House of the Rising Sun (40 page)

Jenny spread the top of one bag open and peeked inside. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, my God!” She looked inside the other bag. “Oh, my God,” she said again.

They walked in and asked a nun sitting behind a reception desk if they could speak to Sister Claire. Five minutes later the old sister walked into the vestibule. Her face was kind. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“These are for you,” Ray said, feeling clumsy as he set the two shopping bags on the floor at the nun's feet. “Something for the kids.”

After she bent forward and opened one of the bags, Sister Claire looked too stunned to speak. Her mouth moved but nothing came out. As Ray and Jenny turned and hurried out the door, he heard the sister behind him stammering her thanks.

Ten minutes later they were on the interstate headed east to Florida.

Jenny kept staring at Ray. “Why did you do that?”

He couldn't tell if she was happy or mad. “What do you mean?”

She pulled a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “That's the nicest thing I've ever seen.”

“Keeping it just didn't feel right.”

“How much was it?”

“Two hundred thousand.”

“Do you know what she's going to be able to do with that money?”

“A whole lot, I hope.”

“How much did you put in Tony's car?”

“I didn't count it, but it was around fifty grand.”

She jerked a thumb toward the back of the car. “What's in the other bag?”

“What bag?”

“The other shopping bag in the trunk.”

He smiled. “I kept a little. Starting a new life costs money.”

She smiled at him.

Three weeks later, Ray sat on the little sundeck of the town house he and Jenny had rented. They were across Highway 98 from the beach, about sixty miles east of Destin, in a small town full of retirees. The morning paper sat folded on the glass-topped breakfast table. Ray stared over the railing at the Gulf of Mexico. “What do you think about a corner grocery?”

“What about it?” Jenny called from the kitchen.

He could smell bacon and eggs. Mrs. Jenny Porter-Shane was a hell of a cook. “I'm thinking about buying one. That one down the street is for sale. It's got a deli in back and a couple of gas pumps.”

“Does that mean I get free food and gas?”

He couldn't tell if she was pulling his leg. “It wouldn't be free, Jen.”

She walked out on the sundeck carrying their breakfast on a tray. “But I'm married to the owner.” She set the tray down and kissed his cheek. “Doesn't that entitle me to a discount?”

He pulled her face close and kissed her on the lips. “Yeah, I'll give you a discount.”

After they finished breakfast, Ray piled everything back onto the tray and carried it into the kitchen. A minute later, Jenny called to him, her voice edged with excitement. “Ray, Ray, come here. Look at this.”

Ray stepped onto the deck. She held the newspaper open,
staring at it. “What is it?” he asked. Jenny pointed to an article on the second page. The headline jumped out at him.

MOB FIGURE STABBED TO DEATH IN JAIL
.

It was an AP story, dateline New Orleans. According to the article, Anthony “Tony” Zello, reportedly a soldier in the Messina organized-crime family, was found stabbed to death in the shower of the Orleans Parish Prison the day before. Zello was being held without bond for the murders of his wife, Priscilla Zello; alleged mob boss Carlos Messina; and Messina's brother, Vincent Messina, also a high-ranking mob figure. A sheriff's official, speaking on condition of anonymity, said Zello had been stabbed more than a dozen times.

Ray still hadn't had a cigarette.

CHUCK HUSTMYRE is a retired federal agent and an award-winning journalist. He is the author of the Dorchester novel
A Killer Like Me
and the nonfiction books
Killer with a Badge
and
Unspeakable Violence
. He also wrote the script for the movie
House of the Rising Sun
.

For more information visit
www.chuckhustmyre.com
.