The table we chose for breakfast seated four. We used to need one for six. Well, actually, we never needed to worry about it. We’d had a table at the back of the Sourdough Café in the Arizona Charlie’s, an off-the-strip casino, with our name on it, because we ate breakfast there every morning. Even had the same waitress, Grace.
That was before we lost Danny and Saul.
In the weeks since, we’d been trying different places each morning, trying to find a new regular spot.
Trying to find a new life without The Corporation.
Jimmy Mancino, Gus Morgan, Ben Lowenstein, Danny O’Hern and Saul Greene had formed The Corporation, a group of retirees who had once ruled Vegas as sports odds setters. They’d worked at different casinos, had been rivals in their heyday. But since retiring, they met every morning for breakfast and had become close friends.
Until Danny and Saul had been killed.
I suppose Jimmy, Ben and Gus still made up The Corporation, but none of them had used the term lately.
And we sat in a different restaurant every morning.
Originally, we’d just set out to find someplace different, the memories at The Sourdough too fresh and raw. But the first day Jimmy – huge, fat, never met a morsel he didn’t like Jimmy – complained about the meal so we went somewhere different the next day. Then Ben, never one to eat a big breakfast anyway, didn’t like the coffee. At the next place, silver-haired, silver-tongued Gus – who, with his Paul Newman good looks and devilish smile, hadn’t met a waitress he couldn’t charm out of her panties – was unhappy with the service.
And so began our mornings of revolving restaurants. Good thing every Vegas casino had a breakfast place as well as several other restaurants. We hadn’t even had to venture beyond the Strip yet.
Which brought us this morning to the corner nook restaurant of the old Barbary Coast. It had been sold and renamed, but my nostalgic boys had rubbed off on me, and I still called it by its original name.
After breakfast, we pulled out our sporting events odds sheets from various casinos and started talking about today’s games and whom we liked. I was drawing a circle around UCLA to cover the point spread against Stanford when something compelled me to look up and toward the entranceway.
There stood Detective Jack Schiller. Las Vegas Police, homicide division.
“Oh, Christ,” I mumbled to myself and quickly ducked my head, causing Ben, sitting on the same side of the table as me, to look up.
“Oh, it’s Jack,” he said cheerily. His wrinkled hand automatically rose up to get Jack’s attention, but stopped midway. He turned to me, as if sensing his glee was not shared.
His hip was for shit, but Ben’s brain was still sharp as a tack.
I hadn’t seen Jack since he’d dumped me a few weeks ago. No, that’s not true. I’d seen him at Saul’s funeral, but we hadn’t spoken.
What was there to say? He had a drinking problem, I had a gambling problem. We’d spent a few weeks together trying to figure out who was killing The Corporation, having incredible sex and pretending that our issues wouldn’t interfere with our burgeoning relationship.
He’d wised up first.
Jimmy and Gus turned around, totally negating my idea to pretend I hadn’t seen Jack. Jack’s eyes scanned the room and settled on the four of us, which wasn’t hard as three of us were staring at him.
“Guys,” I pleaded. “Be cool.”
Jimmy snorted. Gus shrugged. Ben looked at me with compassion. And then that traitorous old man had a look of pleasure cross his face as Jack strolled toward our table.
He was wearing his usual work uniform of chinos, blue chambray work shirt, tie and leather jacket. As he got closer, I could see the haggard lines of his face, the dark circles under his eyes.
I couldn’t even silently congratulate myself that he must be miserable without me; that was Jack’s usual look.
Whether from the drinking or the things he must see on a daily basis, most likely both, the man always wore a look of bone-deep weariness.
It looked good on him.
Of course he’d come over to say hi. It would be fine to ignore me, but he’d bonded with the boys and to snub them was not Jack’s style. I just hoped it would be a quick hello to the boys and then he’d move on to his own table or to whomever he was meeting here.
I admit it, the crazy female in me came out and I quickly scanned the restaurant to see if there were any women sitting alone, looking as if they were waiting.
