Foxy Roxy (33 page)

What the hell had just happened?

She started the truck and drove out of the alley, not sure where she was going, but going anyway.

When she could think straight again, she ran through the various people she could ask for more information about Kaylee and Julius, and she suddenly remembered Valdeccio, the Hyde chauffeur. Roxy checked her watch. In another hour, any self-respecting resident of her old neighborhood would be coming home from morning mass to make breakfast.

Or they’d be assembling in one other place.

She parked at the back door of the St. Dom’s bingo hall and saw the haze of cigarette smoke already wafting out the open door. Leaving Rooney in the truck, she went inside to the clatter of the numbers tumbling in the cage and the patter of Archie Marone, who’d been calling the bingo numbers for as long as Roxy could remember.

Sister Margaret Ann sat upright in a chair by the door, sound asleep with her hands folded on her lap. Roxy remembered Sister Meg as the nun who terrorized kids to give pennies for lepers. She’d probably been the cause of more nightmares than any other human being in the city.

Spread out in rows of tables, neighborhood early birds guarded their bingo cards, good luck charms, and arrays of neon Bingo Daubers. They listened attentively to Archie, scanning their cards and marking off the numbers he called. The moratorium on smoking must have been lifted, because the whole hall stunk of cigarettes.

Hanging around the back of the room were the designated drivers—all family members waiting for the game to end so they could drive home Nonna or Aunt Pixie or Uncle Toots for lunch.

Among the waiting drivers, Roxy located Louis Valdeccio, leaning against the wall and passing time by drinking coffee and listlessly leafing through the morning edition of the newspaper. His mother was a bingo fanatic. Lucky guess that he’d be the one to take her home after the game.

“Louie, right?” Roxy said. “Valentino’s uncle?”

Valdeccio crumpled the paper when he caught sight of Roxy standing in front of him. Unlike his nephew, the salon owner, Valdeccio had shaggy hair and a big gut cinched by a belt that looked as if it might give out any second. His breath smelled of cigarettes. But his face lit up at the sight of Roxy’s chest. He didn’t bother looking up from there. “Yeah, who’s asking?”

“I’m Roxy Abruzzo. Carmine’s niece.”

Now and then, Roxy made good use of her family connection. It worked this time. Valdeccio straightened up like she’d mentioned the Pope or Frank Sinatra. He squinted into her face, maybe looking for a family resemblance. “Yeah?”

“Got a minute?”

“For Carmine, I got as long as it takes.”

Sister Margaret Ann woke up, put one finger to her lips. “
Shh!”

Roxy jerked her head toward the door. “Let’s go outside.”

Valdeccio tossed the remains of his coffee in a trash can and followed.

In the alley, Roxy said, “I hear you worked for Julius Hyde.”

“For ten years, yeah.” He frowned, trying to figure out how his employment record might interest Carmine Abruzzo. “Why?”

“You were there the night he died?”

“I left a little while before he got shot. I told the police the whole story.”

“The whole story?”

Disconcerted, he peered at her. “Look, why you asking me about that?”

Roxy shrugged. “You know. Carmine likes to stay informed.”

“He knows about me?” Valdeccio perked up. “I heard he’s sick. Maybe he needs a driver?”

“You never know. Tell me about what happened to Julius.”

Valdeccio was with her then, trying to impress. Sucking in his gut and puffing out his chest, he said, “Yeah, I talked to Mr. Hyde a half hour before he died. We bitched about the homeless guy digging through the trash again. I chased him off, but he always came back, and that was annoying.”

“Is that who killed Julius?”

Head shake. “I doubt it. Somebody else must’ve done it. I figure—well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. What do you think happened?”

“I can’t be sure. But there was always something going on in the family—you know, about money. Mr. Hyde told me about his mother’s will getting changed. That he’d made a deal with somebody to make adjustments. That’s what he called it—adjustments.”

“How’d he do that?”

He lit a cigarette with a big Zippo lighter, maybe buying himself enough time to formulate the right answer. “I’m not sure. I heard him on the phone a few times when I was driving him around. He liked to bitch, but he didn’t tell me everything.”

“But you could piece things together?”

“Yeah, okay.” He blew a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Sounded to me like he was paying off somebody to make adjustments in his mother’s affairs.”

