Diana (2 page)

Fontella squatted down next to her, so only Diana could hear.

She gazed into the lieutenant's eyes. She was tired and achy. She wouldn't admit it. Getting up without assistance wasn't an option to a tough cop like herself. She didn't expect preferential treatment just because she was a woman.

"Let's get you checked out. That arm looks bad. I want you patched up, and a full report on my desk by this afternoon."

Diana raised her eyebrows at the lieutenant. Was he crazy?

No. He knew her well, and he knew exactly what he was doing. She smiled, acknowledging his tactic of egging her on. She challenged herself and went for it.

The lieutenant grabbed her good elbow as he helped her to her feet. She cringed from the pain in her ribs. She pleaded for the dizziness to go away as they walked toward the paramedics.

"Take care of her,” he told the EMS technician. Then he glanced at Diana.

"You did a fantastic job, Pellino. Another one for the good guys.” He winked.

"Thanks, Lieu."

Guthery's Department Store

He stood in the long line, frustrated and angry. People around him didn't seem so bothered. Some looked over the merchandise they were purchasing, while others searched for their credit cards or counted their cash, making sure they had enough to buy all their items.

He released a long breath.
This is ridiculous
. He eyed the older woman behind the register. He wasn't sure of her ethnicity.
Could be Spanish, Iranian, Indian—who gives a shit? Just move faster, you incompetent bitch!

He shifted his weight from left to right and stared at the cashier.

She had curly, dark hair, brown eyes, and dirty fingernails. The new red smock covered her plain old brown slacks and yellowed blouse.

"Hey, Barbara, it's five minutes past twelve,” another store clerk nearby called to the slovenly worker behind the register.

"Thanks, Lee,” the incompetent worker said, still not smiling or showing any sign of moving faster. Then, she did the unacceptable.

"Line closed.” The next customer in line had already placed her items down on the counter.

"What?” was heard in unison.

"Are you kidding me? You can't do this. We've been standing in this damn line for twenty minutes. The next line has fifteen people in it. This is bullshit!” he yelled, and the incompetent worker ignored his every word. She took her purse from under the register and slowly headed away from the angry mob.

People complained, but he knew no one had a choice. They ran to the next line to beat the others who waited

He was angry as hell. What was this world coming to?

He searched for a manager, someone, anyone who could possibly have even the minutest amount of work ethics left, but he came up with no one. No one gave a shit. Not even the manager.

He tossed his items onto the floor and left the building.

"Bitch!” he yelled, as he left through the double automatic doors.

As he made his way onto the pedestrian crosswalk, he caught sight of a yellow sports car and just in the nick of time. Obviously, the dumb blonde behind the wheel was too stupid to realize walking pedestrians had the right of way. She nearly ran him over.

He cursed at her, and the stupid disco music she had blaring from her radio, as he made his way to his car. The beat of the loud base drums echoed through the air. He swore each car window he passed vibrated.

His temper flared. His brow grew damp and the angry thoughts flooded his mind, fogging any chance of rational thinking. He memorized the license plate, the color and make of the yellow sports car, and the driver.

He got in his car, cranked up the air conditioning despite the 70 degree weather, and laid his head back against the seat. “I need to calm down. I just need to calm down."

He started the engine and headed toward the highway and into traffic. Could this day get any worse? Thoughts of the woman behind the register now dominated his mind. He couldn't help himself. She was worthless, ignorant, and the world wouldn't miss someone like her for a second. Ideas formed in his mind, and as hard as he tried to ignore them, it became apparent it was no use.

The decision was made. The fantasy started. He grew excited just thinking about how he could make his fantasy a reality.

Smiling, he sat patiently in traffic for another half hour, focusing on his mission, his plan, and his revenge.

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The Pellino house was filled with guests, inside, outside, down the driveway, everywhere. Diana's brothers decided to ask a few friends to come join the family barbeque. She'd attempted to help her mom cook since yesterday afternoon, but unfortunately they disagreed on the methods and ingredients needed to make a good Italian tomato sauce.

