Queens Ransom (Sofie Metropolis) (14 page)

Twenty-One

OK, that was strange. But in a nice, fuzzy-slipper kind of way. The more I’d asked Mrs Liotta about my grandfather’s medal, the more questions she asked about him.

I didn’t find it unusual at first. Since her husband and Grandpa Kosmos had served together in Korea, it stood to reason that she would also know him.

But at some point simple, friendly curiosity had crept over into ‘hunh’ land and her happy expression whenever she spoke of him set off a quiet alert.

How well had Grandpa Kosmos known Mrs Liotta, whose full name was Iris Jensen Liotta?

Anyway, our conversation had ultimately boiled down to the understanding she was more than happy to return his medal . . . on the condition that she be the one to give it to him.

Had to love it when a case was solved that easily. Now I had but to call my grandfather and tell him. Something I was waiting till later to do.

Right now I was making my way through the pile of documentation Rosie had put together for me, the information I’d asked for. I’d driven to Queens Center, a shopping mall I’d spent a great deal of time in as a teen, and was sitting in the food court sipping my frappé, figuring I could kill two birds by reviewing the data and finishing my Christmas shopping.

I’d been at it for an hour and my eyes were starting to smart from reading too much.

I’d always been a crammer. In high school, the night before quizzes, tests and exams, I could be found in my bedroom with a contraband frappé poring over textbooks and notes, absorbing anything and everything. The method had worked for me. No matter how tired I was during the test, I usually managed to pull at least a B out of the hat for my efforts.

Right now, though, the only items catching my attention were the fact that ‘Bubba’ Canton served a brief stint of time at an upstate prison for a gun-related crime. Shocker.

Oh, and that Rosie managed to scare up that Bruno’s and Boris’ last name was Kazimier, and that neither of them were officially listed anywhere as employees of Abramopoulos.

They were, however, well-known members of the Russian mafia.

Another shocker.

I stared at the background checks of Sara Canton’s brother Robert ‘Bubba’ Canton and Elizabeth Winston’s boyfriend, Daniel Butler, then marked my spot before putting everything into the backpack I’d brought along, thinking a little shopping might be just the break I needed.

My new cell phone rang, startling me since the tone was loud and featured a nasty song having to do with backing that ass up.

I quickly answered, offering an apologetic glance to a young mother who was wiping ketchup off her young son’s face at a neighboring table.

‘What’s up?’ I asked Rosie.

Only it wasn’t Rosie who answered. Rather, a familiar male voice spoke . . . one I would never have expected to hear, much less hear on my borrowed cell phone.

‘Sofie? It’s Dino. How are you?’

I sat for a solid minute in silence.

Dino? It couldn’t be. He was in Greece.

I squashed the ridiculous thought, thinking about how close he sounded, as if calling from somewhere inside the mall instead of half a world away.

He was half a world away . . . wasn’t he?

And he was calling me on a phone no one had the number to.

‘Me? I’m fine! How are you? How’s the weather in Greece?’

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

‘I’m OK. And the weather is good.’

‘Good . . . good.’

I wished I’d been given some kind of heads up, some kind of warning. I silently cursed Rosie, who must have put the call directly through. She could have told a girl what was coming. Given me a chance to prepare.

As it was, I sat dumbfounded, not a single word in my head worth sharing.

‘My mom’s working at your bakery,’ I blurted.

God, did I really just go from stupid to ridiculous?

Yes, I was afraid I had.

‘Yes. She told me.’

‘Of course she did. Since, you know, you two talk . . .’

I squeezed my eyes closed.

‘I’m sorry I have not called before now. For some reason I was not able to get through to your cell phone, or the agency. Now was the first time.’

‘Oh. It’s OK. I understand.’

Did I? Was it possible Jake had somehow not only booted out the competition but made it impossible for him to contact me?

Dumb question. When it came to Jake, everything was possible.

What did it mean that he had lifted the block now?

And what did it mean that Dino must have kept trying to call me until he finally got through?

And just what in the hell was I supposed to say to him now?

‘Hey, sorry about your getting deported because someone I sometimes dated thought it might be fun. You really have to be careful nowadays, don’t you?’

Somehow, I didn’t think that would go over well.

‘How are you doing?’ I said. ‘Sorry, I know I already asked that. What I mean is . . . are you OK?’

‘Yes. Yes, I am.’ I heard slight static as if he’d moved the phone from one ear to the other. ‘A little difficult at first, but I’m adjusting. Even enjoying spending some time with my family. I missed them.’

I smiled and relaxed into what was otherwise an uncomfortable chair at the unmistakable sound of his smile. ‘As I’m sure they missed you.’

Silence fell and I just sat there beaming into the phone, imaging him doing the same on the other end.

