Chapter 4 #2
“You’re a good boy,” Mrs. S said. “I’m grateful, that you came along and gave us this chance. It’s been deviling me, you know? Even before what happened to young Joey, I didn’t sleep good at night. Not with Tony out there, puffin’ out his chest.”
“And that was why?” I asked politely.
“Raffi,” she said gloomily. “I felt like it’s my fault, you know?
Poor Raffi. Such a smart, pretty girl, and she didn’t have no mamma to help her.
When Tony took notice of her, I shoulda been that mamma for her, and told her to run away quick.
But she needed that job, and she had the girls to take care of, and business was good, and I was busy, and I didn’t want to cross them fuckin’ Petruzzi bastards.
I didn’t want to rock the boat. It’s my biggest regret.
And then he hurt my Joey right after it all happened.
So it was like I already got punished for not tryin’ harder to help Raffi, you know? ”
Alcohol made her even more talkative than usual, which was saying a great deal.
She reminisced about Raffi, who sounded through her memories like an angel come to earth.
She recounted all of young Joey’s difficulties finding work with his disabilities.
She told me all about the personalities of the kittens’ relatives, and their late ancestors’ personalities back to the fourth generation, as the kittens engaged in mad acrobatics beneath the table in the breakfast nook.
I learned about her son Joe’s digestive difficulties, and favored dishes of the late, unlamented Petruzzi family, and the shocking injustice of it, all those years of cooking and slaving for those ungrateful turds, and they repaid her by breaking young Joey’s knees.
She wished she’d shoved all those platters of ossobuco she’d served them right up their hairy asses.
As the vodka lemonade went down, the language got saltier. When she slurped up the last sip of lemonade number two, she eyed the pitcher and Absolut bottle, which I had incautiously left out on the bar.
Damn. I did not want have to fireman’s-carry this woman down to the parking garage.
That would be physically taxing, as well as just weird on a whole bunch of other levels.
I was waiting for a breathing pause in Mrs. S’s monologue to deploy a closing remark, and dove for it when I heard it.
“Mrs. S, I’m afraid I have some business that I have to attend to, so I’m going to have to cut this short—”
“Are you going to tell me your business this time around?” A feminine voice rang out behind us. “Or just lie right to my face again?”
I spun around, heart thudding. Kat stood in the kitchen entrance.
She’d sneaked in unannounced on cat feet, to blindside me.
She looked hot in jeans and a T-shirt, with that eyes-on-fire look, the one I both loved and feared.
I was born to adore that woman, and to piss her off in equal measure. “Kat,” I said. “You’re here.”
“Yeah. I caught a red-eye last night. You lied to me, Masters. You underhanded son of a bitch.”
Aw, shit. So we were back to that. Her spitting bile and calling me Masters, just like when we first met.
It had been a long and winding road to get her to trust me, and even longer to get her to call me Ethan.
I was about to attempt to say something soothing when Mrs. S.
slid off her stool, a little unsteadily, and turned to look at her.
Kat’s face paled, her eyes wide with shock. “Mrs. S.?”
“O madonna santissima,” the old lady whispered. “Raffaella. Piccola.”
“No,” Kat said, swallowing hard. “I’m not Raffi. I’m Francesca. Franci, remember? Raffi’s sister. I call myself Kat now.”
“Of course you do,” Mrs. S. said, her eyes overflowing. “Of course. Your fiancé here, he told me. Oh, my poor sweet baby, just look at you. You’re exactly like your poor sister, God rest her sweet soul.” Mrs. S. seized Kat in a huge hug.
Kat’s arms stayed stiff at her sides. They lifted slowly, and carefully embraced the older woman, patting her big, sloped shoulders, which were covered with a synthetic caftan blouse with a wild paisley print.
“What are you doing here, Mrs. S?” she asked.
“It’s great to see you again. I’m just, you know, surprised. ”
Mrs. S. sniffed loudly. “I just come to bring the kitties. For you, see?”
“Kitties?” Kat said blankly. The kittens, upon being nominated, strutted out into Kat’s field of vision, and promptly challenged each other to a fresh duel to the death. They were not timid animals. Appropriate, for Kat.
