Unmarked Man Page 5

  “I’m sorry.” She put her hand on his arm, felt the muscle tense beneath her touch.

  “The boy’s sixteen now and six foot five. We’re working on a scholarship.” He didn’t shrug off her touch.

  They went into the restaurant. Mama Napoli made a big fuss over both of them, called Guido out of the kitchen to see ‘skinny little Cissy’ all grown up, and refused to take their money.

  They ate in the car, Nick maneuvering with one hand as he held a slice in the other.

  Cissy took a final bite of crust. “So you didn’t speak to Eddie yet?”

  “I’m heading to the bar right after I take you over to Al’s. I’ll drop you off at your hotel on the way. Where are you staying?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  He braked for a stop sign. “Well, decide and I’ll drop you off after Al’s.”

  The man would never learn.

  When her silence grew long, he glanced at her. “I work alone, Cissy.”

  “You can either take me with you or drop me off at the next corner, and I’ll get a taxi. Either way, I’m going to the tavern and see if I can find out what happened to my mother and my sister.”

  Nick eyed her. “I should have locked you up when I had the chance.”

  “Life is full of missed opportunities, Nick.”

  She ignored his glare. Men like Nick Fiore were dangerous but could be dealt with. All a girl had to remember was not to give an inch or she’d be a goner for sure.

  “So, no news about that maniac on the motorcycle? And why he wanted to kill me?” she asked as if making conversation.

  “Allegedly wanted to kill you.”

  She gave him a long look. “Tell that to the coroner.”

  “If you’d stay put in some hotel room, Harley-riding gunmen wouldn’t have the chance to take a shot at you.”

  She crossed her arms, plopped them on her purse, the bundles of cash reminding her something very wrong and very dangerous was going on. And she intended to find out what.

  “Do me a favor. Don’t come to my funeral.”

  “Can I send flowers?”

  If she hadn’t been so mature, she would have called him a bad name. “No.”

  “A donation to your favorite charity?” He threw her a glance. “I’ll make it a big one.”

  She threw in the bad name after all. Maturity wasn’t all it was cracked up to be anyway.

  Chapter Four

  They pulled into the garage. Cissy went to the car to get her overnight bag while Nick walked into the bays. She waited until Nick was out of sight before looking under the seats, then, sliding her hand down the seat cushions as far as possible, searched for cash. She found a couple more bills in the driver’s seat cushions and some change but no more fat stacks. Maybe her mother had been planning to leave her stepfather, and she’d kept a secret stash of money in her car like other women used a cookie jar. The only thing wrong with the whole theory was the car and the money were here and Louisa wasn’t.

  Cissy rechecked the trunk in case she’d overlooked anything before. Nothing but an umbrella and flashlight. She closed the trunk as Nick and a wiry, bald man in a greasy coverall came out of the garage. Nick introduced her and Cherry to Al. Al walked to Cherry’s hood, ran a finger along the crumpled front end.

  “I can work up an estimate, give you a call with the figure before I start anything.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Cissy said, thinking of her dwindling resources. Except for several stacks of cash bruising her hip. “Any idea?”

  Al studied the car like an artist before a canvas. “Considering the car’s year, depends on whether I can find the replacement parts at one of the junkyards. I’ll give you a break of course, being you’re a friend of Nick’s.”

  “When do you think I could get her back?”

  “Let’s see.” He looked over the lot. “Provided my wife’s good-for-nothing nephew shows up at a decent hour tomorrow, and, like I said, I can find the parts, and I don’t have too much trouble matching the paint—you know who painted her?”

  Cissy shook her head. “I could ask my stepfather.” She dreaded having to tell Eddie she had been in an accident with the Thunderbird and his insurance premiums would be going up.

  Al shrugged, lit a cigarette. “If you find out, give me a call. Otherwise I’ll try to match her with the custom charts. Probably won’t have her finished for a few days though.”

  “If there’s any way you could have her done sooner, I’d appreciate it.”

