Dirty Trouble (21 page)

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Authors: J.M. Griffin

BOOK: Dirty Trouble
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“Do you know who the men were that escorted you from the premises?”

His eyes were extra dark and I figured he was real upset.

“No, I have no idea. They didn’t introduce themselves to me. They just helped put my parcels in the car, is all.” No way would I tell Aaron that my father arranged it.

“Just that? Nothing more?” Strong hands spread on the countertop. He glared at me, holding his magnificent body upright as he stared me down.

“No, nothing more,” I lied. “They looked like businessmen to me.”

“Right. Businessmen.” He stifled a gasp of disbelief, but it sat there on his face anyway.

“Is that it? I have to get stuff ready for class tomorrow,” I lied again. To hell – that’s where my soul was going. Straight to hell. All the novenas in the world wouldn’t save my sorry ass.

An eyebrow arched as his face took on an ominous glare. Dang, he knew I lied and if I didn’t get away, I’d be put in a chair with a blinding light dangling over my head for interrogation purposes. I could envision it as I slid off the seat.

“That’s all for now. Let me say this, if you think about going to the Hill again in the future, don’t do it. Things are about to get nasty, and I won’t have you interfere with the investigation. You have enough to handle as it is, Vinnie, and I’m concerned for your safety.”

“I appreciate your concern, Aaron. Really, I do.” My butt flew down the stairs, and I locked myself in my place. Man he was angry – and rightly so. I had made a promise and broken it without a thought. Well, when I made the promise my fingers were crossed, so it didn’t count. Right?

After a change of clothes, I wandered into the office. Sweatpants and a sweatshirt were the attire for the night. I sat scrunched down in the leather chair and rummaged through class assignments. My glance caught the blinking light of the answering machine and I hit the message button.

“Lavinia, this is Antonio. I was wondering if we could talk?” The mobster’s message went on to give the phone number he wanted me to call. I stared at the machine, wondering if I should call or not. It would only be a call, and I had to know what he wanted. It might be something important. It would be rude to not call. I justified my curiosity.

I lifted the phone from its charger and dialed the number for Antonio, the businessman. It rang three times before someone answered.

“Hello, Antonio speaking.”

“Hi, this is Lavinia Esposito. You called me?” I held my breath.

“Lavinia, my dear. I wanted to ask you about Mafalda. How is she doing? She won’t take my calls and I’m very concerned.”

He wasn’t too concerned when he left her to rot in a cell at the PPD, though. There was more to this, and I wanted to know what it was.

“She’s fine, just a bit shaky after her stay with the Providence Police.”

“Mmm, that was most unfortunate. She is such a wonderful woman. Quite a temper, too, eh?”

“Well, yeah.” I’d have been angry, too, if I was left in jail.

“I’m told she’s doing some work at the seniors’ center. How is that going?”

“I don’t know��fine, I guess. Why do you ask?”
Ah, hah.
That’s what this was all about. Interesting, very interesting.

“An associate of mine said he saw her there and before he could speak to her, she disappeared. I wondered about that.”

“I have no idea. Maybe she didn’t recognize your associate. What can I say, Antonio? She’s probably still angry with you. Give her some time to cool down. I’m sure you’ll hear from her.”

“If you think that’s best. She hasn’t said anything to you, though, huh?”

Yikes, did he have spies in the village? Was he aware she came to visit me? Good God. Would I ever have a mundane life?
Unlikely.

“No, she hasn’t uttered a word about anything, Antonio.”

“Well, thank you for calling back, and I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” he said, and disconnected the call.

Did he mean his goons would haul me in? Was he threatening me or was that just a common saying?
My hand shook as I placed the phone back in its holder. I rubbed my hands over my face and smoothed my hair back.

The clock on the desk shone bright as it neared ten o’clock. Where had the time gone? I could hear muffled footsteps cross the upstairs floor and knew Aaron was still up. Not too late to give up some of my information, and maybe get some in return.

Gathering courage, I slipped thick socks on and hustled up the stairs. A quick rap on the door brought a summons to come in. It was now or never, I thought, and I swallowed hard as I entered the apartment.

“Aaron?” I called.

“I’m in the front room. Come on in, Vin.”

