Frankly, My Detective Read online

  “So, if you are so good at knowing who’s tailing you, how come you don’t know exactly who this mole in the department is?”

  “First, I don’t claim to be magical, Cliff, and second, spotting a tail is, well, ‘elementary’ dear Dawson. It’s one of the first things you learn in Private Investigator School.”

  Cliff gave a derisive snort. “There is no P.I. school and last I looked you didn’t go to the police academy.”

  “Okay. So let’s just say its women’s intuition. Does that make you happy? Now, can we talk about the case, please? What have we learned Cliffie?”

  He ignored her pre-school teacher tone and waited to respond while Jackie and Jorge placed their steaming plates before them. For just a moment he was lost in the marvelous aromas of garlic, rosemary, basil and crushed red pepper emanating from the comforting food. He shook his head, reached for the grated Parmesan cheese and began.

  “Well, my captain wants me to have a suspect before him yesterday. And did I mention that he is not, repeat not happy that you and I are working this case together? However, he does not know who you are and our past, shall we say, history, specifically the Falco debacle. And, I still don’t have any leads on the mole. And I sure as hell didn’t tell him about that!”

  “Hmm,” Scarlett said quietly, “‘What makes life so difficult? People?’ ”

  Dawson glared at her, not even bothering to ask what movie that quote came from and stabbed his fork into his plate. The sauce that spattered his clothing did nothing to improve his considerably less-than-stylish appearance.

  Scarlett expertly twirled the linguine around her fork and winced as she watched Dawson cut his spaghetti with a knife and fork. She lowered her eyes briefly and enjoyed a rich bite before she spoke.

  “Chang shouldn’t be angry we’re working together, because we’re not, you know. There’s your first mistake. I’m working this case and letting you know what I know because I’m pretty sure neither one of us want to see any more dead bodies lying around. Now, do you want to know what I’ve learned and what I’ve decided to tell you or should we just enjoy our meal and say ‘night’?”

  “Okay, Okay, spill,” he said, around a mouthful of juicy fennel-herbed sausage.

  “I know that the mole in the department has been inside for a while, and he’s been on the payroll of Uncle Cosmo. I suspect there is drug peddling and or usage involved along with some other nasty stuff. And believe me, Cosmo’s into the nastiest stuff around. But whether Cosmo has something on this cop or not, he sure as hell owns him now.” She took a large drink of wine before continuing with some apparent difficulty. Dawson ate and waited.

  “How’s your food? Good, huh?” She stalled and was sure he knew it.

  “Yeah, it’s really good. How do you know this place?”

  “My mom lives nearby and, being Italian, you know, we can all cook pretty well, so we’re pretty picky about Italian restaurants. This one makes the cut.”

  “Nice. Doesn’t your mom live up on Santa Monica Avenue?”

  Scarlett’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

  Dawson smiled and pointed to his chest with his fork. “Hi. Detective here.”

  Scarlett smirked at him. “Cliff, do you know why donkeys don’t go to school?” He shook his head.

  “’Cause nobody likes a smartie-ass! Now how much more do you know about my family, my life?” She put her fork down and waited.

  Dawson told her all he knew about her: her sister the nurse, married to the doctor, where they worked, where they lived, that they were loaded with student debt. He knew about her late father coming from Sicily and working as a landscape gardener for the city. He praised Giuseppe Salerno’s advancement to landscape designer by hard work and study. He even knew about her father’s legacy of beautiful gardens still thriving in Balboa Park. She admitted she was impressed.

  “O.K. Dawson, lots of that is public record, so I can’t give you that much credit for top sleuthing yet. Tell me something that’ll shock me.”

  Dawson grinned. “Your mom, Rosa, seems to go through care givers like shit through a goose. Her neighbors report she’s had several. She must be a tough one. Like mother like daughter, right? Are you two that much alike?”

  “Well, as my Irish friend says, ‘they don’t lick it off the grass’, so yeah, I guess I’ve inherited a lot of her toughness.” She felt anxious; he was getting too close. She needed to get him off this track. She couldn’t tell him everything just yet.

  “So, who else knows all about me? Did you happen to share these tasty tidbits of knowledge with anyone else?” She held her breath.

