Jezebel (31 page)

“
Oh,
you’s gonna see Mr. Pirelli
all right
!”
The man guffawed. “But it might be the last face you’ll
see before we put you to sleep permanently. Fellas pick him up.”

Shane stifled a
groan as several pairs of hands lifted him up, hauled him across the
room and up a flight of dimly lit stairs.

Shane
wasn’t sure if his one good eye was playing tricks on him or if
the stairwell was just poorly lit.
He
couldn’t even see his feet

At the top of
the landing a three-hundred pound meatball materialized out of the
darkness. With heavy bags under his eyes and jowls rivaling a
walrus, the man looked like death warmed over.

“
Open
the door
Salvatore
.
We got a present for Marco.”

The next few
moments happened so fast, Shane fought a wave of dizziness as they
ushered him inside and dumped him unceremoniously in one of two
leather chairs before a large desk.

They even held
his arms down as if he had enough power in his limbs to escape. The
thought made Shane laugh. His amusement was only fleeting because the
task hurt too much.

“
Is this
him?”

Marco
Pirelli didn’t look up from counting what looked like receipts.
Elegantly dressed in a navy pin-striped suit, and streaks of gray
threading his dark hair, Pirelli reminded Shane of one of those egg
and butter men on Madison Avenue.

A couple of
books lay scattered across his desk along with several stacks of
billets, but what caught Shane’s eye was a full service
porcelain tea set sitting at the other end of the desk.

“
This
is him. Hope you don’t mind me and the boys work
ing
him over a bit before bringing him up.”

“
Figured
as much.” Pirelli kept counting. Unlike Ferruci’s other
men, his voice was devoid of an accent and his voice rolled softly
off his tongue. “Now who do I owe the pleasure of this
acquaintance?”

A hand dug
into his shoulder, and Shane grimaced. “Shane Brennan,”
he bit out.

Pirelli’s
hand stopped midcount. He set the receipts off to the side and
looked up, finally meeting Shane’s gaze with a set of piercing
gray eyes.

Despite
his elegant attire and deep olive tan, there was something cold about
Ferruci’s secretary. So much so, Shane was glad
Pirelli
hadn’t
dealt
out the punishment
or
he would be sinking to the bottom of the Hudson right now.

“
Suga
r
Shane Brennan?”

Shane gritted
his teeth as he nodded.

Pirelli’s
gaze shifted to a point behind Shane. “You fucking idiot
s
.
You almost beat our top card to death.” Pirelli jumped up, tea
cup in hand. He hauled back and pitched it, cracking one of Shane’s
assailant’s in the head. “Don’t you guys know this
guy has a bout in the Garden next month?”

“
W-we
didn’t know, Marco. Honest.” The man behind the metal
slab spoke up. Handkerchief in hand, he wiped at the blood running
down his forehead. “We-we just thought he was some loon trying
to bust up the place.”

Pirelli waved
the man’s excuse away. “Get the fuck outta here. All of
you.”

“
But what
if tries something?”

“
Does he
look like he’s going to try something? He can barely keep his
head up.”

Pirelli waited
for his men to leave before he sat back down. He straightened his
desk a little before giving Shane his full attention again.

“
Would
you like some tea?” He asked as if they were old friends.
“There are lady fingers as well.” He pointed to a plate
of powdered cookies. “
Salvatore
picked them up fresh this afternoon.”

Resisting the
urge to roll his one good eye, Shane declined. He couldn’t
wrap a tea cup around his lips even if he tried.

“
Your
loss,” Pirelli said, sitting back with a tea cup in one hand, a
cookie in the other. “So what brings you to our humble
establishment?”

“
I need
to speak to Mr. Ferruci,” Shane mumbled, his lip was swelling
by the minute.

Pirelli’s
eyes narrowed. “You busted up the place to see Mr. Ferruci?
Kind of counterproductive don’t you think?”

Shane
tried
to
shrug
,
but it hurt too bad.
He
prayed to God those buffoons didn’t break any ribs. “It’s
an end to a means.”

“
Does
Gould know you’re here?”

“
No.”

Pirelli
sat back with a protracted sigh. He took several sips of his tea
then set it back in the saucer, so gently one could hear a pin drop.

“
The only
reason I’m going to do you this favor,” he said, picking
up a pen, “is because Mr. Ferruci is going to want you
reimburse him for this hit to both his pocket and his reputation.”

If his bottom
lip wasn’t so fat, Shane would’ve smiled. Instead, he
pushed himself to his feet. Slightly dizzy from the sudden rush of
blood to his head, he reached for the back of the chair. “Is he
next door?”

“
His
office is, but he’s not.” Shane’s stomach dropped
to his shoes and he sat back down. “But I’ll set up a
meeting so the two of you can speak as soon as he gets back.”
Pirelli flipped the page of a desk calendar and then scribbled in
Shane’s name.

“
December
twenty-first,” Shane balked, reading the date. “Where’s
he gone Mars?”

Pirelli set the
pen down with a flourish. “Mr. Ferruci’s gone to the old
country to visit family… and to take care of some business.”

“
But the
fight’s the day after Christmas!”

