Two for the Dough (22 page)

Spiro angled onto the seat. “Hell, the car is awesome. At least you know how to pick out a car.”

I squired Spiro into the funeral parlor, where all security systems seemed intact. We did a superficial examination of his two customers and felt fairly certain no one had relieved them of any obvious body parts. I told Spiro I’d return for the night run and that he should beep me if he needed me sooner.

I would have liked to keep Spiro under surveillance. I figured he’d keep picking at the lead I’d given him, and who knows what he’d find? And even more important, if Spiro started moving around, maybe Kenny would move with him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t conduct any meaningful surveillance in Big Blue. I’d have to find a different car if I wanted to tail Spiro.

The half cup of coffee I’d gulped at breakfast was working its way through my system, so I decided to go back to my parents’ house, where I could use the bathroom. I could take a shower and give some thought to my car problem. At ten I’d chauffeur Grandma Mazur over to Clara’s for an overhaul.

When I got home my father was in the bathroom, and my mother was in the kitchen, cutting vegetables for minestrone.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I said. “Do you think Daddy will be long?”

My mother rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what he does in there. Takes the paper in with him, and we don’t see him for hours.”

I snitched a chunk of carrot and a chunk of celery for Rex and hustled up the stairs.

I knocked on the bathroom door. “How much longer?” I yelled.

There was no answer.

I knocked louder. “Are you okay in there?”

“Christ,” was the muttered reply. “A man can’t even take a crap in this house …”

I went back to my room. My mother had made my bed and folded all my clothes. I told myself it was nice to be back home and have someone doing little favors for me. I should be grateful. I should enjoy the luxury.

“Isn’t this fun?” I said to a sleeping Rex. “It’s not every day we get to visit Grandmom and Grandpop.” I lifted the lid to give him his breakfast, but my eye was twitching so badly I missed the cage entirely and dropped his carrot chunk on the floor.

By ten o’clock my father still hadn’t come out of the bathroom, and I was dancing in the hall. “Hurry up,” I said to Grandma Mazur. “I’m going to explode if I don’t get to a bathroom soon.”

“Clara has a nice bathroom. She keeps potpourri in it, and she’s got a crocheted doll that sits on the extra roll of toilet paper. She’ll let you use her bathroom.”

“I know, I know. Get a move on, will you?”

She was wearing her blue wool coat and had a gray wool scarf wrapped around her head.

“You’re going to be hot in that coat,” I told her. “It’s not very cold out.”

“Haven’t got anything else,” she said. “Everything’s gone to rags. I thought maybe after Clara’s we could go shopping. I got my Social Security check.”

“You sure your hand feels okay to go shopping?”

She held her hand in front of her face and stared at the bandage. “Feels okay so far. The hole wasn’t real big. Tell you the truth, I didn’t even know how deep it was until I got to the hospital. It happened so fast.

“I always thought I was pretty good at taking care of myself, but I don’t know anymore. I don’t move like I used to. I just stood there like a damn fool and let him stick me in the hand.”

“I’m sure there wasn’t anything you could do, Grandma. Kenny’s a lot bigger than you, and you were unarmed.”

Her eyes clouded behind a film of tears. “He made me feel like a silly old woman.”

Morelli was slouched against the Buick when I came out of Clara’s. “Whose idea was it to talk to Cubby Delio?”

“Spiro’s. And I don’t think he’s going to stop with Delio. He needs to find those guns so he can get Kenny off his back.”

“You learn anything interesting?”

I repeated the conversation for Morelli.

“I know Bucky and Biggy,” he said. “They wouldn’t get mixed up in something like this.”

“Maybe we’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion about the furniture truck.”

“I don’t think so. I stopped by the Exxon station first thing this morning and took some pictures. Roberta says she thinks it’s the same truck.”

“I thought you were supposed to be following me! What if I was attacked? What if Kenny came after me with the ice pick?”

“I followed you part of the time. Anyway, Kenny likes to sleep in.”

“That’s no excuse! The least you could have done was let me know I was on my own!”

“What’s the plan here?” Morelli wanted to know.

“Grandma will be done in an hour. I promised I’d take her shopping. And sometime today I have to stop in to see Vinnie.”