  “Well, I don’t think so.” His voice was casual. “I did the checking myself and I don’t have a partner at the moment, so I dig around on my own.”

  Scarlett pushed her plate away, her food half-finished. “Look, Dawson, I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave my family out of this, especially my mom. She’s old and, well, doesn’t always approve of my, um, chosen profession.”

  Dawson sat back, sipped his wine, and smiled. “Gee, I can’t figure why. I mean, one daughter goes to a prestigious college and gets her RN, then gets her certificate, or whatever, in neo-natal intensive care, works at one of the best hospitals in the city, marries a handsome, brilliant doctor. The other daughter finishes law school but chooses to become a private dick and muck around in other people’s dirt. Now why wouldn’t a mother be equally approving and proud?”

  “I didn’t say she wasn’t proud, just that she wished I’d done something different. Do you know the old Italian joke about the three women talking about their daughters?” She didn’t wait for a reply— she desperately wanted him to forget about her mother and the so-called caregivers.

  “So these three old Italian ladies are sitting crocheting, and you know when there’s three of anything, somebody’s gonna be an odd one out. First lady says to second lady: ‘Cara Mia, I saw your daughter the other day. What a lovely girl, so clean and modest and always so kind. She’ll attract a fine husband, I know.’ Second lady says to first lady: ‘Grazie, Cara Amica, she is a good girl. By the way, I saw your daughter at Mass the other morning and it wasn’t even Sunday. So faithful, so virtuous, some man will be lucky to have her for a wife.’ They both turn to the third lady and can’t resist. First one says: ‘So, I saw your daughter the other day, walking the street with two men. She seemed very happy, laughing and smiling in her bright, low-cut dress.’ Second lady: ‘Oh yes and the men were constantly taking turns kissing and hugging her, and then they went into the inn together. Such a lively girl and so popular.’ They waited for an answer. Third lady looks right at them and says: ‘Yes, she is a popular girl, and men do like her, but I’m proud of her all the same. Do you know why?’ They shake their heads and she replies: ‘Finche non fume!’”

  Dawson frowned, shook his head and shrugged.

  “‘Finche non fume!’ It means roughly, ‘but she doesn’t smoke’. That’s the big deal. An Italian girl can do lots of stuff, even act like a puttana as long as she doesn’t smoke!” Scarlett spread her hands wide, palms up. “See, that’s why my mom may not totally approve of what I do for a living, but she’s sooo happy I don’t smoke that it all evens out.”

  Dawson gave her a slight smile and while she knew he really didn’t understand, she hoped she’d distracted him from the subject of her mother. She excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. While there, she checked the burner cell phone. One message from Rosa; only, it wasn’t her voice; a deep male voice replaced the warmth of the wine and food in her stomach with a five-pound block of ice.

  “Well, so this is the famous lady dick, Salerno. Your mama is a real nice lady. Too bad she keeps such bad company. How about we take them both for a little ride? We’ll be in touch, Salerno. Somebody who knows you told us to tell ya, ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you.’”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dawson looked over the dessert menu as he sipped the last of the Chianti. Before he co
uld make up his mind between the tiramisu and the chocolate lava cake, Scarlett grabbed the menu out of his hand. Bending low, her face close to his, she muttered in a hoarse whisper, “Pay the bill and meet me outside right away!”

  “What?”

  “Just expense it, or whatever, but move, now!”

  Stunned, he watched her rush out of the restaurant. She gave a stiff smile

  and slight wave to Jackie. He fumbled for his credit card, cursing her under his breath. When he finally got outside, she was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, her high heels coming down with such force he thought the cement would crack beneath them.

  “What the hell, Scarlett …,” he began, but she cut him off. She came close to him and gripped the lapel of his shoddy suit jacket.

  “Listen, Dawson, and don’t interrupt, damn it! Those shitheads of Cosmo’s have my mother! You’ve got to get in your car and follow me up Santa Monica Avenue and now!”

  He opened his mouth to ask how she knew, but she had spun around and was running down the boulevard towards her car. He just made it into his sedan as she sped by him, pulled an illegal turn, ran the red light and tore away from him. Dawson cursed her again, reached out, put his magnetic police light on the roof, and squealed after her.