“A lawyer, you mean?”

“Who else?”

“Without his mother knowing?”

“She was in a coma. How’s she supposed to know anything?”

Roxy tried to get her brain around what she was hearing. “He paid a lawyer to change her will while she was in the coma. For a lot of money?”

He spread his hands in the gesture of I’m empty. “I got the impression they didn’t want to use money. It was a trade. Mr. Hyde was giving away a statue. At least, that’s what I think—”

“Wait. A statue?”

“Yeah, he promised the guy he’d give him something real valuable, but not cash that could be traced or anything.”

“Did you tell this to the cops?”

Valdeccio smiled. “Hey, is it their business? I was loyal to the family, you know? I thought maybe one of the brothers might hire me—Quentin or Trey. But they cut me loose yesterday. Said they don’t need me anymore. So do I owe them any loyalty now?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” Roxy murmured, still thinking about Hyde lawyers. And being paid with a statue that hadn’t been on the property, maybe, when Julius expected to give it away.

“Say, I didn’t mean I couldn’t be loyal to the family.” Valdeccio looked anxious. “I can keep my mouth shut. Ask anybody. I never said a word about Mr. Hyde or his business. You tell Carmine if he needs somebody, I’m his man.”

“I’ll put in a good word.”

She turned and walked away. Had Julius intended to give the statue to somebody the night he died?

“Call me,” Valdeccio said after her. “Tell Carmine I’m in the book.”

She waved and climbed into her truck. She grabbed the steering wheel with both hands to stop their trembling. She knew who’d killed Julius. And probably Kaylee, too.

27

Henry played a around of golf in the morning because his regular foursome had a standing 8 a.m. tee time. He won seventy-five dollars, which meant he had to buy the beer and burgers in the clubhouse afterward. Lunch was a pleasant, joshing meal with a rehash of the morning’s shots. After shaking hands with everyone, he picked a lollipop from the bowl on the bar and strolled out to the parking lot.

Back at Hilltop, he found a roll of duct tape in the barn and an X-acto knife in the garage, which saved him from having to buy them new in a store with video cameras. He pulled a length of nylon rope from a peg on the garage wall, and then he put all his supplies in the trunk of his car. He drove into the city listening to jazz on a public radio station.

In Pittsburgh, he congratulated himself for getting lost only once before locating the car rental agency. He left his own car in a student parking lot and walked in the sunshine several blocks to rent an anonymous white cargo van. He drove it back to the parking lot to collect his supplies from the trunk of his car.

At the appointed time, he drove to meet Arden at her father’s house. Obediently, she had Samson on a leash.

“Be nice to him,” was all Arden had to say. She wore sunglasses, but Henry had a feeling she was crying. Either that, or she’d had so much cocaine that her nasal passages were shot.

By the end of the school day, Henry was parked along a city street watching a parade of schoolgirls in plaid skirts and kneesocks. It was impossible to pick out one from the crowd, so he followed the students for a couple of blocks, pulled ahead, and parked. Then he snapped a leash on Samson and took the dog for a walk.

He dropped a package in a trash can on the corner, then crossed the street.

Within half a minute, Sage Abruzzo found him, because who could miss a giant black and white Great Dane?

“Hey!” she called, dashing across the street to them. “Is that Samson?”

Henry smiled, friendly but not effusive. “It is. How did you know?”

Sage had been walking with a friend, another tall girl who hugged a book to her chest and hung back while Sage cuddled the dog’s head. Samson was happy to see her. His tail whipped as he playfully accepted Sage’s attention.

All according to plan. Henry wasn’t too worried about his own appearance. He’d dressed himself in jeans and a gray Steelers sweatshirt with a ball cap over his hair. With sunglasses and ordinary sneakers, he looked like a thousand other men in a neighborhood full of grad students, college professors, and hospital employees. Besides, who was going to notice him? All attention was on the dog.

Sage was on one knee, hugging Samson. She tipped her face up to Henry. “We met Arden yesterday. She had Samson with her. Are you her husband, or something?”

Henry smiled, not too friendly. “Or something. I’m taking the dog back to her now.”

Sage gave the dog one last pat. “Okay. Tell her Sage says hi.”

“Will do.”

