Dirty Trouble (23 page)

“I assume you know something of use or you wouldn’t be so smug.” I grinned at his excited expression.

“Yeah, but you won’t believe it when I tell you.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense Porter, spill it,” I snapped. Edgy over the upcoming answer, I waited.

His grey eyes widened as he grinned. “Teach got a bit of stress goin’ on? Okay, okay. I’ll tell you. I ran the print and came up with the name Marianna Patroni.”

Dumbstruck, I leaned back against the counter. Bile rose in my throat as darkness zeroed in.
It couldn’t be.
Never in a million years would I have come to that conclusion. I could have guessed for a lifetime, but she was the last person I’d have named.

“Vin? Vin, are you all right?” Hands shook me.

I returned to the present and stared at Porter.

“You’re shitting me, right?” I asked. “This is no joke, Porter.”

“It’s the truth, Vin. I’m sorry, but the other print belongs to her. I take it you know this person?”

“Yeah, for years. She and my father go back a long time. What else did you find out about her?”

“Nothing much. She was hauled in about ten years ago for assaulting her other half, and she got printed. That’s why she was in the system.”

“Cripes, my father’s gonna have kittens. Damn.” I could see it playing out in my mind’s eye. Gino ranting like a maniac over the news. I’d have to placate him somehow. Then he’d get into the married-with-children dialogue that is never ending and I’d have to listen to that lecture as well.

A chuckle brought me back to earth and I glanced at his face. Yeah, easy for Porter to laugh. He didn’t have my father as a parent. A father who, when he was young, had a fling with a woman who scared the crap out of me. I didn’t know what to think and couldn’t make up my mind whether to tell him or not.

My little inner voice, you know the one that lectures me on the rationale of dating cops, started to nag me.
Your father will be angry as hell over this. You better keep it to yourself.
Hah, I thought. Why would I listen to it now? I never did.

Maybe I’d rethink it, though.

The class filtered in, we covered the remaining material, and I dismissed everyone early. My afternoon agenda included talking to my father, and I wasn’t about to delay the visit.

Wind, clouds, and sun fought for equal time as I left the building. Within seconds, Anderson and Ramirez joined me. They walked on either side of me and checked my car before I got inside. Dramatic as it appeared, I was glad they made the effort. It also occurred to me that there could have been something left out of Porter’s report.

My car rolled from the campus onto the highway. I got off the interstate and drove toward my mother’s part of town. When I passed the seniors’ center, I noticed her car and U-turned into the lot. I came to a screeching halt and left the vehicle at a trot.

Old folks wandered around holding bingo paraphernalia while others played pool in the billiard room. I could hear music and went in search of the sound. There would be refreshments to accompany the music. I had no doubt that’s where my mother would be located, too.

The room was decorated with flowers, and tables had linen covers. Teapots and cups ranged across the surfaces. Lots of tiny little cakes adorned plates in the center of each table. Women and men alike, from their late sixties and beyond, listened as a soprano screeched an operatic melody.
God help me. When I reach this point, just shoot me, somebody, please.
If I start drooling at that age, then it’s a definite request.

The music continued as I sidled along the back wall in an effort to reach my mother. She stood behind the counter of the serving station with two other women. Muffy was absent, so she must have listened to my well-meant advice.

“Mom,” I whispered in her ear. “Where is Dad today?”

“He’s at the Knights of Columbus Hall with his card-playing buddies. Why, dear?”

“I need to talk to him about something. I’ll call you later.” I kissed her cheek and walked away from the blaring screech of the off-key soprano. These folks must have been deaf, especially since the singer couldn’t carry a tune. She also slaughtered the Italian language with her voice.

I scooted through the back streets to the K of C Hall. Dad’s car was parked among several others, and I pulled alongside. My heart sank at the thought of the upcoming confrontation. A sense of dread enveloped me. Maybe Porter was mistaken. What then?

I could always wait until Marcus ran his own tests and see where that led. What if it ended with the same conclusion? I’d still have to face my father. No easy task, that.

