Cold Moon Dead (11 page)

“Things under control here?” Greg asked Marcus before he glanced at me. He nodded in my direction and then looked at Marcus again.

“Vinnie just saw her stolen vehicle headed toward Olneyville. I was in the process of prohibiting her from entering a car chase,” Marcus said with a dip of his hat-covered-head in my direction.

“Vin, you should know better than that.” The big lug smirked as he rested his hands on the heavy utility belt slung around his waist.

“Well, it’s too late now, isn’t it?” I retorted, a mite testily.

Both men nodded. I could see the smirk hover around Posely’s lips. This would be all over the station by tomorrow. When classes commenced, I would have to put up with harassment from the police officer students. Dang, it’s annoying when that happens.

The two men talked for a bit, agreed on a few things, and motioned traffic to move on. Posely recommended that I get back into the Cooper and be on my way to wherever I had been headed in the first place. He assured me that he would keep watch for the car. I believed he would, too.

In despair, I nodded and climbed back into the car. Traffic had dispersed by the time we moved away from the area. So had my temper. I continued to follow Marcus to Cranston and ended up parked in the driveway of his house before I realized it.

Once inside we sat in front of the fireplace and listened to the news. Nothing remarkable had happened in the state and my name was not mentioned when the death of Jabroni’s doctor was announced.

Marcus poured me a glass of wine and opened a beer for himself. I snuggled into the crook of his arm and waited to see if he would lecture me over causing the traffic havoc. When he didn’t, I glanced up and noticed his head rested back against the sofa in total relaxation.

“You aren’t angry, are you?” I asked.

“Not at all. You were just being you. There’s no other way to explain it. I think that’s part of the attraction I have for you, Vinnie. You do the unexpected. Sometimes it leaves a little to be desired, but you do things with such passion that I can never stay angry.” He kissed my forehead, squeezed my shoulder, and leaned his head back again.

My heart lifted and pounded at the same time. This was more than I had expected. Relief flooded me and I smiled. No matter how zany I acted, Marcus accepted me. Life can be good—but he still didn’t know the truth about today . . . about me, Jabroni, and Louie-the-Lug.

I finished the wine, he drank the beer, and things grew hot and heavy. We moved from the sofa to the upstairs bedroom with little effort. Clothes dropped haphazardly across the floor as we neared the bed. I couldn’t have cared less that my cashmere sweater lay draped on top of his uniform. He didn’t appear concerned over his gear either. The trouser belt hit the floor with a
thunk
, as did his uniform pants. The boots had left his feet the minute he’d arrived home.

It wasn’t until later, much later, that we lay entwined under the comforter, satisfied. I heaved a sated sigh and felt, more than saw, Marcus smile.

“Everything all right over there?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Couldn’t be better,” I answered with a smile of my own.

“Glad to hear it.” He pulled me closer to his naked chest, and I snuggled in tightly to him. Mmm, this was nice.

“I had such a lousy day, this sure made up for it.” I breathed against his skin.

“Why was it so lousy?” he asked.

“Don’t get angry or anything, because I had no idea where I was working when I agreed to help Larry.”

Marcus stiffened a tad, but then relaxed again. “What are you talking about?”

I sat up in bed, pulled the blanket up and tucked it around my body. Street lights cast the room in muted shadows. I stared at him in the semi-darkness, unable to see his face clearly, but close enough. He turned to face me.

I explained the job, and how I’d been in the dark about who owned the house. Marcus waited in silence until I finished the story that led right up to when I left the development. He sighed and then pulled himself up in bed, his back slouching against the headboard.

“You weren’t aware the house was Jabroni’s?” he asked in a resigned voice.

“No clue whatsoever. If I’d known, I would never have agreed to work there, honest.” I believed the words as I uttered them, mostly because they were true.

“Why did you tell me this now?” he asked while he caressed my cool skin.

Goose bumps covered my arms, and I smiled a bit. I admitted that I wasn’t sure why I had confessed. It had just seemed like a good idea at the time.