Her mother was Irish, and more of a by the book cook. She needed detailed instructions, and refused to venture off to try new herbs, new types of ingredients, or anything she considered exotic. Her mother thought tacos were an exotic food. The rest of the world just looked at it as something different to eat.

Diana was glad she received more of the Italian genes when it came to cooking. She loved to try new things and experiment with foods. Her sauce was a thousand times better than her mom's, but no one would ever let her mom know this, especially not her dad.

She laughed just thinking about it, as she leaned toward the doorway in the kitchen and tried to make her way out of the room. Her mother decided she needed to make her special spiked punch, and wanted the punch bowl from the upstairs closet.

Diana volunteered to get it. She walked past family and others she didn't know. It was wall to wall cops, firemen, local storeowners, and God knew who else.

She thought about how she took the three-day weekend to help her parents prepare, but she wished she were working. Even though she knew she needed this break. The double homicide she'd been working on had finally come to an end, and another killer was brought to justice.

Her arm was still sore from the tussle she had with the assailant. She admitted, only to herself, she was glad Luis Montoya had tried so hard to get away. She rubbed her arm, as she passed by friends and others she only knew by face.

"Hey, Diana, good job on the Quantez case,” Uncle Sergio yelled, as he lifted his bottle of beer toward her then took a slug.

Diana smiled, making her way upstairs.
He'll stay in that spot most of the day
.

She looked at the multiple picture frames that lined the staircase. Her older brother Paul stood handsome and tall in his police uniform, medals shiny and bright. There was Brian, dressed in his firemen's uniform, smiling wide and silly as always. Her brother Vinny stood in the next picture, wearing his police uniform and looking serious and mean. Finally, there was a picture of her in her blue uniform, tough-girl smile, fresh out of the academy and under the illusion it had truly prepared her. That she was trained and ready for the streets. She couldn't believe that had been twelve years ago.

Diana recalled the reality check she'd received after two days on the job, when some no good perp was so shot up on LSD he nearly killed her and ten other cops. Three of them were seriously injured, rushed to the hospital with stab wounds and other multiple injuries. Two officers had broken noses. She remembered someone spraying so much pepper spray in the guy's face her own eyes burned and teared.

Finally, a sergeant arrived by the name of Burns. He went ‘ape shit’ on the perpetrator with his nightstick, and placed the perp under arrest. They'd cuffed the perp and dragged him into the precinct. Burns lead the way, while making jokes about how many rookies it took to arrest a felon.

Two days later, she was the first responding officer to a crime scene, in 100 degree temperatures, with multiple bodies. It was gruesome.

She did as she was taught. Not just from the academy but by her father, her brothers, and other homicide detectives in the family. They'd all attended numerous Practical Homicide Investigation courses, and read the
Practical Homicide Investigation Checklist and Field Guide
. They gave her a copy, and told her to follow it precisely. That's just what she did.

When Diana witnessed the detectives respond to the scene, conduct their investigation thoroughly, she knew then and there she wanted to be just like them. So she studied hard, grabbed any calls that came in or nearby where she was posted, and she watched, listened, and learned. She even took criminology and psychology courses, anything that would help her to become more knowledgeable and more informed. Becoming a cop or a fireman was a Pellino family tradition, but becoming a homicide detective was her vocation.

Now she was thirty-three years old, a homicide detective in her father's old precinct, and following in the family tradition.

"Reminiscing a little, sis!” Brian interrupted her thoughts. He nearly plowed into her while coming down the stairs.

"Yeah, maybe a little."

He stopped in front of her, took her arm, and checked it. The bruising was worse now. She was lucky the scumbag hadn't broken it. He released Diana's arm, giving her a sideways glance.

"What?” She shrugged.

"You know what. You think Pa's not gonna find out about the way things really went down?"

Their father had ties and connections everywhere, and he kept a close eye on his kids, especially since he was retired and off the job.

