Perfect Crime (24 page)

“Did you all come from the same neighborhood?”

“Not exactly, I was in New York. But I saw them enough to know how tight the twins were. Uncle Don would fly back and forth at the beck and call of Aiello. Guess he knew what coat tails to hold. Sometimes he’d bring Rhen along, sometimes Dante and show them the ropes. Sometimes he’d drag me along.”

There was nothing in the open trunk that looked unusual. Scott pulled at a corner of the trunk carpet and found something shiny. He quickly palmed the three thumb drives tucked beneath the rug.

“Donatello doesn’t seem to think much of his daughter,” the reporter said. The slam of metal punctuated his sentence as the hood fell back into place.

Rick shrugged. “She’s a girl.”

“And she doesn’t want to be involved.”

“Who said—” There was a deliberate pause. He cleared his throat and looked around the garage, his eyes narrowing at a car that drove down an adjacent row. “You mean the name change? If I gave you a knife and called it a gun….it’s still a knife.”

Ric held out a hand. “Give me the keys.”

Scott reached for the keys still in the trunk lock, but then moved to the driver seat instead of handing them over. “I’m not taking a cab. I’m going to find Tessa and ask her what’s going on.”

Ric’s hand moved to his side and touched the hilt of his gun. Scott sensed the tension in the man with him, but remained calm. From the corner of his eye, he could see the dark-haired Italian scoping the security cameras.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Ric asked.

Sliding behind the wheel, Scott put a key in the ignition. The engine fired with a simple twist of his wrist. He slowly let out the air he was holding and called back, “Nope,” before he slammed the door.

A couple of jogging steps had Ric at the passenger door. He climbed in. “I’m coming too. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

“If you want to post bail, it’s a simple matter,” the clerk said, passing some forms towards Tessa. “Fill this out and let us verify the collateral. We can process everything at 9 a.m. when court opens.”

Tessa checked her watch. Half an hour. Restlessness took her to Harrison’s Bail Bonds rather than returning to her brother’s house. She wanted to talk to G.J.; perhaps this was the best way to do it. Choice was taken from her as the clerk collected the paperwork along with her credit card.

“Bail for first-offence break and enter shouldn’t be too bad. We take ten percent. You’ll be risking the balance if your friend misses his court hearing. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Sign here.”

A few phone calls later and it was a done deal, leaving Tessa with nothing to do but return to the police station. But her sense of control was short-lived. Two men dressed in dark pants and white shirts staring at her brought her back to the present. She slipped on her sunglasses. Stepping quickly, the redhead walked towards the corner. You’re getting paranoid.

The lobby of the police station was crowded. She presented her paperwork and waited for the administrative details. In a surprisingly short time, G.J. was standing next to her. She knocked the sheepish grin off his face with a sharp slap to the cheek.

“Ow,” G.J. grumbled, placing a hand on the red mark. No uniformed officers came to his aid.

Tessa hissed, “That’s for destroying my home.”

He didn’t admit anything, merely asked, “Why’d you post bail?”

“Maybe I want to see what you’ll have the kahonies to do next.”

“Me?” G.J.‘s jaw dropped. He shook his head.

She didn’t like the look he gave her—like she was the one consorting with the enemy. “Where are you going?”

“Home. To take a shower and sleep.”

Tessa pulled on his arm. “Oh no, you’re not!”

G.J. glanced down at where her knuckles held him with a tight grip. He shook off her hold and moved away.

She dogged his footsteps towards the door. “Why did you go to my apartment last night? Why didn’t you just ask me for whatever it was you were looking for?”

He pushed against the glass doors, staring at the traffic rather than the woman behind him. “I can’t trust you.”

“What?”

“Ric told me Dante has mixed loyalties.”

“Ric said that?” Dark auburn locks swayed as she slowly shook her head back and forth. As twins, Dante and her had many similarities and shared a bond that few could attest to, they also had many differences but good or bad, he’d taken an oath, and as her, she never could, nor would, narc out their family.

Tessa’s mind raced. Or is he referring to Dante working with Scott to expose Xenex? And how the hell would Ric know that! She shook her head again, everything was getting so muddled.

