Dirty Trouble (25 page)

At the door, Marcus turned, leaned into me and kissed my lips. A brief kiss, it warmed me to the core. This man affected me like no other ever had.

Smiling, I wiped away his powdered sugar grin and ushered him from the building. I watched Marcus’ car leave the driveway and roll onto the street. From the corner of my eye I caught a swift movement near the evergreen trees edging the property next door.

The movement caught my attention, and I peered at the line of greenery. Nothing moved, no branch swayed, and everything remained calm. Everything, except me.

Determined not to overreact, I hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a pair of sneakers, and slid them onto my feet. I hustled toward the driveway and the tree line. Motivated by anger, I yanked back the branches and stared toward the Masonic Hall.

Not a single movement other than leaves rustling in the wind. Barging through the line of evergreens, I strode the length of driveway and rounded the garage. Again, nobody appeared to be around.

It wasn’t my imagination. I knew someone had been there.

I took an exasperated huff of air and returned to the house. Before I could enter, a yowl of pain echoed from the side of the garage. I rushed toward the sound. Footsteps pounded across the Masonic Hall’s parking lot and I turned in that direction.

A tall, baseball-capped form ran full tilt. In attack mode, the huge cat snarled and growled as he leapt from the ground. Claws extended, the beast sank them into the neck of my peeper. He tried to fling Evergreen – the miniature mountain lion – off his back while on the run.

Screams of anguish and pain continued as the fellow careened toward the corner of the building. He jumped up and down flailing his arms while twisting disjointedly in an effort to disengage the beast. The sounds faded along with the footsteps. I stopped the foot chase and walked idly past the Masonic Hall, only to come up empty again.

Proud of himself, Evergreen pranced into view. The scar-ridden beast rubbed against my pant leg, his purr like a jet engine ready for take off. I glanced down at his scraggy appearance and smoothed the fur on his wide head. His body wound through my legs before he sat in front of me, staring upward.

“You think you’re quite ferocious, don’t you?”

His head tipped to the side. I admired the ever-present smile on the face of the beautiful, albeit ragged features. I stared at this furry phenomenon that had entered my life and now considered himself my protector. All Evergreen needed was a cape. And leotards. He was a regular bad boy, and we know women like bad boys.

If he answered my question, I’d have been hauled to the looney bin. I scratched his ears and together we set off for the house. Whoever peered at me through the trees would think twice about doing it again. All the same, it would be prudent to watch for anyone with major damage to their person, possibly from my guard-cat’s rapier claws.

On the deck of the house, I set out more snacks than usual for my newfound protector. Evergreen snagged the food from the dish with talon-like hooks that emerged from his soft paws. He woofed it all down in a flash. His manners left something to be desired but maybe he didn’t have a mother like mine. I went indoors and left him attending to his daily ablution after his tasty fare was gone.

* * * *

The town was about to fill up fast with leaf peepers, art hunters, and treasure seekers. It wouldn’t be long before the streets were jammed with cars parked bumper to bumper. The first day of the festival was crazy. I hustled to straighten up the house and start the fireplace. While the sun rose above the trees to warm the town, people bundled in heavy sweaters, sweatshirts, and jackets, bustled past on the sidewalks. Yep, the art festival weekend had officially started.

By late morning, a knock sounded at the door. I opened it to find Frankie DeMagistras and his latest ‘arm candy’ on the doorstep. I gave the Providence cop a hug, gave her a smile, and invited them inside. The front gate creaked open as I turned away and I glanced back. Detective Michael Bellini, also from the PPD, strolled up the walk and grinned unabashedly. Wow, I thought. Bellini came to visit me? How had I managed to get this lucky?

The smile broadened, and I grinned. What the hell, it could be worse. It could’ve been the mob who tramped into my yard. I waved him inside. A cool wind whipped along behind him. He hustled indoors while I closed the heavy outer door behind him and left the apartment door open.

Coffee, Amaretto liqueur, and pastry were laid out on the dining room table. I had decided it would be an easier task to serve from there rather than the kitchen, and I was right. Frankie helped himself to a dish filled with small cakes and Italian cookies. He poured black coffee into his cup and added a splash of Amaretto to it.

