The U.S. Marshal’s Service office was in the Earle Cabell building in downtown Dallas. Downtown wasn’t my favorite place. Parking was expensive and I hate driving around on streets that pedestrians think they own. I decided against taking out a woman eating a sandwich and talking on her cell phone who stepped right out in front of me, but only because I didn’t want the delay of having to deal with the accident report.
On my fourth circle around the block, I finally scored a metered spot. I stowed my guns in the hidden compartment of the Bronco’s floorboard. Lots of layers of security in this building and, in jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket, I already looked a little out of place. No need to add an arsenal to the mix.
The Marshal Service was divided into two groups. Young, fit, law enforcement types, ready to take on the adventure of chasing down bad guys on the lam, and old, not so fit, Walmart greeter looking folks who were content to act as courtroom bailiffs, telling people when to stand and sit, and getting coffee for jurors. Took me a few minutes, but I finally located the office for the young and fit types and, after a trip through another metal detector, stated my business.
“I have an appointment with Marshal Diamond Collier.” Best to lie with confidence and make the other side think they were the ones who’d messed up the calendar.
The receptionist scrunched her brow, and I was waiting for her to tell me that no such person worked there, but instead she took my name and asked me to have a seat. Maybe they were trained to call for backup when nefarious types showed up. She scurried away and I pretended to read a three-year-old Time magazine. Good to know my tax dollars weren’t being spent on updated subscriptions.
About twenty minutes later, I heard a click and the door next to the receptionist desk opened. I didn’t expect Diamond to show up, but if I was looking for hot women, this one would do. Maybe the Marshal Service had placed an ad for new recruits, highlighting that only good-looking blondes need apply.
“Ms. Bennett?”
I stood up to compensate for not being armed, but since she matched my height and build, it didn’t have any impact. “That’s me.”
“You have an appointment with Diamond Collier?”
The lack of a title in front of Diamond’s name didn’t get past me, but so far this was surreal. She was acting like I really had an appointment and I played along. “I do.”
“Then I’ll need you to come with me.”
Weird, but it wasn’t like I was going to tell her no. I stayed a step behind, enjoying the view, as she walked us to the bank of elevators. She punched the button for the sixth floor lobby. Maybe this was her orderly way of showing me out of the building.
“Mind if I ask where we’re going?”
She cut a quick smile. “I don’t mind.”
Pure cop. I decided against giving her the satisfaction of ignoring further questions and let my mind wander. Didn’t have to wander long. In a few minutes, the car stopped and she led me down a hall that led to a cafeteria. Maybe she was going to buy me an early dinner.
No such luck. Food service had closed for the day, but the seating area was open. She motioned for me to stop just outside the door. “Wait here.” She stuck her head in the entrance and glanced around. “Okay, go on in.”
“Are you this clandestine about all your meals?”
She ignored my question and pointed to a table in the corner of the room with one occupant. I knew before she turned around it was her. Blondie waited by the door and I joined Diamond at the table.
“Do you actually work in this building or is this another of your many and varied covers?”
“Sit down.”
I flicked a glance at Blondie who was standing sentry at the door. “She’s staying?”
“I trust her. Anything you want to tell me, you can say in front of her.”
“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t know that there’s anything I want to tell you. I came to get answers, not give them.”
“I can’t promise you I can tell you everything.”
“At this point, anything would help. How did you know Amato and Picone were dead before their bodies were found?”
“I didn’t. Not for sure.”
“Then why did you tell me to stand down? What was it you said? ‘That matter has been taken care of.’ What the hell did you mean by that?”
She ducked the question. “I got called to a different aspect of the investigation. More pressing matter. You know how it is.”
No, I didn’t. My most pressing matters involved putting gas in my car and paying my rent, not choosing which crime family to investigate or which undercover identity I was going to assume. “Not what I heard. I heard you guys snatched the case from the local P.D. Seems like if it was that important, you wouldn’t have been reassigned so quickly.”
“Gee, wonder where you heard that. Detective Chance pissed that she lost the case?”
“Actually, I don’t think she gives a shit.” I immediately regretted opening up a discussion that included Chance, and I quickly changed the subject. “Why did you tell me you worked for the Marshal Service?”
“Seemed easier.”
“Lying usually is.”
“I’m with DEA. We’ve spent a lot of time building a case around these fake prescriptions. I told you what I could.”
“You can tell me more now. Like why you called me off Amato and Picone, conveniently right before they turned up dead?”
A minute passed. Then another. “We’ve been working on this case for a while.” A beat passed. “We heard chatter.”
Chatter. They must have a wiretap on Petrov’s operation. Probably how they found out Amato and Picone were trying to cut in on his business and certainly how they’d figured out Petrov had taken care of the problem.
She must’ve sensed my question because she held up a hand before I could get the words out. “You know I can’t tell you more.”
She didn’t need to add how sensitive this information was. I got it. “You still have a tap on Petrov?” I prayed she didn’t ask why I wanted to know. I’d been considering a visit to his house if he didn’t show up to find me first. Might be handy to know if the place was bugged.
