Lost But Not Forgotten (19 page)

“I like Gillian, or better yet, Gilly.” She spoke guardedly. “Gillian
is
my real name,” she assured them, as if she might not have convinced them earlier.

“Then Gilly it is,” Mitch rushed to say.

“Oh, I wish I had time to stop and play with the babies.” She sounded wistful. “Mitch had me tell Pat Malone we’d be there by one o’clock.”

Ethan checked his watch. “Not unless you’re planning to fly.”

“Yeah. I figured we should take precautions in case Malone’s a good actor. This way, he won’t believe he has time to notify his bird dogs and get them there.”

“Are you always so distrustful?” Gilly asked him.

“Don’t judge all cops by me. I’m more cynical than most. I learned early not to count on people’s promises. When I was a kid my folks were always promising to
show up for school activities or whatever and then forgetting all about it.”

Again Gillian glimpsed the disappointments a young Mitch had suffered. Deep in her heart, she regretted failing him, too. She saw now that he wasn’t as thick-skinned as he tried to let on. She’d make it up to him if she could. But until her position changed or improved drastically, she didn’t have any right to either take hope or to offer it. They might never have more than the few precious hours they’d already shared.

Realistically, even if Mitch and Ethan managed to find Daryl’s key and ensured that the bad guys would be put out of commission, she’d left obligations behind in New Orleans. Daryl’s affairs, including their joint holdings in his CPA firm, had to be dealt with. There might be a court case, too, if those thugs were tried for murder.

By his own admission, Mitch Valetti was ready to settle down, find a wife and raise a family. In the time it would take her to discharge her obligations, he’d have found someone else. And she couldn’t blame him. Not considering the way she’d lied to him.

Looking into his eyes, Gillian could tell that the same thoughts had struck him. What hurt so much was knowing she desperately wanted what
he
wanted. A home and family.

Spending time in the company of Mitch and his friends, Gillian saw that they were living her dream. All she’d ever wanted was a husband and children. But as she’d discovered in the most brutal way, people didn’t always get what they wanted.

She realized that Mitch had decided, just as she had, that the chances of a future together were unlikely at best. There was an invisible stepping back by each.

Gillian felt like crying. But she couldn’t afford to break
down now. “I’m ready to leave anytime you are,” she said, collecting Katie’s suitcase before she brushed past Mitch, heading out the front door.

Ethan clapped Mitch on the back. “I’ve gotta spend an hour or so in the office. I’m behind on paperwork. Take my Suzuki. If you need me for any reason, you’ll have the radio. I know you won’t like going through Amy, but she is on duty today.”

“I’m over Amy,” Mitch declared. His tormented gaze followed Gillian’s retreating form. “It’s the God’s honest truth,” he said bitterly. “For all the good it does me. If the visit with Malone goes off without a hitch, I’ll bring Gilly by the precinct later so I can check the mug shots. The faster we get to the bottom of her problems, the sooner she’s out of my hair and I can get back to building my herd.”

Ethan opened his mouth, but his wife thrust a sharp elbow in his rib.

Mitch stomped away, locked in his own black world.

A
TALL
, slender woman with snowy-white hair answered Mitch and Gillian’s knock. They identified themselves before she unlocked the screen door and invited them in.

“Thank goodness you’ve arrived in one piece,” she said, blue eyes sparkling. “Patrick’s been fussing like a mother hen since you phoned. Follow me, he’s in the den watching TV. Lord love him, he wants to be well, and isn’t. His chief ordered me to hog-tie him if need be.”

“I heard that,” complained a gruff masculine voice from the room they were about to enter. “This is what I get for having teased my sister when we were kids. Noreen’s been waiting fifty years to get back at me for the tricks I played on her. Come closer, Noelle. Let me look at you—and the man you’ve decided to inflict Daryl’s mess on. I’ve been worried about you.”

Gillian squeezed past Mitch. “Sergeant Malone, I’m just glad to see you alive. I left Flagstaff thinking the worst.”

“I thought I was a goner, too.”