His arm candy, Shirley something or other, was tall, leggy, overly made up, and underdressed. Yeah, she’d freeze her ass off today, I thought, with a cordial smile. I offered her refreshments and turned toward Bellini.

In front of the fireplace in the living room Bellini gawked at the artwork on the walls. He turned, admiring the lion sculpture on its pedestal.

“I didn’t know you were an artist, Vinnie. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Bellini asked. He couldn’t resist the lion, and caressed the smooth surface.

This creature had played an important part in the gem smuggling adventure last summer. It stood upright, a couple feet in height with front legs splayed as though expecting an assault.

“Most of the artwork here was done by my aunt. There are only a few pieces that are my work. Livvy sculpted the lion, and it’s my favorite piece. Can I get you something to eat or drink, Michael?” I asked. My mother would have been proud of my good manners. Bellini usually brought out the worst in me.

 “Coffee would be great. My wife is across the street at the yard sale, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see your house,” he said following me from the room. He greeted Frankie with a nod, and gave Shirley a wide, lascivious grin.

What is it about sets of legs and bodacious breasts that bring out the worst in men? Maybe the fact that her clothes were too tight and skimpy had something to do with it. Leave it to Frankie to hang out with a chick like this, I thought with a mental eye roll.

Handing Bellini a cup of coffee, I motioned to the food, and left to answer the door. To my surprise, Trooper Jonah Franklin stood on the doorstep. In jeans and a sweatshirt, he appeared less formal. He greeted me with a wide grin, and I ushered him into the house. Just as I started to close the door Lola hustled up the walkway.

“Glad to see ya, Lola. What are you doing here? Thought you had to work?” I asked.

“The help is running the place for now. I needed a break and figured your house would be the place to take it.” She chuckled and left me on the doorstep.

At the sound of her voice, Jonah turned and stared at the auburn-haired beauty. As his eyes widened I knew she’d given him the Julia Roberts smile. It never failed to have the same effect on every man. Introductions made the rounds while more food was consumed and the coffee pot worked overtime.

Bellini’s wife, an attractive blond with a great sense of humor, joined the crowd. I wondered what she saw in this overbearing man, who tested my patience. Though I think we were even on that score.

When I returned to the dining room to refill the coffee carafe, I noticed the crowd had grown even more. Aaron had made his appearance, and a few other friends had dropped in to visit.

Lola and Jonah stood near the fireplace, deep in conversation. When Lola glanced my way, I smiled and winked. She had struck a home run with Jonah. He seemed totally mesmerized by Little Miss Dynamite. I wondered if his interest would have any effect on Aaron. Probably not, after his revelations concerning me, I thought.

People stopped in, chatted, and toured the apartment until late afternoon. The last of the crowd left around four, and I cleaned up snack debris for the last time. Most friends came by on Saturday and Sunday. Monday was my day to take in the artwork and consume clam cakes and chowder at The Lions’ Food Wagon. Those guys served the best clam chowder this side of the Rocky Mountains.
Do they serve clam chowder in the Rockies?
Pondering that question, I got ready to leave for Livvy’s gravesite.

Chapter 23

Once the dishwasher was loaded I stepped out on the deck to get the potted plant I bought for Livvy’s gravesite. Evergreen was nowhere to be seen. I glanced around twice to make sure nobody lurked in the bushes. Paranoia seemed better than fear to me at this point.

The sliding door lock clicked in place. I checked all the other entrances as I passed back through the house. I slipped on and secured my heavy, hand-knit autumn colored boucle sweater. Blue jeans and running shoes completed the outfit as I headed down Silk Lane toward the cemetery.

At the sharp curve in the lane, I walked straight through the right of way and wandered down the hill past aged grave markers and statues. I never slowed my pace until I reached Livvy’s grave. I brushed aside the crisp leaves that littered the surface. I removed the remnants of flowers from my last visit and settled the new pot of rich burgundy mums in their place.