I leaned down, scooping up a warm, squirming kitten in each hand.
“These are the grand-nieces of your sister’s cat, Penelope,” I told her.
“Penelope was the wife of Ulysses, from the Odyssey, right? I thought we could stay in the Homeric epic vibe, and name them from the Odyssey, too.” I held up the feistier one, who hissed and sank her tiny little fangs into my thumb.
“Circe, the dangerous witch.” I held up the other, who had twisted around onto her back, draping over my hand like a limp, purring scarf, showing me her fluffy variegated belly.
“Calypso, the seductive nymph. But they’re yours to name, if you have other ideas. ” I dropped Calypso into her hands.
Kat cradled and petted the kitten, who stretched and purred ecstatically. Kat looked up at me, mouth flat with suspicion. “Don’t tell me you think that a couple of cute, fluffy kittens are going to bail you out of this one,” she said darkly.
“These aren’t just any cute, fluffy kittens,” I reminded her. “These are cute fluffy kittens from the line of the late, great Penelope. In homage to your sister’s loyal companion. It seemed fitting. Plus, they’re really cute.”
“You sneaky, manipulative bastard,” she hissed.
“I thought you’d like them,” I said, all innocence, working it hard. “I know it’s a risk, though. If they upset you, we can re-think—”
“Bite your tongue,” she snapped. “The kittens are mine. You’re the one who upsets me. You’re the one I might have to rethink.”
“Oh, no, honey,” Mrs. S. said earnestly. “Don’t be mad at him! He did all this crazy stuff for you, you know? Gettin’ Big Tony and his crew messed up, and then what he did to little Tony—”
“What exactly did he do?” Kat demanded.
Shit, shit, shit. “Mrs. S., would you excuse us?” I asked. “Kat and I have a lot to discuss, and I—”
“For real, sweetie,” Mrs. S. persisted. “He did it for love, you know? For you. Plus, this place is real nice. Looks like this fella won’t have no trouble payin’ the rent, eh? This one’s a keeper. I know one when I see him. He goes all out, you know?”
“All out how, exactly?” Kat’s voice was icy. “Doing what?”
“I have a guy waiting right outside who will take you to the car and drive you straight home,” I broke in desperately.
Mrs. S. moved in for a hug, a little unsteadily. Kat passed the tiny Calypso over to me just in time, as Mrs. S. barreled into her for another tight embrace.
This time, Kat wrapped her arms around the older woman and hugged her back, hard. “Thanks for the kittens, Mrs. S,” she said. “It was a sweet thought. They are really beautiful, and I’ll take good care of them.”
“Of course you will, honey. I’m so happy, you know? To see you settled, and doin’ good, with a good guy. I’m just so happy for you. Sweet girl. So happy.”
Between the two of us, we got Mrs. S. to the door, where Amos waited, a long-suffering look on his face. He led the tottering, sniffling lady gently by the arm onto the elevator. We waved goodbye as the doors slid closed, just as one of the kittens bolted out into the corridor.
“Whoops, there went Circe,” Kat said. “Grab her while I block Calypso.”
Once we got both kittens safely inside the apartment, Kat put Calypso down and looked me straight in the eye. “So, Ethan? What do you have to say for yourself? What did you do to the Petruzzis? Tell me every last detail, right this minute.”
Well, fuck me. She had me dead to rights, and the tipsy Mrs. S. had removed every last fading possibility for deniability, so whatever. “Do you want a drink?” I suggested. “Mrs. S really enjoyed the vodka lemonades.”
“I saw that,” Kat said, her voice disapproving. “And I have thoughts about that, Ethan, but it’s not on the conversational agenda right now. I’ll have coffee, thanks.”
So we sipped coffee, and I gave her the unabridged rundown of my week, and all the prep that had led up to it.
I couldn’t tell from her face, what was going on in her head.
She was in marble-statue mode for my monologue, her only movement the slow stroking of the more savage kitten sister, Circe.
It seemed that Circe had already conquered by Kat’s unique brand of tough seduction.
I envied that cat, having been conquered by it, too.
I was strung out on it, now. Ah, the sweet simplicity of just lying there, purring in bliss, while Kat Banner petted me. Fucking sublime.
