One cool thing I discovered. Driving a transport truck is like riding a bicycle. It didn’t take me long to remember how to get the thing in gear and start shifting up. Steering was as I remembered. It was a beast, compared to my frisky little car.
Nico led the way, driving my car. About five minutes later we pulled into a small, deserted plaza. It had a convenience store, a tobacco shop and a small garage with one gas pump.
I may have mentioned that I am writing a book, Burglary for Dummies. Nico is helping me edit it. I was pleased to see that he carefully executed the instructions in chapter 17: Always park around the back.
Me, I couldn’t do that because of the length of the transport. Luckily, this place was set up for trucks, so I was able to pull in without having to execute a sharp turn. I took the beast all the way to the end of the lot, keeping away from the shops.
Nico was already coming around the side when I got the truck stopped. In the process of getting out of the cab, I discovered something. This is definitely a situation where you want to dress for the occasion. I don’t recommend a long wraparound coat and high heels.
Nico didn’t notice when I fell out of the cab. He was already galloping over to meet someone.
“Hi, Danny!” he said.
From my vantage point on the ground, I could see a young man approaching. He had a wide grin on his face. The dude was super slim with nice brown eyes and black hair that went halfway down his back. He wore jeans and a worn brown-suede jacket.
“Nico!” They embraced like old friends. Kind of weird, I guess, for guys to embrace, but we’re Italian, and Nico is Nico.
When they separated, Nico said, “Gina, this is Danny Brant. This is my cousin Gina, Danny.”
Danny watched me struggle to my feet. He gave me a big smile. “Heard about you.” He had a soft tenor voice. “You got a rep and a half in this burg.”
“It’s nothing,” I said modestly, brushing gravel dust off my coat. Wait a minute. Why was I—
“They call you Mini Mags,” said Danny.
“They WHAT?” Oh crap. People were comparing me to Mad Magda?
“No shit,” said Nico, eyes wide and excited. “That’s top of the league.”
“I’m not—oh for crissake,” I said. Mad Magda is a legend in the world of cat burglary. I’m not in that class at all. I’m not even in the same school district.
“The Lone Rearranger and Mini Mags. We’re getting famous, Gina!”
I watched in horror as Nico and Danny high-fived each other.
I didn’t want to be famous. I didn’t want to have a rep of any sort. And I sure as hell didn’t want to spend any more time than I had to with a truck full of bootlegged hooch.
“Em, can we get going here?” I said. “I’m getting married in three days, and there’s sort of a lot to do.”
“Sure, Gina. Let’s go inside, Danny.” Nico and Danny led the way into the building, and I followed. Nobody else seemed to be around. Danny led us through the tobacco shop to a little office off the back.
“Can I use the washroom?” I asked.
“It’s right over there.” Danny pointed.
I didn’t really need to go. But I wanted to get away from any paperwork business Nico and Danny were conducting. The less I knew about this new aspect of family affairs, the better. Well, new to me anyway.
Bootlegging. Who’da thunk it? Talk about retro.
I killed some time in the bathroom, which was surprisingly clean and pretty. The walls were painted a light peach. A wallpaper accent border circled the room, just under the ceiling. Someone had provided a bowl of cinnamon-scented potpourri for the counter.
First thing I did was check my cell phone. Two texts, from Luca and Mario, both about crows.
Also while in there, I spent a few minutes thinking about the events of that morning. It hadn’t started well. Getting mugged in your hometown is not a banner way to begin the day. It’s doubly bad when you are a member of the local crime family. Off the charts when it’s your own family mugging you. If this ever got out, our entire family reputation would be toast with marmalade. I could just imagine my crappy distant cousins in Buffalo howling about it.
No question, I wasn’t breathing a word of this to anyone.
I slung my purse across my chest. Just when I’d decided it was probably safe to come out of the washroom, the yelling started.