Cold Moon Dead (16 page)

“Not a word, not one,” I said. “Just eat your lunch.”

His bald head bobbed up and down as he stuffed the sandwich into his mouth. It was a few minutes later that he started to scribble on his napkin. My glance crossed the table and I realized Larry was rearranging the set up at the gallery using the napkin for his design. With a smile, I leaned back in the chair, slurping the last of the latte from my cup.

“You aren’t going to change things again, are you?” It was a silly question since I knew the answer was obviously yes.

“I thought the largest painting should take center stage, so to speak. What do you think?”

I leaned forward to see the plan he’d drawn on the napkin. He was right of course, and I nodded.

“The colors are bold and bright in that painting, so they’d be set off better by hanging it on the white wall rather than the brick background.” I grinned. “I know you’ll change things a couple of times before the show opens.”

“I’m so nervous, I could just spit,” he said with a gay flair that I rarely saw.

Even though Larry was of the gay persuasion, he didn’t dress in drag or flaunt his homosexuality. Instead, he just lived life conservatively, the way he thought it should be lived. I’d known he was gay the moment we’d met in college and I appreciated his artistic talent and wonderful sense of humor immediately. We’d become fast friends even though I hadn’t followed art the way he had. We both had ability and respected one another for that.

When people turned to stare at us, I laughed out loud. Then I ignored them and went back to the design on the napkin.

“Try placing that painting there and then leave it alone. Let it rest for a while. Don’t stress yourself or you’ll end up with a health setback. You look tired. Let’s get going so you can go home.”

“You’re right,” he agreed with a glance at me. “I’m sorry about the Jabroni thing, Vin.”

“Not another word, understand? Not one. It isn’t your fault that I manage to complicate my life without trying.” I stood up, grabbed my jacket, and we headed toward the door.

The market was jammed with last-minute supper shoppers. I roamed the aisles trying to remember what I needed and what I had on hand. I tossed several snacks into the basket, picked up a quart of milk, and then headed to the checkout.

A moment passed as I waited in line for the cashier to slide the goods across the scanner. I heard a familiar voice a few aisles over and craned my neck to peer over the top of the aisle racks. I couldn’t see who it was because the person must have been shorter than the racks were, but I knew that voice. I was sure it was the old hag who had robbed me. My pulse raced while the saliva in my mouth dried up and anger coursed through my veins.

The clerk bagged my purchases and handed me change from the twenty-dollar bill I gave her. With the bags entwined in my hand, I fumbled with my wallet, and hustled through the store, trying to see who owned that voice. I wanted to see the expression on the old hag’s face when she saw me up front and personal in a place where she couldn’t shoot me.

In a flash, I reached the aisle where the voice had come from and stared into the eyes of Tony Jabroni’s wife. She nodded and brushed past me. It was a disappointment to think I’d made the mistake, believing she was the old hag. I must be desperate, I thought with a shake of my head.

It had started to snow as I drove away from the market and headed home. When I arrived, I threw the snacks in the cupboard, put the milk in the fridge, and settled in front of the plasma television.

The news came on, but nothing major had taken place in Little Rhody today. No major arrests, no torrid scandals, and no murders. Who could ask for more than that?

A rap on the door revealed Aaron standing in the hallway with a bag sporting the Kentucky Fried Chicken logo. I could smell the aroma of chicken and my mouth watered instantly. Aaron grinned and waved the bag under my nose. I grinned back and pulled dishes from the cupboard.

“I thought you might enjoy chicken pot pie for dinner tonight, especially now that your live-in chef lives elsewhere.” He chuckled and slid the pie boxes from the bag.

“Mmm, good thinking,” I said. “How did you know I would be home?”

“It was a wild guess.” Aaron smiled. “Where’s Marcus?”

“On double shifts for the next few days,” I said, licking brown gravy from my fingertips. I looked up at him and said, “I have a question for you, but don’t get mad when I ask it. You have to promise me.”

“This must be work related.” He sighed and toyed with the fork. “Go ahead. I’ll answer if I can.”

“Did you know that Jabroni is searching for my car?”

Aaron’s dark brows hiked a notch. “How do you know he’s doing that?”

