Relatively Risky Page 15

  Of course it had gone wrong, since the three men had survived and apparently thrived.

  It seemed that Alex had gone tense. Nell gave him a worried look. Zach couldn’t be involved. He was just a street cop, not in on the big investigation. Except, he could have first on the scene…all the sudden Nell wished she hadn’t read so many mysteries. It turned you into a nasty, suspicious person.

  “I presume whatever he knew died with him?” Sarah leaned forward to take a drink.

  Her thoughts didn’t look like they were going the same direction as Nell’s, but with Sarah, one didn’t always know.

  Zach looked almost wry. “It’s kind of legend among those who were there. Some think that it’s still out there, like Lafitte’s gold. Most think it was destroyed. Or maybe they just hope it was.” This time he made a point of not looking at Nell. “Would have been a nice insurance policy for someone.”

  “You think my—Phil killed him.”

  Now he looked at her, met her gaze without flinching. In fact, he looked sorry. “Phil was eighteen. He hadn’t been blooded. There were rumors, he hadn’t…embraced the family business…that…pressure was being applied. He was questioned about it, but then he died. And the case was filed away as cold.”

  Maybe some of them were happy to have it go away, afraid of what too much digging would unearth? If…people…thought Phil had had that “something” on the wise guys, but thought he was dead, and then found out he’d survived? What would they think, what would they fear from his daughter? She could kind of see why her presence could make them uneasy, especially a bunch of people who lived at the corner of uneasy and suspicious.

  St. Cyr had tried to coerce his son into the family business. Was that why he’d given her the ring? The man she’d sketched might think that was a way to get back at the son who’d rejected him. She sighed. There was no way for her to ever know what St. Cyr had thought that day, so she moved on to the other two.

  Even if she worried them, she couldn’t see them panicking and ordering a hit. If she’d come to town to exact revenge, she wouldn’t have waited two years. Even they could figure that out. Obviously at least Afoniki had been curious enough to send his nephew to take a look at her. With this hindsight came clarity. It hadn’t been her imagination that he’d been creepy and a bit weird during the brief meeting. It sort of explained the ‘til we meet again comment, though—no—not really. Unless he was just trying to keep his options open.

  All this assumed that her dad had killed Dunstead and that he had left with evidence, this so-called insurance policy. She didn’t believe it of the dad who had raised her…but—pressure? Could he have done it for mom? And if they’d known a baby was incoming? Pressure plus. She had no doubt her dad would have killed to protect them, but, if he had the information as protection, why hadn’t anyone tried to find it after he died? Why hadn’t he warned her at some point? It all made her head hurt. She’d never know why they’d done what they did either. They were also gone and couldn’t tell her their plans, past or future.

  “Dunstead could have given it to someone for safe-keeping. Someone who was afraid to use it,” Sarah pointed out.

  “Or someone who is using it now,” Nell said, thoughtfully. Long-term blackmail? It was possible.

  Zach looked at her like a man who had tried to consider everything. “Not a lot of friends when you’re a mob enforcer. His wife died within a year. He had a kid who went into foster care.”

  “How did she die?”

  Zach shook his head. “If she was murdered, it was covered up better than usual, ” he hesitated. “Back then, the cases that were—there was a smell about them. I don’t recall anything like that. But it has been over thirty years and it wasn’t my beat.”

  Did he remember so much about it because of Ellie or his brother? Nell’s gaze rested thoughtfully on Alex again. If a woman were not happy in her marriage and there was a sort of friend from high school around, one you felt you could trust, a man who had been your true love’s younger brother… “Your friend, Curly something, was he in the same high school with the rest of you?” He was older than Zach, possibly closer to Ellie’s age?

  Zach’s gaze narrowed a bit, but he nodded. “He was a year older than Ellie. But if you’re thinking—Ellie never dated Curly.”

  That he knew, Nell amended. “So why did he have my—Toni’s picture?”