“He going to yank you off the case?”

“No. I’ll take Grandma Mazur with me. She’ll straighten him out.”

“I’ve been thinking about Sandeman …”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about Sandeman, too. Initially I thought he might be hiding Kenny. Maybe it’s just the opposite. Maybe he screwed Kenny over.”

“You think Moogey threw in with Sandeman?”

I shrugged. “It makes some sense. Whoever stole the guns had street contacts.”

“You said Sandeman didn’t show any signs of sudden wealth.”

“I think Sandeman’s wealth goes up his nose.”

“I feel much better now that my hair’s back in shape,” Grandma said, hoisting herself up onto the front seat of the Buick. “I even had her put a rinse in it. Can you tell the difference?”

She’d gone from gunmetal gray to apricot.

“It’s more of a strawberry blond now,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s it. Strawberry blond. I always wanted to be one of those.”

Vinnie’s office was just down the street. I parked at the curb and pulled Grandma in after me.

“I’ve never been here before,” Grandma said, taking it all in. “Isn’t this something?”

“Vinnie’s on the phone,” Connie said. “He’ll be with you in a minute.”

Lula came over to get a closer look at Grandma. “So you’re Stephanie’s grandma,” Lula said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Grandma’s eyes brightened. “Oh yeah? What’d you hear?”

“For starters I heard you got stuck with an ice pick.”

Grandma held her bandaged hand out for Lula to see. “It was this here hand, and it got stuck just about clean through.”

Lula and Connie looked at the hand.

“And that isn’t all that’s happened,” Grandma said. “The other night Stephanie got a man’s part in Express Mail. Opened it up right in front of me. I saw the whole thing. It was stuck to a piece of foam with a hatpin.”

“Get out,” Lula said.

“That’s just the way it came through the mail,” Grandma said. “Sliced off like a chicken neck and stuck with a hatpin. Reminded me of my husband.”

Lula leaned forward so she could whisper. “You talking about size? Was your man’s part that big?”

“Heck no,” Grandma said. “His part was that dead.”

Vinnie stuck his head out of his office door, and swallowed hard when he saw Grandma. “Oh jeez,” he said.

“I just picked Grandma up at the beauty parlor,” I told him “And now we’re going shopping. Thought I’d stop by to see what you wanted, since I was just down the street.”

Vinnie’s five-foot-nine frame hunched. His thinning black hair was slicked back and had the same level of shine as his pointy-toed black shoes. “I want to know what’s happening with Mancuso. This was supposed to be a simple pickup, and now I’m hanging out for a lot of money.”

“I’m closing in,” I said. “Sometimes these things take time.”

“Time is money,” Vinnie said. “My money.”

Connie rolled her eyes.

And Lula said, “Say what?”

We all knew Vinnie’s bond business was financed by an insurance company.

Vinnie balanced on his toes, hands loose at his sides. City boy. Slack-jointed. Tight-assed. “This case is out of your league. I’m giving it over to Mo Barnes.”

“I don’t know Mo Barnes from Adam’s donkey,” Grandma said to Vinnie. “But I know he can’t hold a candle to my granddaughter. She’s the best there is when it comes to bounty huntering, and you’d be a darn fool to take her off this Mancuso case. Especially now that I’m working with her. We’re about to crack his case wide open.”

“No offense,” Vinnie said, “but you and your granddaughter couldn’t crack a walnut with both hands, much less bring Mancuso in.”

Grandma pulled herself up and edged her chin out a half inch.

“Uh-oh,” Lula said.

“Bad things happen to people who take away from family,” Grandma told Vinnie.

“What kinds of bad things?” Vinnie asked. “What’s my hair gonna fall out? My teeth gonna rot in my head?”

“Maybe,” Grandma said. “Maybe I’ll put the evil eye on you. Or maybe I’ll talk to your grandma Bella. Maybe I’ll tell your grandma Bella how you talk fresh to an old woman.”

Vinnie swayed foot to foot like a caged cat. He knew better than to displease Grandma Bella. Grandma Bella was even scarier than Grandma Mazur. Grandma Bella had on more than one occasion taken a grown man by the ear and brought him to his knees. Vinnie made a low sound behind clenched teeth and narrowed his eyes. He muttered something through tight lips, tipped backward into his office, and slammed his door shut.