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"You ran gung ho into an abandoned building without backup."

"Jerry was right behind me. He tripped and fell and I kept going."

"Still. You were chasing a killer."

"I caught him. End of discussion. I'm fine and he's locked up.” Diana used her meanest Bronx attitude to say this. She started to walk past Brian.

"Pa's still going to be pissed.” Brian shook his head.

She continued up the staircase.

Uncle Davy, Diana's mom's brother, emerged from the hallway at the top of the stairs. He also stopped her to look at her arm.

"I don't know how you do it, darling. Sounds like the Quantez case was pretty intense. How's the arm?"

She exhaled, still annoyed at her brother Brian for questioning her judgment. She wanted Luis Montoya so bad she could taste it. So, when she got the call from her informant about a location Luis was hiding out in, she and her partner took off after him. It wasn't her fault Jerry was overweight, or that he'd tripped. She wasn't taking a chance that Luis would get away.

He'd brutally murdered his girlfriend and his child, and was wanted for questioning involving another murder. All in all, Diana, Jerry, and two other detectives were able to connect Luis to three other separate murders. He was going down, big time.

"It's fine, Uncle Davy. Really. I need to get the punch bowl for Mom. I'll see ya downstairs."

Diana opened the closet door. Way up top was the punch bowl, under numerous other heavy items. She grabbed the stepladder and climbed. She was on the tips of her toes moving things around and grabbing for it. She cursed at whomever stored the bowl so freakin’ far back.

Luke Fontella just exited the large bathroom. He was surprised at just how many people he knew at Brian Pellino's parents’ party. There were old buddies from school, the firehouse. He was glad he'd bumped into Brian a few days ago, at the fire department gym. When he invited him to the barbeque, it seemed like a great idea.

Ever since Luke was promoted to Fire Marshal for the city, he'd been outrageously busy.

He stopped in his tracks. He'd nearly collided with a pair of long, defined legs, balanced on a wooden step ladder that now stood in his path.

He absorbed the curves of the woman's trim, toned figure, the beige skirt she wore that accented her feminine curves. There wasn't an ounce of fat on her. She was tall, lean, and as she inched deeper into the high closet, he saw the side curve of her breast, arms outstretched.

"Damn it to hell,” she cursed, and her voice echoed in the closet. “Got it.” She lost her footing on the highest ladder step.

Luke grabbed her waist just in time, as she fell backward with the large crystal bowl in her arms. He held her and the bowl tight so neither fell.

The woman abruptly turned toward him.

"Are you all right?"

She appeared to hold the bowl even tighter before smiling. “Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

"You could have let go of the bowl,” he said sarcastically.

"No way. This stupid thing has been in the Pellino family for four generations. I'm not going to be the one to break it.” She looked at him sideways as if he should know this, and he must be stupid or something.

Luke eyed her again from head to toe.

The young brunette was tall, kind of built, but still feminine. She had to be about 5 ft 7 in or so.

If she'd fallen backward onto the floor, the pain would have been excruciating. It was obvious, though, by the way she held the bowl that she would've rather broken bones than the ‘Pellino family heirloom.'

Luke wondered if the woman was Brian's sister. She looked to be in her twenties. He'd never met a homicide detective with legs and a body like hers. There was no way.

She placed the bowl down on the rug.

"I'm Diana. You got a name?"

"Diana! Where's the punch bowl?” her mom yelled from the stairs, just as she shook Luke's hand.

"Gotta go. See ya.” She bent down for the bowl.

Luke reached for it at the same time, and their hands touched. “I can get that for you.” He stared into her eyes.

"That's all right. I got it."

Luke instantly picked up on her attitude. She was independent, didn't want his help, and was more than capable of carrying the bowl.

He released it and put his hands up in the air in front of his chest.

"Just asking.” She gave him another sideways look, along with an evil eye.

Diana grabbed the bowl and quickly walked down the stairs. Luke followed.

She headed toward the kitchen where her mother and aunts stood waiting and talking.