“The old hag called and threatened me. She said to call off the cops and the mob. She mentioned Jabroni specifically. I thought you might have a handle on that.”

“I’m not aware of that particular issue. I do know that things at the house have been quiet, especially since the good doctor has moved on to greener pastures. Nobody of any interest has entered or left the house, either.”

“Does Jabroni have a son named Duarte?”

“I thought you only had one question?” He chuckled and forked a chunk of chicken into his mouth.

“Well, actually, I have a couple of questions. Duarte is one of them. Cough up the information, come on.”

“He’s the illegitimate son of Gilda Trimming and Tony Jabroni. A decent kid, from what I can tell. He doesn’t have a rap sheet and stays out of the family business. Why do you ask?”

“Is he deaf or hard of hearing?”

“That is beyond the scope of my Intel, Vin.” He laughed and leaned back in the chair. “What’s this all about?”

My nagging little voice kicked in.

Tell him. It’ll be fine. Just tell him.

Good grief, don’t you ever stop? I wondered, and then took a deep breath. I told Aaron about the coffee shop visit with Jabroni, the art gallery, and Duarte. His eyes never flickered, he didn’t blink, and his eyebrows never even quivered.

It was nerve-wracking, to say the least. The silence grew. I yearned to squirm in my seat, but held off. It wasn’t until he leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and asked for some coffee that I dared to breathe.

“Sure, coming right up.” I jumped off the stool and scrambled around making coffee. Any action was better than sitting still under the silent stare Aaron was giving me. “All right, all right, enough with the dire warnings. I have agreed to stay away from him, and I will. Are you satisfied now?”

He rubbed his eyes before he looked at me again.

“I won’t yell, or get mad, but I do want to say that I’ve never met anyone with the kind of bad luck you seem to have.” He shook his head. “It amazes me how you manage to get from one day to the next.”

“Thanks a lot. You’re starting to sound like Marcus,” I said with sarcasm dripping from every word.

His cup filled, I slid it toward him and offered milk and sugar. He nodded and drank the steaming brew plain. After a few seconds, he seemed to make a decision and leaned back in the chair, his hands clasped behind his head.

“I’ll put a surveillance team together for the gallery and the opening of Larry’s show. Try to stay out of trouble during the opening, all right? Can you do that?”

“It’ll be a pleasure, believe me.”

“I wish I could believe you.” Aaron smiled. “It only takes one second before you’re caught up in the middle of some dangerous and completely out of control plot. Why? I’ll never know and probably couldn’t fathom it even if I did.” Aaron shook his head as a tiny smile tickled the corners of his mouth. “You frustrate the daylights out of me, and Marcus, as well.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that. There seem to be forces beyond my control at work in my life. It sort of happens.” I shrugged. “Really, it does.”

“Uh huh, so you keep telling us.” Aaron drank the last of his coffee and slid the cup forward for a refill. “When exactly is the opening?”

“This coming Friday evening at seven. It’s a dressy affair and Larry is a wreck. Will you attend?”

“I wouldn’t miss Larry’s great moment for anything. He’s a terrific artist, isn’t he?”

“He’s very talented. I hope the show goes well for him.”

I poured more coffee into the extended cup and watched him suck down the strong liquid.

“Has Jabroni been invited to this soirée?” he asked while his dark eyes raked my face.

“I have no idea, though Larry said Gilda had invited guests from her own list,” I lied and then swallowed the final dregs of coffee in my cup.

“How does the gallery look?”

“The showroom section is gorgeous with a mix of white walls and brick walls. The floors are hardwood, polished to a bright sheen. The kind of wood flooring factories had in the early days.” I opened the cupboard and whipped snacks out onto the counter. Ring Dings, cupcakes, and cheese doodles vied for space on the countertop.

Laughter erupted from Aaron at the sight of these offerings.

“May as well finish the meal off with extra calories.” He scooped the Ring Dings off the counter and tore the package open before offering me one of them.

“No thanks, I’ll have cheese doodles instead.” I pried the bag open and slid doodles onto the counter. They crunched as I stuffed them into my mouth. After I swallowed them, I said, “When I went to find Duarte, I ended up in a storage room. It was skanky, filthy, and disgusting. Apparently all the money invested went into the showroom and nowhere else.”