With a hearty breath, and all the courage I could muster, I left the car and headed inside the hall. Laughter filtered down the hallway. I knew the guys would be in the same room as the last time I was here. That time, I had told my father someone had threatened my mother’s life. That went over real well, as you can imagine. I shook my head at the memory.

I’d been lucky my dad hadn’t broken my neck when I uttered the words. Instead, he’d ranted and raved about the fact that I was still single, needed to find a man and settle down. ‘Have a family,’ he’d said. ‘Be a soccer mom. Make spaghetti.’ Yeah, that’s a job I’d stand in line for. Besides, there wasn’t anyone to take me off my hands.
Thank you, God.

Hovering outside the door, I peered around the frame and watched the dealer prepare the cards. My father glanced up and stopped, mid-sentence. He grimaced and then muttered some words to the man next to him. The whole table of men turned in their seats to stare at me – the card game interloper. The interruption of their game was a serious offense. I waved, one waved back, and then they all grinned and said hello. I waggled my fingertips at them again as my father reached me.

He was tense, clearly wondering why I’d come. Probably remembering the last time. We strode into the same ballroom as before, and a sense of
deja vu
struck me.
Was I in for the same lecture? God, please spare me the same old ranting.

 “There’ve been some issues lately. I have to tell you something, Dad.”

Braced as I was for the onslaught of my father’s grim outlook on my lifestyle, I was unprepared for what came next.

“Are you pregnant, Lavinia?” he asked.

Geez, was that his question for all the issues in my life? Did he think all I did was drop my drawers? Couldn’t there be anything else going on other than sex and trouble?
Anger simmered just under my breath, but I swallowed hard and hoped it would stay down.

“No, I’m not pregnant. It’s the last thing on my agenda, Dad,” I stated, with animosity in every syllable.

After I told him about the note and having it fingerprinted, he stared at me a moment.

“Someone’s threatening you? You’re in danger? What does this have to do with me?”

“There were two prints on the card, Dad. One print belonged to Antonio, the businessman. The other belonged to Marianna Patroni.”

His expression was a prelude to bad things to come. I could feel it in my bones. The signs and symptoms were evident, and I didn’t know where to take the conversation.

“You’re sure, Lavinia? The prints, they are beyond doubt, eh?”

“Yeah, they are. I’m sorry Dad, I know you and Marianna go back a long way.”

“Who told you that?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“She did. She explained how you two had been an item when you were kids and she never forgot it. She was disappointed when you married Mom, but said she understood.”

“I never had a relationship with her. We grew up in the same neighborhood, but her old man was bad. I wouldn’t have anything to do with her. You must have got it wrong, Lavinia.”

How did this end up my mistake?
I didn’t misunderstand the woman. She had been in love with my father. They were an item until he met my mother.

“Dad, I’m telling you. She said you’d gone out together, that Mom stole your heart – that kind of thing. She even regaled me with stories of your youth.” I stared at him. “I couldn’t imagine you involved in some of the stuff but I didn’t question it either.”

“What kind of stuff?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Just stuff.” I shrugged. “I also want to know how you got the judge to come into court on his day off and how you managed to have thugs on the Hill protect me from others like themselves.” I was on a roll and paced back and forth, my agitation out of control.

“The judge is an old flame of your aunt’s. I called and asked for the favor or she’d be in jail as we speak. He was happy to do it. As for the guys on the Hill, I went to school with them and I’m the godfather to one of their children. There isn’t anything underhanded goin’ on here, Lavinia. So don’t get huffy.”

“Huffy? You call it huffy? Dad, I nearly dropped dead from fright when those three thugs entered the bakery. I almost shit my drawers, for cripes’ sake.”

A glint of rare humor entered the dark eyes. My father even smiled a bit at the outburst.
He thought this was funny? God help me.

“You were actually afraid of these guys? They weren’t there to harm you, Lavinia.”

“When I turned around and saw these guys with ham hocks for hands and shoulders like pro ball players, I nearly fainted. Honestly, you could have warned me. Who was the guy dressed in camel-colored cashmere?”

