Shadows from the Past

by Terry Ambrose

  “I have a few questions for you. That’s all.”

  “What are you hassling me for?”

  The mist hanging in the air seemed to deaden all sound and, despite their closeness to town, the night had taken on an unusual quiet. “Do you know a man named Mateo Carli?”

  Neri eyed Skip suspiciously, seemed to consider his options and said, “He’s a cousin.”

  Skip did a double take and looked across the street at the house before turning his attention back to Neri. “Your grandmother didn’t say anything about him being related.”

  “You talked to Grandma Daniela?” Neri inched closer to Skip. “She better be okay.”

  “She’s fine. We only talked. She’s a feisty old lady.” One who hadn’t been completely truthful as far as Skip was concerned. “Now, what’s the deal with Mateo Carli?”

  Neri pursed his lips. “To her, he’s not related. She wishes he was dead.”

  “Why?”

  When Neri related the same story the old woman had given him about his father’s death, Skip realized her lie wasn’t really a lie—at least, not in her eyes. To her, Mateo Carli really didn’t exist.

  “And you? How do you feel about him?”

  The young man shrugged. “Why do you care?”

  “I’m investigating the disappearance of a young girl. She’s been kidnapped and I believe Carli and Bruno Panaman know something about it. What about Sonny Panaman? Have you seen him lately?”

  “I don’t want nothing to do with this, man.”

  “Are you on parole, Lorenzo?”

  Neri stared intently at Skip, then spat on the sidewalk. “Why can’t you just go away? I told you already I ain’t done nothing.”

  How often had Skip heard those words before? It could be true, but Lorenzo might have also left off the most important word—yet.

  “I’ll ask you one more time, Lorenzo. Are you on parole?”

  Neri grumbled. “You know I am.”

  “Then stay away from trouble. And tell me the truth. Have you heard about this?”

  “I don’t got nothing to say to you. I didn’t kidnap no kid. Now get out of my way. My grandmother needs her medication.” Neri pushed past Skip and strode deliberately toward the house.

  Skip watched Neri cross the street, debating whether to follow or answer the call coming through on his cell from a number he didn’t recognize. When the phone rang once more, he chose to answer the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Skip, I made a mistake.”

  “Roxy? Where are you? What happened?”

  “I double-crossed Jackie Fontanal.”

  He stared at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck. “So that’s where you went? Back to see Jackie?”

  “I was tired of you shutting me out. I was angry and…that’s no excuse.”

  “Actually, you’re right. It was wrong of me to do that. I’m sorry. But what do you mean you double-crossed Jackie?”

  “He sent me with one of his guys to find the house Sonny is renting. I got the address, but the guy I was with wanted to kill the source. I couldn’t let that happen, so I used my Taser.”

  “Geez. You really know how to burn your bridges.”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  Skip smiled at the frank assessment. It was so true. But he hadn’t given up on her yet and wasn’t about to start now. “Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”

  “No. I’ll come to you. I had to catch a ride out of where I was. I’ll change my route. All I need is your address.”

  Skip told her the street name and number and returned to his car. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and turned on the ignition. The heater blasted warm air into the cabin, but he barely noticed. Lorenzo Neri had exited his grandmother’s house, rushed to his car, and had driven away. Skip massaged his temples and contemplated his choices. He could leave and possibly anger Roxy again, or he could stay and hope they’d catch up with Neri some other way.

  As the taillights from Neri’s car disappeared at the next intersection, Skip rolled his neck and checked the time. After five minutes of waiting, he hung his head and sighed. Believing in Roxy. It was always a challenge.

  A dark blue Jeep Cherokee pulled to a stop at the corner a couple of minutes later. He recognized the woman who exited the back door immediately. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, wore a short leather jacket and jeans. At least she’d shown up—but how long would she stay?

  He stepped out of his car and they met in the middle of the street. Skip longed to reach out and take her in his arms, but kept them at his side.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey, yourself. You found me.”

  Roxy smiled, then nodded and shrugged. “We seem to keep doing the same thing.”

