The Scorpion's Tale (16 page)

Nick looked confused, although Giovanna was
too engrossed in her brother’s passport to notice his expression.
“You have a cousin who worked with your brother?”

“Yes,” Giovanna replied. “My cousin Giorgio’s
from Realdo. The three of us were inseparable for most of our
lives.” She reached into her purse and withdrew a picture that she
handed to Nick. “That’s a picture of Giorgio, Roberto, and me.”

Nick studied the photograph and grunted.
“Very nice.” Nick quickly flipped through the passports and photos,
concluding that the photos of Joey and his partners were
interchangeable when different passports were needed. “I don’t see
anyone else’s picture. There doesn’t seem to be anything related to
a Giorgio, but all of the invoices say ‘Gia’s Pride Imports.’ I
assume your brother named the company after you?”

Giovanna nodded.

“I’m certainly no financial expert, but I do
have some experience with bookkeeping. If I was a betting man, and
I am, I’d say Tony was keeping a second set of records. Let me see
the records from Gia’s Pride Imports that you found in your
brother’s office.”

Giovanna walked over to the armoire and
retrieved two manila envelopes. Nick placed the Italian documents
next to the American records spread out on the bed. Giovanna stood
over him and peered at the documents, moving her head back and
forth from pile to pile, comparing both. “I already see something
interesting,” she said.

“What?” Nick asked, turning his head from
side to side to stretch his neck muscles.

She took an invoice from each pile and held
it in front of him. “These invoices appear to be the same. They’ve
got the same dates, invoice numbers, and product descriptions.”

Nick interrupted. “The San Remo invoices show
fewer computers shipped than the corresponding JTS invoices for the
same shipment.”

Gia nodded her head. “These other invoices
are similar.”

“The pricing is the same, and based upon the
difference in amounts actually shipped from San Remo to Brazil, it
looks like about ten percent of the computers were stolen in Italy.
I bet Sal and Joey transported the U.S. computers from the
warehouse to the docks and were doing the same behind Tony’s back,
since they gave money to your brother for his silence. Tony
obviously wouldn’t steal from himself.”

“So, if you’re correct about what Sal and
Joey were doing, they would have made about twelve thousand dollars
on this invoice alone.”

“You catch on quick!”

Giovanna studied the invoices. “But Nick,
even though the numbers are different, there’s not a huge
difference. The amounts of money shouldn’t be enough to kill for,
and as you say, Tony was the victim of the theft, so why would he
be killed?”

Nick nodded. “That’s true, but considering
the volume, the numbers add up fast. These guys didn’t have to be
pigs. They could have sat back and made a little extra money each
month on the side. I think Tony had a bad feeling about this
account, because he was keeping his own copies. The invoices in
Tony’s box are very different from the invoices from your brother’s
office.” “Did you see this?” he asked, pointing to one of the
invoices she took from her brother’s office. “Look at all these
invoices in Tony’s box. Tony signed every single invoice. I don’t
think he ever allowed his partners to sign an invoice. But look at
Roberto’s invoices: Tony’s signature is forged.”

“Sal and Joey believed Tony was never going
to see the phony invoices.”

“That’s right. I don’t know how Joey and Sal
were doing this, but they were diverting shipments. I would have to
see invoices with the Brazilian company to figure out how they were
working with those guys. Based on the dates, it appears they had a
good thing going for quite some time.” Nick read a note on Tony’s
stationery and handed it to Giovanna. The note was attached to a
photograph of a JTS employee. “Check this out.”

Giovanna read the note to Nick:

Have Nick check on Jackie Cairo. I think he’s
a snitch. Who is paying him to supply information about JTS?
Arrange an “informal” interview with Nick, ASAP after the holiday
weekend. What’s going on with the Gia’s Imports account? It’s
making me nervous. Call Roberto Milani to discuss the account and
meet him in San Remo, but don’t tell Sal and Joey.

Giovanna put the note on the bed and stared
at Nick.

“Giovanna, did you notice the date on Tony’s
note?”

