Dirty Trouble (19 page)

Chapter 17

The wind howled around the corners of the house, waking me with a start. Heavy rain lashed against the windows. Grey light filtered through a crack in the drapes and I realized I’d forgotten to set the alarm. Great, I’d just make it to the university on the other side of the state, providing some moron didn’t cause a pile-up on the interstate. I prayed that if there were an accident, that moron wouldn’t be me.

Black jeans and a red sweater topped the black high-heeled boots that I yanked on. I hustled out the door with the heavy book bag slung over my shoulder. Foregoing a shower, I’d done the bare essentials. My hair was held off my face by a scrunchy at the nape of my neck. I’d applied little to no make-up to a face that needed globs of it today.

The black denim jacket caught the worst of the rain as I raced from the door. Aaron’s truck was already gone, and I made a beeline straight across the driveway to the Altima. Fumbling with the keys, I unlocked the door with the fob and scrambled inside. Rain pelted the windshield while I backed into the street and raced toward Providence.

Traffic was fairly light as I drove past the connector toward the interstate. Interstate 95 proved easier than I imagined, and I managed to cross the three lanes onto the eastbound expressway then headed toward the eastern side of Rhode Island. This was where the fun always began.

Rounding the curve, I settled into a steady flow along with all the other drivers who jockeyed for a spot in the traffic. We all had to be somewhere right away, and this was the fastest lane to get there. I moved into the middle lane and kept an eye in the rear view mirror, tracking anyone who looked as though they’d approach my fender. There would be no careening off the road today, if I could help it.

The slew of cars sped across the George Washington Bridge and roared toward the Massachusetts State Line. I veered off the highway, taking my exit toward the less-traveled road leading to the university.

I work at one of the most beautiful universities in New England. Cars and trucks rolled past as I slowed at the entrance to the campus. Relieved to have made it, I parked in the usual spot, to the left of the building where my class was held.

Rummaging through the book bag, I found the plastic bag stuffed with the note-card. Assured it was safe, I scooted through the raindrops, across the lot, and into the foyer of the building. Students filtered through corridors and conversations hummed like a swarm of honeybees.

The clock on the wall hit the hour, and I realized I had a few minutes to spare. Doing the Indy 500 worked to my advantage. Good thing Marcus wasn’t around to clock my speed. I’d have been lugged to jail, no questions asked.

A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped. My fingers curled into a fist before I turned around. Checking myself, I tried to soften what must have been a nasty glare, with a smile.

The dark eyes of Dario Ramirez widened as he stepped back. Obviously unsure of his welcome, he still grinned at me and then walked alongside me as we headed to the classroom.

“Having a bad day, teach?” he uttered with a smirk.

An undercover cop, he always played the part. I figure he didn’t know how not to. Some life, I thought.

“Yeah, I’m running a bit late. Looks like you are, too.” I took in the coffee colored skin and black hair curling around Dario’s collar.

“Nah, I just stepped outside for a smoke. You know how it is – rules and all that.” He grinned and nodded toward another student as she passed us in the corridor.

I chuckled and said, “She’s too young for you, so knock it off, Ramirez.”

“That’s the truth. These kids get younger and younger every year. Or maybe I’m getting older and older. What do you think, teach?”

“Either way, she’s still too young for you. I’ll bet she’s just eighteen.”

We’d entered the room. I slung the book bag onto the desk and then shook the rain from my jacket as I peeled it off. Damp was the day, and so were my clothes.

Ramirez grinned and took a seat. He slid down and stretched his legs out in an uninterested manner. I knew his routine was part of his act. He glanced around the room and then at me. Four other students entered behind us. I unloaded the sheets of paper for fingerprinting instruction.

Each table held the tools needed for fingerprint identification. The students would ‘buddy up’ and share their workload and findings. They’d learn how to obtain fingerprints and then identify the matching points using computers geared to their needs.

I’d always taught the class to start from scratch, the old way. But with the computer technology available, we’d stepped into the now instead of the then. Some departments still used the old way of doing things. Crime labs were stepping into the future, and I figured these people deserved to be familiar with the latest equipment available to them.