  Al chewed on his cigarette. “Maybe you would, but my other customers might not be so happy.”

  “I understand.” Cissy handed him the keys that had been left in the ignition and followed the two men into the garage to give Al her phone number.

  She turned to Nick as they left the garage and walked toward his car. “So, on to the bar.”

  His expression told her he wasn’t buying it. “You’ve got two choices,” he told her as they pulled away from Al’s. “Either you choose where you’re going to stay or I do.”

  “Tough guy, huh?” she did in her best James Cagney. “C’mon. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “I’m still on duty.”

  “Until when?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Another hour.”

  “You can buy me a drink.”

  His jaw tightened. She was getting under his skin.

  “What’s it going to be? The Americana? Omni? Marriott?”

  If he thought she was giving up that easily, the man had a short-term memory problem. “Pull over, and drop me off. I’ll take a taxi to Fat Eddie’s.”

  He threw her a long look.

  “You don’t scare me, Fiore. Pull over. I’m not going to sit around in some hotel room when I could be doing something to find my mother and Jo Jo. Besides I’ve got to tell Eddie about the accident.”

  “You can call him.”

  “I’m in the mood for a little social interaction. There’s a cab at the corner up there. Pull over.”

  He swore. She won. She smiled until they drove up to Fat Eddie’s. They circled the block until they found parking several side streets down. The new night was no less hot than the day, promising only to get worse before better. The doors to the bar were closed, the air conditioner humming and dripping out a side window. The rest of the windows were dark, favoring the patrons inside. Music and voices loudened by drink and gregariousness greeted Nick and Cissy before they even opened the door. Like all taverns, Fat Eddie’s had its regulars that paid the bills, but it also had its curiosity seekers—the newly twenty-one, the grad students from the nearby universities. But mainly it was a workingman’s bar. No blender drinks or blue martinis here. The top choice of drinks was American-brewed beer straight from the tap, shots and more beer.

  Only those sitting nearest to the door glanced up as Nick and Cissy entered. If any of the faces were familiar, Cissy didn’t recognize them. She scanned the room, noting interest in several of the women’s faces as they appraised Nick.

  There were no stools at the bar. A table would have seemed too intimate, so they stood, leaning against the bar’s wood edge. Cissy propped one foot jauntily on the foot-high platform that ran around the bottom of the bar, clutched her purse to her side and looked for Eddie. He wasn’t behind the bar, where a thick-waisted man in his mid-thirties with long sideburns and a brunette with wide but pleasing hips and too much blue eye shadow poured drafts with little foam.

  Sideburns came over to them, but not right away. It was the hour when the after-work crowd, having come in for one or two, find they’ve missed dinner and oh what the hell, work sucks and the world sucks and the old lady hadn’t wanted to do it since Nixon and a bar stool never seemed so comfortable. They had just been joined by those who came much later but with one purpose—to drink. The combustible combination of the two crowds could result in a brawl or a ball, and Sideburns and Blue Shadow were the ringmasters.

  Several minutes went by before either bartender noti
ced Cissy and Nick. As Sideburns approached, Cissy saw wariness in his eyes as he looked at Nick. Before he could ask “What’ll you have?” Nick asked, “Eddie in the back?”

  The bartender’s wariness increased. “Who’s asking?”

  Nick jabbed a thumb at Cissy. “His stepdaughter.” He met the bartender’s watchful gaze as he pulled his badge out. “And Detective Fiore.”

  The bartender wiped a spot on the bar, unimpressed. “Eddie’s not here.”

  Cissy looked at Nick. His stare stayed on the bartender. “Where can we find him?”

  “Did Eddie call?” the bartender yelled to the other bartender. The woman paused in the middle of drawing a draft and shook her head. She set the beer before a pockmarked man and came toward Cissy and Nick, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  “You’re looking for Eddie? He called me this morning, asked me if I wanted to pick up an extra shift. I said sure. He said he’d be in the usual time.”

  “What’s the ‘usual’ time?” Nick asked.