Giovanna nodded her head. “He wrote this note
two days before he was murdered.”

Nick frowned. “Yeah, it looks like I gotta
talk to Jackie Cairo. Tony and your brother either simultaneously
ordered hits on each other, which doesn’t make sense, or Jackie
Cairo ordered the contracts on behalf of someone else to hide his
tracks. Believe me, Cairo is not a man capable of ordering a
killing, but the weasel knows who it was.”

“Do you know where to find Jackie Cairo?” she
asked.

“Not offhand. But I’m going to make some
calls. We’ll be able to locate him in a few hours, unless he’s
disappeared.”

“Nick, I would like to ask him some
questions, so don’t hurt him.”

Nick looked offended. “I just want to talk to
him, that’s all.”

She ignored him. “Tony was your friend?”

“Yes.”

“He was killed with his wife at their summer
home?”

“Yes.”

“And the little girl and her mom also?”

“Yes, her name was Amanda Capresi. She was a
special friend. Someone I knew for many years. She was married to
another friend of mine. Amanda was staying at the house with Tony
and Rosina for the weekend. She was there with her little girl. She
was nine months pregnant.”

“What about the father? Where is he?”

Nick took her hands in his and looked
straight into her eyes. “Steven is now on a mission to track down
the killers. I couldn’t convince him to change his mind. I have no
idea where he is, or if he is alive. He won’t rest until he is dead
or he has killed those responsible.”

Giovanna sat quietly for a few more minutes
as Nick returned to the documents.

“I want to meet Steven.”

Nick glared at her, his eyes flashing with
anger. “No way! Steven’s crazy. If he wants to kill himself, that’s
his decision. I’m not going to allow you to be influenced by him!
You’ll both be killed. You and I have an agreement. When I say it’s
over, it’s over! Capiche?”

Giovanna’s face reddened with anger. “First,
I haven’t agreed to your stupid rules, and second, who do you think
you are? I’m not some stupid little girl that you can order around!
I will meet Steven if, and when, I decide!”

Nick laughed. “You know, you’re very cute
when you get angry.”

Giovanna raised her hand to slap him across
the face, but he caught her arm mid motion before she made
contact.

“That’s not nice.” He pulled her toward him
and kissed her hard.

She hurriedly withdrew from him and
unsuccessfully tried striking him again. Her eyes were dark and
fiery, and locked on his. “Don’t ever try that again because …”

He yanked her to him and kissed her again.
This time she did not resist.

His heart felt like it would explode. He felt
her breathing quicken as he swept the documents off of the bed.

She tried to protest. “Nick, don’t.…”

He pulled her to him and onto the bed. She
kissed him willingly and wrapped herself around him, realizing how
desperately she needed this moment. They made love like strangers
craving new beginnings.

-------------------

Giovanna walked out of the bathroom. Nick was
wearing only his boxers and lay stretched out on the bed. She was
admiring his body.

“I must say Mr. Manzione, you are amazing!
Was that a part of the full service package you alluded to?”

Nick grinned at her. “No, that was totally
customized for you. You are unbelievable!”

They lay down together and she rested her
head on his sculpted abdomen. He gently ran his fingers through her
thick hair.

“You remind me of my father,” she said.

Nick frowned at the remark, but said nothing.
He stroked her forehead with his fingertips.

She moved her hand slowly over each of his
rippled muscles. “You’re kind, funny, and quite a gentleman, just
like him. My father loved my mother more than anyone else in the
world and he wasn’t afraid to show his love or his
vulnerability.”

Nick shifted uncomfortably as Gia
repositioned her head closer to his belly button. “How could you
possibly say I’m like your father? You don’t even know me.”

Giovanna smiled. “No, Nick, I don’t know you,
but I believe that underneath that tough, macho exterior is the
heart of a very good man. Does it bother you to hear me talk like
this?”

Nick closed his eyes again. “No, it never
bothers me to hear you talk about anything. I just don’t want to
disappoint you or cause you any pain.”