  “He wouldn’t have been stupid enough to mess with Calvino’s wom—with Ellie. Even if Calvino had moved on.”

  He sounded a bit too defensive, though he had a point. “Then who was her,” Nell choked a bit on the word, “the lover she was supposed to have run off with?”

  Zach blinked, as if she’d finally asked a question he hadn’t prepared for. “I don’t know. Not sure anyone knew.”

  “But,” Sarah protested, “someone must have gone missing at the same time. Some guy that was around and then wasn’t?”

  “I never heard a name,” Zach said, a hint of mulish to his tone.

  What if Charlie had come back and Zach knew? Suspected? Helped them get away…? He’d have needed to be very careful not to put his family at risk.

  “Maybe it’s in one of the files,” Alex said. “If Ben can spring them, or get a look…”

  Instead of worried, Zach said, “It’s possible.”

  So he wasn’t worried. She caught Zach looking at her, that slight frown back between his brows. Felt a little lame saying, “What?” again, but didn’t know what else to say.

  “You look so much like her, like them, it’s a bit…” he shrugged.

  Nell stared at him for a few seconds, before saying slowly, “I have their face, but I’m just me.” Ordinary when they’d been extraordinary. The most she could hope for was to be as brave as they’d been.

  9

  She is no one.

  Aleksi had lied. Dimitri knew this. The woman had mattered, did matter, but he hadn’t known how much. He’d thought—he did not know what he’d thought. But this. It took all his self control not to lash out at this messenger. If one killed one’s snitches, then information dried up. This one had not wanted to talk, had wanted to hold this last card. It wasn’t a sure thing. Sometimes knowing was not power.

  His uncle should have told him. Oh, he knew why the old man hadn’t. It was not the thin edge of wedge. It was hammer at the old man’s head. At them? He wondered. So much depended on what the woman had on him. If it was solely about the pact his uncle had made with Calvino and St. Cyr, then that was his uncle’s problem. Unless—would his uncle flip? He might if he thought his nephew was not being sufficiently helpful. He was that vindictive.

  And the woman. He’d underestimated her importance. It was not like him. Though he could not see why she hadn’t acted already. Two years. What had she hoped to accomplish by waiting? What pieces had she hoped to get in place? Was St. Cyr’s removal part of her plan? He suspected she had not planned on anyone shooting back. If the shooting had been directed at the woman. He frowned and the snitch at his feet trembled. He signaled for him to be released. Alive.

  His frown deepened. The shots could have been meant for the cop. Might have had nothing to do with her. He’d not had dealings with Alex Baker, but he had encountered a couple of his siblings. Everyone on his side of the law knew what it meant to be “baked.”

  But it had taken place outside her residence. He recalled his uncle’s belief that Helenne St. Cyr had tried to kill her own son. She might be behind the hit. If she hated the woman’s grandmother as much as his uncle believed…

  What was she like?

  The only question his uncle had asked. It didn’t give him a lot of insight into the problem. Would his uncle tell him what he needed to know? He knew the answer even as he asked the question. Not a chance. And if he did, could he trust what he was told? Never. He paused.

  Was there a kernel of truth in the old story? Even a slight possibility Aleksi Afoniki had harbored feelings for any woman for over thirty years? No…he cou
ld believe many things, but not that. But if the woman carried the blood of a Calvino and a St. Cyr—did his uncle hope to bring Zafiro’s organization back together? Had he hoped the granddaughter was like the grandmother? That she would capture his interest?

  Alone with his thoughts, inside his own head, he might concede that the woman had been more interesting than expected. That she could be heir to two organizations made her almost irresistible.

  They needed to talk, but Baker had her locked down—his phone shrilled. It was the man he’d ask to monitor the situation with the woman. Dimitri listened to what he had to report, snapped some orders and cut the connection.

  So, she’d emerged from seclusion. What a clever girl.

  “Bring my car around,” he ordered.