  “Usually he’s here by six-thirty.” The woman glanced at her wristwatch. “Something must have come up.”

  “He often come in late?”

  The woman looked at her co-worker, wondering if she should talk or not.

  “He’s a cop. She’s Eddie’s stepdaughter.”

  “Oh.” The woman wrung the towel and looked at Cissy. She held out a hand with a silver pinky ring. “I’m Pauline. I know your mother. Actually, she’s been working the Thursday shift for the past few months. Eddie called this morning and asked if I could cover.”

  “He say why?” Nick asked.

  “Nope. And I didn’t ask. If the boss’s wife wants to take a night off, I figure it’s none of my business.”

  “You try calling Eddie?” Nick asked both of them.

  “He’s the boss. He calls and checks on us. We don’t call him unless there’s a problem.” The man glanced toward the other side of the bar where someone must have called his name. He nodded. “Which so far this night, there hasn’t been. ’Scuse me.” He moved away.

  “You guys want a drink?” Pauline asked. Nick and Cissy shook their heads.

  “You friends with my mother?” Cissy asked.

  “We go our separate ways outside of work, but we get along just fine working together. I like your mom. She can make me laugh. She’s all right.”

  “How’d she get along with Eddie?” Nick asked.

  Pauline’s gaze darted back and forth between Cissy and Nick. “Why?”

  “Eddie says she took some cash and her stuff and left him last night.”

  Pauline looked at Cissy, back to Nick.

  “She ever say anything to you about leaving Eddie?”

  “She’d moan and groan about her old man like we all do, but leave him? I never heard her say anything like that. They’d just gotten that house. She talked about it all the time. All the things she was going to do to fix it up. She was working extra shifts for the cash.”

  Cissy felt the weight in her purse. It was more than four nights a week of bar tips.

  “So he didn’t say anything to you about her taking off on him?”

  “When Eddie called this morning, I just figured Louisa needed a night off. Then again, I don’t know many men who’d be happy to admit they’d been dumped.”

  “If that’s what happened,” Cissy said. Pauline held her gaze. “My stepfather has a temper.”

  “Well, yeah.” Pauline’s gaze bounced away. A couple sitting three stools down pushed their glasses to the edge of the bar. Pauline signaled she’d be there in a minute. “I heard the stories. Not from your mother, but some of the other girls.” She looked apologetically at Cissy. “Big city. Small talk. But you don’t think…” Alarm moved into her heavily made-up features.

  “I’m just trying to find out what happened to my mother,” Cissy told her.

  The woman’s expression turned sympathetic. “I wish I could help you. She was all right, your mother.” The towel tightened in her hands. “Listen, I gotta get back to work.”

  “What about Louisa’s other daughter, Jo Jo?” Nick asked. “You know her?”

  The woman’s expression changed. “Yeah, she comes in now and then.”

  “When’s the last time you saw her?” asked Nick.

  “She was here a few night ago.” Pauline glanced at Cissy.

  “You can tell me very little that I don’t already know about my sister,” Cissy assured her.

  “She wanted money. Your mother was working. She wouldn’t give her any, told her if she needed groceries, she’d take her shopping. A bill paid, bring it to her and she’d send a check out. But she wasn’t giving her cash. Jo Jo came in last night. Your mother wasn’t working, but Eddie was here. This time she wanted to borrow the car.”

  “Eddie’s car?” Cissy asked.

  “No, the night before Eddie had had a few, so Louisa drove them both home in her car. Eddie drove your mother’s car in the next day.”

  “The Thunderbird?” Cissy asked.

  Pauline nodded.

  “He let Jo Jo take it?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “She bring it back?” Nick asked.

  “No. Eddie drove his own car home. I figured Jo Jo drove the Thunderbird back to your mom’s place.”

  Cissy looked at Nick.

  “What about Jo Jo’s boyfriend? Jacques Saint-Sault? You know him?” Nick continued.

