Our Honored Dead (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 4) (17 page)

BOOK: Our Honored Dead (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 4)
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“What? Did you say something?”

Only that I love you.
“I’m thirsty.” I saw a hotdog cart up ahead. We ran up to it and stopped. I bought two bottles of water. We sat down on a bench and drank as we looked across the river.

“What’s over there?” he asked.

“Queens.”

“How do you get there?”

He had such a good heart. He wouldn’t let his armed policewoman sister go for a run unless he could go along as a chaperone. He had lived in Manhattan for years and still didn’t . . . or couldn’t . . . there were boats in the water, and the RFK Bridge was off in the distance . . . but he couldn’t connect the dots. Nigel was working with him, helping him to improve. Ricky had made some moderate strides, but his issues with disassociation persisted. I pointed off into the distance. “You can drive over that bridge. If you look closely you can see cars on it.”

“Oh yeah.” He took a sip from the water bottle and wrinkled his nose. “This water smells funny.”

“I think you smell the East River. It’s humid today.”

He looked at me with a blank expression. “What’s humid?”

“Ah, come on, Ricky. You know what humid means. There’s a lot of moisture in the air.”

He smiled with one side of his mouth. I had learned that he did that when he was embarrassed. “Oh yeah, that’s right.”

We both became quiet as we stared out at the water. Whatever Ricky was thinking about, it wasn’t the wanton murder of an innocent family, and he certainly wasn’t thinking about the body of a man who had been burned alive in an incinerator. One day soon, Gus and I would have a family of our own. Yes, we were cops, but no one can be alert all the time. There are so many monsters out there. Who would keep an eye out for us? What would prevent another tragedy like the one that happened to the Jacoby family? Maybe Ricky was the smart one. Perhaps his was the better way. Somehow though, despite being incredibly naïve, he felt a need to protect me. I felt like crying but really didn’t want to. I tousled his hair instead. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“It’s okay. I like running. Can we run all the way over to Queens?”

“If we get in really fantastic shape, but I don’t think I’ll be ready for that anytime soon.”

“Because of the baby?” Ricky grinned from ear to ear.

“Yes, because of the baby. Are you excited about the baby?”

He nodded. “I want to be an uncle.”

“You’ll be a great uncle.”
Even when the baby goes to school and . . .
My throat tightened.
Even when . . .
“Because I know you’ll love the baby so much.”

“I love it already. Even though I can’t see it.”

I had been thinking about the case while we ran. I found that exercise inspired me, but I still had not been able to associate the latest elements of the case. Marat Vetrov attacked Brian Spano while he was taking inventory at the pharmaceuticals plant, and Vetrov had subsequently been murdered. I guess I hadn’t run far enough, because I hadn’t been able to connect those two events. I knew that the connection was there, just off in the horizon.

“Gus is with you when you work, isn’t he?”

“Why do you ask, Ricky?”

He shrugged. The one-sided smile came back. “Just because.”

“Well, Gus is my partner at work so we do a lot of things together.”

“But not everything?”

“No, Ricky, not everything.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Are you worried about me because I’m going to have a baby?”

Ricky nodded. “There’s safety in numbers,” he said, parroting something he must have heard someone else say. “Someone robbed the store where I work, but I wasn’t there.”

“Someone robbed the paint store?”

“Yeah. They took a lot of money, and the owner hired a security guard. Maybe you should hire a security guard to watch you when Gus can’t be around.”

A security guard?
The idea rolled around in my head for a moment. Could that be the connection I’d been looking for? “You’re so smart. Don’t worry. Your sister can take care of herself.”

“You’re smarter than me, Stephanie.”

I kissed Ricky on his sweaty forehead. “No I’m not, but right now I have a bigger appetite. Come on, I’ll race you home.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

 

“Are
you sure all of this running is good for you?” Ma said. “I never ran.”

I plopped down on her couch as Ricky headed off to the shower. Ma opened a Ziploc bag and handed me a slice of honey baked ham. “Yes, I’m sure it’s good for you.”

“You’re positive? Because I don’t see a lot of pregnant women jogging.”

“Trust me, I checked with Dr. Kranston, and he said it was okay. Besides, it was just a light run. I didn’t run a marathon.”

“Why don’t you try one of those exercise bikes?”

“Uh, because they’re boring, and I enjoy running.” I snatched the bag of cold cuts out her hand and reached in for a second slice. I had called Gus on the run back to Ma’s and was waiting for him to check out the security-guard angle—A secure facility like Vicor has hundreds of security cameras. I’m sure that someone had monitored Vetrov’s attack on Brian Spano, and I wanted to know who it was. I checked my phone to make sure that I hadn’t missed any calls.

“Okay, forget all of that,” Ma said. “How about I whip up a quick batch of macaroni with peas?”

Yes! Oh God, yes.
I smiled. “That’s exactly what I want.”

“I just got a chuck of Romano cheese—we’ll grate it fresh. How soon before Gus gets here?”

“Could be a while—he’s checking on something for me.”

“Those awful murders in Staten Island? Poor Nick, he must be crushed.”

I had not seen Sonellio in a couple of days. On the one hand, I wanted him to get a few days rest, but on the other hand, I was afraid to see if he had gotten any worse.

“Silly man. I can’t remember him without a cigarette in his mouth. You never smoked, right?”

“Ma! How can you ask a question like that? You know how I feel about smoking.”

“Well now, sure . . . I mean when you were a teenager. All kids sneak cigarettes.”

“No. Never.” I may have snuck an occasional boyfriend into the house, but she didn’t ask, and I was not about to volunteer information. Not that it mattered anymore—in fact, we would probably have a good laugh over it.

“You’re telling the truth?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, I believe you,” Ma had a wise-ass grin on her face. “But I know about you and Frankie Bono.”