Giovanna lightly patted his chest. “I passed
the point of pain long ago,” she sighed. “All I’m trying to do is
reconcile the past with the present. One day I believe I’ll be able
to put the past behind me, but not yet.”

“I had an older brother. His name was Dante.
When I was eight years old, he was killed when a tourist lost
control of his car. Dante was walking back from the market with an
anniversary gift for our parents. They never got over his death,
but you would never have known by watching them with Roberto and
me. They were never overprotective, which is what you would expect
from parents who lost a child. They refocused their love and energy
on each other and smothered us with affection.”

“Why are you telling me this, Gia?”

“I want you to know who I am. I want you to
understand where I came from and the blessings that were bestowed
upon me before everything was taken away. Perhaps you will come to
understand my actions.”

Nick pursed his lips and held in his
emotions. “Thank you for confiding in me.”

“What happens now?” she asked.

“We find Jackie Cairo.”

“Sure Ride Cab Company” was located in the
old business district, a short drive from his hotel. Detective
Johnston preferred the element of surprise and decided not to make
an appointment with Veeksburn’s partner. He had his cab stop down
the block from the company’s office to survey the area. Sure Cab
had a large garage next to its office building. A smaller office
with the sign “V&C Private Investigation” was situated on the
other side of the garage. The detective crossed the street and
walked by the garage on his way to V&C. The doors were wide
open; an empty cab was parked inside and another cab was up on a
hydraulic lift. Nobody was inside.

He continued past the garage and opened the
door to the office. A middle-aged woman, with a bottle-blonde
bouffant hairdo, was seated at the reception desk talking on the
telephone. She had a hardened face. Detective Johnston imagined she
had been an attractive woman in her prime, but the cigarette in her
hand and the overly generous application of ruby red lipstick and
blue eye shadow detracted from whatever appeal she had left. The
detective patiently waited for her to finish her conversation. She
finally hung up, took a last drag off her cigarette, and turned her
attention to him.

“May I help you?”

“I hope so,” the detective answered. “I would
like to speak with Harry Chesney if he’s here.”

The woman gave him the once over. “Do you
have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Are you a reporter?”

Detective Johnston laughed. “No ma’am, I’m no
reporter. Why would you ask that question?”

The woman sighed and shrugged her shoulders.
“We’ve had a lot of reporters snooping around asking stupid
questions.”

“Why?”

Once again the woman closely regarded him.
“Don’t you know what happened at Red Rock?”

“Should I?”

“You’re not from Vegas, are you?” she
asked.

“No, I’m not, but neither are you.”

She stared blankly at him.

“Where in New York are you from?” he
asked.

A smile slowly enveloped her face. “It’s
still that obvious? I’ve been here for five years and thought the
accent was gone.”

The detective grinned. “Yeah, it’s that
obvious. You can take the girl out of New York, but you can’t take
New York out of the girl.”

She laughed. “Canarsie, but I lived in Coney
Island for a while.”

“I spent a lot of time in Canarsie. It’s a
wonderful place.”

“Yeah,” she replied, regressing comfortably
into a more pronounced Brooklyn accent, “but I really love Vegas.
It’s New York without the bad weather.”

The detective shifted his weight and leaned
slightly on the desk, aware that his charm was wearing thin. She
regarded him one last time. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t say, but it’s Michael
Johnston.”

“Okay, Mr. Johnston, you look like a decent
guy, and you are a fellow New Yorker, so hold on. Let me see if
he’s still around.”

She picked up the telephone and dialed an
extension. “Hi. Are you here for a visitor? A Michael Johnston is
here to see you. He’s from New York and he’s not a reporter. He
seems legit.”

Detective Johnston watched with interest as
she listened intently to the voice on the other end of the
conversation.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to ask. Hold on.” She
turned to the detective. “He wants to know if you’re a cop.”

“Yes, I am.”

He watched as she repeated the information
and listened to the instructions.

“Okay, I’ll do that,” she answered. She hung
up the telephone and frowned at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you
were a cop?”

“You didn’t ask.”

She made a face. “He’s in his office on the
other side of the garage. He said to come over and he’ll give you a
few minutes.”