The Goddaughter (6 page)

I was mesmerized. Those breasts couldn't be real.

“Help! Help! Help!” squeaked Bill/Harry.

“Get the shoes!” yelled Pete. He grappled with the sweaty naked man on the carpet, trying to hold him down without touching various icky parts.

“You're like a greased pig,” muttered Pete, losing his grip.

I lunged for the shoes just as three goons burst through the door.

“Yikes!” said Blondie, diving off the side of the bed.

“Aaaaaagh!” screamed Baldy, making a dash for the covers.

Two of the goons were standard issue, solid as brick walls and probably just as smart. The other goon was huge, and he spoke first.

“Gina?”

I pushed disheveled hair out of my eyes.

“Joey?”

He grinned.

“You're looking good.” He peered at my cleavage. “Like the outfit. Your uncle know you're doing this?”

“I'm not ‘doing this.' I'm getting the shoes. See?” I pointed to the scattered shoes on the floor.

“Good girl. I'll take them now.” He gestured with a big hand.

Blondie popped up from her perch beside the bed. “My, you're big.” She eyed him up and down.

He took a look at her big ones and blushed bright red.

I pointed to the shoes. “You can have them. I don't care if I never see them again. Nothing but trouble from start to finish, and to top it off, they hurt like hell.”

“Grab them, Harry!”

“Wha—?”

“The shoes! Grab the shoes! They must be valuable!”

There was a little
ting
, and then a sizzle, and the lights went out.

“What the fuck!”

Someone pushed by me and sent me sprawling. I landed on the floor on my butt, struggling for air.

There was a
thwack
, and a male voice went “ooof !” A body tripped over me and landed hard. I scooted backward on my butt until I hit a wall and then tried to keep out of range.

Someone hollered, “Get him!” There was crashing and swearing and pounding of feet. Blondie screamed, and then some guy yelped.

“Fucking bitch!”

More pounding feet in the hall. I waited. It got quiet.

Light was coming in from the hallway behind the open door. When my eyes adjusted to it, I looked around. I was alone in the room with the stolen shoes.

I stood up carefully, adjusted the bodice of my maid outfit and looked around.

Pete dashed in, breathing hard. “You all right?”

I pointed to the shoes.

“Shit,” said Pete. “How did that happen?”

“I think they grabbed the man's shoes by mistake.”

He shook his head. “Stupid git.”

“You can't blame Joey. He didn't know what shoes, and we usually use men to carry. Tony was wearing men's shoes after all.”

He sat down on the bed, cradling his right hand. It looked pretty mashed.

“So what do we do now?”

“We get out of here fast. With the shoes.”

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

I
t was a slimy motel that had seen better times. In the '70s, it had seen better times. It was perfect. “Pull in,” I said.

“What do you think?” Once inside, Pete glanced around doubtfully. Flocked velvet wallpaper was peeling behind the reception desk.

“No one would ever think of looking for me here.” I was cheerful. “Get us rooms on the same floor if you can.”

“Separate rooms?” He scratched his head. “We only had one room back at the posh hotel.”

“I wasn't expecting to stay there overnight. This is different. It's only our first date,” I said primly.

He had the grace to laugh. “First date—right. Never had a first date last twenty-four hours before. Or skipped across the border twice. Or had to fight off hookers and thugs. Not on a first date.”

“Okay, our second date. And remember who my godfather is.”

“Oh, I haven't forgotten,” he said darkly.

Actually, I'm not a prude. And Pete is very, very yummy. Besides, he might have to marry me after this jaunt. But I had another motive for not sharing.

There was something I needed to do first. Alone.

I waited until after we parted, then took a quick cab from the motel to a nearby plaza. They were very helpful. After I had done my business, I scooted back. Time to shower and…what exactly?

I thought about all the men in my life. Sweet Terry from high school. A smattering of guys from university who went running after they figured out who I was. And—okay—a few unworthy males Uncle Vince and the boys sent running. Yes, I was a flirt, but for the “girl with the longest confession,” I wasn't a slag. Even the blessed Virgin Mary would need only one hand to count the guys I'd been with.