Oh shit. Here it comes.

“What are you talking about?” My words of innocence didn’t matter—I could feel that I had one of those
cat who ate the canary
expressions on my face.

“Don’t you BS me, Stephanie Marie Chalice. I knew all about it.”

Wow . . . and Ambler called
me
a witch—now I knew where it came from. Should I deny it? Nah, what the hell for? I grinned. “How did you know?”

“Do you think I was born yesterday? Do you think I didn’t see what they wrote about you in your high school yearbook?
Bright and beautiful, she always makes the scene, but look out boys, she’s Frankie’s queen
.”

“Jesus, you saw that?”

She chuckled. “Saw it? Your father and I had some of our biggest laughs over it.”

I turned to look in the mirror. I was beet red. “So why didn’t you say something?”

“Because you broke up with him soon afterward.” She grinned again. “But I knew.”

She knew? How could she have known? I was a cop’s daughter—I’d always been careful to cover my tracks. Since a strong offense was the best defense, I said simply, “You’re full of it.”

“Yeah,
I’m
full of it?”

“You don’t know anything. You’re making it up.” I laughed so hard that it hurt.

“You think you and your father were the only detectives in the house? It rubs off, you know. I’ve got you dead to rights.”

“Seriously?”

“Francine Delgado’s mother told me all about it. Francine used to follow the two of you home from school every day. She had such a crush on Frankie. Her mother said that she used to cry herself to sleep every night.”

“Francine Delgado?”

“Yes.”

“Little Francine with acne?”

“Yes!”

“No wonder she hated me.”

“Don’t feel too bad. She just married a football player, someone on the New York Jets.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Well, it’s true. She must’ve found a good dermatologist, because I saw her wedding picture and she looked beautiful.”

“Really? That’s nice. I’m so happy for her.”

“Speaking of marriage, when are you and Gus going to make it official?” She narrowed her gaze. “You’re wasting time.”

Gus and I had talked about it but just hadn’t yet put a plan into action. Working two homicide cases didn’t help. “Soon.”

“You’d better make it
very
soon, before Francine Delgado’s mother starts calling you the
puttana
cop.”

My mouth dropped. “She wouldn’t?”

“Oh yes she would. That woman carries a grudge like no one else, and she knows how to gossip. You made her daughter miserable, and I think she wants revenge.”

“Oh let her talk. Who cares?”

“I care. You don’t live in the neighborhood anymore. You think I want to hear things like that?”

I supposed Gus and I had better take care of business before Ma became collateral damage in the mid-Manhattan gossip wars. As I said, it was already on our agenda. I heard a knock on the door. “That’s probably Gus. You can ask him yourself.”

Ma followed me to the front door. “I also found Frankie’s bus pass when I was cleaning your bedroom one day.” She gave me a pat on the fanny. I could see that she was all worked up. “Open the door. I’m going to let Gus have it, both barrels.”

I pulled the door open. Gus knew that he was in trouble at the first sight of Ma’s face. It read like a HazMat warning. “What’s wrong?” he said.

“Are you going to marry me or what?” I demanded. “People are starting to talk.”

“Talk about what? Who’s talking?” Gus looked somewhat flustered.

“You’re in deep shit,” I chuckled. “Mrs. Delgado called me a
puttana
.”

“She what?”

“The talk around town is that I’m a big slut.”

Ma began to howl. “It didn’t help any that you and Frankie Bono played grab-ass in the twelfth grade.” Gus looked at us as if we had lost our minds. Ma grabbed Gus by the arm and pulled him into the apartment. “Get in here, mister; we need to have a pow-wow.”

I closed the door, but I knew that the neighbors could hear us laughing all the way down the hall.

Ma pointed to the couch. “Sit down. Macaroni and peas okay for dinner?” she asked. Gus nodded. “Give me two minutes—I’ll put up a pot of water.”

I grabbed Gus and yanked him down onto the couch. “You knew this was coming. I guess you’d better make me an honest woman.”

Gus made an expression that said,
yeah right.
“So who’s this Frankie Bono character? I’m not going to marry you now,” he said facetiously. “You’re used goods.”

I laughed so hard that it was difficult for me to switch gears. “Quick. Before she gets back, anything on the security guard angle?”

“Yeah, you were right.” That was all that Gus managed to say before Ma came back into the room. Vetrov had to have been there for the drugs, and I was betting whoever took him down was there for the same reason. I was betting that a crosscheck on patients for Vicor’s trial drugs and security guards who worked at Vicor’s warehouse would be quite revealing.

“You think I’m going to live forever?” Ma said dramatically. “I’m an old woman with diabetes. How long do I have to wait to see my darling daughter walk down the aisle?”

I was still in a silly mood. I glared at Gus.
“Well?”

Gus was caught in the proverbial crossfire. “We can have a quick civil ceremony as soon as we wrap up our cases.”

It took perhaps a nanosecond for the avalanche to fall on him. “You don’t understand,” Ma said with outrage. “My daughter is not going to have a civil ceremony. My daughter is going to get married
in church with bridesmaids and flowers
.”

Gus looked to me for support, but there was no defense against my mother’s onslaught. He sat there and took it like a man.

Chapter Thirty-eight

 

Tillerman
stood outside the entranceway of the Staten Island medical examiner’s office for a few moments to rehearse his performance. He had been in this position before, years ago when he worked for the funeral parlor. He knew the drill.
Stay calm. Act natural.
He pushed the door open and walked up to the reception counter. A mature woman wearing glasses with blue frames looked up from her computer screen. “Sclafani Funeral Home,” he said and handed her completed release forms. “We called ahead for a pickup.” He was dressed in jeans. He wore a nylon jacket that was embroidered with the Sclafani emblem.

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