He smiled and leaned toward me, kissing my shoulder. From there, conversation ceased, as did any coherent thoughts.

I yawned, refreshed by a good night’s sleep. It took a minute to realize I wasn’t in my own bed, but at Marcus’s house instead. His side of the bed was empty. I could smell fresh perked coffee as the aroma wafted up the stairs.

“Are you coming down, Little Miss Sunshine?” Marcus called.

My mouth tasted like crap, I knew I looked like hell, but I answered that I’d be down shortly. Within minutes, I had scooted down the staircase into the kitchen. My hair was brushed back into a clip. I’d washed my face, and brushed my teeth with an extra toothbrush from the bathroom cabinet, and then donned a robe from Marcus’s closet. It was a warm robe—big, but warm all the same.

Marcus stared at me when I entered the room, and a smile flitted across his face. He was dressed in jeans, a sweater with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and socks on his feet. No shoes, just socks. I grinned back at him when he offered me a cup of coffee and some blueberry pancakes. The man could make a decent cup of coffee and cook, too. Hmm, I should definitely hang onto him.

“Rested enough?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah, the best sleep I’ve had in a while.” I chortled at the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

We chatted about mundane topics for a while as we ate and then cleared the dishes away. I sipped fresh coffee and prepared to go upstairs to dress. Before I put the cup in the sink, Marcus leaned his elbows on the table and stared at me.

“You had a call on your cell phone this morning,” he said.

I pulled the phone from my jacket pocket and scanned the calls. Freedom had left a message. I plunked my butt into the chair across from Marcus. Maybe my Altima had been found. I hit the send button and waited while the phone rang.

“Hey, Free,” I said when she answered. “It’s Vin. What’s up?”

“Can you meet me at Central Station today?” she asked.

Central Station is the main complex of the police department. It’s all glass and angles, bordering Washington Street on one side and overlooking Route 95 on another. An awesome structure.

“Sure, what time is good for you?” Reluctant to ask why, I wondered what had happened.

“Just come down anytime, and call me before you get there. I’ll meet you, okay?”

I couldn’t stand the suspense another minute. I asked, “What’s this about?”

“I’ll show you when you get here,” Free said before she disconnected the call.

Free’s tone had been quiet, which for her is an amazing feat. Free yells a lot of the time. It’s in her nature that her temper flares easily. The fact that she hadn’t yelled put me on my guard and sent my curiosity into orbit like a Sputnik.

Curious eyes regarded me across the table. Marcus didn’t ask any questions, but sat quietly instead.

“I have to get dressed and go down to Central Station.” I rose from the table and headed toward the staircase.

“Do you want company?” he asked.

“Sure, if you’d like to tag along.”

“Then get dressed and we’ll go.”

Maybe his curiosity was out of control, too. I nodded and ran up the stairs to retrieve my wrinkled clothing. I slipped my sweater on and donned the blue jeans. My shoes were in the living room. I dashed downstairs, slid my feet into the shoes, and rushed into the kitchen where Marcus had just packed the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I am.”

We left in his pickup truck and headed for Providence. His house wasn’t far outside the city and it didn’t take long to get there. As we pulled onto Dean Street, which runs along the entrance side of the police station, I hit speed dial and waited for Freedom to answer the call. When she did, I told her we had almost arrived at the station. She gave a grunt of acknowledgement and said she’d be right there.

We hung around the vacant lot adjacent to the department while we waited for Freedom. Within a few minutes, she pulled up next to the truck, nodded to Marcus, and greeted me.

“I think we found your car. Follow me,” Free said.

My curiosity was out of control, as was my heartbeat. What had happened to my Altima? Was it a total wreck? Couldn’t it be identified? I considered the possibilities as we drove two blocks west and then a block south from PPD headquarters.

Twelve to fifteen cops milled around the oversized garage and fenced-in lot. BCI, the crime scene people, were there with forensic equipment, and several detectives stood around with their heads together, deep in conversation. I glanced at the building. It could definitely be a chop shop. Odd car parts were stacked outside and a female officer was in the process of forming an inventory list. At least that’s what it looked like from where I stood.

