeping up beside him when he got another call.

  “I gotta take it.”

  “Now?”

  “It’s the guy.”

  “You just left the restaurant.” Almost whining now. Like their whole conversation about him moving up and getting the Pan hadn’t happened, now that she wasn’t getting what she wanted.

  “Yeah, so I guess it must be important,” Dominic said, and hung up on her. He switched to the other call.

  “ Where you at?” Sal crackled through the speakerphone.

  “On my way home.”