Heart Melter (4 page)

“
Murder?
” Appalled, Natasha sank into a chair before her legs buckled. Her heart ricocheted against her ribs as she said in a quiet voice, “I thought it was an accident.”

“It was no accident. We believe a member of the Capelli mob ran Tony's car off the bridge to kill him,” Detective Carson said. “They left rotting beef in Tony's apartment on the night he was murdered.”

Natasha's stomach lurched. “I can’t believe it. Why would they kill him?”

“Your boyfriend had important information on the syndicate,” Detective Carson said.

“Tony wasn’t my boyfriend. We dated for a while—that’s all. I didn't know he had any connection with crime.”

“Are you sure?” Detective Peterson demanded.

“Yes, of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have gone out with him if I’d known he was even remotely involved with the mob.”

Initially, she'd been attracted to Tony because he was handsome and darkly exciting. But a few weeks before he’d died in the accident, she’d cut him off when he had unleashed his violent temper on her. He had pushed hard for sex without a commitment, and Natasha had stalled him. At first, he’d teased her about being a prude, but one evening he lost his patience and his temper exploded. He slapped her face and slammed her hard against the wall when she said she wanted to take things slowly. She kneed his groin and narrowly escaped being raped as she ran away from him. Staggering forward, he had roared after her.
It isn’t over between us. It never will be. I’ll be back for you!
That night she changed her phone number and told the doormen not to allow Tony in the building.

The next day, her back and shoulders were badly bruised where they’d hit the concrete wall, courtesy of Tony’s shove. He had been back a few times to see her, but her doormen hadn’t let him in the building. She had thought about getting a restraining order, but shortly afterward she heard he was dead.

“Tony had been working with the D.A.'s office to convict the Capelli mob. They run the largest family crime syndicate in the city,” Detective Carson said.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“They’re looking for a flash drive he had at the time of his murder. It incriminates the entire Capelli family and their employees on illegal activities,” Detective Peterson said.

"But we had stopped dating weeks before he died. I don’t have any of his things here."

“They must think you do,” he said.

“I can’t imagine how they got up here. The doormen are very strict, and there’s a camera in every elevator.”

“We’re looking into it,” Detective Peterson said. “Be on your guard at all times and find a safe place to stay for the next few days until we contact you. They’re ruthless.”

It was suddenly too much to bear. First the cut on her thigh followed by the emotionally draining visit with Ian and now this. Had the street attack on her leg been random…or on purpose? Should she tell the detectives about it? Not yet. They might think she had more going on than she actually did, even a connection with the mob. It was insane and alarming at every level.

Natasha’s throat locked and her chest compressed with panic. Her stomach heaved at the sickening smell of rotting beef and she couldn’t take it a second longer. She thrust Evita in Detective Carson’s arms and bolted to the bathroom where she vomited in the toilet bowl.

When she finally raised her head and was able to control the heaves, she rinsed her mouth, brushed her teeth and joined the officers in the living room. Too agitated to sit calmly, she paced the room with Evita in her arms while Detective Carson filled out a report and Detective Peterson worked the crime scene.

In a daze, she waited until they finished and left before she ventured back to her bedroom. She set Evita in the middle of her bed and petted her until she settled down. “Stay here, baby, while I get my important papers together. Then we’re off to Aunt Ronnie’s apartment.”

Evita yipped in agreement and rewarded Natasha’s hand with licks.

Kneeling next to the bed, Natasha searched for the plastic accordion file case underneath where she kept her important documents and passport. She found the empty file tilted sideways and papers strewn everywhere. She slid under the bed and gathered the papers, her heart leaping with relief when she found her passport.

With no time to waste, she threw an overnight bag together and searched for Evita’s favorite toy, a fuzzy white goose that made a funny honking sound. She packed the toy goose, Evita’s leopard fur comforter, her little camel cashmere coat, her rust and tan tartan collar and leash, and a chewy toy inside her carrying kennel.

Now to face the kitchen. On leaden feet, Natasha dragged herself there. The detectives had taken the rotting beef and the note as evidence, but the kitchen still stank horridly. She popped a peppermint in her mouth and tied a clean scarf around her mouth and nose to block the smell as she disinfected and scoured the sink with bleach. She grabbed the small bag of dog food and added it to Evita’s traveling kennel before leaving the kitchen.