  “I know. Let’s work on that.” Skip paused, took a breath, and gazed at her. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have blocked you out.”

  “And I shouldn’t have run off.”

  Skip gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m a lot more forgiving than Jackie Fontanal will be. You tased one of Jackie’s guys?”

  “He was getting ready to kill some guy who had information about the place Sonny Panaman rented.”

  Skip’s breath quickened. “Is this the place where Lily is being held?”

  There was a long pause, then Roxy sighed. “I hope so. Skip, this isn’t like we’re dealing with somebody normal. This landlord is someone with a lot to hide.”

  “And so you’re afraid he lied.” Skip glanced to where Lorenzo Neri’s car had been. He’d had him. Right there in his sights. All he’d had to do was follow him.

  “I am. It took a few minutes to get here because I asked the Uber guy to drive by the house. It looks normal to me. We can go there now if you want to see it for yourself.”

  “There might be another way. You see that house over there on the corner?” Skip pointed at Daniela Neri’s house. “The grandmother of Lorenzo Neri lives there. Her grandson is related to Mateo Carli. He’s a great-grandnephew or something like that.”

  “Carli is definitely tied into this whole mess.” Roxy continued, telling him the story Baldorf had uncovered about the vendetta.

  “So it’s a real thing,” Skip said. “That might not get us to Sonny, though. Do you want to try this house that was supposedly rented to Sonny or go see the grandmother?”

  “Like I said, I had the driver go by there. It looks way too normal. I wonder if Baldorf could find out anything.”

  “Let’s ask him. What’s the address?”

  Roxy gave the address to Skip. He relayed the information to Baldorf. When he finished, he said, “Okay. Let’s go talk to the grandmother. Her name is Daniela, we might be able to find out if Lorenzo intends to meet up with Mateo. She’s a nice old lady, but don’t cross her.”

  “Why? Is she packing a gun or something?”

  “An old Colt. Personally, I’m more worried about the damage she could inflict with her broom.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Roxy

  ON THE WAY across the street, Skip explained his comment about Daniela Neri. I chuckled at the mental picture of her chasing off both Bruno and Mateo Carli with her broom. At that moment, I knew I liked this lady.

  When Skip knocked, the porch light came on; a moment later the door opened. Sure enough, the bent old woman standing in the doorway held a broom in both hands.

  Without waiting for either of us to say a word, she snapped, “What is it you want now?”

  “Mrs. Neri, I saw your grandson leave. I’m hoping you can tell me where he went.”

  “I told you to leave us alone.”

  I stepped forward, inserting myself between Skip and the old woman. Despite the chill in the air, my face felt hot with emotion. For the first time in my life, I was pleading with someone I might call one of my peers. “Mrs. Neri, my name is Roxy Tanner. I’m Lily Jamison’s mother. Please, I need your help to save my daughter.”

  Her
gaze locked onto mine and a grimace crossed her lined features. I prayed my plea had resonated with her. Skip’s fingers squeezed my shoulder, and I instinctively laid my hand on his. His touch conveyed warmth and comfort.

  “Mrs. Neri, I’m begging you—as one mother to another—please help me find my little girl—she’s only fourteen.”

  “You do not look old enough to have a teenage daughter.”

  “You’re right.” I sniffled and swiped at my cheek. My fingers came away hot and wet, but I didn’t care. “Her biological mother died. I took her in, and now I’m trying to adopt her. In the eyes of the law I’m not yet Lily’s mother.” I stopped, placed my hand over my chest, and continued. “But here, in my heart, I love her as though she were my own flesh-and-blood. I could never forgive myself if harm came to her because of something I did.”

  I waited, counting the beats of my pulse, but not remembering the count from one beat to the next. When she didn’t answer, I said, “I don’t want to cause you pain, Mrs. Neri, but as a mother and a grandmother, you understand what I’m going through. Wouldn’t you do the same if someone kidnapped your child?”