Pirelli waved
away Shane’s concern with a flip of his hand. “He’ll
be back before the fight. He never misses a card.”

Not liking it
one bit, the wheels in his head started to spin. There had to
hundreds of wise guys on the island.

“
Take my
advice and wait it out, kid. You don’t want to go getting
yourself indebted to half of Manhattan.”

The man’s
advice made sense. He was already up to his neck in debt. So much
so, he could feel the noose tightening.

CHAPTER
TWENTY THREE

“
It’s
four o’clock, Miss Celeste.”

Maggie stood just inside the
doorway to the sitting room, wrapping a wool scarf around her head.
“The dishes are done and I put your laundry on the bureau how
you like it. There’s a hot plate in the oven when you’re
ready to eat.”

Celeste
shut the book she was pretending to read and pasted on a smile. She
hoped it was enough to keep the other woman’s concerns at bay.
She wasn’t up for questions. “Thanks for everything,
Maggie. Have a good night.”

Unfortunately,
her housekeeper wasn’t ready to go home because she hesitated
in the doorway.

“
I
know it’s none of my business, but what happened to your beau,
Mr. Brennan? He hasn’t come around in a couple of days.”

Try five.

She hadn’t seen hide
or hair of Shane for almost a week. The first night had been hell,
sitting at a dinner table set for two for almost four hours, now his
absence felt like a dull ache. Celeste hugged the book to her chest.

“
I have no idea where
he is and I don’t care,” she lied. “I guess he’s
had his fun and moved on.”

Her
expression dubious, Maggie planted her hands on her hips. “Doubt
he had his fun that quick. He seemed mad about you, more so than
you. Good thing too considering how handsome he was. A man that big
and fine would lead a woman to searching the streets high and low
with a flashlight.”

Maggie bent over at the
waist, one hand extended, the other cupped over her brow, pantomiming
a one-woman search party.

Laughing at her
housekeeper’s antics, Celeste uncurled herself from the settee.
“Well, I’m not that kind of woman. I have a career and I
don’t need a man to complete me.”

Maggie
cocked her head. “You’re what those drugstore novels
call a modern woman aren’t you?”

The
way she said ‘modern’ and ‘woman’ made them
sound like dirty words. Even if she didn’t need to defend
herself, Celeste’s tongue had a mind of its own.

“
There’s
more to life than babies and a man.”

“
No, nothing wrong
with having a career. God made us all equal, some more than others,
but he didn’t make us an island. We thrive in each other’s
company. And no amount of money and prestige will keep you warm at
night.”

“
So
basically you’re telling me to keep the candle burning in the
window. Give him the benefit of the doubt for why I haven’t
heard from him in five days.”

“
I’m
not telling you to hold out too long, but if you like your young man
you should give him the benefit of the doubt. Heck, I would even
seek him out, find out what happened. There could be a good plausible
excuse for why he hasn’t shadowed your doorstep. And you
better do it before some other woman will.”

And be a double fool. No
way, no how. Bristling, Celeste sat back down and reopened her book.

Maggie lingered in the
doorway, but Celeste refused to acknowledge her any further. “Well
I better go. You don’t pay me to be a philosopher.”

“
See you tomorrow
bright and early,” Celeste said still not looking up. As far
as she was concerned the conversation was over.

Unfortunately it didn’t
die a quick death.

An hour later, Celeste still
fretted over the conversation, especially the part about another
woman.

Was
that the reason why Shane never showed up for dinner the other night
and why she hadn’t heard from him since?

Celeste set her book aside
and rested her head in her hands. Why did she even entertain the old
busy body? Celeste had cataloged Shane right along with the rest of
her mistakes.

Nooo!
Maggie had to put a different spin on things.

Vexed, Celeste stood. Was
she overreacting? Could there be a perfectly logical reason for his
disappearance? Or had he simply played her the whole time? And if
he’d moved on, why couldn’t she?

Deep down, Celeste knew she
wouldn’t get any peace until she had some closure. Mind made
up, she walked into the front hall and pulled out her overcoat.

Celeste took a local bus
north from Fort Greene to the Navy Yard. Normally, she would’ve
traveled by foot, but a light snow had started to fall, blanketing
the sidewalks with white powder.

The temperature had dropped
as well and with a show in less than six weeks there was no way she
was going to risk her big break with a case of pneumonia.

She alighted at Flushing
Avenue, then walked the short distance to the Navy Yard Athletic
Club.

Celeste had no earthly clue
where Shane lived. If she’d been quicker on the jump, a half
hour earlier, she could have caught him finishing up his daily
conditioning. So she was hoping someone from the gym could point her
in the right direction.

Already acquainted with the
place, Celeste didn’t linger in the front lobby. She walked
down the short hall into the open gym.

Other than a couple of
fighters sparring in a corner ring and a young boy sweeping the
floor, the place was deserted.

Pot-bellied and needing a
shave, the welcome wagon strolled out of a side office. Celeste
remembered the cantankerous bastard from the last time she’d
paid a visit. Before she could turn heel, his voice rang out.
“Don’t you read?”

“
I can read and
write.” Out of the corner of her eye, Celeste noticed the boy
had abandoned his chore and took an interest in their conversation.