G.J. interrupted her thoughts. “I can only assume the same applies to you. You didn’t give me back the postcard when I asked.”

Tessa blinked. “That was different.”

“Is it?” He shrugged. “In the end, friendship and family only goes so far with you.”

“As I see it, the definition of ‘family’ is relative. I have to agree with the guy that defined it as an exaggerated concept of an individual force as the sole arbiter of every conflict—of every idea.” The tiny orator paused, cleared her throat. “Tessa Morgan, orphan—no loyalties here,” a sad smile flickering at the corners of her mouth.

She allowed them to take a few more steps in silence. Her sad admission took her off guard. Rather than asking the obvious questions, she went for one he wouldn’t expect her to ask. “Who was with you last night?” Detective Blaine had mentioned a second man; she held her breath, wondering if he’d drop a name.

G.J. started walking. He searched his pockets for his sunglasses but found none. Crossing his arms, he squinted into the morning sunlight. “It’s no one you need to worry about, Tessa.” His voice softened “With or without your help, I will find out who kidnapped Darla.”

His words fell heavy on her heart. “Don’t say it like that. She was one of my best friends.”

“Cy came back because he loved her. We thought you did, too. My mistake.”

She looked over her shoulder, but no one seemed to be following. The mysterious men she’d seen earlier must have been imagined. “Uh, G.J., if you’re rolling down the path that whoever kidnapped her, killed her—you’re going to need to rethink the suspects.”

He didn’t even pause to give her a cursory look.

“Ah, yes, of course the Principessa would know this after talking with her Daddy.” The condescending tone in his voice refueled the anger she’d felt earlier.

“No, and don’t call me that,” she insisted. “I know because Darla had my help to set the whole thing up.”

Now he did stop. “What?”

“We got the idea to copy Gail Lorence’s disappearance as a way to smoke Cy out of hiding.”

“Gail? You mean…and so, what—she kidnapped and killed herself?”

“She wasn’t really kidnapped.”

Teeth clenched, he hissed. “The ‘e’.” His eyes rolled up to the sky and he shook a fist. “The backwards fucking ‘e.’”

Tessa looked down and nodded. Once upon a time, as a young girl, the little quirk had been cute. One difference between the left-handed twins, was that Tessa was able to print with her right hand also but her e’s sometimes came out backwards.

“Ahh!” he hollered and lifted his hand, barely restraining himself from striking the woman beside him. “You stupid women!”

“G.J.” Tessa took a step back. “None of this was supposed to happen. We thought Cy’d come out of hiding – that she’d be right back.”

Stepping forward, she took his hand, her tiny fingers closing over his clenched fist. “Tell me something…anything, so maybe I can figure out who did this.”

The anger faded and his eyes looked dead as he looked down at her. “I wish I knew.”

She looped her arm in his and they began walking again. The clamor and excitement of the precinct died as they made their way further into the neighborhood. Tessa glanced up at the street sign. On this street she’d learned to play jacks and how to skip, and how to load a gun in the dark. She’d been taught the internal structure of the government, the police and ‘the family’, the latter of course being the governing rule.

“Where’s Scott?” G.J. asked, interrupting the little trip down memory lane.

“Gone, I suspect,” Tessa said, but turned her face away.

“He might be one of the good guys,” he responded. “You have to keep in mind, not everyone is like your father…”

She cut him off mid-sentence, her own doubts finding words. “Actually, it’s surprising what some men are capable of…to prove a point…to try and change the world.” Tessa fell silent, and finished the thought to herself … or maybe even just for that award-winning story.

Chapter 20

Chorus

Lalalalala

The radio blared as Scott drove towards downtown Chicago. “DeMarco was killed at St. Joseph’s. Why not somewhere less public?”

When Ric didn’t respond, Scott said, “Right after that, your Uncle Donatello had a stained-glass window made and gave it to St. Joe’s but surprisingly, Father Luke passed it on to some museum.” He waited a beat or two, hoping Ric might say anything that would shed some light on the Smith Museum and its unusual voice messaging system.

The window of the Mustang was down, and Ric leaned back in the passenger seat. The enforcer’s eyes were half closed, feigning sleep…or boredom. “Ah yes, Father Luke,” he said, “a God-fearing man.”

