Mistaken for the Mob

Her neck prickled as it had earlier that day.

She spun, but saw nothing other than the mom and her three girls walk away from the store’s automatic door—and the unremarkable gray car braked ten cars down beyond her. Although she couldn’t make out the driver’s facial features, something about him slammed fear right back into her gut.

She felt just as she had when J.Z. Prophet had glared at her.

A chill ran through her and she shivered. If the stormy computer tech was at the wheel, then she wanted to get as far from him as fast as she could. And if he wasn’t, then she also wanted to leave that parking lot just as fast. Just because.

Frustrated by her shaky hand’s failure to get the button on her automatic keychain to work, Maryanne took a deep breath, clenched her fist around the plastic rectangle, and then prayed a blunt “Help!”

She unfurled her fingers and with deliberation, aimed the gadget straight at the lock. It popped. She slid behind the wheel, flicked the locks back on, and then started the car. As she pulled out, she kept the gray car in sight out the corner of her eye. She sighed in relief when it took the spot she’d vacated.

The adrenaline drain left her even shakier than before, and she had no idea how she drove home without hitting anything on the way. She had to get her imagination under much better control. She couldn’t freak out at even the tiniest thing. That driver had just wanted her parking space.

Later that evening, she watched her favorite home decorating show before she decided an early bedtime would work wonders on her frazzled nerves. Tomorrow would be a better day—it had to be.

She hoped.

And Friday was better. By noon, she’d settled back into her normal routine. With a clear head, she ate a sandwich for lunch at her desk, determined to make up for yesterday’s lack of productivity. By five, she’d caught up and only had the report to do. She’d finish it tomorrow afternoon on her home computer.

Trudy stuck her head in the office.

“Come on in,” Maryanne said.

“No, I’m on my way home. Are you still coming tonight?”

Maryanne logged out of her word processing program and shut down her machine. “It’s my turn with the youth group’s sixth graders this month. I wouldn’t miss the scavenger hunt for the world. I had a blast when I helped out last year.”

“Good. David’s been looking forward to special attention from his honorary aunt.”

She slung the sturdy straps of her large tote bag over one shoulder, flicked off the lights and closed the office door. “He’d better rethink that plan. I’m not about to show your darling son any favoritism. I’m just there to count noses and make sure no one gets left behind in a store at the mall.”

“That’s what I told him,” Trudy said with a chuckle. “Somehow, though, I think you’re going to have to work hard to avoid his charm. That boy’s going places…someday.”

Maryanne nodded. “It’s a good thing you and Ron have channeled that energy and appeal in positive directions. Otherwise, who knows where he’d end up?”

“Thanks. Your opinion means a great deal. And you’re right. David is a handful. It’s hard to walk that fine line between guiding and stifling a child.”

“You and Ron are terrific parents, Trudy. You teach by example, and I think that’s the best thing for kids.” Maryanne thought back on her earlier years. “Mother and Dad were great, even though they had such different personalities.”

“I miss your mom, you know?”

“How could I not? You and I grew up in each other’s homes. Besides, Mother pretty much liked you better than she liked me.”

Trudy pushed on the massive, revolving library door. “You know that’s not true—even though you did give her some pretty good headaches now and then.”

On the sidewalk, Maryanne paused and sighed. “It’s that goofy side of me, the Dad part, that always got me in trouble. But Mother did have a point. When I finally surrendered and did things her way, my life went much smoother. As it has ever since.”

Trudy studied Maryanne. “Maybe it’s been easier, but I wonder if it hasn’t been a lot more boring, too.”

She jolted as if Trudy had pricked her with a pin. “My life’s not boring. Not at all. It’s full and rich and satisfying. I have a great job—a career. And I love my church family. My calendar’s full of wonderful activities, and I even have a fabulous cat. I love my life just the way it is.”

Trudy resumed the walk to the parking lot. “When’s the last time you did something on the spur of the moment? Something unexpected and fun?”

Maryanne scoffed. “That’s what I mean. Mother taught me well. Dad’s nuttiness creates chaos, and I don’t want that in my life. Well thought-out choices and prudent decisions up front make much more sense than to struggle to fix things after you’ve made a mess of them.”

Trudy shook her head and her silver bob swung in a smooth arc. “That’s boring.”

“No way. I don’t want to climb a rock face, travel to strange places where I’ll wind up with malaria or put myself in situations where I might meet people who could do me harm. Even you warned me against the computer clown yesterday.”

Trudy reached the driver’s side of her cherry-red Sunbird parked alongside Maryanne’s tan Escort. She looked over the roof and said, “Read my lips: boooooooring!”

As she unlocked her car, Maryanne gave her friend one last disgusted look. “Nope. Not at all. Just safe, secure, familiar and comfortable. See you later at church.”

She started the ignition and shook her head. She’d had her fill of spur-of-the-moment living, thanks to Dad. What kind of woman would want a steady diet of madness?

J.Z. snapped his cell phone shut. “Joey-O’s not talking.”

Dan looked up from the file folder he’d just picked up. “Did you think he would?”

“His kind usually does—to point the finger at someone else, of course. Especially if it means they can save their sorry skin.”

“Is he denying that he killed Mat? Or has he just zipped his lip?”

“David says no one can get a word out of him.”

Dan’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Latham’s good at getting perps to talk. So if Joey’s not talking, then he’s more scared of what might come his way from the outside than by staying in for…oh, say a hundred years or so.”

“I want to know how Joey got word to Wellborn so she could finish the job. He’s been in the slammer since minutes after he emptied his gun into the Laundromat.”

“I’m telling you, you’re barking up the wrong tree with the librarian, J.Z. There’s nothing, nothing here—” Dan waved the papers from the file “—that even hints at her involvement. Even her bank records are clean—you’ve read it in black-and-white, same as I have. Look at them again.”

Dan held the pages out to J.Z., but J.Z. did know what they said…and didn’t say. He shook his head.

His partner wasn’t ready to quit. “Not a dollar goes into her account that doesn’t come from her paycheck, J.Z. So what would she have to gain? Why would she kill for the mob? What’s her motive?”

“Remember the e-mails. They’re pretty clear. Terminate Carlo Papparelli.” J.Z. ran a hand through his hair. He felt the answers he needed were just on the other side of his grasp. “She’s got to keep her stash somewhere. Maybe Mat did the laundering for her dollars, and didn’t want to cough them back up. We just have to dig deeper than we have.”

“It doesn’t fit,” Dan argued. “She’s clean if you ignore those e-mails. So where’s the connection? A librarian doesn’t just hook up with the mob out of the blue.”

J.Z. shrugged. “That retirement home’s an awfully cushy place for a librarian’s salary to afford. Maybe she saw the chance to get the dough that’d keep her dad there.”

“Sure, but how would she turn to the mob?”

“That’s what you and I are going to find out.”

Dan stared straight at J.Z. A wriggle of discomfort wound through him. “I think there’s nothing for us to find. And there’s a lot of valuable time to waste, time we can’t afford to waste. Your personal bias against the mob in general and the Verdis in particular might just cost us six long months’ worth of work.”

The image of his father’s stony face at the defendant’s table came back to haunt J.Z. “The good ones always look that clean. Only a fool will let himself get caught up in their smokescreen. I fell for my father’s lies when I was too young to know better. I won’t do it again.”