What was it about this one guy that made me smile from the inside out? Was it merely his smiling at me? I looked at myself through his eyes and saw myself in a flattering light. As someone who was not only lovable but worth loving, as well as loved.

And desired.

Oh, boy, did he make me feel desired.

‘I miss you.’

His words were so faint I nearly didn’t make them out.

And just like that I was snapped out of my brief sojourn into the land of all that was lovely . . . if only because it was also posted with signs that read, ‘Marriage Altar This Way. Good Luck and Good Fortune.’

‘I’m not at the office so I can’t talk long,’ I blurted, wincing even as I said the words.

Here was this guy who had been deported because of me, who had probably been going crazy trying to get a call through, and I was being rude.

‘I understand,’ he said.

But I knew that he didn’t.

I knew he didn’t have clue one that whatever
this
was between us, I was nowhere near ready for it.

‘I am awfully glad you called, though,’ I said. ‘It was good to hear your voice. To know you’re doing OK.’

‘Me, too. You know, about you.’

I allowed myself to smile absurdly into the phone for a few more moments then brought the conversation to a close.

‘Have a nice Christmas,’ I said. ‘I hope to see you soon.’

‘Yes. Same to you.’

I reluctantly disconnected then pressed the cell to my mouth for what seemed like a long time.

Until I realized the phone had come from Eugene and Lord only knew where it had been.

Ew.

I took a wet nap out of my purse and sanitized myself and the phone.

OK, where was I?

Oh, yeah.

Funny how a simple phone call had made me totally forget where I was, what I was doing.

In the back of my mind, I reviewed the many reasons why I wasn’t ready for all that Dino so readily offered. I knew it was connected to my almost wedding eight months ago. Knew that I had wounds that had yet to completely heal, not to mention the scars that would remain for life.

I also knew that my runaway feelings for Jake Porter factored in there somehow . . . not to mention that hot kiss I shared with David Hunter outside that restaurant.

I scratched my head.

Just when I thought I had everything figured out.

What was I talking about? I never believed I had anything figured out.

What I did know was what I was supposed to be doing: shopping.

I got up from the chair, checked to make sure all the documents were carefully stowed inside the backpack, then hefted it to my shoulder.

I mentally reviewed who I had yet to buy for – pointedly ignoring all ideas related to the two men in my life, or, rather, the two men complicating my life – as I walked past the indoor storefronts, weaving my way around others with the same intention.

I spotted a cute baby jacket that would be perfect for Rosie’s new nephew.

I stepped inside the specialized store . . . and straight into my ex-best friend, Kati Dimos.

If it was cold outside, inside me the temperature had dropped by a good ten degrees below that.

On my list of those I’d least like to see, she rated the top spot. Well, OK, maybe the second; her groom and my ex-groom nabbed the first.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, apparently not realizing who I was.

Then she looked into my face and hers went five shades paler.

There was a time when seeing her brought joy and peace to my world. She’d been my best friend, the one I had on speed dial whenever I’d needed to share something funny, something sad, or just to say hello. She’d been my platonic soulmate, my twin, and the bond we shared transcended any romantic one.

That she so readily hacked those ties, much less stole my no-good groom . . . well, I was beginning to believe that wound might never heal.

I had yet to forgive her. And I knew I’d never forget.

‘Sofie!’

The last time I’d run into her was at a corner grocer and I’d come out of the accidental meeting with only the tiniest shred of pride left. It had been then I’d found out she and Thomas were engaged.

Now I knew they were not only getting married, but that it was to happen the day after Christmas.

Thank God my mother had told me the news. I can’t imagine what impact learning that news from Kati might have had on me.

‘Christmas shopping?’ I asked.

She looked down at the two bags she held and her skin went from pale to beet red. ‘Um, yeah.’

I squinted at her.

I knew Kati better than any other female on the face of the earth. I used to, anyway. But I was pretty sure I still knew when she was lying. And she was definitely lying.

Then it dawned on me . . . the fact that she wasn’t just browsing through a baby store, but had made several purchases . . . that she and Thomas were getting married so quickly . . . that she suddenly couldn’t look me in the eye . . .

‘Oh my God . . . you
are
pregnant.’

All things being equal, I probably really shouldn’t have been triumphant over the news. One time, not so long ago, Kati had been my best friend, and now that a child would soon enter the mix . . .? Well, that changed everything.

And Lord knew she was certainly going to have her own cross to bear with my no-good, philandering ex.

Still, I couldn’t help smiling.

I hadn’t had to be preggers in order for him to marry me.

Of course, he hadn’t exactly married me.

At any rate, I was bursting to share the news with somebody (if I thought it ironic that eight months ago she would have been that someone, I wasn’t saying) and found myself finishing my shopping in record speed and driving into Astoria and parking next to Dino’s bakery, thinking I was safe enough there since anyone who might be watching thought me still at the agency.

Thalia was less than impressed.

‘That should have been my first grandchild.’