Looking around her trashed apartment, she wished she could put everything back to order, but she had to leave immediately. With the accordion file under one arm and her dance bag and overnight bag slung over her shoulders, she carried Evita in the kennel and headed for Ronnie’s apartment.

It was the perfect place for her to sleep tonight. Ronnie and her new husband, Nick, were honeymooning in Bali and Natasha still had the key to Ronnie’s apartment from when she had housesat for her several months ago. Thankfully, the newly married couple had decided to keep Ronnie’s apartment in New York after their marriage and Ronnie’s relocation to Starfish Island.

She’d met Ronnie Whitcomb (now Cameron) and her other close friend, Teddy Behr, at Camp Merry Cascades in North Carolina as a child. They had forged a lifelong friendship and called themselves the Heart Sisters. She wished one of them was nearby to keep her company tonight.

That night, Natasha tossed and turned in bed while Evita snored softly beside her. Every time she closed her eyes, disturbing images of Tony thrashing about in murky water and gasping for air invaded her subconscious. She relived the violent way he’d assaulted her and realized that was mild compared to what a crime syndicate was capable of doing to her. She had a cut on her thigh to prove it! There was no doubt in her mind now that it hadn’t been a random act.

The following morning, the cut didn’t hurt and there was no redness around it, but her hip was sore from the shot. At least the wound was healing well. Natasha hastened to get ready and tried not to think of how emotionally draining it had been to see him again.

When she arrived at her apartment, she was shocked to find Rico Gamberi, Tony Martin's partner, standing beside the entrance of her building. She took a step backward as Evita growled at the tall man. Looking suave in tailored black Italian suit and polished Bally loafers, Rico leaned forward and she got an unwelcome whiff of cologne mingled with cigar smoke.

"Rico. What are you doing here?" she said, recoiling instantly. Rico owned half of Tony's jazz club and Natasha had never trusted him. He was a smooth operator and now he was the sole owner. Could he have something to do with Tony’s death? Did he know who had destroyed her belongings looking for the flash drive?

Rico’s flinty eyes narrowed. "We need to talk."

“About what?” she asked cautiously.

He grabbed her elbow. “Not here. Let’s go to your apartment.”

“Let go of me,” she said, struggling out of his grip. “Whatever you have to say, you can say here.”

“Where’s the flash drive?”

Natasha glared at him. "What flash drive?”

“Tony’s flash drive. Don’t act stupid.”

Evita growled deep in her throat and bared her pointy teeth at him. Natasha petted Evita’s head and stared at Rico, taken aback by the aggressive side of him she’d never seen. He’d always gone out of his way to be friendly the few times she’d gone to the nightclub.

“I don’t have Tony’s flash drive or anything else that belonged to him,” she said frantically. What kind of connection did Rico have with the Capelli family? Did he work for them?

“Stop playing games, bitch. You’re lying,” he said in a chilling voice.

She swallowed hard. “No, I’m not!”

Rico grabbed Natasha’s shoulders in an iron grip and shook her. Although lean, he was strong as Hercules.

With a voracious snarl, Evita lunged forward and nipped Rico’s arm.

“Shit! Fucking little turd.” Rico grabbed Evita by the nape and squeezed hard, making her whimper in distress.

“Let go of her,” Natasha screamed, making people on the sidewalk stop and turn around.

Rico’s eyes turned lethal as he released Evita’s neck. “Give up the flash drive or it’ll be your neck next time. Tony found out the hard way,” he snarled before darting across the street.

Natasha ran into her building as Evita barked ferociously all the way to the elevator, ignoring the doorman’s confused look.

On the elevator ride up, Natasha cradled Evita close and said soothingly, “You’re safe now, baby. I’m sorry that bastard hurt you.” Inside the apartment, the pup calmed down and curled up in her little bed. After a few dramatic groans, she was out.

Natasha’s stomach roiled remembering Rico's words.
Give up the flash drive or it’ll be your neck the next time. Tony found out the hard way.