  At the top of the steep hill, Scarlett screeched to a halt in Rosa’s driveway, and flung open her door, leaving the car running, gun in her hand. Her headlight signal wasn’t answered; she knew her mother wasn’t there. Dawson was right behind her, pulling his gun out of his shoulder holster as he saw hers.

  “A Glock? Jesus, Salerno,” he muttered, briefly stunned but impressed by her choice of superior firearm. He crept forward as she waved him to her side on the porch. She spoke in low whisper, the slight quaver in her voice betraying her anxiety.

  “Cliff, I’m gonna go in. The door’s open. Rosa would never leave it unlocked. Keep close.”

  He touched her shoulder. “Mind telling me what the hell is going on before I risk my life, Salerno?”

  She whirled on him, eyes flashing, her mouth a feral snarl. “Not Now! Just follow me. Shit!” She turned towards the house bent slightly, kicked off her shoes and turned to push the front door open wider. Dawson clicked the safety off his gun and stayed close behind. The house wasn’t dark. The drapes were drawn shut as they always were, but there were lights on in the living room, dining room and kitchen. Guns held two-handed in front of them, the unlikely pair walked slowly into the living room, their eyes and weapons sweeping from side to side. Scarlett stopped and called out to her mother. No answer. She jerked her head towards the hallway and waved Dawson on into the kitchen. Out of habit, he called out “Clear” each time he found a room empty. Within a few short minutes they each determined the house and the back yard were empty.

  Scarlett came into the kitchen, eyes wide and searching. “There’s food on the counter; the dishes aren’t cleared. She’d never leave it like this. They’ve got them and they left in a hurry.”

  “Them?” Dawson frowned. “Who else was here?” She didn’t answer. He grabbed her arm roughly. “Scarlett, who else was here, who else did they take? What the hell is going on?”

  Scarlett took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Opening them and focusing on Dawson, she spoke in a flat, dead voice.

  “I was hiding Lizette Di Stefano here with my mother. Mom helps me protect my clients sometimes. Kinda.”

  Dawson was speechless. He stared in disbelief at her for a long moment. Suddenly her words came in a torrent.

  “Yano hired me to watch his wacko boyfriend, ’cause he was sure he was cheating on him. That’s who you saw in the Beemer. Lizette hired me to prove Yano was cheating on her, ’cause that would violate their pre-nup and she’d get a great settlement and so I took them both on. I thought it’d be an adventure, ya know … .”

  “But Yano got himself murdered, and you figured you’d protect the wife and find the murderer all by yourself, and get a big load of cash, but now what, huh, Salerno? Now what?”

  Scarlett wiped the sweat from her upper lip. “Slow down, will ya? I have to think, I have to figure out where they took them.”

  “How the hell do you propose to do that? You’ve really …”

  But she wasn’t listening. She’d hurried into the living room. She was at the television cabinet turning the large statue of the Virgin Mary around. Exhaling in exasperation, Dawson reached for his cell phone.

  “I’m gonna call for back up and a forensic team. We gotta find something.”

  “Yeah, you do that,” Scarlett answered him absently, as he gave orders in clipped tones to his precinct officer. “Got it! Rosa, you rock!” Scarlett pulled the small camcorder out of the backside of the statue. “Cliffie, we’ve got video. We can figure out where they’ve gone!”

  Dawson ended his call and frowned at her. “What?” She ignored him for a few minutes, which only irritated him more. He did another quick walkthrough the house, mumbling to himself until Scarlett’s excited voice drew him back into the living room.

  “I installed this ‘nanny cam’ in the statue, see. So if there was ever a problem, Mom could activate it and we’d have video of what happened. See?” She held up the tiny camera with a trembling hand. The sound of sirens screaming up the hill towards the house nearly drowned out Scarlett’s explanation.

  “Mom always records her soaps, so I made this really simple. The statue’s next to the old video recorder. All she had to do was push the globe at the Blessed Mother’s foot, see? And the lens is in the rose bouquet she’s holding and a mini-CD in Mary’s tummy. Piece of cake! Do you have a computer in your cop car?” She quickly opened up the statue and removed the small disk.