I strode through the rooms I’d painted over the summer and ended up in the warm-hued room that my friend Larry had faux finished. Dark brown leather furniture set off the amber walls to perfection.

I hadn’t seen this area since the furniture was moved in and was intrigued. Ornate lamps rested on oak tables and a huge bold pastel chalk drawing centered the wall over the burning fireplace. I recognized it as the one I gave Aaron in August. The carved frame he’d chosen suited the accessories in the room.

A large deep burgundy rug, edged with cream, covered the center of the hardwood floor. Dark gold silk drapes sloped from the corners of the window casings, adding warmth to the furnishings. The room’s overall effect was astonishing.

My eyes traveled the room before they landed on the man in front of the fireplace. Both Aaron’s fireplace and mine were gas and were fired by the thermostat. He used the remote and it came on. He stared at me and his glance took in my attire.

“Ready for bed, are you?” He smirked.

I pushed my sweatshirt sleeves up and wandered further into the room. Photos – probably of his family – littered a table and bookcase nearby. I glanced at them but saw no woman, other than an older woman who resembled Aaron in coloring and smile.
Must be his mother.

“You’ve never been any further than the kitchen, have you?” he asked.

Aaron’s mood seemed to have lightened, but his face still had a tightness to it. I wondered what lay behind those usually warm chocolate eyes.
There’s that curiosity and the cat thing again.
My nine lives were tallying up fast lately and I was in no position to refuse help from anyone. The saying ‘Keep your friends close and enemies closer’ is oh, so true for me.

“No, I haven’t. Can we talk? I think there are some things you should know.”

He hand beckoned me to sit down. I took the leather chair nearest the fireplace while Aaron lounged on the sofa. I was cold and wondered if that was due to a culmination of fear from all the recent events.

“I was rather short with you earlier, and I apologize for that Vinnie,” he said with sincerity.

If he was working me, I didn’t care at this juncture. There were things that needed to be said, and I planned to unburden myself.

“No apology needed. I know I drive you and Marcus nuts. It’s just the way I am. Sorry. I need to tell you something important though. You may already know, but whether you do or don’t, I must tell you.” With that, I took a deep breath and shared Antonio the businessman’s dealings at the seniors’ center. I also told him of Aunt Muffy’s visit to me earlier, and about the phone message from Antonio and our conversation when I returned his call.

While I spoke, his face tightened, loosened, and tightened once again. At one point, a nerve pulsed in his cheek. I thought that only happened in novels or the movies, but honest to God, it happened right there before me. Dark eyes gleamed and then he smiled.
Whoa, now what?

“I’m glad you decided to share all of this with me. I did know some, but not all of it. We wondered where he was laundering the money. It seemed farfetched that he used the seniors’ center to do so. Does he think Mafalda has become aware of his business dealings? Is that why you’re so worried?”

“I’m not sure that he knows, but it’s a possibility. He’s never called before. I can’t imagine why he would have called me otherwise. His call seemed of the fishing-for-information variety. Although Muffy isn’t taking his calls, I’m certain he could just march up to her front doorstep and invite himself in. Why not? Why would he call me?”

My feet tucked under me, I twirled a lock of hair around my finger as I thought. When I looked at Aaron, he was smiling.

“Any other thoughts roaming around in that inquisitive mind of yours?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Um, not that I can think of. I do wonder, though, if he knew Auntie hid in the closet of that office. Maybe he wants to know if she heard what he said. She’s a shrewd woman, and he’s aware of it. She’d figure out what he was about, and then she’d be in danger.”

“True enough, but I think your imagination is on the fly here. Don’t let it take control of you. Think in conservative terms and you’ll be fine.” Aaron smiled again.

I realized he was making an effort to defuse my overactive imagination.
Lots of luck there.

Rising from the warm chair, I wandered toward the kitchen. Behind, I heard his soft tread and knew Aaron was on my heels.

“Thanks for listening,” I said.

“Thanks for sharing. It will help us out with the investigation. Funny how you become embroiled in every case I have.” A small grin played around his mouth.

“Right. Good night.”