Nope. None. I’m not even going to tell you the sick sense of relief that came over me.
“Ben. Mr. Mancino. Mr. Morgan,” Jack said when he got to our table. He nodded to Jimmy and Gus then made his way around to Ben.
Recovering from a gunshot wound, Gus had been pretty much out of it when Jack had been in my life, and Jimmy had never really warmed to Jack the cop, though he had a grudging respect for him.
But Ben and Jack. Well, there was something more with those two.
I watched them carefully as they shook hands, Ben placing his free one on top of their joined ones. Jack settled his other hand on Ben’s shoulder. I took a weird sense of joy in the fact that two men that I held in such high esteem seemed to admire each other as well. Like it validated my choices or something.
And yes, even though he dumped me, and he probably had demons that could frighten Satan, I still thought of Jack Schiller as a good choice.
His judgment about me had been right on, hadn’t it?
“Can you sit, Jack?” Ben asked motioning to an unused chair at the table next to us. “Have you eaten, yet?”
Jimmy started reaching for the chair Ben had pointed at, but a raised hand from Jack stopped him.
“Actually, this isn’t a social call, Ben,” Jack said. “Even though it is good to see you.”
I waited to see if his gaze included me, but he was looking only at Ben.
“Then we won’t keep you,” I said, a bit too much bite in my voice. Damn. “If you’re on duty and all,” I added, trying to sound as if I only had Jack’s business interests at heart.
He looked at me fully then, his brown eyes staring at me with the same compassion that Ben had flashed me moments ago.
God, how I hated that he knew how hard it was for me to see him.
“My business is with you,” he said, still looking at me.
“I thought our business was done,” I said tightly. Ben sighed beside me. He didn’t often get to see his Hannah so…shrill, I guess was as good a word as any.
Or brittle, because that’s exactly how I felt seeing Jack again. As if I’d snap if he touched me. And yet I was willing to venture it.
He ignored my taunt. “This is police business.”
“You mean you came here purposely to see me about police business?” I said, slow to catch on. It had been a long night in Iowa last night, and it looked like it was going to be an even longer day today.
“Yes.”
“How’d you find us?” Jimmy asked the question that was on the tip of my tongue.
Jack kept his eyes on me as he said, “It wasn’t easy.” He then looked up, and around the restaurant. He didn’t ask what we were doing here instead of The Sourdough Café.
A good detective, Jack Schiller.
“What business?” Gus asked, again beating me to the punch.
Jack looked at the three men. I could tell he was deciding how much to tell them all. He’d probably prefer it if I rose and left so he could speak to me alone without having to ask me in front of my friends.
I stayed seated and waited for Jack to make up his mind. He scrubbed his hand across his tired face, a move I knew well and that never failed to endear him to me. I started to rise, to take the decision away from him, but he motioned for me to stay sitting. “Paul Coscarelli was killed last night.”
He looked at me as if that should mean something but it didn’t. I looked at Ben, who shook his head, then Gus, who shrugged. Jimmy had a sadistic smile on his face. “So, that SOB finally got what was coming to him.”
“Who is Paul Coscarelli?” I asked Jimmy.
“Paulie Gonads,” Jimmy and Jack said at the same time.
Oh. Him I knew. Only too well. My foot, the one Paulie had shattered years ago for an unpaid loan, ached under the table. In fact, it was for Paulie’s boss, Vince Santini, that I’d been in Dubuque doing JoJo business. Paulie also ran Vince’s back room, high-stakes poker games, which I regularly sat in on.
When JoJo had done her job correctly and Vince’s games, and loans, were open to me.
“His name was Coscarelli?” I murmured, realizing that I’d talked to the man at least three times a week for the last thirteen years and I didn’t even know his last name.
“Yes,” Jack said.
“How was he killed?” I asked, although if Jack was standing here, I had a pretty good idea already.
