Chapter 12
Ringo
Saturday
Ellie paced the full length of the windows that wrapped around the eastern and southern sides of the building.
Her call to Allie started calmly enough with catching up on her sister’s welfare, the extended vacation, her marriage to Mario, and then it shifted to her life, and Ellie’s replies grew shorter.
She was lying by omission. “There’s a gathering at the bar tonight.
” The topic change was on the heels of mentioning she could see the lake from my rented flat.
Nowhere in the conversation did she mention the break-in at the house or the horrific nightmares she suffered.
Instead, she painted a rosy scene of her usual routine, now infected with my presence, because, and I quote, “He thinks he’s Firenze. ”
I did not. Firenze couldn’t match my worst on his best day.
And despite the little crush he nursed for Ellie, he still couldn’t tell the difference between her or her sister.
That was a key detail. You can’t love someone and not be able to tell instantly whether they are their sister or not. It’s unnatural.
Except I didn’t love Ellie. I couldn’t. I was simply an excellent observer.
And I couldn’t stand getting woken at odd hours in the night and traversing the entirety of this apartment to console Ellie. That meant the expedient solution was to sleep next to her. It saved time and my sanity.
Maybe not the latter. Her scent was distracting. The way she swayed as she walked was distracting. Her smiles were as well.
And the little way her eyes narrowed? Amusing, but also concerning.
I was learning that expression meant I was in trouble. But for the life of me, I didn’t know why.
Her eyes did that now.
I’d done nothing wrong. I’d been a perfect gentleman. She wore new clothes, her apartment was being cleaned, the window fixed. And she went to the bar to work.
“Remember how you complained Loppa wouldn’t let you go on the terrace?”
Ellie was looking at me, but this question was directed at her sister. She’d spoken loud enough I overheard, an unfortunate byproduct of being in the same room.
“Yeah, well he’s insisting on watching me as I work.”
I didn’t watch her work. I watched everyone else watching her.
“And he thinks my apartment is unsafe.”
It was. A ground-floor unit with a sliding door was too vulnerable. Especially for an attractive woman living alone. There were more lunatics out there than just Johnny Pornstach.
“And he’s got a grudge against my ex.”
Duh.
The man touched her. Then he terrorized her.
He simply could not live another day. If I could find him, he’d be dead already.
I’d rattled cages, shook trees, dug deep into the dealings of not only the Conti faction but all of the major players in the region.
What I’d learned is that Johnny was a minor blip.
At least he’d been until about six months ago.
Then he began dating Ellie. And people took notice.
Especially when he began trading on her family’s history.
Despite that, only one family reached out. And it wasn’t even official. Dianora had dangled legitimacy in front of Johnny to suck him in. And he fell for it.
If it were any other twit, I’d almost feel sorry for him.
Ellie laughed at something Allie said. “I know.”
Knew what? I logged that moment so I could ask Mario what his wife said about me.
“You think I should?”
I braced myself. That overly sweet tone spelled doom. And since I was the topic of conversation that meant Ellie and her twin were devising a torture aimed at me.
Another laugh.
If evil didn’t cackle, it would have that silvery cadence. In fact, it likely did disguise itself in angelic tones. All the better to murder you with.
“Oh. I’m sorry, I haven’t. I forgot.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Forgot what?” I asked.
Ellie covered the mouth microphone. “To go check on her place. She told the neighbor she’d only be gone a week. It’s been almost a month.”
“We’ll go there before your ‘event’ tonight.”
Her eyes narrowed again. This time I knew why. My reluctance to an unnecessary exposure was well-voiced in both tone and argument.
“You don’t have to go,” she told me.
We’d hashed this out already. I was going.
And if we weren’t going together, I’d go separately.
Johnny’s friends weren’t helpful because they’d ditched him once he began hanging out with the wrong crowd.
And his new acquaintances were equally unhelpful because he was hiding from them.
Someone had to know where he was, but if they did, they’d successfully lied to no fewer than three crime families, and the cops.
The latter was a surprise.
Once the hit on Mario’s head was lifted, so was the ban on outside involvement. Two weeks after the hit-and-run shooting, an investigation was opened. Johnny was the primary suspect as the photos from the crime scene quickly identified him, but not his dark-haired “accomplice.”
That was buried in lies. No one wanted the Conti name dragged into this fiasco.
And everyone was hoping Johnny would remain a person of interest… permanently. As in, never located, never charged, and certainly never able to talk about the crime. That put pressure on me to find his ass and eliminate any trace of it.
“Love you. Stay safe, and keep me updated about the… you-know-what present.”
“Present?” I asked as she lowered her phone.
“None of your business. Do you own a tux, or at least one of those super-sexy designer suits?”
A man could get whiplash from her topic changes. “I—”
“Never mind. It was a stupid idea. No one gets that dressed up for the bar.”
I squinted at her. “Are you talking about tonight?”
“Duh.”
“I’ll wear what I usually wear.” The sports team jacket I wore concealed my weapons well. It had an added benefit of making me look like I belonged in this town.
Her face fell a little.
“I could wear a suit jacket.”
Her smile came back.
“And what will you be wearing?”
Ellie tilted her head. “Nothing special.”
That was an outright lie.
The thigh-high stiletto boots should have been the first clue. But the tops of said boots were concealed under an oversized coat that covered almost every inch of her that wasn’t boot.
“Are you wearing anything under there?”
Her grin went wicked. “I bet you’d love to find out, wouldn’t you?”
I adjusted the lay of my tailored jacket. The sleeves had gotten a little too tight and the cuffs rode up to reveal the trigger mechanism for my wrist blade. “How long will it take at your sister’s?”