This particular class was smaller than usual. I’d lost several students who were pulled due to work schedules. The atmosphere remained charged with egos, and every now and then a smart remark would ignite an argument between departments. Whether they were cops, Two-Point-Fives, or wannabes, these people were highly competitive.

Paired up, everyone had a partner except for Porter Anderson. I’d singled him out since he would be the one to work on my note card. If there were any prints, he’d find them. Ramirez watched as I took Anderson aside with a nod of my head. When I glanced at Dario, he grinned and turned back to his partner.

After I explained what they needed to do, I demonstrated the use of the powder and brush to get the print to come forward. Then I lifted it from the surface, using common Magic Tape. Keeping it simple is always best. Everyone started to work on separate sets of prints while I wandered over to Porter, the wrapped note card in my hand.

I leaned toward him and softened my voice. “Porter, I need a favor,” I said.

“What is it, Vinnie?” Grey eyes searched mine and then rested on the note card I slid forward.

“Print this card and envelope to see if anything comes up. Then run it through the system. Keep this to yourself, will you?”

“Sure. Don’t want Richmond or Grant to know what you’re up to?” He grinned.

“Exactly. They just worry for nothing.”

“Yeah, right. By the way, I heard you lunched at Da Ravioli with the mob.”

“Who told you that?”

“A little bird. Don’t go there again, Vin. It isn’t a smart idea right now.”

“So I’m told,” I said. “I’ll take your advice into consideration.”

Anderson nodded and started to dust the paper. His technique was excellent, and I knew he’d done this before. Why he took the class was a question I couldn’t answer.

Wandering around the room, I assisted the students, answered questions, and took some ribbing about my driving skills. News of the car accident made the rounds within the various departments and was stretched to unrecognizable proportions. Around eleven thirty, we broke for lunch and everyone headed to the dining hall for a quick bite to eat.

The jingling of my cell phone caught my attention as the last person left the room. Rummaging in my purse, I pulled out the small unit and flipped it open.

“Lavinia,” my mother murmured into the phone. “He’s here again today. Antonio, the businessman is at the seniors’ center. I don’t understand what he’s doing here.”

I rolled my eyes and gave a mental head slap as I took a deep breath.

“Mom, what do you want me to do about it?” I asked. Hello, I’m only human. No miracles available today, for sure.

“Well, dear, I just thought you should know. It can’t be a coincidence that he’s at this same center again today. Do you think he’s looking for Mafalda?”

“Don’t even tell me she’s hanging out with him again, Mom. I’ll wring her neck after what she put me through with court and all. She’s not there, is she?”

“No, when she saw him come in, she hid from sight. You don’t think something bad will happen, do you, dear?”

“No, Mom, I don’t. Look, I have to go now, but I’ll call you later, okay?”
Anything to get her off the phone.
I adore my mother, but sometimes she amazes me. What could I do about Antonio? Nothing. That’s what.
Cripes.

She disconnected the call. I tossed the phone back into my purse in disgust. The apple I crammed into the bag this morning rolled out through the dusting powder and across the table. I grasped the fruit and tossed it into the trash as Marcus stepped through the door.

Dark powder smeared my hands as I slapped them together, hoping to rid them of the mess. Marcus took some towels from the paper holder and handed them to me with a grin.

“Here, try these.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Just making sure you made it all right this morning. The governor no longer needs me, so I’m on patrol. It’s a good excuse to stop by and see you at work.” Marcus prowled the room and glanced at the progress of everyone. When he reached Anderson’s table, he looked at me with questioning eyes.

“Why is this person working on a different project when everyone else’s work is the same?”

“His is a special project. This guy is way ahead of the others. I think he took the class just to get out of work.” I lied. I had to.

A nod of his hat kept me from seeing the expression on his face. He lifted the pincers and plucked the paper from the table. Turning it over, he read the message inside. His eyes traveled upward and he glared at me.