“Murdered,” Jack confirmed.
“How?”
“Bullet to the head,” Jack said softly. He put his hand on Ben’s shoulder, knowing…caring that Ben would automatically think of Danny and Saul.
I started to reach for Ben’s hand, to give comfort, but Ben raised his hand closest to me and patted Jack’s hand resting on his shoulder. I felt a childish hurt well inside me.
I looked across the table. Gus was deep in thought, probably also thinking of Danny and Saul. But Jimmy was watching me. Watching me watch Ben and Jack. He gave me a “fuck it” shrug, and I tried to do just that.
“You came to talk to me about Paulie?” I said to Jack, bringing him back to the point.
“Yes,” he said. “Maybe we should go somewhere else?”
Ah, so he did care about me a little. Or at least on some level wanted to protect me.
Not sure how much the boys knew about my dealings with Paulie, he didn’t want to ask about him in front of them. They knew some of the ugliness, but not all. Certainly not about JoJo. But then, Jack didn’t know about JoJo either.
And the fact that I couldn’t….wouldn’t trust him enough to tell him was the main reason we weren’t together.
I looked around the crowded restaurant. They did a good breakfast business here. They put a plate of fresh coffee cake on your table before you even got your coffee like Mexican restaurants did with chips and salsa. I was kind of hoping that we’d found a winner. “There’s no empty tables. We could go out to the casino floor. It might not be that loud this early.”
“I was thinking about the station,” Jack said. “Maybe Jimmy could drive Gus and Ben home? I’d bring you back to your car later.”
“I can drive us home,” Gus said. “I got clearance from the doctor three days ago to drive.”
Gus had been shot in the leg when The Corporation had been targeted. He’d moved in with Ben, Lorelei and myself to recuperate. I knew he’d gone to the doctor, I’d driven him myself, but I hadn’t realized he’d been given a green light to drive. I kind of hoped that maybe Gus would stay with us for awhile. It was good for Ben to have him around.
“Okay,” I said, handing the car keys to Gus. I looked at Jack. “You’ll bring me home?”
He nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I packed up my odds sheets, embarrassed that Jack saw them. Not that betting on sporting events was illegal in Vegas, but he knew that was my weakness.
My heroin.
My bourbon. That was a term he’d understand.
I’d wanted to ask the boys what they thought about the UCLA game, but my pride wouldn’t let me do it in front of Jack. I folded up my sheets, shoved them in my jacket pocket and rose from the table.
“Where we eating tomorrow?” Jimmy said as I stepped away.
“Same place?” I said hopefully. I liked this place, and I was starting to think the boys really needed to find a new home base. Needed to move forward. Put roots down with just the three of them.
Four of us.
The men looked at each other, waiting to see who brought up the reason we should find a new place. Nobody jumped in, and a tiredness seemed to pass amongst the three of them.
“Yeah, same place,” Jimmy said and Ben and Gus nodded their agreement.
“Okay,” I said. “See you tomorrow, Jimmy.” He grunted at me, his nose stuck back in the odds sheets.
Ben and Jack shook hands again, Jack said his goodbyes to Jimmy and Gus, gaining another grunt from Jimmy.
I crossed around the table and stood by Jack. “I won’t be long,” I said to Gus and Ben. Gus waved to me, and Ben smiled. He had a mischievous look on his face, and I wondered if he had put a hit out on Paulie just so Jack would have an excuse to come find me.
We were silent on the walk to Jack’s car. I didn’t say anything because this was Jack’s play, and I was going to let him call the shots.
There were hundreds of people in Vegas who would have had dealings with Paulie, would have been able to answer the questions for Jack that he wanted answered. I was sure they were just the kinds of things that he could probably find out from his fellow police officers in the vice department. Who did Paulie work for? Vince Santini. Did he have any enemies? Too many to mention. Did I know of anyone who would want to harm Paulie? Again, too many to mention.