The inventory officer nodded to Free and motioned for us to head inside the garage. Marcus and I followed Freedom without a word. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I saw the vehicle in front of me and let it out with a
whoosh
.

In the back of the huge structure, I saw a light blue car door, a hood, and some fenders. The skeletal frame of the car stood on concrete blocks. No tires, no rims, and no motor. Even the windows were missing. The car was stripped from stem to stern.

I walked around the frame before I glanced at Free.

“What makes you think this is my car?” I asked.

“We aren’t sure, but hoped there was some way you could identify it. The VIN number is missing and the plates are gone. Most of it is gone, as you can see.”

Personally, I’d never gotten past the registration and insurance end of things. So anything else a vehicle identification number was used for was out of my knowledge range.

After a quick glance at Marcus, I turned to Free and said, “This isn’t like identifying the remains of a dead person, Free. The car never broke a leg or an arm, you know. I took good care of my car, no scratches, dents, or stuff like that.”

She smirked and then turned a wiseass glare toward me. “I just thought you might know your own car when you saw it. There were two Altimas with the same description stolen within a day or so of each other. This has to be one of them. One belonged to you.”

“Sorry, Free, I can’t help you. Besides, I saw my car in traffic last night. The college parking sticker was on the windshield. That’s how I recognized it.”

“I heard that story. Not a smart move to chase a car, but I can understand your need to do so.”

“You spoke to Posely, huh?”

She snorted. “Yeah, the story is all over the station about how you and Marcus had an argument in the middle of the street.”

“I knew that would happen.” I shook my head. “It was too much to hope Posely would forget about it.”

A look of disbelief was Free’s response. She snickered under her breath and walked away to have a word with another officer. Her head dipped back toward me as she spoke. She nodded and walked toward us again. Marcus watched, but said nothing. His eyes appeared to be taking in all that went on, but he stored the information without a sound.

“We just got confirmation on this car. You’re right it’s not yours. The team found a VIN number, and a few other parts in the yard out back. They also found Mercedes parts and even a whole Porsche out there that was about to be shipped overseas somewhere. Sorry to bring you down here for nothing.”

Far from disappointed, I felt hopeful that I’d get my car back in one piece.

I thanked Free, looked over at Marcus, and we left the garage. Once outside I asked him what his impressions were. He said to wait until we got into the truck.

The ride back started out quietly, until we hit the Route 6 connector. My mind flew over possibilities where his thoughts were concerned, until he started to talk.

“This was a high tech operation. The squad and the PPD must have searched high and low for this place and it was only two blocks from the damned station? That’s an insult, if there ever was one.” He turned to me. “When this woman robbed you and stole your car, was there any indication that she might be involved with an operation like this?”

“None that I could see,” I said. “She had the gun, of course, but appeared reluctant to use it. She said there wasn’t any need for me to get hurt if I just did as I was told. She waggled the gun back and forth, but never stuck it into my side or put it to my head.”

“Right, she probably figured you’d be smart enough, or scared enough, to follow her directions. Most people would be afraid when just confronted with a weapon. She wouldn’t necessarily have to use it. She may not even have wanted to do so.”

“I guess you’re right. It did seem prudent to do as I was told.”

Marcus laughed. “Now if only you would do that with the rest of us.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Give me a break, will you?”

Marcus chuckled. I smiled to think he would even consider that possibility. I had never been good at taking orders, not from anyone—and that included my father.

Gino Esposito could be quite fearsome, but it hadn’t fazed me much during childhood and did so even less now that I was an adult. Call me stupid, but I acted on impulse more often than not. Another gift from God, I guess.

Traffic slowed and we were held up for a while as an accident was cleared from the highway. Conversation was lighthearted even though I was pretty sure Marcus had his mind on my car and the chop shop. I know that’s where my attention was and, for the life of me, I couldn’t come up with an answer to the question of whether the old hag was involved in that operation. Something about her bothered me, but I couldn’t pinpoint what that was.