This yearning I had for Pete went deep. The visual clues were all there, but it seemed to be triggered by his smell. This sensation was new to me. It was like hunger, only sweeter. The closer I got to him, the closer I wanted to get. I wanted—well, I wanted to follow it through… see where it would lead.

After the shower, I dressed again in the blue suit and white tank. Not so white, now. This outfit was getting grungy—a shopping trip was in order tomorrow. But on it went, and out I went. Down the hall. Knocked on the door.

Pete opened it, wearing only a towel.

“Changed my mind,” I said.

“We already paid for two rooms.” He raised one eyebrow.

“I'm good for it.”

He held the door wide, and I walked right in.

* * *

Next morning, reality hit.

“This place is really a hole.” I was looking straight at the ceiling, trying not to look in the corners.

“Murrrph?”

“Darling, the places you take me. And on our first night together.”

“First morning,” Pete mumbled and reached for me.

“Oh no!” I gasped. “Not again. You can't be—”

“Yup.” He covered my mouth with his own.

Sometime later, I woke up. I tried to sit up.

“Ouch!” This was a first. Too much activity for one night.

I heard a snicker.

“Easy for you to say! All you have to do is pee from yours. I have to sit on mine.”

Now he laughed.

“And walk. I may never walk again,” I mumbled, shuffling over to the edge of the bed.

“So don't try,” Pete said, pulling me back.

* * *

It was lunchtime. I demanded food.

“There's a greasy spoon attached to this joint. Are you feeling brave?”

I whipped on my blue suit and tank. “Lemme at 'em.”

Checking out took no time, as it involved throwing the key on the counter of the empty reception desk. And, of course, we had no luggage to pack.

“Can't imagine what people will think, us leaving here with no luggage,” I said.

“They'll think we're like every other couple sneaking out of here with no luggage,” quipped Pete. “And they'd be right.”

I hit him with my purse.

The greasy spoon lived up to its billing. God, it smelled good. I plunked myself down on the red vinyl bench across from Pete.

“Hey, look here!” I pointed to the menu. “They have eggs Benedict.”

Pete frowned. “You're going to risk hollandaise sauce in a place like this?”

“Done!” I said, putting the menu down. “And buckets of coffee.”

The waiter was a skinny high-school kid with bad acne. The coffee was a blend of Colombian and old shoes.

“Ick.” I pulled a face.

“I'll take you to Four-bucks later,” Pete said.

The food came, and we leaped on it. We cleaned off our plates completely. Okay, maybe they had never been clean exactly, but they were free of major food groups. I leaned back on the plastic bench and sighed with contentment.

“How were your eggs and bacon?” I asked. I sipped more of the coffee and pulled a face.

“Better than the coffee,” Pete said. He signaled for the bill.

I studied his face from across the booth. It was a nice face, I decided. Not movie-star handsome, exactly, but masculine with rugged planes. I could live with this face every morning.

Pete paid the bill, and we were off.

“So, first, gas for the car. Then—what exactly?” Pete walked briskly through the parking lot toward the rental car. I hurried along beside him, trying to keep up.

“Don't rush me,” I said. “Good plans take time. But I'm thinking we catch a flight back to Toronto. That's probably the closest airport with a direct flight—
ooph
!”

They took us from behind. I saw Pete go down with a thug on his back. Someone with huge arms grabbed me around the waist and lifted me off the ground.

“Get her shoes!” Joey yelled.

“Joey, you son of a bitch, put me down!” I shrieked. I could hardly breathe, he was squishing me so hard.

Another goon—Bertoni—pulled at the shoes on my feet. I kicked him in the face. He yelped. “Bitch!”

I kicked him again.

“Stop squeezing me!” I yelled. I did not feel good.

Joey hollered, “Got 'em! Let's get out of here.”