  “You—” Ben stopped, then finished, “they shouldn’t have gone—”

  “To a cemetery when someone wants one of them dead?” Sarah finished for him, not without mild sympathy and, regrettably, some amusement. He was annoyed, but a cute annoyed. Funny how two brothers could be so alike and yet so different. She’d been mildly piqued when Alex hadn’t seemed interested at that first meeting, until she saw who did interest him. He had good taste and more sense than most of the men she met. She smiled at Ben, saw his annoyance lose traction and broadened the smile. He really was cute. And if a smile helped ease his pain…

  “You could have talked her out of it,” Ben pointed out, not weakly, because he wasn’t a weak man, but with less force than the last comment.

  Would he, could he understand the rules between two women who were the best of friends? Could he know that when you trusted someone the way she and Nell trusted each other, there was power that must be wielded with care? Most likely she could have convinced Nell not to go, but—and this was the deep bond part—Nell knew that their might be danger and had still felt a need to go. And she’d always supported Sarah when she felt compelled to follow her instincts, even when it involved bad Karaoke or passing out canapés. Who would expect her to go to a cemetery? And she was with a cop. Whoever had shot at them yesterday had to know that now, even if they hadn’t known it before. Not a good plan to shoot at cops. And really bad idea to shoot at one as connected as Alex.

  “Nell needed to go,” she compromised. Sarah didn’t know why Nell felt this need to visit a grave where her parents weren’t buried. She did know Nell had taken some hard knocks in the last twenty-four hours.

  “It’s complicated,” she added. Nell was a complicated person. She looked like this sweet, absent-minded librarian and she was, but—underestimate her at your peril. Was it the wise family roots? It still kind of boggled, even factoring in what Sarah did know about her friend. One would have to work hard to find a person more solidly in the straight and narrow column. The friend least likely to shoot you. Or at you. She would shoot for you, in defense of you. Because she did know how to shoot. Her daddy had made sure of that. He’d taught Sarah, too, on those visits that never got reciprocated for reasons that were now very clear, but weren’t back then.

  “Obviously,” Ben said a bit dryly. Or that might have been wryly.

  He did have six sisters. He might have more of a clue about women than most men. And he might even have the sense to know when not to say something to a woman.

  “What do you think your dad expects to find that we didn’t?”

  He’d gone into the kitchen not long after Nell and Alex left, looking even more not happy than both his sons. He’d probably had more practice at it.

  Ben grinned. “He did have a knack for seeing what was right under our noses. When he was home.”

  A cop with thirteen kids probably couldn’t afford to be home much. Second oldest, Ben might remember his mom. He would have had to help out after she died.

  “Do you think there’s anything to find?”

  He sighed. “No.” A pause. “But someone does.”

  “Lots of someones,” Sarah felt impelled to point out with a slight grin tacked on. She was from New Orleans, so she knew about parades. Seemed like Nell was getting her own second line going here. She frowned, as a thought occurred to her. “Doesn’t it make more sense to wait until Nell makes her move?”

  “Maybe they think she is making her move? Or they want her to move faster?” Ben said.

  Sarah nodded doubtfully, but didn’t say anything. Reading a few mysteries did not an expert make.

  “Pissing off the mob is a bad idea, but if you got someone else to do it for you…” Ben went on, almost to himself.

  “Oh wow, that is devious and…” Bad for Nell, if the mob had decided she was the one doing it. “Will anyone help Nell if—” She stopped, not sure how to ask the question.

  “We’ll do our best.” For a moment he looked very Dudley Do-Right. “There are Bakers everywhere in law enforcement. And Alex and I have something on all of them. One of the rare times it’s good to be older.”

  She had to smile then. She’d always had a soft spot for Dudley. “Do you think he’d mind if we watched?”

  “Dad’s used to an audience,” he said, with a rather wry grin.

  They headed into the hall, turning toward the kitchen. He pushed open the swing door for her. Sarah was halfway in before she realized Zach already had an audience.

  The scary Widow St. Cyr had returned, trailing a couple of goons and a pissy expression.

