Finding Floyd (12 page)

He rubbed his hands over his face and moaned
softly. "Wait one minute. I'll be right back." He quickly went out
to the Suburban and retrieved a manila envelope.

Joining the others at the kitchen table, he
drew out a five by seven photograph and slid it across to Jack.
"Rodriguez has been showing this picture around town to see if
anyone recognizes him. I want each of you to take a look at this
guy and tell me if you've ever seen him before."

They each studied the picture of Toricello
and shook their heads.

"I've never seen this guy," said Jack. "He
looks like a dangerous character though."

"That is an understatement," he said. "This
guy's nickname on the street is, The Blowtorch. Partly because he's
always got a cigar in his mouth, but mostly because of the method
he uses to gain information before he executes his victims. He's
one of the worst."

"If he was Tony DePalma's boss, he must be
from Jersey or New York. What's he doing here?" asked Jack.

"Hiding from us. I guess he thought no one
would ever look for him in a place like Floyd."

"And, you found out about this, how?"
continued Jack.

"Got a lucky tip. It was purely accidental.
The details don't matter."

"I understand," said Jack, nodding. He
drained the first beer and reached for the next. "You don't want to
mention your source, right?"

Jack Conners was smart to pick up on that. He
decided not to confirm it, and simply responded with a shrug.

"He's a murderer?" asked Diane, still
studying the photo.

"He's armed and extremely dangerous. If you
happen to see him, don't engage him. I can't stress that enough.
Just walk away and let me know as soon as you possibly can. That's
about as much as I can tell you for now. You guys are not under
suspicion." He paused and frowned slightly. "I'm sure you're all
innocent."

Vicky gave him a sharp look. "Let me take a
guess. Agent Rodriguez still isn't convinced that we weren't
involved with Tony and his criminal activity."

"Maybe, but don't worry about her." Jack and
Vicky were both pretty astute. I'll have to remember that. He got
up for another beer and encountered the puddle on the floor. "Jack,
why don't we get this mopped up and see if we can replace the
fixture?"

"Good idea, you guys do that, and I'll make
the salad," said Vicky. "You must be starved."

While he and Jack mopped up the water and
studied the broken faucet, the two women began pulling things from
the refrigerator. He didn't think Vicky and Jack suspected him of
being untruthful. Diane however, still seemed skeptical. He found
an opportunity to take her aside.

"It's important that you believe me," he said
quietly. "I didn't come down here looking for you. I had no idea
that your friends would show up. I was as surprised to see you as
you were to see me."

"I'm not sure what to believe," she said
warily, pulling away from him. "I'm going to give the animals their
dinner." She went into the pantry, brought out the dog's bowl, and
started for the porch calling, "Bella! Here's your dinner."

It occurred to him that he hadn't seen the
dog for a while. Usually she wanted to be wherever the people were.
"Diane, Where's Bella?"

Holding the food dish up, Diane turned
around. "She must be here somewhere. Maybe she's sleeping in the
other room." Puzzled, she walked through the house calling, but
there was no response. No enthusiastic scramble of dog claws on the
hardwood.

"I can't remember the last time I saw her,"
said Diane, frowning. "I don't know what I'll tell Sandy if she's
lost. She's crazy about that dog."

"Don't panic. She never runs off," he said,
making his way to the back door to check the porch. When he opened
the door, Bella bounded inside, followed more sedately by Colby
Jack. Kyle Evans brought up the rear, smiling and pushing his ball
cap to the back of his head.

"Diane, I stopped by to see you earlier, but
I missed you. So I thought I'd run back down with Bella. I found
her playing with our dogs."

"Oh thank you, Kyle," she said, smiling at
him. "I'd really started to worry. Would you like a beer?"

"That sounds just fine. Don't mind if I do."
He pulled out a chair and cranked his hundred watt smile up even
higher when she handed him a bottle.

She returned to the counter where she and
Vicky were making a salad.

"Still like to show you around tomorrow.
There are a few places we could stop to eat if you'd like," said
Kyle eagerly.