“Just a few minutes.”
That meant at least a half hour, maybe more. “We’d better leave soon.”
Ellie slipped her hand under my jacket and slid it over my chest. “You clean up nicely.”
If she moved her fingers two inches to the right, she’d touch my shoulder harness. I tugged her hand loose. “Try not to distract me.”
Her lower lip pushed out in a pout. “You’re no fun.”
“Is that what tonight is about? Fun?”
“Of course.” Her wink wasn’t reassuring.
Nor was the untended state of her sister’s mailbox. Ellie waved at the neighbor. “Hey, Hank.”
He stared at Ellie and waved back. “Are you back from your trip?”
She replied by tapping her chest. “Ellie. Allie’s going to be at least another two weeks before she gets back. She got married!”
Hank’s jaw went slack. “Allie?”
“I know! Freaked me right out,” Ellie confided.
“Fifteen minutes,” I reminded her so she wouldn’t get side-tracked.
I got an eye-roll in reply and she shoved her way into the house.
“Damn door always sticks.” She dumped the mail on the coffee table and checked on the refrigerator.
“Huh. She must have been in a hurry. I better throw this out.” She pulled out a pizza box and tossed it in the trash.
Then, because that was filled, she tugged the bag out and tied it off.
I took it from her because tottering up the front steps had been an ordeal, but I wasn’t going to waste any more time waiting for her to take the bag to the back.
“Where are your bins?”
“They’re called trash cans. And they’re behind the garage. Don’t move them to the curb, though. I don’t remember which date is pickup.”
Then she did something unexpected. Ellie tipped higher onto her toes, a mean feat in those heels, and kissed my cheek. “I appreciate you.”
Funny how three little words can be so…powerful. I was still pondering them when I got back.
“We’re good. Let’s blow this popsicle stand and celebrate my very merry un-wedding.”
“Your what?”
“You know…” She sang a few stanzas of a repetitive song I’d never heard. At my confusion, she asked, “Don’t you watch cartoons?”
“None recently.”
“Oh my God. We’re renting every animated movie when we get home.”
My wince leaked out before I could control it. “Every one?”
She tossed her head in a gesture that could be closest to negative, but it probably meant she couldn’t believe my naiveté.
“I can’t with you. Let’s go. Ticktock, right?”
I checked my watch. We still had eight minutes to make it to the car. That was probably enough time.
It almost wasn’t. She waved at another neighbor, who mistakenly thought she was her sister. Before she got in the car with me, she yelled out, “Hey, Mrs. Carpello, watch this.” Then she kissed me.
With tongue.
The older woman gasped. “Ellie Jacobs, I’m telling your sister when she gets home!”
Ellie laughed and climbed in the car.
When I pulled away, she confided, “That woman can’t tell us apart unless I do something outrageous.”
Which may have been the theme for the party.
Yes, my black suit and black shirt fit in well with the color scheme, but it was sedate compared to the leather and sequins, and…
was that a gimp suit? Club music pounded against the low ceiling and Ellie didn’t waste a second of her entry to drop her coat into my hands and scream, “Check it out, I’m FREE! ”
And wearing something…short with fishnet.
A black woman walked past me and halted just long enough to nudge my jaw shut and declare, “Get used to it. I’m Kat by the way.”
Since my hands were full, I couldn’t shake her hand, or do more than nod and say, “Ellie’s mentioned you.” A lot.
“What are you drinking?”
“Jameson, neat.” It was that kind of night. There would be no way to guard Ellie in this madhouse.
Except, as I scanned for exits and threats, the former was limited to the back stairs, which we’d come down. The stairs to the main bar upstairs were closed off. Only people who knew about the back door to this place could enter the basement tonight.
And Ellie knew each face. The numerous hugs that followed were harmless. And whoever outfitted her with a tiara and a feather boa wasn’t threatening either.
I recognized Tall Bob and Casey. After delivering my drink, Kat flitted behind the bar occasionally to serve others.
I swirled the alcohol in my glass, and settled near the cluster of small couches and overstuffed chairs that created conversation centers and a place to park her coat.
Ellie took center stage on a leather bar stool and bounced between talking and toasts.
“Hey, Ellie, who’s your next victim over there?”
I was not a victim.
“That’s Ringo, you know… like the guy in that western. He’s an educated man.”
I knew that movie at least. It was one of my mother’s favorites and one of the few memorable things we had in common.
Kat joined the group and stood in the space next to me. “That movie’s a classic.”
Someone from her group asked, “Hey Ringo, can you spin a gun around like that?”
The devil on my shoulder tapped once and took over. “Naw, but I can spin a knife.” With that declaration, I flicked out the blade hidden under my cuff and showed off…just a small amount.
When I tucked the knife back into its spring-loaded sheath, I laughed. Her friends laughed, too. Except for Casey. He stared at me like I’d just proven myself to be a threat. The knowledge in his eyes reached back decades. I extracted myself from a lame conversation to approach.
“Ringo Devlin.” He spat my name like a warning shot.
“Did you look me up?” I’d done a thorough background on him. He was ex-cop with a black mark on his record—one bold enough to make his benefits disappear with a pen stroke. The sale of the bar to Ellie and Kat eliminated his debts. Since that time, he’d been unremarkable.
He leaned in. “Scuttle is, you ain’t Irish.”
“My mother would slap you for saying that.” That was no joke. She wouldn’t care if he was an ex-cop or a real one. Neither did I, if the truth needed to be told. But if the streets were whispering already, that meant someone in the families talked. “Who whispered that in your ear?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Fucker. Since he was Ellie’s former boss and a good friend, I couldn’t kill him. Yet.