“It doesn’t matter who he is. He did as I asked and got you safely out of the bakery.” A flat look entered my father’s eyes as he stared at me.

“The bakery? You were worried about me being in the bakery, not because I was near the social club? Did you know about Marianna?”
Why hadn’t he warned me?
This man, my father, the chef of all chefs, knew about Marianna?

“I know a lot of things that you don’t need to know, but I’m sure you’ll try to find out. Richmond was positive you’d head to the Hill, as was I, when you mentioned a bakery. Lavinia, you can’t stay out of anything, can you? You need a change in your life.” He sighed.

Agreed.
It wasn’t my fault that I was plagued by unfortunate mishaps. They just happened. You’d have thought my father would know that by now. Geesh.

“Don’t start the ‘marriage, kids, and spaghetti argument’, Dad. I’m really not in the mood for it. There’s been enough crap in my life lately without you spouting off about the need for grandkids. If you want grandchildren, talk to your son about it, but give me a break.”
Wow, had I really said that to my father?
I stopped talking when he became quite still.

He nodded at me and simply said, “Watch your step, Lavinia. There are dangerous people around who would like to change your life. Just be careful what, and who you take on.” With that statement, he turned away and walked back into the card room.

I stared after him and wondered what the hell he meant by that ambiguous statement. Now I was really nervous.

Chapter 21

Popcorn kernels, an empty wine glass, and a half-filled wine bottle littered the coffee table. I sprawled across the sofa and watched dumb television ads. I flicked through the channels with the remote and finally settled on a movie.
The Godfather
played for the umpteen millionth time – Al Pacino’s dark good looks covered the plasma screen.

When another commercial came on, I turned the television off and lolled on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. What was I supposed to do next? I couldn’t get a grip on all that had happened lately.

My feet hit the floor with a thud as I stood up. This was no time to lollygag around and indulge in a pity party. So many unanswered questions.
Who torched my garage? Who shoved me down in the yard? Why would someone want to force me off the highway?
I was determined to find the answers as I paced the room.
But how?

After wracking my brain for several minutes, I decided to hike upstairs and grill Aaron for some answers. Answers, I was positive, he wouldn’t want to give me. The man was secretive on a good day, unless he decided to spill the beans about me, that is.
What had he found out from my mom?

That was it.
I would work him like he’d worked my mother.

With my apartment door to the front entry wide open, I climbed to the first landing of the staircase and listened. Muted sounds of Mozart caressed the walls. Footsteps crossed the room as I wandered up the final five steps to the door of Aaron’s apartment.

After a light knock, the door opened and Aaron ushered me into the living room. The fireplace was already lit and cast a soft glow throughout the room. Shadows danced on the walls, and firelight reflected off the wood floor surrounding the area rug.
Ah, ambiance.

Dressed in my usual sweatpants and jersey attire, I slouched into the chair nearest the fireplace and folded my legs beneath me. Aaron stared for a brief moment and then settled on the adjacent sofa. He offered me a drink, but I shook my head. Clear thinking was the key to good interrogation tactics.

“Are you sure you don’t want some coffee, at least?” Aaron asked.

“No, thanks. I’ve got some questions for you, though.” My courage started to evaporate, but I conjured up more and took a deep breath. “What’s the connection between Marianna Patroni and my father? You must know, since you know everything else.”

“They lived in the same neighborhood. Other than that, there was nothing between them. Marianna’s father was connected to organized crime, and she picked up a lot of his bad habits. What’s this about, Vin?” His warm chocolate eyes glowed in the soft firelight as he studied me. His handsome features lay half in light and half in shadow. A handsome devil, for sure.

My inner voice started its ever present nagging.
Stay on the subject. Don’t get involved with another lawman
. Okay, okay, I’ll listen this time.

“My father and I had a discussion today, and he said about the same thing. However, I know she has a connection to my family somehow. I’m sure you could tell me if you were inclined to do so.”