“Is God all that he fears?”

Ric turned his head and glanced at Scott as he drove. “It would seem so.”

Scott pushed for more, “Family connections?”

“You could say.” Ric shifted his shoulders and sat up straighter. “All Italian mamas want a priest in the family.”

“Maybe,” Scott said, “but I think Donatello has his eye on the good padre.”

“How do you mean?”

“We know Cy and his friends got money from outside the family to fund their version of a takeover. Luke grew up with all of them. The church has access to money. Maybe the Xenex Corporation and Novus Glass have religion in common.”

“I overheard that Novus was struggling to keep above the red line.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

Ric smirked, “Our good friend Marlayna.”

First the muscle bound man beside him was here to do her bidding – next he was using her first name. Scott wondered how familiar the two might be.

Scott moved on, “Construction causes a lot of money to change hands. Expansion takes money. Do you know anything about the Chicago Pier and Exhibition Authority contacts here?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Get used to it.” Scott fired back dryly.

“Well, you’re not paying me to answer. In fact, you’re not even paying me to listen.”

Abandoning the study of the passing scenery, Ric said, “Now you answer something for me. You weren’t some lowly reporter at The Post; you were Marlayna’s top boy. Why did you come to Chicago?”

“Business,” Scott said.

“This business?”

“Maybe.”

“Uh-huh, so you figured that a fellow reporter could get close to Tess, and get the information her brother wouldn’t part with?”

He was surprised at Ric’s perception and offered an assessing glance in his direction. “In the beginning, money had something to do with it, of course.” He shrugged as though the telling had no consequence. “Can’t live on trophies alone.”

“Fame,” Ric growled, “ever worry that the next time your name appears in the paper it will be in the obits?”

Scott smiled. “No.” He turned the car down Regent Street. “Do you know who killed Darla Perelli?”

“Yep,” Ric answered with conviction, then pointed to an open parking space. Nearby, St. Joseph’s stood tall against the Chicago skyline.

Scott parked the car and studied the old church.

Ric got out of the car. “Father Luke’s inside. Let’s see how he does with your questions.”

With some trepidation, Scott followed the bruiser. Ric pulled open the wooden door of the basilica, waving the reporter inside. Dressed in a black robe, the good Father stood midway down the center aisle.

It wasn’t until Scott’s eyes adjusted to the dim church lighting that he realized the priest was not alone. Seated in the pews nearby, as though the three had been talking, were G.J. Perelli and Tessa.

Father Luke stepped further into the center aisle and approached the new arrivals. He looked warily at Ric. “I’m sorry, gentlemen…this isn’t a good time…”

Scott was busy studying Tessa, so he missed the opportunity to respond. However, Ric moved forward and captured the priest in a hug. “Is that any way to greet famiglia? How are you doin’?”

Father Luke’s response was tentative, his voice holding no confidence, “Fine, fine.”

The use of the word ‘family’ did not slip Scott’s notice. “Cousins?” he asked.

“There he is with the questions, again.” Ric said.

Tessa started to stand, but G.J. pulled on her arm and forced her to sit. It was clear from the look on her face she had something to say, but her jaw was set and she remained silent.

The priest stepped out of the embrace and looked over his shoulder at the couple in the pew, then back to the new arrivals. “Perhaps if you made an appointment…”

A clicking sound caused Scott to glance towards the choir loft. Distracted, the reporter offered little resistance when Ric grabbed his wrist and twisted, forcing the car keys from his hand.

“Hey,” Scott protested.

But Ric moved out of reach, taking a few steps towards the pews, jangling the keys.

Tessa growled, “You brought my car?”

Although the accusation and glare were not meant for him, Ric replied, “Not your car. Dante’s.” His focus shifted to the seated man. “G.J., is that you? This is not where I expected to find you.”

Clapping his old friend’s shoulder, Ric dumped the keys in the older man’s lap. “Go wait for me in the Mustang. You can help me give it the once-over before I leave town.”

The direction to go was clear, but G.J. turned in his seat to look at Tessa. He hesitated for a moment, but then without a word, rose and did as he was told. The heavy cathedral door shut behind him with an ominous thump.

“And then there were three,” Ric said.