“Well,” Grandma said. “That’s the Plum side of the family for you.”

It was late afternoon when we finished shopping. My mother opened the door for us with a grim set to her mouth.

“I had nothing to do with the hair,” I told her. “Grandma did that all by herself.”

“This is my cross to bear,” my mother said. She looked down at Grandma’s shoes and genuflected.

Grandma Mazur was wearing Doc Martens. She was also wearing a new hip-length, downfilled ski jacket, jeans that she’d rolled and pegged, and a flannel shirt to match mine. We looked like
Tales from the Crypt
does the Bobsey Twins.

“I’m going to take a nap before dinner,” Grandma said. “Shopping wore me out.”

“I could use help in the kitchen,” my mother said to me.

This was bad news. My mother never needed help in the kitchen. The only time my mother requested help was when she had something on her mind and intended to browbeat some unfortunate soul into submission. Or when she wanted information. Have some chocolate pudding, she’d say to me. By the way, Mrs. Herrel saw you going into the Morellis’ garage with Joseph Morelli. And why are your panties on inside out?”

I dragged after her, into her lair, where potatoes boiled on the stove, steaming the air and fogging the window over the sink. My mother opened the oven door to check on the roast, and the smell of leg of lamb washed over me. I felt my eyes glaze and my mouth fall open in a stupor of expectation.

She moved from the oven to the refrigerator. “Some carrots would be nice with the lamb. You can peel the carrots,” she said, handing me the bag and the paring knife. “By the way, why did someone send you a penis?”

I almost sliced off the tip of my finger. “Um …”

“The return address was New York, but the postmark was local,” she said.

“I can’t tell you about the penis. It’s under police investigation.”

“Thelma Biglo’s son, Richie, told Thelma that the penis belonged to Joe Loosey. And that Kenny Mancuso cut it off while Loosey was getting dressed at Stiva’s.”

“Where did Richie Biglo hear this?”

“Richie tends bar at Pino’s. Richie knows everything.”

“I don’t want to talk about the penis.”

My mother took the paring knife out of my hand. “Look at these carrots you peeled. I can’t serve these carrots. Some of the skins are left on.”

“You shouldn’t cut the skins off anyway. You should scrub them with a brush. All the vitamins are in the skin.”

“Your father won’t eat them with the skins on. You know how particular he is.”

My father would eat cat shit if it was salted, fried, or frosted, but it took an act of Congress to get him to eat a vegetable.

“Seems to me Kenny Mancuso has it in for you,” my mother said. “It’s not a nice thing to send a penis to a woman. It’s disrespectful.”

I searched the kitchen for a new task, but I couldn’t come up with anything.

“And I know what’s going on with your grandmother, too,” she said. “Kenny Mancuso is getting to you through your grandmother. That’s why he attacked her at the bakery. That’s why you’re living here … so you can be close by if he attacks her again.”

“He’s crazy.”

“Of course he’s crazy. Everybody knows he’s crazy. All the Mancuso men are crazy. His uncle Rocco hung himself. He liked little girls. Mrs. Ligatti caught him with her Tina. And then the next day Rocco hung himself. Good thing, too. If Al Ligatti had gotten hold of Rocco …” My mother shook her head. “I don’t even want to think about it.” She shut the heat off under the potatoes and turned to me. “How good are you at this bounty hunter business?”

“I’m learning.”

“Are you good enough to catch Kenny Mancuso?”

“Yes.” Maybe.

She lowered her voice. “I want you to catch that son of a bitch. I want you to get him off the streets. It’s not right that a man like that is free to hurt old women.”

“I’ll do the best I can.”

“Good.” She took a can of cranberries from the pantry. “Now that we have things straight, you can set the table.”

Morelli showed up at one minute to six.

I answered his knock and stood blocking the doorway, preventing him from slipping into the front hall. “What is it?”

Morelli leaned into me, forcing me to take a step back.

“I was driving by, doing a security check,” Morelli said, “and I smelled leg of lamb.”

“Who is it?” my mother called.

“It’s Morelli. He was driving by, and he smelled the lamb. And he’s leaving. RIGHT NOW!”