“I’ve told him he’s too tough to die before his time,” Noreen said, wiping her hands on a white apron she wore over a lavender print dress.

The man winced when his sister snapped off the TV and opened the curtains. His eyebrows dived together in a frown. “What have you done to yourself, Noelle? Have I lost my mind? Weren’t you blond?”

Gillian patted her hair. “I cut and colored it. If you don’t recognize me, I must’ve done an okay job of disguising myself.”

“Humph. I guess your voice is the same.”

Mitch leaned a shoulder against the door and surveyed the steel-haired man hooked up to a variety of ropes and pulleys. Bruises, though fading, marred one side of a grizzled face. Mitch felt an immediate kinship. Not too long ago he’d undergone a similar recovery. He hadn’t needed traction after leaving the hospital, but he’d been trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey for longer than he cared to remember. Judging the old guy harmless, Mitch pushed off from the door.

Malone’s sharp gaze tracked the younger man’s halting progress into the room. “Glory be, son, did they get you, too?”

“Nah. I stopped a few slugs from another lowlife. I was a cop, too. I’ve joined you in retirement, however.”

“That’s a shame. The force needs strong, honest men like yourself.”

Mitch crossed his arms over his chest. “Not so strong anymore, Sergeant Malone. This wasn’t my first tangle, either. Started me thinking I’m living on borrowed time. By the way—” he grasped the older man’s hand between both of his “—the name’s Mitch Valetti. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Funny, I knew you were in the business the minute you walked in. Maybe it’s true that cops have a certain identifying swagger.”

“If so, the academy ought to work on that problem for when we go undercover.”

“Well, the chief asked if I’d teach after I recover. Right now, I can’t say I’m considering it. Training is a big responsibility with the street punks getting rougher.
Speaking of streets…” He turned his attention to Gillian. “I wasn’t sure you’d survive on the run. Where have you been keeping yourself?”

Gillian started to answer, but Mitch slid his arms around her from behind and set his chin on top of her head. “She’s been here and there.”

The man in the bed swung his eyes to Mitch. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

“Generally cautious, Malone. Nothing personal. I think we agree those men who want to get their hands on Gilly are bad news.”

“Gilly? Oh.” The old man frowned. “I remember you said Daryl gave you an alias. Conrad must not know that. When he phoned, he still called you Noelle.”

“You’ve heard from Conrad?”

“Who’s that?” Mitch asked.

“Daryl’s older brother,” she said absently. “I left him with the mess of a funeral and the chore of notifying Daryl’s clients. I’m sure he gave you an earful about me,” she muttered to Malone.

“I’ve never been Conrad’s favorite person,” Malone returned. “I figured he must’ve been in a real tizzy to call me. Twice. The first time, I was still in the hospital. The chief was having my incoming calls screened. I took Conrad’s so I could offer my condolences and explain why I wouldn’t be able to attend Daryl’s service. Also, I wanted to see if he could shed any light on the two guys who tried to put me in the morgue.”

“Could he?” Mitch and Gillian echoed as one voice.

Malone gave a snort. “Typical Conrad. He didn’t want to talk about anyone but himself. As you said, he’s miffed at you for running off. He called you irresponsible and even hinted you might be dangerous.”

“What?” Gillian sputtered. Then she waved a hand
airily. “I
knew
he’d blame me for Daryl’s death. Conrad never wanted Daryl to marry me.”

“So,” Mitch interrupted, “did you tell the brother Gilly had been in touch?”

The man in the bed shifted, reaching both hands out to accept a steaming mug of coffee his sister had brought in on a rolling cart.

“I was there both times Patrick talked to Conrad,” Noreen said. “The first call, Pat, you asked why Conrad blamed Noelle when you knew for a fact that Daryl had been involved with some shady customers. You said Conrad got huffy, defended Daryl vigorously, then hung up on you.”

“That’s right. He called again the day I was released. He asked if I’d heard from you. Said bills were piling up at the business and house, and he couldn’t do anything about withdrawing money from Daryl’s business because of your partnership. He said that according to the bank, Daryl had withdrawn a large amount of cash a week before his death. Conrad told me the police wanted to question you in connection with that and other things.”