  The backup officers were shouting at the open front door. Dawson yelled “All clear,” and the room suddenly filled with men in tan uniforms holding lots of guns. Scarlett ignored the cop talk and the stomping around and grabbed Dawson’s arm. He winced at the strength of her grip.

  “Cliffie, DO YOU HAVE A FRIGGIN’ COMPUTER IN YOUR CRAPPY COP CAR?”

  “Yeah, yeah, let go, will ya!”

  She kept the solid hold on his arm and yanked him towards the front door as one officer tried to talk to him.

  “I’ll brief you later. Been a kidnapping, old lady, young woman, check the house for evidence or signs of struggle. I’ll be back … .” His voice trailed off as she propelled him towards his car. Minutes later, the shaky images on the computer screen showed Scarlett and Dawson a scene she’d never wanted to see.

  “Wait, just let me pause my stories.” Rosa’s voice was strong and steady, just a little higher pitched than usual. Scarlett’s heart jumped as she saw the pink floral pattern of her mother’s blouse grow smaller as Rosa walked away from the camera. Two men stood in the living room, semi-automatic weapons in their beefy hands. Dawson swore under his breath. A third man’s deep voice was heard. He seemed to be speaking to Lizette but neither was 59

  visible. Scarlett recognized his voice as the one who’d left the voice mail.

  “So now, Mrs. Di Stefano,” the emphasis on her name clearly was in no way respectful. “How about you and your little friend here come along with us? Uncle Cosmo would like you to pay him a visit.”

  Lizette’s shaky response came next. “Okay, yeah, but leave her here. She’s got nothing to do with me, really. I just rented a room from her, ya know, to hide out for a while. Leave her alone, right?”

  The unseen man gave a short laugh. “Don’t think so. Matter of fact, we know who’s on the other end of this cell phone. Right, old lady? Yeah, I think we’ll just leave a nice message for your daughter and then you can come along with us.”

  Rosa piped up, loud enough for her voice to carry. “I’m perfectly happy staying right here, young man! I assure you I have no intention of going with you. Now if you’ll get on with your business, I have dishes to do.” She walked over to the television cabinet again. “Now, did I remember to pause this thing? “Scarlett gasped as she realized what her
mother was doing. Rosa’s hand appeared in close-up for just a second as she quickly moved the statue. The men stayed occupied with Lizette, who could be heard shouting and cursing at them. They shouted back, trying to drown her out. In the middle of this ruckus, none of them noticed Rosa moving the camera-laden Virgin statue around so the third man was now visible.

  “Shit!” Dawson exclaimed, putting his head closer to the screen. “You know who that is?”

  “Can you roll it back?” Scarlett crowded in to see better.

  Dawson pushed the cursor over the screen and froze the frame. “Yeah, it’s the uncle’s main man. His name is Luca Annunciato Trentino. We’ve been trying to get something on him for a long time. Figure he’s the one who killed the judge in the Falco case.”

  “You mean the crooked judge who wound up on the take in that case?”

  Dawson growled, “Yeah.”

  “Too bad you guys didn’t find that out before he got iced.”

  His hoarse grunt was the only reply. The reminder that Scarlett had cracked that case still stung.

  They started the video again and saw Lizette, still protesting, but to no avail. Rosa at her side now, trying to calm her down.

  “Now, Sweetie, let’s just do what they say before one of them gets foolish.” She turned to the large man and spoke loudly. “Now where we’re going; will it be cold? Because you know, I’m an older lady, very susceptible to the cold, so I’ll need to know if I need my big coat.”

  There was a guttural laugh. “Lady, if you’ll just shut up! Yeah, you should have a coat. God, one of you goons go with her and make sure she gets her coat, hat, gloves whatever the hell she needs. You, glamour girl, come with me, get your coat, too, I guess. Jesus! What a pain you women are. No makeup, no fancy stuff, just get going!”

  Rosa’s voice again from outside camera range, “Oh, is it far? Is that why you’re in such a hurry? I hate really long drives, you know. Give me a headache, they do. Oh, and I do hope there won’t be lots of twisty roads, just hate to be carsick.”