“She has no manners,” my mother said to Morelli. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t raise her like that. Stephanie, lay out an extra plate.”

Morelli and I left the house at seven-thirty. He trailed after me in a tan panel van and parked in Stiva’s lot when I pulled into the driveway.

I locked the Buick and walked over to Morelli. “You have anything to tell me?”

“I went through invoices from the garage. The truck was in for an oil change at the end of the month. Bucky brought it in around seven in the morning and picked it up the next day.”

“Let me guess. Cubby Delio was gone that day. Moogey and Sandeman were working.”

“Yeah. Sandeman signed off on the job. His name was on the invoice.”

“Have you talked to Sandeman?”

“No. I got to the garage right after he left for the night. I checked his room and some bars, but I couldn’t find him. Thought I’d make the rounds again later.”

“Did you find anything interesting in his room?”

“His door was locked.”

“You didn’t look in through the window?”

“Thought I’d save that little adventure for you. I know how much you like to do that sort of thing.”

In other words, Morelli didn’t want to get caught on the fire escape. “You going to be here when I close up with Spiro?”

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

I crossed the lot and entered the funeral home through the side door. Word of Kenny Mancuso’s bizarre behavior was obviously spreading because Joe Loosey, minus his penis, was laid out in the V.I.P. room and the crowd packed into the room rivaled the record-breaking viewing held for Silvestor Bergen, who died in the middle of his term as grand poo-bah of the VFW.

Spiro was holding court on the far side of the lobby, cradling the arm injured in the line of duty, making the most of his role as undertaker célèbre. People were clustered around him, listening intently as he told them God knows what.

A few people looked in my direction and whispered behind their memorial programs.

Spiro bowed out on his audience and signaled me to follow him into the kitchen. He grabbed the big silver cookie plate on his way, ignoring Roche, who was once again positioned at the tea table.

“Do you believe this bunch of losers?” Spiro said, emptying a bag of bulk-bought supermarket cookies onto the plate. “They’re eating me out of house and home. I should be charging after-hours admission to see Loosey’s stump.”

“Anything new from Kenny?”

“Nothing. I think he’s shot his wad. Which brings me to business at hand. I don’t need you anymore.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Things have quieted down.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. That’s it.” He swung out the kitchen door with the cookies and slapped them down on the table. “How’re you doing?” he asked Roche. “I see your brother’s getting some overflow from Loosey. Probably a bunch of people going in there wondering about your brother’s state of affairs, if you know what I mean. You notice I gave him a half-casket viewing tonight so no one could try copping a feel.”

Roche looked like he might choke. “Thanks,” he said. “Glad you’re thinking ahead.”

I went back to Morelli and gave him the news.

Morelli was lost in the shadows of the dark van. “Sudden.”

“I think Kenny’s got the guns. I think we gave Spiro a place to start looking, he passed it on to Kenny, and Kenny lucked out. And now the heat’s off Spiro.”

“It’s possible.”

I had my car keys in hand. “I’m going to check on Sandeman. See if he’s come home yet.”

I parked half a block from Sandeman’s rooming house, on the opposite side of the street. Morelli parked directly behind me. We stood for a moment on the sidewalk, taking in the bulky house, black against blue night sky. Harsh light poured from a shadeless downstairs window. Upstairs two orange rectangles gave muted testimony to life within the front rooms.

“What kind of car does he drive?” I asked Morelli.

“He’s got a hog and a Ford pickup.”

We didn’t see either on the street. We followed the driveway to the back of the house and found the Harley. No windows were lit in any of the rear rooms. No light in Sandeman’s upstairs window. No one sat on the stoop. The back door was unlocked. The hall leading from the back door was dim, lit by a bare 40-watt bulb hanging from an overhead fixture in the front foyer. Television sounds escaped from one of the upstairs rooms.

Morelli stopped in the foyer for a moment, listening to the house, before continuing on to the second floor and then the third floor. The third floor was dark and quiet. Morelli listened at Sandeman’s door. He shook his head no. No noise coming from Sandeman’s room.

He went to the window, opened it, and looked out. “It would be unethical for me to break into his apartment,” Morelli said.