She didn’t ask, but the look on her face was odd. Surprise, maybe? “Petrov? Uh, no. We’re focusing our efforts on a different angle.”
“And you don’t really care about what happened at Bingo’s? Let me guess, you all only took over the investigation to keep it under wraps so you could play some other game. Am I right?”
“The murder’s not our focus.”
“Even if Petrov ordered the hit?”
“We have bigger fish to fry.”
I took a stab. “Like the supplier?”
“It’s a big operation. You should let us handle it.”
“Doesn’t sound like you are handling it. What about Bingo?”
“I don’t think they have enough evidence to prosecute him. If he’s innocent, he’ll be fine.”
“Spoken like a true purveyor of justice.”
She looked at the door and I followed her glance. Blondie was like a castle guard. All stoic and acting like we weren’t having a heated conversation yards away. I looked back when I felt Diamond’s hand on my arm. “Look, I’m just doing my job.”
“Your job sucks.”
“I can’t get involved in every little detail or I lose sight of the big picture.”
“Which am I?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it.
“What?”
“A little detail or the big picture?” I shook my head. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
Her hand trailed down my arm and she stroked my fingers. “Don’t be like that.”
I didn’t want to be. Like that. I wanted to be like this. Sitting alone—or semi alone, anyway—with a beautiful woman who wanted me like I wanted her. Did I want Diamond? I’d wanted her for sex, no doubt, but I’d gotten that and I wasn’t satisfied.
“Maybe we should see each other outside of work. You know, like a date?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I shot a look at Blondie, as if to ask her to join in my disbelief, but she stood ramrod straight, staring into the hallway.
“What, you never eat dinner before you fuck? It would kill you to have a conversation first?”
Did I? Would it? Before I had a chance to consider the questions, she threw a couple more out.
“Or is it that your heart belongs to someone else? Maybe a certain cop we know?”
There was a layer of real curiosity beneath the teasing tone, but I chose to write it off to the fact that she or one of her pals may have seen Jess and I going at it outside Slice of Heaven. Hope whoever it was had enjoyed the show because I wasn’t giving up any details about my relationship with Jess. Truth was, I didn’t know what I would say even if I wanted to share.
“Are you asking me out?” I started to warm up to the idea. Not the date part, but the get my mind off whatever was going on between Chance and Deveaux part.
“Maybe. What would you say if I said yes?”
“I don’t dress up, I don’t eat fancy food, and I don’t like being without my own ride.”
She laughed. “Assuming I could meet all your requirements, what would you say?”
“I’d say you were fucking with me.”
“Assume I’m not.”
“You like weddings?” I wanted to reel the question back in the minute it left my lips.
“What?”
“Never mind.” I stood up. “Look, I gotta go. You may be off the case, but Bingo’s my friend and I’m not letting him twist in the wind while you guys figure out who’s in charge.”
Her hand was back on my arm. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Another woman warning me away from my own tendencies. Get in line. I shook her hand off. This one didn’t have the power to tell me what to do. “No worries. I have a plan. Maybe I’ll pay Geno Vedda a visit. You may not care about the truth, but I bet he will.”
I strode past Blondie and willed a plan to form. Nothing about weddings and dates, only business. I’d been kidding about Vedda, but maybe it wasn’t a joke. After all, who would have the biggest stake in finding the real killer? Geno Vedda, of course.
Was he even missing? Funny how Diamond didn’t seem as hot on finding him as she had when she’d shown up on my doorstep over a week ago. I may not know where to find Geno, but I knew where I could find his dad. Lunchtime tomorrow, I’d be pitching my theory about Petrov to the head of the Vedda family, hopefully over a big platter of Mangia crab claws.
After I left the federal building, I did what was becoming my usual loop around Dallas looking for signs of Shaw, including a trip to Black Lace. The girls there recognized him, but they didn’t have a clue about how to get in touch. Maybe his night away from Shante and Dalia had been a one-night stand. Hope he’d worn a condom or there’d be one more baby mamma waiting on him to get out of the pen.
Tired and hungry, I picked up a pizza and a six-pack and headed home. I changed into sweats to watch TV on one of the two channels that came in on my ancient TV. I was the best date I would ever have.
*
When I woke up close to lunchtime the next morning surrounded by empty beer cans and dried up pizza crusts, the thought of crab claws made my stomach turn. Maybe I wasn’t my own best date after all. The pain in my head at the sound of my ringing phone confirmed it.
“Yeah?”
“Luca, it’s Bingo.”
I sat up, surprised. I didn’t think he’d ever called me on the phone before. Then I remembered that I’d left my number on the note with the names of the lawyers Hardin had provided. “Whatcha need?”
“I talked to a couple of those lawyers. They want big bucks to take a murder case. I’m thinking I should just go downtown by myself, talk to the cops, and see what we can work out. Can you talk to your friend? The one who came with you the other night?”