  “He came in here once or twice, but not with your sister. He wasn’t around much except when his ship docked. Louisa didn’t like him, and Louisa liked most people. But she said this guy was no good for Jo Jo. She said Jo Jo had told her about another guy she met, nice guy, steady job, although I never saw him in here with her. Louisa had her fingers crossed this would be the one, the one that would help Jo Jo straighten out her life, you know. I tried to tell her it ain’t that simple.” She looked at Cissy. “My ex-husband was into the dope.” She looked away, her face closed.

  “Louisa ever mention this other guy’s name?” Nick asked.

  Pauline shook her head. “I don’t think Louisa knew. Who knows? Jo Jo could have made him up. The gal was prone to flights of fancy, if you know what I mean.”

  “Eddie keep a gun around?” Nick asked. “For protection?”

  “He did.”

  “He did?”

  “Somebody snatched it a couple of weeks ago. He filed a report with the police.”

  Nick slid a card across the bar. “If you think of anything else, here’s my number.”

  The woman tucked the card in her back pocket. Cissy took out a pen, wrote a phone number on a cocktail napkin.

  “This is my cell number. If you hear from my mother or Jo Jo, would you give it to them?”

  The woman took the napkin. “Sure I can’t get you guys anything?”

  Cissy shook her head.

  “When your partner has a minute, I’d like to talk to him,” Nick said. Pauline nodded and headed to the other end of the bar.

  “Jo Jo had the Thunderbird. She must have been the last one to drive it.”

  “Perhaps,” was all Nick would give up.

  Cissy watched the woman. “Kind of convenient Eddie’s gun was stolen, don’t you think?”

  “It happens.” If Nick suspected anything, he wasn’t sharing it with her.

  She reached into her purse, past the cash, pulled out her cell phone. “I’m going to call the house, see if Eddie’s there.” After four rings, the answering machine clicked on. She closed her eyes as her mother’s recorded voice told the caller to leave a message. Would it be the last thing she’d ever hear her mother say? She opened her eyes. Nick was watching her. She erased any expression, held his gaze as she asked Eddie or anyone for that matter to pick up if they were there. She waited a few seconds, left her cell phone number and told Eddie to call her. She disconnected, dropped the phone back into her purse. Nick’s gaze stayed on her.

  “I got the answering machine. My mother’s voice was
on the message.” Nick was kind enough not to show sympathy.

  The other bartender came up to them. “Pauline said you wanted to see me?”

  “I’ve got just a few questions. Did Eddie ever talk to you about his marriage?”

  The man held up his hands. “I come here, do my job. I don’t get involved in nobody’s personal business.”

  “So, you and Eddie, you never talked?”

  “Sure, we talked. Just not about his marriage. Eddie is the boss.”

  “What about Louisa?”

  “She’s the boss’s wife.”

  “What about Jo Jo Spagnola? You know her?”

  “Sure, I know her. She’s Eddie’s stepdaughter. She comes in now and then.”

  “Seen her lately?”

  “Nope.”

  “Pauline said she was in last night.”

  “I was off last night.”

  “Said she was in the night before, too.”

  The man’s gaze held steady, but his pupils danced. “I must have missed her.”

  “What about her boyfriend, Jacques Saint-Sault? Works the boats. You know him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Work here long?”

  “About three months.”

  “Got a name?”

  “Manny Keenan.”

  Nick pulled out a card. “Just in case something jogs your memory, Manny.”

  The bartender reached for the card. Tattooed on his inner forearm was an upside-down cross.

  “You a member of the Lords, Manny?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You own a black Harley?”

  “Silver.” He glanced down the bar. “We finished here?”

  “If Eddie comes in, tell him we’d like to talk to him.”

  The bartender nodded, moved off toward another customer.

  “He’s lying about something,” Cissy said as they left the bar.

  “Not about the Harley.” Parked in the alley beside the bar was a silver motorcycle.

  “No, it wasn’t him who threatened me earlier.”

  Nick sent her a sharp look.