I gaped at her as if she’d just called me a name.

‘Is that all you have to say?’

She looked at me as she wiped her hands on her apron. ‘You were expecting something different?’

‘The guy was a pig.’

‘The guy was young. You could have turned him into a man.’

‘I wasn’t his mother. I was supposed to be his wife.’

‘And your point is?’

‘My point is I think you’re certifiable.’ Judging by the way one of the girls behind the counter looked our way, I presumed I’d raised my voice.

Trust my mother to leech the pleasure out of what was so far the bright spot in my otherwise gray day.

I thought about telling her I’d spoken to Dino, then decided against it. I could only guess what she’d have to say about that, and I’d just reached my quota of asinine commentary about a half a minute ago.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

‘To sit in the back, have a frappé and work. Why?’

‘Because I could use an extra pair of hands.’

Great. Now she was going to put me to work.

Probably I shouldn’t have come here. Probably I should have gone back to the mall food court and reviewed the documents in peace.

Probably I should have
my
head examined.

She smiled as she watched me, then reached behind the counter and handed me an apron.

Grumbling, I stashed my papers in a cupboard behind the counter, washed my hands and asked her what she needed me to do.

Twenty-Two

After two grueling hours making
Christopsomo
, aka Christmas bread, and Greek holiday cookies,
melomakarana
and
kourebeithes
, I had gained a new appreciation for my mother, Dino and everyone who’d had a hand in making every sweet I’d ever put into my mouth. My back ached, my hands were sore, and I was convinced I’d need ten showers to get all the flour off of me.

I gratefully took my apron off, looked into the wall-length mirror behind the counter, wiped a bit of white from my cheek, then went back into the kitchen to say goodbye to my mother.

The place was filled with state of the art equipment, quality ingredients and the atmosphere was light and happy. I took in the tortes in various stages of completion along the left-hand counter, the cracker-like, freshly baked squares that would eventually be layered with custard and cream to make millefeuille, and was shocked – shocked I tell you! – I hadn’t put a single thing into my mouth.

More than that? I didn’t want anything other than an ice-cold frappé either.

I made a face. If making something meant I no longer wanted to eat it, I was eating out from here on.

‘Hey,’ I said to my mom.

‘Hey,
koukla mou
. Thanks so much for helping out. You did a great job.’

‘No need for thanks. But you’re welcome.’

I leaned against the marble-covered island where she worked, contemplating telling her about my earlier phone call.

‘Yes, Dino already told me.’

‘Told you what?’ I hadn’t said anything.

‘That he talked to you.’

‘And?’

She gave me a long look, then bent back to continue adding chocolate-mouse swirls to a chocolate torte. I stuck my finger under her squeeze bag, waited for her to give me some, then stuck the wicked sweet dollop into my mouth.

Pure heaven.

‘So, what did he say?’ I asked again.

‘That he spoke to you.’

‘That’s all?’

She stared at me again. ‘That’s it.’

I squinted at her.

OK, I was confused. In a case like this, I would have expected Thalia to be all over linking the word marriage with my name and Dino’s.

Instead, she appeared to be going out of her way to avoid it.

Another ploy? Like when she originally pretended she was matching up Dino with my sister Efi in order to catch me unawares?

Strangely, I didn’t think that was the case.

Hunh.

‘I find that hard to believe,’ I said.

My mother stood up. ‘Do you know whose cakes I’m working on, Sofie?’

I looked again. ‘No. Why?’

‘Thomas and Kati’s.’

I’d swiped another finger full of frosting that now dissolved like dirt against my tongue.

Thalia cursed in Greek under her breath and continued working.

‘He’s too good for you.’

I was positive I hadn’t heard her correctly.

What did she mean? She couldn’t possibly be talking about Thomas?

‘No, I don’t mean Thomas. I mean Dino.’

My heart pitched to somewhere in the vicinity of my toes.

Thalia pointed the tip of her decorating bag at me. ‘He’s a good boy. Ready to settle down. Good at what he does. Has a plan. He deserves somebody who knows what she wants. A girl who can be a good wife to him.’

The dirt in my mouth expanded to choke me.

‘I want you to stay away from him.’

‘What?’ I pushed from the counter.

‘You heard me.’ She didn’t look at me. She pretended to be wholly involved in creating those ludicrous swirls on Thomas’ wedding cake.

‘Look what you made me do,’ she said, sighing heavily.

She put the bag down, picked up a frosting spreader, and carefully removed the last swirl, which was a little bigger than the others. She held it out to me. I took the spreader and threw it into the sink where it clanked loudly.

‘What, you don’t like what I’m saying?’

‘No, I don’t like it. At all.’ I took a deep breath. ‘As my mother you’re supposed to be loyal to me.’

‘Don’t tell me what I’m supposed to do as your mother.’