“That would be the cash Daryl placed in the envelope, along with my fake license and social security card,” Gillian admitted with a guilty shrug.

Mitch dumped cream in his coffee. “Gillian said you were like a dad to her ex-husband, Patrick. Yet it doesn’t sound as if you’re on good terms with his brother.”

“You’ve got that right.” Malone made a face as he sipped from his cup. “Conrad was a seventeen-year-old know-it-all at the time their folks died. His dad and I were fraternity brothers and lifelong friends. I thought it was well understood that I’d take the boys if anything happened to their parents. Conrad said he should be man of the house. He contested the will. It really irked him
that I held power over his inheritance until he was twenty-five. Actually, both boys’ money was in trust.”

“Daryl’s portion went toward starting his business—and buying my flower shop. Conrad warned Daryl against spending part of his inheritance on me.”

“You own a flower shop?” Mitch sounded surprised. “I knew you’d worked for a florist. You never mentioned owning a shop.”

“After I lost the baby…” She choked on the words. When she could talk again, she cleared her throat and continued. “I suffered severe postpartum depression. I was mentally and physically unable to carry on.” She rose and went to stand at the window, gazing blankly on a beautifully green golf course. “Daryl couldn’t run his firm and oversee my shop, as well. He asked me to sell before I was released from the hospital. My friends thought that when I got well, I’d want to work again. It took longer than anyone imagined.” Her voice was raspy. “Anyway, I didn’t argue about selling.”

Shifting his position, Mitch saw the tears that trickled down her pale face. He hurt for her, and couldn’t begin to imagine the pain she’d suffered at losing her baby. Now it seemed she’d lost her career and her marriage, too. She was dead wrong about not being a strong woman. She was.

The old cop spoke to Gillian, jerking Mitch out of his stupor. “Daryl phoned a few days after you lost the baby. The only other time I heard him sound so torn up was the day we buried his parents. I had the impression he was terrified that you were going to die too, Noelle.”

“I did, in a way.”

Mitch set his cup back on the cart and joined her at the window. “It doesn’t pay to focus on the past, Gilly.” He used his thumbs to massage her backbone to her
shoulders. She stood unmoving for several minutes, then finally relaxed against his hands.

“Thanks, Mitch. I know we didn’t come here to reminisce.”

“Which brings up a point,” Patrick said. “I assume you came for reasons other than to inquire after my health.”

“That was the primary reason,” Gillian assured him.

“Well, if you’re up to it, I’d hoped we could do a little trading of information,” Mitch admitted.

“If you three are going to talk cop stuff, I’ll go back to preparing my beef stew. I can’t abide hearing about people in danger. That’s why I quit keeping house for Patrick a few years ago and moved here. Later, he finagled a job in Flagstaff. You promised me you retired for good,” she scolded her brother.

“I have. I have,” he muttered. “Do I look like I’m trekking with them after bad guys? No. We’re only talking, Noreen. Speculating.”

“Humph. I know you, Pat Malone. If there’s any feasible way, you’ll get involved.”

“There’s no feasible way, ma’am,” Mitch reiterated.

Noreen, like so many women, let herself be charmed by Mitch Valetti’s brilliant smile. “I’ll hold you to your word,” she said. “No doubt this
speculating
will take time. You and Noelle are invited to stay for supper. Plain fare, but filling.”

“I never turn down a home-cooked meal.” Again Mitch flashed a winsome grin. He helped Noreen wheel the coffee cart out, then closed the door. “The fewer ears, the better.”

“I’m not sure I can tell you anything Noelle…er…Gillian hasn’t already filled you in on.” Pat
slapped at the pillow on which he rested his cast. Gillian plumped the ones behind his back.

“Thanks,” he said, returning his attention to Mitch.

“I got a good look at the men who ran you down. If you can’t fill in the names, I’ll stop by my old precinct later to see if I can identify them. Guys like that always have records a mile long.”