Chris strode over and planted himself in
Kyle's line of site. Crossing his arms he stared down menacingly at
the young man.

Apparently, Kyle missed the message. He
continued smiling, and drinking beer.

"As long as you're here, would you like to
stay for dinner?" asked Vicky. "We're about to set the table. We've
got lasagna, garlic bread, and salad."

"Now that sounds real nice!" Kyle beamed
enthusiastically. His smile faded a little when he saw the look on
Chris's face, but he rallied.

"Let me set the table. I help Sandy out with
the breakfasts on Saturdays, so I know where everything is."

Chris tried to think of a reason for Evans
not sticking around for dinner. Before he could open his mouth to
object, Kyle got up and headed for the cabinets, took down a stack
of plates, and headed for the table. He scowled after him. This
idiot is showing up here way too often, and paying way too much
attention to Diane.

Toricello had come to Southwest Virginia
prepared for any eventuality. Looking for a hideout, he'd
discovered a deserted house that morning after nosing in and out of
quiet country roads. Secluded, this particular place was mostly
complete, but obviously still under construction. Dust on the
floors and kitchen counters revealed that no one had been in the
house for at least a couple of months.

"Jeez. If only I could use my cell, but the
Feds can track the damn signal," Bruno Toricello muttered to
himself. Puffing on his cigar, he paced the room, brooding over the
situation that had sent him into hiding. "DePalma, you're a dead
man," he said aloud.

He was camped out in the partially finished
basement, where he'd found a woodstove already in place. The night
was cold, so he'd kindled a fire with scrap from a substantial
stack of lumber piled against the wall. His truck was hidden a
hundred yards up an unused gravel road, which wound past the house
into the woods and petered out at the top of the ridge.

He sat down in a comfortable folding lawn
chair and propped his feet on an empty packing case. A Coleman
lantern provided the light he needed. A convenient work bench at
his side held his wine, food supplies, and a stack of magazines.
Beside him was an air mattress with his sleeping bag unrolled and
ready. Tucked just inside, was his 9 mm automatic.

Those two cars I saw down the road from
Frank's hunting cabin, they gotta be FBI, DEA, or some other nosy
Federal assholes. If the Feds are in the area, it's smart to find a
new place every few days. I can hideout here for a while.

He rose, opened the woodstove door, and
tossed the butt of his cigar inside. He followed this with a few
chunks of wood and returned to his seat. Unwrapping a fresh cigar,
he lit it with his gold Zippo and puffed it to life. Reaching for
his bottle of Italian Strega, he took a swig and blew a smoke ring,
watching it drift lazily toward the ceiling.

There's no way the Feds could have found out
I'm in Virginia. DePalma must have snitched. Nobody else who knew
about Frank's hunting cabin would have squealed. Bruno grunted to
himself and what passed for a smile twisted his lips. "When I get
back, I'll make dog meat out of the bastard."

"On the road again," sang John Van Wart as he
pulled smoothly onto route 81, heading south. Skillfully
maneuvering his Ford Explorer into the ebb and flow of traffic, he
maintained a steady seventy-five miles per hour, keeping a wary eye
out for the big tractor trailer rigs. Brushing his dark hair back,
he relaxed and reached for his over-sized travel mug. He sipped,
and sighed with satisfaction. He and the love of his life were on a
pre-wedding getaway to the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of
Virginia.

Glancing at the woman next to him, he reached
over and stroked her thigh, resting his hand there. "I've got a
full gas tank, fresh hot coffee, and I've got you. It doesn't get
any better than this, Babe."

"What the hell!" squealed Theresa, staring in
disbelief at her phone. "No way! I don't freakin' believe this!"
She frowned at her fiancé and then at the slim pink phone in her
hand. "Oh my god! Those bastards are still at it. They never want
to give up."

He glanced at her. "What's wrong? Who's the
text from?"

"Vicky. She and Jack drove down to the B
& B yesterday, so they're already with Diane." She lowered the
phone and turned to him, "Are you ready for this? She says those
FBI agents, Chris Owen and his partner, Rodriguez, are there. You
remember, the crazy Puerto Rican woman that arrested poor Diane and
dragged her downtown in handcuffs last fall?"