I crossed my arms, trying to wrap my head around what she had said . . . and the deeper meaning.

I’d never known her to so thoroughly adopt someone the way she had Dino. Oh, yes, she was loyal to no end. But I’d never in forever expect her to put an outsider above me.

‘You thought Thomas was good enough for me.’

‘I never thought Thomas was good enough for you. Thomas Chalikis was your choice, not mine.’

‘So you wouldn’t pick Dino for me?’

‘I wouldn’t pick you for Dino. Not now.’ She returned to working. ‘But you’ll remember, I did. You would never have met if not for me.’

‘I’m sure I would have met him at some point.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

‘Definitely.’

‘Anyway, until you work out whatever you’ve got in your system, quit that stupid job with your uncle, I want you to stay away from Dino.’

‘Because he deserves better?’

She paused and looked at me, the expression on her face rock solid. ‘Yes.’

‘Fine.’

‘Good.’

‘All right, then.’

‘
Kala
.’

I pushed from the counter and stalked toward the swinging door, slapping it so it swung wide outward, then catching it when it swung just as quickly back at me.

Never had my mother turned against me in the way she just had.

The thing about it was?

She was entirely right.

Dino Antonopoulos deserved better than me.

Far better.

Rosie called as I was getting into my sister’s car. Night had fallen, bringing with it big, fat flakes. If I’d had to guess, I would have said it was too cold to snow. But obviously, I’d have been wrong.

‘Where in the hell are you?’ she blasted me, her voice so loud I had to move the cell slightly away from my ear to prevent drum breakage. ‘I’ve been trying to call you all day!’

I’d had the cell on me, so the best I could figure is I must not have had a good signal inside the bakery. The ovens? That didn’t make any sense. Then again, the cell model was an old one . . . and I had no idea who the carrier was, so coverage might be spotty.

Then it occurred to me the problem might not be on my side at all. I pulled the cell away and looked at the display. Right there in black against a blue screen was Spyros Metropolis Agency.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

‘You called me from the agency.’

‘Of course I called you from the agency. That stupid phone you gave me quit after I tried calling twice.’

I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

‘Why are you counting? And why do I care? Hey, the phone’s been ringing off the hook here. Your guy Waters says he has something on that secretary you got him following. Your cousin Pete quit. Your sister says she needs her car back, now. Emphasis on now. And there’s been some creepy government guys in here looking for you, along with a scary thug-looking motherfucker I wanted to shoot.’

Bruno’s brother, Boris. I’d bet a hundred on it.

‘I’m hanging up. Call me on your personal cell.’

I disconnected on her without waiting for a response.

She called back a moment later, again from the agency phone. ‘I forgot my freakin’ cell at home. Why do you think I called you from here to begin with?’

I rubbed my closed eyelids. ‘I need Waters’ number,’ I said. She gave it to me and I entered it into the phone. ‘Now Pete’s.’ She gave me that, too.

‘As for the rest . . .’

I scanned the street around me, trying to guesstimate how long it would take them to catch up with me.

Then an idea occurred to me.

‘What? What about the rest?’ Rosie wanted to know.

‘The rest is going to take care of itself, I’m afraid. I don’t think you’ll have anything else to worry about. But if that scary thug-looking motherfucker comes in again, use Lenny’s gun on him.’

‘Lenny ain’t got no gun.’

‘Yes, he does.’

‘Nuh uh.’

‘Yuh uh. Top right-hand desk drawer. Key for it is in the middle drawer under the paper clips.’

I pictured Rosie trying to handle the .45 Magnum and gave a mental head shake. Probably it would knock her on her ass.

Probably she’d blow whomever she pointed it at to kingdom come before she went down.

Providing she could lift the thing to begin with.

‘Fine. But just so you know, I’m thinking I need my own.’

‘I’m thinking the same thing.’

‘Should I call you if anything else comes up?’

‘No. I’ll call you. I’m dumping this phone.’

A heartbeat of a pause and then, ‘What are you going to do?’

Honestly? I had no idea. But I was starting to form an idea.

‘Call you in twenty.’

‘OK. You know I knock off soon, right?’

‘I know you knock off soon.’

‘But you can call me on my cell after I get home. You know, if it’s an emergency.’

‘Thanks.’

‘No problem.’

I started the car.

‘Oh, and Sofie?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Be careful.’

‘Yeah. You, too.’

I disconnected and then popped the back off the cell phone, removing the battery. As I thought, it was old enough that it had one of those SIM cards inside. Take it out and it was virtually untraceable, solely because the phone was unidentifiable, all user information on the card and not in the phone itself.

Of course, it also meant I couldn’t make or receive calls on it, either.

I popped the thumbnail-sized card out and put the battery back in. I’d need to access the phone to get Waters’ and Pete’s phone numbers.

Question was, would I have a chance to use them before the next snatch and grab?