  The hard lines on the old woman’s face softened, and her gaze settled on mine. She pressed her thin lips together so hard they almost disappeared. When she spoke, her voice cracked. “I do not know how I can help you.”

  “Please tell me where your grandson went, Mrs. Neri.”

  “You are asking me to choose between a girl I have never met and helping my grandson. This is a terrible choice you offer.”

  My legs were weak. In a con, I’d appeal to her sense of greed, but how did I appeal to an emotion I barely understood myself? All I knew was that if I ever wanted to sit around on a foggy morning sipping hot chocolate with Lily, I had to try. “I’m not asking you to choose between them. Do what you think will help them both. I want to save a little girl’s life, and you want to save your grandson. Doesn’t it seem that by stopping him from helping Mateo Carli we’ll both be getting what we want?”

  She stared off into the night before gazing at Skip. “Mr. Cosgrove, I told you. Mateo Carli is dead to me.”

  “Mrs. Neri,” Skip said. “I promise you. I will do everything I can to see that Lorenzo returns home to you safely.”

  The old woman sighed, then leaned on her broom. “I am so tired. I cannot take much more of this.” She hesitated, sucked in a quick breath. “Lorenzo received a call a short while ago. He said he had to go see his brother Rodolfo.” She closed her eyes and winced. “I am afraid he is trying to recruit him to help Mateo. You may find him at Blues and Brews. That is all I know.”

  I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. Her bony frame shook in my arms, seeming cold and tired. I whispered, “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

  When her arms wrapped around me, I couldn’t bring myself to release my hold. Why had it taken such tragedy to make me understand goodness in people?

  “Do not hurt either of my grandsons.” She choked back a sob. “Please.”

  “Mrs. Neri, I will do my best,” Skip said.

  Holding onto the frail old woman, I understood the pain she bore. And when Skip made that promise, I heard the words, believed he had good intentions, but feared his words were nothing more than an empty promise to ease another’s pain.

  Mrs. Neri and I released each other. I whispered another quick thank you as we left. As Skip and I walked down the couple of stairs to her front sidewalk, I turned and gave her a final wave. She nodded and closed the door. Skip wrapped his arm around my waist and I leaned into him. The heat of his body seeped through his jacket, enveloping me in a cocoon I didn’t want to give up. We crossed the intersection diagonally to his car, and he led me to the passenger door.

  I swiped again at my cheeks and shook my head. “I’m a mess.”

  “No. This situation is a mess, and you’re doing the best that can be done. You’re amazing.”

  I craned my neck up and his lips met mine. Our kiss was long, slow, tender. I let it linger even longer because I wasn’t sure when, or even if, we might share another.

  “Blues and Brews?” Skip asked as he pulled away.

  “What about Jackie? If his guys show up there, this could get dicey.”

  “Nice word,” Skip snickered. “This whole day has become something way more than dicey. Let’s see if we can’t mellow it out. Do you think there’s a back door to Blues and Brews?”

  “Probably, but what if they‘re watching that?”

  Skip tapped his forehead. “I have a better idea. You need a disguise.” He pulled off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders. “This should help.” From the back seat, he pulled out a baseball cap and handed it to me.

  His jacket was warm, smelled of leather and sweat, and made me feel like I’d crawled inside his skin. “Aren’t you going to freeze in this cold?”

  “I have a spare.”

  He went to the trunk and returned with a thin cotton jacket I could only describe as ratty. I suppose I should have given him his leather jacket back and taken the other one, but as of this moment, I needed every bit of consolation I could get.

  I looked at Skip, raised and lowered my eyebrows a few times. “You realize I’m not giving this back, right?”

  He gestured with a quick motion of his head. “In the car.”

  I snuggled down into the jacket and let the coziness overwhelm me as he walked around to the driver’s door. When he sat next to me, he nudged my elbow with his.

  “We’ll negotiate about the jacket,” he said.