“You got this note and didn’t give it to me? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Now, Marcus, don’t get angry. I wanted to spare you the anguish of worrying about me. Besides, I figured that Porter could do this and we’d run it through the system at PPD. The Providence department has great resources and I’d know who sent the miserable thing.”

“The state police have great resources, too, Vin. In case you’ve forgotten that,” he said, his voice on the rise.

“I’m not discussing this with you right now. By the way, did you know that Aaron was engaged to someone named Lou Anne?” How’s that for a change of subject?

“We’ll discuss the fingerprints later. I promise.” He glared at me but laid the card back onto the table. “No, I’m unaware of Aaron’s romantic status. How did you find out?”

“When I went with the contractor yesterday, he told me.”

“How does the guy know about Aaron?”

It was clear that I pressed his patience as he folded his arms across his chest and took his usual stance.

“Well, he’s kind of a friend of a relative to the not-bride-to-be,” I said.

Skeptical, Marcus slanted a glare at me. At least, it looked like skepticism.

“And this means what?” he asked on a sigh.

Yep, he was skeptical all right. Annoyed too from the looks of it.

I rarely let that get in my way though, so I said, “Umm, when I met some of Aaron’s acquaintances once last summer, they said it was good that he decided to move on with his life. He’d laughed and said he was just moving in, into a new place. Later he confided he’d been injured on the job and had told his friends he’d given up working for the FBI. They’d been relieved when he said he’d gone to work for the Gaming Commission. It’s only a cover, though. Jesse said Aaron met Lou Anne at the Gaming Commission and that they were engaged.”

“Odd that he’s never mentioned it. Are they still involved?”

“Not according to Crane,” I said. “He was vague about where she is now, but he said I needn’t worry about being bothered by her. ‘The engagement was made in hell,’ he said.”

Interest filtered across Marcus’s face. I could tell by the gleam in his eyes that he’d entered the ‘dog with a bone’ stage. Guys are worse than women when it comes to gossip. I thought my need to know was bad, but most men have it much worse than I do.

“I’ll see what I can find out. In the meantime, stay out of this, and when you finish fingerprinting that item,” Marcus pointed to the letter, “I want it. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” After all, he spoke English.

“In the future, it would be helpful if you’d cooperate with me instead of hiding evidence, Vinnie.”

“Right.” I checked my watch as a couple of cops wandered back into the room.

Curiosity over Richmond’s presence was evident, but I refused to indulge the students. He nodded to them and they returned the same as he left the room. It’s a cop thing, that’s all I know. Respect for the badge and all that stuff.

* * * *

The day grew to a close. So far, nothing was visible on the note card. It was too much to hope for, but I’d hoped anyway. After the tables and the supplies were cleared up, everyone left the classroom. Ramirez stayed behind and walked me to the car.

“Was that the man in your life, Vin?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah, sometimes he is. Why? What’s it to ya, Ramirez?”

“Nothing, I just wondered. Did he pitch a fit when he saw Anderson at work on your special project?”

“How do you know Anderson’s got a special project?” I asked, ignoring the rest of the question. Duh? How stupid did I think these people were? Not stupid at all.

“It doesn’t take a genius to know that Anderson is way beyond this class. He knows what he’s doing and is probably here to keep an eye on you. You do have a lot of mishaps, Vinnie.”

“You may be right. I thought he took the class to get out of working. Foolish, huh?”

“No, just naïve, that’s all.” Dario grinned.

With that, he left me at the car and headed toward a pickup truck parked a few slots away. I watched as he roared past and I contemplated his words. Maybe he was right and Anderson was protecting me. Another man who thought I needed protection. Ugh. I started the car and drove off.

En Croute, the most fantastic bakery in Rhode Island, is located on Federal Hill. The small shop resides next door to a social club rumored to be inhabited by thugs, bone breakers, number runners, and other deadly dudes that supposedly work for the mob. If I were asked to swear to that statement, I’d have to plead out. I have no knowledge of anyone who socializes there and don’t want to know either. But the bakery, well it makes the trials of traffic and danger on the Hill so very worthwhile.