 

Chapter 19

 

Students waited in the classroom for the last lecture on fingerprinting. Before noon they finished their projects and Anderson managed to lift a half print from my card. He told me that if the front hadn’t been glossy paper, he wouldn’t have been able to retrieve any print from it.

After the lecture, a question and answer session on fingerprint assessment started. The remaining hours flew. With little time to spare, the students used the computer program and started the chore of matching the prints they acquired. While they worked, I stepped over to Porter Anderson and mumbled to him under my breath.

“Is it possible to attain the identity of the person for me through the PPD?”

“I’ll see what I can do. There may not be enough of a print, but I’ll give it a try. By the way, I saw your name in the newspaper yesterday.”

“My name? What was I in the newspaper for?”

“You were listed in the ‘Obituaries’, Vin. Was it a joke by someone?” The steady grey eyes watched my features.

“Not that I know of.” Startled, I tensed. “If it was a joke it’s in bad taste, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I do. I’ll run this print, and call you later.”

“Great. You have my cell phone number, so just call anytime. I appreciate your help. I owe you, Porter.”

“How about dinner, then?” His grin widened.

“Thanks for asking, but I don’t date my students.”

“I’d heard that from some of the others you turned down. Just thought I’d ask.” He continued to smile, gave me a wink, and left after packing up his equipment.

Ramirez sidled over with a smirk. “Did he ask you out?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I told him you wouldn’t date students, but he didn’t believe me. Even made a wager.”

I’m sure my eyes opened wide. “A wager? How large a wager?”

“He bet me twenty bucks you’d agree to dinner.”

“You’re in the money then, aren’t ya?” I laughed. These egomaniacs were too much for me. Their antics never failed to amuse.

As I crossed the parking area, Marcus waited for me. His cruiser was parked so close to my car, it nearly kissed my bumper. He unfolded his arms and wandered toward me.

With a light kiss to my forehead, he stood with hands on my arms. “Hey, lady, how about dinner?”

I started to laugh and he stepped back in surprise. Within a space of a few minutes, I was asked to dinner twice by law enforcement. I wondered if there was a bet between Marcus and Ramirez.

“What’s so funny?”

“You don’t have a bet riding on the invitation, do you?”

“No, why?”

“Well, every semester, I get someone who thinks I should date them, and I was just asked to dinner by one of the students. He bet Ramirez that I’d go out with him for dinner. Ramirez made an easy twenty bucks.” I chuckled.

“Who asked you out last semester?”

“Patty DiFrizio. I definitely refused that invite.” Patty was a great person and good cop, but sexually she swung in both directions and I avoid that issue at all costs. ‘Each to his or her own’ is my motto. That lifestyle just wasn’t for me.

Laughter echoed across the parking lot. Marcus’s chest heaved and then he settled down. I ran my hands over his arms and watched him sober. Yep, that was the effect I waited for, uh huh.

“What are you doing after going to dinner with me, ma’am?” he asked.

“Why do you ask, Trooper Richmond?” I said as I stepped closer to his body.

One hand reached around my waist and dragged me into his tight grasp. I could feel Mr. Winky stand to attention and knew I’d won the day. Control was exulting, even if it was only over Mr. Winky.

“Maybe you’d like a snuggle later?” he asked.

“Is that what we’re calling it now? A snuggle?” I laughed so hard he released me.

“Let’s get some dinner. You’re spoiling the moment, lady.” He hustled me into my car, and I followed him from the parking lot.

At the Crimson Dragon, Marcus slowed and we parked side by side.
Oooh, Chinese food, yum.
I eat Chinese fare whenever I get the chance, but it doesn’t happen often. Mostly ’cause I dine with my parents and that’s usually Italian cuisine – and free. My mouth watered as I left the car and joined Marcus at the door.

In a corner booth at the back of the restaurant, Marcus ordered our favorites. Sharing the food was something we did every time we ate out. I handed hot tea to Marcus, in a little bowl, and saluted him with mine.

He chuckled and casually sipped the tea until someone moving past jarred my elbow and I spilled mine. I didn’t notice who it was, but jumped up as it burned through my slacks. Marcus gave me his napkin and poured me another cup. He never even blinked at the fact that I may have third degree burns.
Crap. No sympathy there.

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