"I remember her, but I think she was
Guatemalan, or maybe Mexican, not Puerto Rican." John's eyes
twinkled. "She had a dynamite body. The tits on that woman were
like--"

She slapped his hand, but he left it on her
leg and chuckled softly.

"What could they want in that little town?
Why would they show up in southwest Virginia just when we're going
there?" she asked indignantly.

"Hey. You're right. Something's going on here
and I don't like it."

Theresa pressed a hand to her stomach. "This
is giving me agita."

"Do me a favor," he said laughing. "Look out
the window and check the sky for black helicopters following us."
Then he sobered. "You know what I think of the government, Babe.
Don't trust any of them, far as I could throw them."

"Wait. Vicky says they all talked to Owen
last night and he told them that the FBI isn't interested in any of
us. She says everything is all right and our going to Virginia now
is just a big coincidence. Agent Owen is looking for a man they
suspect is hiding down there." Disbelieving, she sputtered, "Yeah,
right."

"Coincidence my ass! They're a bunch of
liars. Rodriguez never did believe that we weren't mixed up with
your boyfriend, Tony, and his drug dealing business."

"He wasn't my boy friend! Stop calling him my
boyfriend!" she shrieked, slapping his hand again.

John grinned at her mischievously and poked
her leg. "Okay, not your boyfriend, your former fiancé then." He
liked to push her buttons and knew just how to do it for maximum
effect.

Her large dark eyes flashed and the long
brown curls flew as she whipped her head around to face him.
"Everyone's entitled to make one mistake. Okay? I don't want to
talk about it." She turned back to the phone and began rapidly
texting a response to her cousin.

"I love you, Babe. God knows I've made some
big ass mistakes in my life." His poking became a playful caress on
her thigh. She reached for his hand, squeezed it and held it
there.

"Tell Vicky we'll be there this afternoon and
ask her to kick out the FBI before we arrive. I can't believe it.
There's something going on, no matter what your cousin, Victoria,
told you."

Theresa slipped the phone back into her
purse, but before she could respond, it trilled musically,
signaling an incoming call.

"Oh my god, here we go again," she said,
rolling her eyes at him. "It's Ma. More wedding issues that need
decisions right now. Guess I gotta take this. I'll so, be glad when
this wedding is over."

"Give her my love and tell her she's the best
mother-in-law in the whole world."

For this comment he only received another,
more elaborate eye roll.

"Yeah Ma, we're good, thanks. What is it this
morning?"

"Chris, the house is beautiful!" Diane jumped
from the front seat of the SUV. "This is amazing! The view up here
is awesome."

The sprawling farmhouse had a deep porch that
stretched across the front and disappeared around the far side. The
exterior was a soft blue gray stone that blended well with the
natural surroundings. Lots of windows in front took full advantage
of the view and at the center of the roof, a massive brick chimney
protruded skyward. The house sat on a broad shelf of lawn facing
the rolling vista of wooded ridges to the south. Behind it, the
ground rose steeply, carpeted with evergreens. The gravel road
looped past the driveway and snaked its way uphill, disappearing in
the woods. They'd passed two or three houses on their way up the
private road, but except for distant homes in the valley below, no
other neighbors were visible.

"Glad you like it." He'd parked his vehicle
in front of the wide garage doors and walked around to where Diane
stood admiring his new home. "I helped draw up the plans and it's
been my go-to project for nearly three years. Now that it's nearly
complete, I'll have to find something else to occupy my time."

"The house is so much bigger than I'd
imagined," enthused Diane, closing her door and starting for the
porch. "Let's go inside. I can't wait to see it."

"Just a minute." Walking slowly up the
curving road, he examined the house from the rear and came back
down to where Diane stood. He turned thoughtfully in a circle,
taking in the panorama and frowned. There was something out of
place here, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"That looks like a really big chimney up
there," she said gazing at the roof. You must have a gigunda
fireplace."

"It just looks big because there are three
flues. I put fireplaces in both living and dining rooms and there's
a woodstove in the basement."