“That’s interesting. What was in the storage room beside Duarte?”

“Boxes and crap piled high, but nothing important that I could see. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing important—just thinking.”

“You don’t think that Jabroni is up to anything illicit, do you?” I asked between cheese curl crunches. “Because if he is, I don’t want Larry involved with him in any way. It’s bad enough he faux-finished the rooms at Jabroni’s house.”

Wiping the chocolate from his lips, Aaron started to laugh. It began in his chest and rumbled forth. “Now you sound like Marcus and me.”

“Don’t forget about Porter Anderson,” I said. “He warned me off Jabroni when I ran into him at the Providence campus.”

“By the way,” I added, “when I was at the market today, I thought I heard familiar cackling a few aisles down from me.” I told him what had happened while Aaron continued to stare at me.

“What is that look for?” I asked.

“What look?”

“It was a weird look, I can’t describe it. Don’t make me jump through hoops, just explain what you were thinking.”

His large frame rose from the chair while dark eyebrows hiked and a disarming grin crossed his face.

“I wasn’t thinking of anything, I was listening to your theory about the old hag. It will be good when she’s caught.”

He walked to the door, his tall form relaxed and handsome, from the front and the rear view. I caught myself staring at his butt and quickly tore my gaze away.

As though he knew I’d been ogling him, Aaron turned to me with a wicked grin on his face and wished me good night. I thanked him for the chicken pot pie and watched him leave.

About an hour later, I peeked out the window at the heavy snowfall. An inch or so of white fluff covered the ground and the town lay blanketed in peace. I donned my jacket, tugged the red cloche over my head, and took a heavy-duty flashlight with me to walk to the cemetery for a visit with Livvy.

Snowflakes muted the traffic sounds and I could hear my feet crunching the snow that covered the sidewalk. I reached the dirt road at the corner of Silk Lane and hustled past the last house on my way toward the graveyard.

When I reached the edge of the cemetery, I slipped down the hill and let myself free fall, laughing, as I rolled in the snow like a school kid. When I came to a stop, I lay still for a moment and stared at the falling snow. It was so quiet.

The air was warm, the snow soft, and my spirits lifted as they always did when I was with Livvy. Somehow, simply knowing she would never have passed judgment over my actions, but would have understood them instead, gave me the peace of soul that I needed.

I kneeled at the grave and brushed snowflakes from the surface of the headstone. It had been a year since she’d passed away. I missed her sense of humor, her never-ending faith in me. The way she had gone to bat for me when my father got uptight over my job and my life in general . . . she was a loss that could never be replaced.

Within minutes I’d confessed the latest chapters in a life over which I seemed to have no control.

After half-an-hour of hanging around in the moist air listening to the snow settle on the ground, I retreated back the way I’d come.

As the days flew by, the gallery opening became my focus of attention. Jabroni’s attendance was still an unknown. I had grilled Larry until he’d lost patience with me. After apologizing to him on the phone, I reassured him that I’d attend the show.

“I’m frantic, Vin. I can’t decide if I should wear the black tux or the new Armani suit I just bought.”

Recognizing Larry’s nerves were frazzled, I smiled and said, “Wear Armani. It goes with everything. Aaron wears his all the time, and doesn’t he always look great?”

A high-pitched scream of agreement pierced my eardrum as it filtered across the phone line. I held the receiver away from my ear and smirked.

“Do you think I should?” Larry asked. “Will that hunk be attending my show? I forgot to include his name on the invitation list.” He moaned, “Oh, he must think I’m such an idiot. Who could ever forget that handsome brute? Those biceps are to die for, aren’t they?”

Though I burst into laughter, I could still hear Larry chuckling over the phone.

“Yes, Aaron is handsome all right. He also said he’d never let your opening night slide by without attending. He’s quite a fan of your work, you know.”

“Really?” The word ended on a high note. “He’s such a man’s man, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t say, but he is definitely gorgeous. He’ll surely be dressed in Armani, so you should be, too.”