Henry gave Samson’s leash a tug and turned away. He walked a few paces before wheeling around again. He called, “Are you Sage Abruzzo?”

Both girls turned.

Sage said, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Arden mentioned you at lunch today. She has some information for you.”

Sage headed back in Henry’s direction. “Oh? What is it?”

He could see the other girl had places to go. She murmured something to Sage, leaning the opposite way with some urgency.

Henry said, “I’m headed over to Arden’s office now. Want to walk with me?”

The other girl spoke again. Sage said something over her shoulder and waved good-bye. The other girl didn’t hesitate and walked away, which saved Henry the business of getting rid of her.

Sage came loping back to Henry. “Miracle of miracles, we don’t have basketball practice today. So I have time to see Arden.”

“Great,” Henry said. “This way. If you don’t mind Samson taking a detour now and then. When he really decides he wants to go somewhere, I have to agree.”

Sage laughed easily. “He’s a nice dog.”

Sage looked a lot like her mother—tall and shapely, but athletic. She had a purposeful, confident stride, but her backpack was heavy, which was a lucky break.

Sage began to make conversation, but Henry wasn’t listening. For a moment, he feared the diversionary part of his plan had failed.

But suddenly from behind them came a bang. Then a string of explosions—
pop! Pop! Pop-pop-pop! Pop-pop!

On instinct, they both turned around. Smoke was billowing out of the trash can two blocks back. Some girls who had lingered nearer the school scattered like frightened birds. One dashed out into the street, causing a car to shriek to a stop. Another girl had started to run, but fell headlong on the sidewalk. Other kids saw her fall, and the screaming began.

Samson hid behind Henry’s legs, whimpering.

“Oh my God,” Sage said.

Henry took her elbow. “Stay back.”

“What’s happening?”

“Were those gunshots?”

“Oh, my God!” Her voice went higher, louder.

“Did you see what happened?”

“No— We should call the police!”

“I didn’t see what happened. Did you? Look, those girls are already dialing.”

“OhmyGod, ohmyGod—”

“Take it easy,” Henry said. He let the dog wrap his leash around Sage. “You’re okay. We should go, find someplace safe.”

She turned to him, big eyes wide. “Maybe we can help.”

“We didn’t see what happened. We’ll only contribute to the chaos. The police will be here any minute.”

Chaos was breaking out for real. He couldn’t have choreographed it better. Children crying, people running in all directions. The firecrackers were quiet now, but trash in the can had caught fire, and smoke frothed out into the air. Sage was babbling.

He steered her gently into the front seat of the cargo van.

He had time to put Samson in the back. He walked around the vehicle and got into the driver’s seat. He closed the door and pressed the lock button. Sage was struggling out of her backpack, off balance and still babbling and distracted. He pulled the set of handcuffs from his pocket and clapped one steel cuff down on her slender wrist, the other around the bar beside the parking brake. He was quick. He had practiced. Sage whipped her face around to him, her mouth opening in surprise.

He had a handkerchief ready. A clean one. He wasn’t a barbarian. It went into her mouth.

Her other hand was entangled in the straps of her backpack, so he made a clumsy business of grabbing it and wrestling with her.

By then, Sage had figured out she was in trouble.

Unfortunately, she didn’t react as he’d assumed.

She began to scream behind the handkerchief. She thrashed her arm. And kicked. Her legs were too long to get much momentum, but she was strong. And determined. In seconds, she was curled on her back, kicking fiercely at the windshield with her heavy shoes. She arched her back and flung her body hard against the handcuffs. As he duct-taped her wrists together, she began to bang her head on the passenger window. The dog gave a muffled bark.

The cargo van had smoked windows, though. That was some reassurance. Nobody would be paying attention—not with the scene going on around the trash can.

And Henry was prepared. He slapped her only once across the face. The blow startled her long enough for him to use the nylon rope to lasso her legs. Seconds later he used more duct tape—already cut in lengths and waiting on the dashboard—to subdue her.

The last piece of duct tape went across her mouth.

In less than a minute, Henry was driving the van with Sage Abruzzo somewhat contained on the seat beside him. The dog quieted. He drove sensibly and passed the arriving police cars going the opposite direction. In the rearview mirror, nobody pointed at the white cargo van. Nobody had noticed their departure.