There must be another reason Jack had decided to find me, there were just too many other people that knew Paulie better than I did to go to for information. Maybe there was a personal reason why Jack wanted to see me, and he’d used Paulie’s murder as an excuse. That’s why I’d waited to get him alone to ask what was going on, and didn’t bring it up in front of the boys.
Sitting beside him in his car, I let the foolish hope that I’d squashed earlier out of its tiny box. It blinked hard at the light, unaccustomed to the brightness. But it came to life quickly.
I looked at Jack, studied him while he weaved his way through the morning traffic. We’d been apart now longer than we’d even been together, but I still missed him.
His brownish hair hadn’t been cut since we’d parted. He wore it short, but it looked good this tiny bit longer. I looked for signs that either he was still drinking or that he wasn’t. His eyes seemed a little bloodshot, but they always did, just from the hours he kept. Lots more homicides committed in Vegas in the wee hours of the morning than at noon.
His hands were steady on the wheel, no shakes when he reached over to turn the radio on.
Apparently he wasn’t ready to talk yet, either.
But he’d come for me.
I sat back in my seat and wished the ride would take forever.
The squad room looked the same as the last time I’d been there, when we’d worked on the Corporation case together. Was that what this was all about? Did Jack think I’d want to help with this case because of knowing Paulie?
I felt bad Paulie was dead and all, but men don’t live long lives in Paulie’s line of work. Being an enforcer for a loan shark put you on a lot of people’s lists. Usually you were safe because said people were more afraid of being found by Paulie, but who knew, somebody could have gotten fed up with Paulie beating on them and put an end to it.
And Paulie meant nothing to me personally, certainly nothing like the boys did, so Jack couldn’t have thought I’d want to be in on this case, could he?
Was it just an excuse to check up on me? Make sure I was okay? That my gambling habit hadn’t put me in a hole out in the desert?
God knows I’d thought about – and worried about – him over the last few weeks.
“You remember Detective Botz?” Jack said as we made our way through the maze of desks to the area that Jack and Frank Botz shared.
“Sure. Hi, Frank,” I said.
Frank was Jack’s partner, and I liked him. He always wore a goofy tie – today was Homer Simpson – and played the Columbo “just help me to understand” dimness, but he was a sharp one.
He also cared about Jack, and I appreciated that in him.
Frank nodded at me, but I noticed he didn’t return my smile. “Ms. Dawson.”
The last time he’d seen me, there’d been a smoking gun in my hand and a dead body at my feet, so maybe I wasn’t Frank’s favorite person. But I thought he’d liked me well enough when Jack and I were together.
Jack kept going past his desk area and I followed. Frank stepped in behind me, and I realized we were headed to the interrogation room.
So much for this all being a ruse about trying to get me back.
Apparently, after proving my worth on The Corporation case I was to become the department snitch? Their in to all things gambling?
I’d almost consider it if it meant seeing Jack on a regular basis.
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to help. They wanted to know what I knew about Paulie, who hated him enough to put a bullet through his brain. I wasn’t the person who knew those details, though I might be the only person who would talk to them without a ton of attitude and hassle, which was probably the reason I was here.
We walked into the room. Jack motioned for me to sit. He didn’t meet my eye, but looked over my head at his partner. They did some kind of silent thing between them. Jack must have won – or lost – because he was the one that sat down in the chair facing me. Frank remained standing against the closed door.
I looked at Jack. Waited for him to start. He ran his hand over his face then took a notebook out of his jacket pocket, flipping it to an open page. He took a pen from his shirt pocket, laid it and the tablet down on the table.
A feeling of unease washed over me.
I was wrong; this wasn’t about seeing me. This wasn’t even about getting information about Paulie.
I raised my hand to my neck, to my horseshoe pendant. I tapped three times then lowered my hand.
Jack watched the movement, seemed to register it, then he finally looked me in the eyes. His were cold, and all business.
“Ms. Dawson, where were you between midnight and three a.m. last evening?”