  I winked at him. “I’m an excellent negotiator.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Skip stuck the key in the ignition and we pulled away, heading back toward downtown Oceanside and the Blues and Brews bar.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Skip

  SKIP PEERED INTO the alley where they hoped to find the back door of Blues and Brews. There were five doors. All closed. The alley was dimly lit and the faint odor of garbage hung in the air. He looked to his side. Roxy was staring into the shadows chewing on her upper lip. He suddenly regretted suggesting this option.

  “I think we’re stuck with the front entrance,” he said.

  “Come on. Let’s go.” Roxy turned away from the alley and hurried along the sidewalk.

  Skip caught up to her and took her hand. She gave him a sideways glance and a weak smile. If only he could make this all go away for her.

  When they entered the bar, Skip immediately noticed how empty it was. There were a handful of customers at the counter and only one table taken. He nodded at the bartender, who bore a strong resemblance to Lorenzo Neri.

  “He was here before,” Roxy said. “What did you say the other grandson’s name was? Rodolfo?”

  “That was it. The only difference between them is this one doesn’t look as worn.”

  Roxy glanced sideways at Skip, her eyebrows raised. “Worn? This one’s the classic tall, dark, and handsome. Worn or not, if his brother has the same jet black hair and blue eyes, he’s leading man material.” She waved, and the bartender inclined his chin in acknowledgment.

  “Let’s see what we can get from him,” Skip said as he sat on one of the nearby stools.

  A minute later, the bartender approached with cocktail napkins in hand. He laid down two napkins, one for Roxy, the other for Skip. “What can I get you two?”

  Roxy sat on the stool next to Skip’s and raised her chin in acknowledgement. “How’s it going, Rudy? Do you remember me? I was in earlier with Mr. Richards.”

  “Sure. I remember.”

  Skip laid a twenty on the counter. “We’re looking for information.”

  Roxy shot Skip a nasty glance as the bartender frowned at the bill.

  “You cops?” Rudy asked.

  “No,” Roxy said emphatically and made an X with a finger from each hand. “Furthest thing from it.”

  “Are you Rodolfo Neri?” Skip asked.

  Roxy huffed a
nd glared at Skip while Rudy shifted into a more defensive stance. “Of course he is.” she said.

  “Who are you?” Rudy demanded.

  Skip gave him his name and said he was a private investigator, fully aware his direct approach irritated Roxy. She preferred the route of deception; he preferred being straight with people. There were pluses and minuses to both methods, but they didn’t have a lot of time to be finessing much of anything. What they needed now was information from Rudy Neri. Fast.

  “We’re trying to find your brother. Has he been here?”

  Rudy stiffened, then pulled back the napkins. “So I guess neither of you want a drink?”

  “Your grandmother told us he might be here,” Roxy said. “Someone kidnapped my daughter and your brother might know how to find her.”

  “Lorenzo has done some stupid things, but he wouldn’t get himself involved in kidnapping. He’s trying to go straight. I think you two had better leave.”

  Roxy shook her head vehemently. “I’m not saying he’s involved in the kidnapping, but I think he’s trying to even an old score with the Panamans.”

  Rudy did a double take and winced.

  “He’s working with Mateo Carli, isn’t he?” Skip asked.

  Rudy wadded the napkins into a ball and threw them toward a trash can. He swore under his breath, then scowled. “Like I said, you two should leave.”

  “Wait!” Roxy reached across the bar and grabbed Rudy’s arm. He jerked away, but stood watching her. Tears formed in her eyes, and her lower lip quivered.

  “My little girl’s life is at stake,” she croaked. “Please.”

  Rudy shifted from one foot to the other, but didn’t look away. Instead, the small lines around the corners of his eyes crinkled, and he studied Roxy. “Is that what you were talking to P.T. about?”

  “Her name is Lily Jamison, and Sonny Panaman kidnapped her earlier today. Your grandmother is afraid your uncle has recruited your brother and they’re going after Sonny. I’m worried that if they go after Sonny, Lily will be caught in the crossfire.”

  Rudy glanced at the front door, then shook his head and sighed. “I can’t help you.”