When I got to the end, she set down her cup. “So,” she said. “Let me get this straight. Tony Sr. and his crew were all killed. Sometime the night before last.”
“Yes, but not by me or my people,” I reiterated. “They say it was a financial misunderstanding. A dispute over funds. Delayed payments. You know, those who live by the sword shall die by the sword, and all that.”
“But you were the one who made the misunderstanding happen. By manipulating their money…using SmokeScreen. Correct?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I did. I stole his money. I spread it around. Widows and orphans, and the like. I favored organizations who helped people who had been injured by the results of organized crime. Racketeering, coercion, prostitution, trafficking, drugs, you name it. Those bastards had their fingers in everything.”
“Very charitable of you,” she said. “I can see why you tried to bury SmokeScreen before your bad guys got wind of it. It’s way too powerful in any man’s hands. Even yours. Power corrupts, right? It’s certainly corrupted you.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “This was not corruption. This was more like lancing a really disgusting boil before sepsis set in. It just needed to be done.”
“It was payback,” she said. “A payback that wasn’t yours to deal out.”
I shrugged. Maybe she was right, but fuck it. I was only human. They had hurt her. It was appropriate that they suffer for it.
“So, Tony Jr. isn’t dead,” she said thoughtfully. “Just roughed up, and in the ICU.”
“Yes,” I said. “He had spinal damage, at the level of the cervical vertebrae. But he’s not critical anymore. They moved him to a regular room yesterday.”
“Keeping tabs, eh?”
“You’re goddamn right I am.”
“What in the hell possessed you to gather up a group of his victims to exact revenge? That’s twisted, Ethan.”
“I don’t see it that way,” I said. “I only approached the ones that looked tough enough to deal with it. I tried to imagine if I were in their shoes. I offered them the opportunity for some justice, and they leaped at it without an instant’s hesitation, just like I would have.
I didn’t force anyone to do anything. And it happened under as controlled, protected circumstances as I could devise. To give them closure.”
“Yeah, and possibly charges for assault and battery, right?”
“I’d cover them with an army of lawyers, but I doubt it’ll be necessary. You really think that Tony’s the type who would want to advertise that Mrs. S. put him into the ICU?”
“I think it’s weird. You shouldn’t have done it at all. And certainly not without discussing it with me.”
“So are you mad because I set this thing up, and put innocent people in harm’s way? Or mad because I didn’t invite you to participate?”
She thought about it. “Both, I guess. Why didn’t you include me? I had a right to be there. As much right as any of the people you did call. More than most of them.”
I let out a slow breath, and told her the naked truth.
“I couldn’t risk it,” I said, “I was afraid that you’d just kill him.
I wouldn’t be able to stop you. And I really didn’t want anyone to go to jail for that worthless scum, least of all you.
I’m sorry, if you feel cheated. But I could not risk it, Kat.
Even as it was, things went further than I intended.
Mrs. S. is a terrifying badass, with that baseball bat. God. Who knew?”
She smiled briefly. “I would have told you if you’d asked me.” She bent to place the kitten on the floor. The tiny animal writhed voluptuously around her ankles.
“So?” I said. “What’s done is done. I don’t regret it, but I’m sorry I pissed you off. So what now?”
Kat crossed her arms over her chest and gave me one of her looks. “Take me to Tony,” she said.
Aw, shit. Exactly what I had not wanted to hear. “But you can’t hurt him now,” I said. “He’s being monitored, guarded. He’s hooked up to machines. What are you going to do, hold a pillow over his head?”
“That’s for me to-know, and you to wonder about,” she said crisply. “You left me in suspense. Two can play that game. Take me to Tony. Right ... fucking ... now.”
Or else was the unspoken subtext. There was no arguing with this woman, but goddammit. The situation made me crazy with anxiety.
I grabbed the car keys. “Let’s do this,” I said grimly. “Get it over with.”
“Great. But just so you know, it looks like Circe just took a wet dump right on your fancy beige Berber rug,” Kat informed him. “You might call the cleaning service to deal with that before we leave.”
I pulled up the number of the cleaning service, cursing under my breath.