He dropped me, and I went
splat
on the pavement. Pete was just getting to his feet. Our assailants were already over to their van. They piled inside and pulled away.

“Are you okay?” Pete asked. He sounded concerned.

“I don't feel so well,” I said. Then I lost the hollandaise.

* * *

It's a good man who will take care of you when you're throwing up. Pete was a good man. He held me so I didn't fall over, and then he found something to wipe my face.

“Well, that was a waste of seven bucks,” he said.

I was more worried about being shoeless.

We found flip-flops in a dollar store around the corner. Luckily, they had a pair in my size. Pete didn't like the look of them much.

“How can you stand wearing those things?” he said while we were going through security at the airport.

“You should try wearing thong underwear,” I replied.

The flight back to Toronto was uneventful, which was a real treat for a change. As we were landing, Pete said, “Phoenix is nice. I'd like to see more of it. We should go back there sometime.”

I nodded and smiled. That
we
had a good ring to it. This was encouraging. It signaled he wasn't planning to disappear as soon as we got off the plane. Which was a good thing, because we still had something left to do.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

I
t was a nice dream. We were at David's Shoes in posh Oakville, and Pete was buying me a pair of Manolos…

The phone rang. It wasn't the phone at David's Shoes. It was the phone in my condo. I picked it up and muttered “Hello.”

“They want the body.”

“What?” I cradled the phone to my chin.

“The body. They want it.” Was that Sammy's voice, or was I still dreaming?

“What body?” I said. Still not awake. What time was it? I looked at the clock. 4:30
AM
. I looked to the other side of the bed. I wasn't alone.

“Tony's. The body that's in the morgue. The guys in New York. They want it. We hafta get it to them. Vinnie wants it done now, before the morgue creeps dissect it. Angelo says it's on the schedule for this morning.”

“Who is it?” Pete muttered. He lay on his back. His eyes weren't open yet.

“Sammy,” I whispered.

“Gina, are you there?”

“I'm here,” I said. “So they want the body. They can have it.” I didn't want it.

A pause.

“Aren't there rules about things like that? Taking bodies across the border?” I asked.

“Not if nobody knows about it.”

“I'm trying to figure out what this has to do with me.”

“Vinnie said to call you on account of he has a high opinion of your brains.”

So they needed a plan.

“Sammy, I'm a jeweler, not a criminal mastermind. Why do we have to do this under the table?”

“'Cause they want it now, not after the morgue creepies do their pulling-apart thing. They want the body intact. For burial.”

I sighed. “And why do we care?”

“You wanna start a war?”

“I don't want to start anything! But why me? I didn't have anything to do with the shooting.”

“They don't know that. You took 'im to the place, and he got nailed. Maybe they think we set it up.”

I was out of the bed and pacing now. “That's nuts! I thought they got him plugged by his own people because he was out of control, or something.”

“So did I. They're not sayin'. An' Vince don't wanna take the chance at starting bad relations, you know? So we're doin' this little favor for them. You gotta be involved so it's looks like we're doing this in good faith.”

I counted to seven. I could refuse. Couldn't I? But then they would do the whole comedy routine over again. I could see it all. Sammy phoning. Then Vince phoning. Then Paulo, Luca…Angelo at the door with more coffee. Then Aunt Miriam. Brrrr…I shivered at Aunt Miriam. Did I want to deal with a corpse or Aunt Miriam?

Sometimes decisions come easy. I said, “Okay, where are we meeting?”

He told me, and I hung up.

Pete rolled over. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing. I just have to go steal a body.”

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

F
irst I had to peel Pete off the ceiling.

Then I made him coffee.

“Simple, really,” I lied. “We get the body from the morgue and then we take it to Buffalo.”

“What—on a shopping trip?”

This was going to take more explaining than I thought. Which was a problem.

“So I haven't worked out the details yet. But how much trouble can it be to smuggle one body over the border? I mean, really. People smuggle things all the time. Cigarettes…illegal handguns. We smuggled a house-worth of jewels just the other day.”