  For the first time in thirty years, Calvino extracted the photograph from the locked drawer. Let himself look at them, let the memories out, too.

  He’d been mad, he knew now, almost blind with it. Had they planned it that way? Played him so he’d agree to take one third when he could have had it all? Had he really thought that having Ellie made up for getting one third? He’d wondered so many times after the madness faded, and he was left looking into Ellie’s eyes and seeing…nothing.

  He’d known she didn’t love him when he made her marry him. He’d thought it wouldn’t matter. That getting her, possessing her would be enough. It wasn’t. He hadn’t known someone could hide so deep inside themselves that no one could find them. He didn’t know how she did it, just that she had. She’d managed to deny him so well, getting her had been dust and ashes.

  He’d tried to make her jealous. That didn’t work. So he left her alone. No one else could have her. That had to be enough.

  At least there was Toni.

  His little girl had loved him as her mother wouldn’t.

  His little Toni. He touched the cold, flat surface. Remembered the warm curve of her small cheek when she smiled at him. When he was daddy and still her hero. Before…

  He should never have left her to Ellie, but raising a child was woman’s work. She’d gotten her revenge, oh, how she’d gotten it. He’d thought Toni would never—

  His shoulders rose and then fell in a heavy sigh. He’d been wrong about her, too. This time he would not be wrong. He could not afford to be wrong. The choice was clear. He could let it happen. Or he could fight.

  It surprised him to feel fight surge up out of his gut. Age, it seemed, had not made him resigned to fate. He could not roll over. He could not give in. He sure as hell wouldn’t sit here and take it like Phin.

  A soft tap and his PA looked in. “It’s here, sir,” he said with his usual lack of inflection.

  Calvino nodded, agreement and dismissal in it. The PA retreated, closing the door as softly as he’d opened it.

  Calvino replaced the frame in the drawer, pushing the faces slowly out of sight. He locked it, tucked the key back in his pocket. Opened another drawer and extracted the hand gun. He checked the magazine, then slotted it back in place. Slid it in its holster, strapped across his chest under his suit jacket. He rose. Straightened his tie and then headed for the door. It was past time he met this child of his Toni’s, past time to find out who she belonged to, where her loyalties lay. And if he could use her to save himself. Perhaps, in the process, he could lay the ghosts that had haunted him for too long…

  “It’s quiet.”
>
  It was the first time Alex had said anything since he pulled his brother’s car into the somewhat dubious parking spot on one corner of the cemetery block. It was another reason she was happy to pedal around the city on her bike. The parking issues and the fact that she was truly dangerous behind the wheel of a car.

  They’d walked in silence along the long white wall, cracked in spots, with weeds sprouting up from those cracks. She noticed it changed heights for some reason on the other side of the narrow entrance. It was an odd place for a cemetery, surrounded as it was by city, but it wasn’t the cemetery’s fault the city had grown out to it, and then beyond.

  A green neutral ground ran down the middle of the street, separating this side of the cemetery from some houses and possibly a gas station partly hidden by some trees. It felt as if the street weren’t sure whether to swing residential or commercial. It was a common problem she’d noticed in her peddling, her gaze caught by a church-like spire peeking over the top of a house of some sort. The quirky image made her wish she’d brought her portfolio.

  “Too quiet?” he muttered.

  Nell had the feeling the question wasn’t for her. He surveyed their surroundings like a cop looking for threats.

  “Do you think we were followed?” She didn’t remember anyone behind them when they’d circled the block twice before settling for the dubious parking space.

  “This is a bad idea.” He frowned at the less than salubrious cemetery interior.

  Nell turned to join him in his contemplation. It might not be the best idea ever, but bad seemed a little harsh. She’d followed her instincts, but if his cop instincts were twitching—a burst of chatter broke the local silence and a gaggle of tourists were herded out of the dead space by a guide. He directed them across the street and out of sight, letting silence settle in once more. Dead space. The nickname suited these cemeteries.