“There, that’s better, Auntie. They’re your favorite color, too,” I murmured. “Lots of people came by and admired the house today. You’d have liked that, I’m sure.”

The sentence caught in my throat, and I swallowed hard. Livvy, a staple in my life, always backed me up when I was hard pressed to win a battle with my father or Giovanni, my twin brother. She had been my cheering squad and number one fan all rolled into one aunt.
She was now dead.
God, I missed her. I stared down at the headstone and wished with all my heart this wonderful woman were still alive.

“I truly miss you, Auntie,” I whispered, running my hand over the stone.

“What are ya doin’? Talkin’ to yourself?” I heard the smirk in the voice rather than saw it on DeGreico’s face. Bracing myself, I turned to face him. There’d be no backing down this time.

“That’s none of your damned business,” I said.

“Maybe you should spend some time at the funny farm and get a taste of what it’s like. That’s where people who talk to themselves end up, you know.” He smirked again. The nasty look on Tony’s face accompanied his stride forward.

I stood my ground, angered by the fact that he’d listened to the private conversation. Tony’s knack of showing up where he was least wanted, or expected, irritated me beyond reason. It got on my nerves. Today it would be my turn to take the upper hand.

Pissed off and put out, I watched the jerk move up the knoll toward my aunt’s grave. Toward me. I stepped aside onto even ground, unwilling to allow him near her. It was probably irrational to feel so, but some things are private and this happened to be one of them.

“Get away from me. Now,” I said, as he came within range of me.

His hand shot forward as I took a defensive stance. My strongest leg braced my body, and I fisted my hands at my sides. I blocked the blow with my arm before it reached my face. By lifting my foot, I ran the ridge of my running shoe down his shin. The look of painful surprise on Tony’s face was gratifying.

His snarl accompanied curses hurled in my direction. Before he could react, I raised my left leg and stamped down hard on his foot and then punched him in the face. His open palm missed its target when he swung at me.

I learned these and other defensive tactics after Tony stalked me two years ago. During the past summer my house was broken into and I had scuffled with the perpetrator. These same techniques had proven handy, not to mention the kickboxing lessons I’d recently taken up.

Tony lost his balance and grabbed my sweater as he fell backward. I tumbled to his side. He grabbed a handful of my unbound hair. With a yank he brought my face toward his. My knee leaned into his chest as water streamed from my eyes at the pain of having my hair ripped out.

His fingers wound so tightly into the long tresses I could have cried. Maybe I did. I’m not sure, but before he could inflict any more damage, my knee sank harder into his chest to quell his breathing. I slugged him in the face as hard as I could, over and over. Pain spread across my hand into my wrist, but no crunching sound of broken bones accompanied it.

Shoving me backward he rolled away and yelled, “You rotten bitch!”

I tumbled over clumps of dead grass and landed away from him on my face. In a matter of seconds, Tony regained his balance and started toward me again, swearing all the while. In an effort to distance myself from him, I scrambled onto my backside and scooted sideways on all fours, like a crab.

A triumphant look replaced the painful one he’d worn seconds ago. Blood seeped from his nose, smearing across his face as he wiped it away. I was less sure that I could win this fight. I breathed heavily as I watched him advance toward me. With my feet flat underneath me I stood and regained the defensive stance. This time, I had my hands up like a boxer and balanced on the balls of my feet.

He stopped about four feet away and stared a moment.

In silence, I stared back.

“I said, get away from me now. And stay away from me,” I yelled awaiting his response.

“Like hell I will. It’s your fault I lost two damned years of my life, and you’re gonna pay for it.” He moved so fast he caught me with a one-two-punch before I could effectively block it.

Flung backward, I grunted as I hit the ground hard. Tony rushed at me as my leg and foot came up in defense. Scared, I kicked outward, caught him in the gut, and rolled sideways. Away from him – back onto my feet. Now, I know I was supposed to run rather than stay and fight, but fear and anger made a lethal combination.

The jerk had yanked out my hair, shoved me in the dirt, and hurt me. Yeah, I was on overdrive now. No way would I retreat from this creep. Well, maybe if I were losing the battle or got tired, I’d reconsider.