That was a loaded question. “Probably not a good idea. She’s not on the case anymore. The Feds have taken over and you definitely don’t want to go marching into their offices. Best advice. Sit tight and don’t talk to anyone.” Too bad Ronnie Moreno wasn’t still in town. I’d make her take Bingo’s case pro bono after all the trouble she’d been. But she was in D.C., so I’d have to solve this one on my own. Guess I’d have to try to stomach the crab claws. “I have an idea. I’ll call you when I have some news.”
Mangia wasn’t too terribly busy yet, but again I told the hostess I’d order from the bar instead of taking a table. The same blond bartender was pouring drinks, and she still reminded me of Jess. I ordered a beer, mostly so I could take my time scoping out the place, but I enjoyed the fact she was easy on the eyes. I was surrounded by folks that looked hungry, not vigilant. Not a one of them looked like guards for a mobster. Maybe Anthony Vedda was having lunch somewhere else today. A half a beer later, I left my barstool to find out.
The unmarked room was where I remembered it, but this time it was guarded by a tall, bald guy with big bulges under his suit coat. I had bulges of my own, but the kitchen of a popular restaurant is no place for a shootout. I decided to start with words and resort to guns only if necessary. “I’m Luca Bennett. I’d like to talk to Mr. Vedda.”
He stared at me, through me really, but didn’t move a muscle. Acted like he hadn’t even heard me. I stared back, feeling a little foolish for engaging in this childish game. Just when I was about to break—damn, this guy was good—the door opened. I recognized the guy who came out. He was one of the ones around Vedda’s table when I’d been here the last time. He glanced between me and Staring Man, apparently undecided about the situation.
I stuck a hand out at him and he took it on impulse. “Luca Bennett. I’m here to see Mr. Vedda.”
He nodded and ducked back in the room, shutting the door behind him. I wasn’t sure whether to wait or give up, but he was back before I could give it a lot of thought. He told Staring Man to frisk me, and a minute later, he’d taken all my guns. All the ones he found anyway. I had a tiny .22 and a switchblade in my boots. No one ever seemed to check there.
I was ushered into the room, but I could tell right off the bat, hospitality was not the word of the day. Cruel and unusual punishment. The table was full of wonderful food, but I wasn’t offered a seat. Anthony Vedda slowly chewed his food and carefully wiped his lips with a linen napkin before deigning to address me.
“Ms. Bennett, your former calling card is no good to you now.”
Bingo. “I think that’s a mistake.”
“Oh, you do? Are you saying that I make mistakes?”
“Everyone makes mistakes. Especially if they don’t have all the available information.”
“Indeed. What a wise observation.” He was mocking me. He waved a hand to the other men sitting around the table. “Why don’t you enlighten us? Tell us all the information, so that we may refrain from making mistakes in the future.”
“Bingo didn’t kill Geno’s—” I searched for a word that sounded more acceptable than hoods. “Employees.”
“And I suppose you know who did?”
“I have a good idea. Based on my observations.” I couldn’t help myself. “I think Yuri Petrov had Amato and Picone killed. Dumped them at Bingo’s place to shut him down. Petrov was trying to take over the house for his own purposes, and Bingo resisted.” Okay, that was a slight exaggeration since Bingo wasn’t a resisting kind of guy. “Amato and Picone were in the way. He had them killed and left them at Bingo’s place to teach him a lesson.”
“Interesting story. You have proof of this?”
“Bingo is not a killer.”
He waved a hand, dismissing me. “You have no proof.”
“I have no proof.” Pretty sure that even if I’d held on to the gold coin, it wouldn’t have made an impression. “Only my word that Petrov personally told me about his interest in Bingo’s business, and we both know Petrov can be very persistent about his business. He wanted sole control.”
“Yet, you thought it was a good idea to come here today?”
I almost cracked that I’d hoped I could wrangle a good meal out of it, but the sense of humor in the room was lower than low. I took my best shot. “I guess you don’t care if Petrov takes over your business.”
“I am no longer a businessman. I am retired. I do not have interests outside of good food”—he picked up a glass—“good wine, and spending time with good friends. Perhaps you should develop similar interests instead of pursuing matters that do not concern you.”
What had started as a friendly sounding spiel ended with a harsh tone, and I could tell I was being dismissed. No crab claws for me. But I didn’t want to leave empty-handed. “Okay, I get it, but what about Geno? Don’t you think he’d be interested in hearing what I have to say?”
“My son is not your concern.” He paused to take a sip of wine. “And if you choose to make him your concern, you will become mine.” He offered a fierce stare that turned into an engaging smile so quickly I had to question whether it had happened in the first place. “I trust you will find other pursuits. More profitable ones, less dangerous.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “To life!”
I got it. Both the overt and covert threats. And the dismissal. Keep asking questions, keep looking for Geno, and they would take me out. The Vedda family had something to hide, and I’ll be damned if I was going to let it stay hidden.