“They do. I’ll save you a step. I know who they are.”

“You know their names?”

“Lenny ‘The Arm’ Capputo, and Foss Turpin, sometimes known as The Turtle.”

Mitch quickly dug a small notebook he’d taken from Regan’s kitchen drawer out of his pocket. He removed a stubby pencil from the spiral binding, flipped open the cover and began to scribble.

Gillian rubbed at goose bumps rising along her arms. “Lenny ‘The Arm’ sounds like someone who should be one of Al Capone’s gangsters.”

“I wish all gangsters had died out with Capone.” Patrick adjusted a set of pulleys and raised his leg an inch off the pillow.

Mitch turned to a clean page. “I would’ve nicknamed him Lenny ‘The Mouth.’ Your turtle couldn’t shut his partner up.”

Malone bent his arm behind his head and propped himself up. “He’s not
my
turtle. They’re a nasty duo. That’s why the department had me under wraps as long as they did and screened my calls. It’s why I’m recovering at Noreen’s. Our snitches fingered them. Appearing talkative and bumbling is their trademark. Reportedly they only work for big money up-front. Well, don’t take my word for it. Read their rap sheets. These boys are butt-deep in organized crime.”

Mitch frowned. “Then you think Gilly’s ex stumbled onto something pretty big?”

“My sources say it takes a couple hundred G’s each to hire Capputo and Turpin.”

“Holy shi—” Mitch snapped his jaw shut on the invective.

“My sentiments exactly,” Patrick murmured.

Gillian, who was leaning against the old man’s bed, whipped her head around. “Two-hundred-thousand dollars?” she whispered.

“Two-hundred grand each,” Mitch repeated, sounding grim.

“Yeah.” Patrick looked more than a little worried. “They earn two-hundred-thousand dollars apiece for their dirty work. Someone’s paying them big bucks to find you. I presume they’ve been ordered to bring you to their boss. Otherwise, they’d have gunned us down the way they did Daryl. Him they wanted dead. Now the question I have—did they get paid for one job and this is a second? If so, we’re talking a bundle of cash. That ups the ante considerably on what Daryl’s information is worth.”

“Damn!” Mitch exploded.

“That ought to give you a rough idea why I took myself out of the equation,” Patrick said wryly.

“No wonder Daryl went to such lengths to get Gilly out of town. Is that why you advised her to hit the road?”

Patrick shook his head. “I only had Daryl’s sketchy e-mail and a gut hunch to go on. What concerned me most was how quickly those goons showed up. It takes a big man pulling strings to get fast action like that.”

“Yeah. I’ve had some experience fighting a well-entrenched crime boss.”

“A successful experience?” Malone asked.

Mitch closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “They were out on bail before the ink on my booking paper was dry.”

“That’s what we ran into in Flagstaff, too.” He took a deep breath. “So, how long can you keep Gillian hidden?”

“Not indefinitely,” Mitch said. “And as you know, the statute of limitations never runs out if they wasted Daryl.”

“I wasn’t thinking of hiding her indefinitely.” Patrick stared intently at Mitch. “My snitch on the street is pretty reliable. He said Capputo and Turpin get antsy if things don’t break their way. They have patience up to a point, then they run back to their money source and make new demands. If you know where they are now and can afford to put a twenty-four-hour tail on them, they’ll eventually lead you to the top dog.”

“I don’t have much money I can access,” Gillian muttered, breaking into their conversation. “How much would a twenty-four-hour tail cost?”

“A down-and-out P.I. can be had cheap. Or a retired cop. In fact, those are the types of assignments I figured I’d take for a while until my ranch starts paying.”

A slow smile blossomed on Malone’s craggy face. “There you go, Noelle. I mean, Gillian. Can you afford a retired cop?”

“There’s a problem with that,” Mitch was quick to say. “I’m not exposing Gilly to a chase. Neither am I letting her out of my sight. I’ll have to chew on your suggestion, Patrick. My first order of business is to find a safe spot for her to go underground. At least until we turn up hard evidence. Something other than he-said, she-said stuff.”