She anxiously raced through her apartment gathering things. What was she going to do? She didn’t want to leave, but if she stayed in the city and continued in “The Bee’s Knees”, she’d be risking her life and she’d have to hire a bodyguard to protect her. That was out of the question. 

If she left the city, she’d be safe, but it might be career suicide. Marty would have to negotiate getting her out of her contract and her professional reputation would be tarnished. It was no cliché that on Broadway the show must go on, no matter what.

Natasha’s ringing smartphone jolted her from her thoughts. Weird, there was no number on the caller ID. She didn’t answer and waited until it went to voice mail where she listened to a muffled man’s voice say, “Give it up or you’re next. Better watch your ass. And your ugly mutt’s too.”

The caller’s voice didn’t sound like Rico, but he could have been disguising it. What connection did he have with the Capellis? Natasha’s belly did a sharp somersault of fear. The mob had already murdered Tony because of the flash drive. 

She and Evita might be next. They had to get out of NYC fast!

Natasha stared at Evita peacefully asleep in her little bed. Thankfully, they hadn’t destroyed Evita’s things. She couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to her little fur baby, even though Evita was far from helpless. She must have put up quite a fight, barking and growling. It was a miracle they hadn’t harmed her, she thought, her stomach churning.

Natasha couldn’t imagine spending another night fearing for their safety. She was making the right decision. After toiling long hours perfecting her musical theatre talents, putting up with aching feet, strained vocal chords and a weary body, she was on her way to the top.  But her newfound success would have to be put on hold. Now that she had to choose between her life and fame, life took precedence.

Her smartphone rang again, spooking her. She jumped and her hand trembled on the phone as she checked the number. She felt a surge of relief, then surprise, when she saw it was Ian’s Aunt Maggie calling. Maggie Duncan was the closest thing Natasha had to maternal love, and she cherished their warm relationship. Even after her split up with Ian, they had stayed in contact.

Why would Maggie be phoning if they had chatted and caught up just last week? She glanced at the time. 10:15 a.m. in the States, which made it early afternoon in Scotland.

Natasha drew in a deep breath and steadied her voice. “Hi, Maggie. How are you?”

“Weel, I’m a wee bit worried, lass,” Maggie said in an uneasy tone.

“You are? About what?” Natasha asked, surprised.

“I had a nightmare last night. About you.” She paused. “I have a sixth sense about things. Are you all right?”

Natasha hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to Maggie, but she didn’t want to worry her either. After a moment, she said, “I’m fine, Maggie.”

“You don’t sound fine to me. I can tell in your voice,” Maggie persisted. Natasha could just imagine the stubborn tilt of her chin and her round cheeks puffed up with conviction.

“I don’t want to worry you…” Natasha said with a sigh, suspecting Maggie wouldn’t stop until she pried it out of her.

“Too late. I’m worried already. Would you rather tell Ranald about it? He’s tugging on my sleeve wanting to speak with you, lass. Or shall I call Ian?" she inquired slyly.

"No. Absolutely not.” There was no fooling Maggie and she sure knew which buttons to press. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but promise me you won’t contact Ian.”

“Well now. I don’t like promising that, but I will,” Maggie said resignedly. “What’s going on?”

Natasha couldn’t very well tell her she was terrified of the Capellis. She hadn’t slept a wink last night worrying they might try to break her legs so she couldn’t dance, or damage her throat so she could never sing again. She shuddered when she remembered the rotting meat they'd left in her sink and what the detectives had said it meant. The Capelli family was capable of viciously terminating her thirty year old life, like they'd done to Tony.

“Are you there, lass? I can’t hear you,” Maggie fretted.

“Yes, I’m here.” Natasha swallowed hard. “This may sound convoluted, but…uh….” She drew in a deep breath and said, “I have to go into hiding. The mob is after me."

"Whaaat!” Maggie exclaimed.

Natasha heard Ranald talking in the background and Maggie saying, “Wait, Ranald. Let the lass explain and then I’ll tell ye what’s happening.” Getting back to Natasha, she asked, “Why on earth do you think they’re after you?”

"I don’t just
think
so, Maggie, I know so. They think I have damaging evidence against them.”

“Why would they think that?” Maggie sounded utterly perplexed.