Stealing the Golden Dream Page 13
In the background, she heard Coop say, “Coolness. A caper.”
Tank’s reply was desert riverbed dry. “Take it easy, kid.”
Metro Pawn was open for business.
A geeky young guy in a white-collared shirt under an ASU sweatshirt sat behind the counter reading the Steve Jobs autobiography. He looked up as Jordan and Eddie walked in.
“Something I can do for you?” he asked.
“Frankie,” Eddie said.
The young man jerked his head toward the back room. “Is she expecting you? She’s entertaining.”
“She knows us.” Eddie didn’t stop, heading toward the back room like he owned the place.
Jordan followed, her head swiveling as item after item came into view, each more bizarre than the one they’d just passed by—a Nazi helmet with the business end of a bayonet sticking out the front, an old-fashioned wooden dynamite detonator like those used back when the railroads were first built, a set of gold-capped false teeth. She had a second look at those.
Eddie led her straight to the back room, where Diego sat in an armchair in front of a big screen watching Telemundo, one of those boom-chicky-boom variety shows.
A table beside him bore several plates of cupcakes, brownies, chocolate-iced doughnuts, and Moon Pies. Diego’s face was smeared with chocolate icing.
“Better watch it, dude. You’ll eat so much you won’t fit in your Jeep anymore,” Eddie said.
Diego looked up, his expression sheepish.
He took his feet off the hassock and sat up straight. “Boss. Jordan.”
A heavy-set woman came through a side doorway, carrying a tray with a tall glass full of ice and a bottle of IB root beer.
She smiled at Eddie and puffed a few strands of escaped hair off her face. “Eddie, nice to see you.”
Eddie made introductions. “Frankie Manheim. Jordan Welsh, my partner.”
Frankie set the tray by Diego, who seemed to be trying to pretend the sugar explosion sitting beside him was for someone else.
Frankie turned to Eddie. “I really want to say thanks for sending Diego here to watch over me. Makes me feel as well-guarded as the Crown Jewels. And he’s not so bad to look at either.” She smiled down at Diego. “You need anything, sweetie?”
“Good to hear,” Eddie said. “Frankie, have you seen or heard from Tony LaSalle?”
Frankie’s mouth fell open. She stared at him.
Eddie nodded. “We know it was him, Frankie. So, if he comes around—”
She straightened up and thrust out her chin. “You think he’s coming back here, don’t you?”
“I think he might,” Eddie admitted.
“You put me in danger, Mr. Marino. Made me a target. Next thing you know there’ll be cops all over the place, and LaSalle’s going to think I narced him out.”
“Diego’s here. Nobody’s going to hurt you, Frankie. And there won’t be any cops around. They don’t know it was Tony who pulled the job, and we’re not going to tell them just yet.”
The young boy from the front room stood in the doorway. “Frankie, couple of people outside to see you. Say they’re cops.”
If looks were bullets, Eddie would be shot through the heart. “I friggin’ told you. Didn’t I?” Frankie huffed.
Jordan tried to smooth things over. “They’re just here to ask you some questions about the coins. Don’t worry.”
Detectives Neil Thompson and Ann Murphy came to the doorway.
When Ann saw Eddie and Jordan, she said, “Impeding our investigation again, guys?”
Eddie and Jordan looked at each other.
“You need to get out of our way,” Thompson said. “This is police work.”
“Get out of your way?” Eddie was hot. “You wouldn’t have jack if it wasn’t for us. And you know it.”
“Think much of yourself, Marino? You’re not that good.” Neil drew back his shoulders and thrust out his chin.
“Yes,” Eddie shrugged, “I most certainly am.”
Jordan went to Ann and took hold of her arm. “Let’s step outside. Something I want to tell you.”
Outside on the sidewalk, Jordan said in a low voice, “Ann, we know who it is.”
“And you’re going to share this information with me, right?”
Yes. She was going to share it with Ann. If Eddie knew, he’d be livid. She wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive her, but now that she knew who they were after, she was more than a little afraid. Having the police looking for Tony at the same time they were sounded like a good idea. If the cops could get to LaSalle first, it would be better for everyone—certainly safer for Eddie. LaSalle would pay for Muggs, and Eddie wouldn’t go to jail for killing LaSalle.
“It’s a guy named Tony LaSalle. He works for Anthony Vercelli as—”
Ann sighed. “I know who Tony LaSalle is. What makes you think it’s him?”
“We just know. We have ways of getting to things that would make your hair curl. Don’t ask.”
“Jordan, you and Eddie have never steered me wrong, but without evidence, there’s nothing I can do.”
“We’ll get it for you, but Eddie can’t know I gave you the name.”
Ann looked at her, understanding in her eyes. “Okay. In the meantime, I guess I could say we heard from an anonymous source about LaSalle. I could list him as a person of interest.” Ann took out her notebook and wrote in it.
“Thanks, Ann.”
It took forty-five minutes to heat Jordan’s spa. Eddie and Jordan sat at the kitchen table and drank red wine while they polished off the lasagna her housekeeper Hannah had cooked the night before.
Once the bubbles were going and the two were naked in the spa, the heat and wine had relaxed their inhibitions enough to open them up to experimentation. There were actually a couple of times Jordan worried Eddie might drown.
When they got out, all loose and lovey-dovey, and went inside, Eddie nearly spoiled it all by asking, “So what did you talk to Ann about today?”
She couldn’t tell him the truth. He couldn’t know, at least not now, that she had given LaSalle up to the police.
“You know,” she said, “I was just trying to get her out of your hair. Told her Diego was on Frankie. Told her we’d been making a little headway, but nothing major. She said to talk to her again when we have some hard evidence.” Only half a lie.
The idea of cappuccino and Netflix under the covers sounded like a swell idea. Jordan went to turn on the steam shower while Eddie put on his jeans and went into the kitchen to start up Jordan’s whiz-bang cappuccino maker. She joined him in the kitchen.
“Popcorn?”
“Make a double helping,” he said. “I have a healthy appetite tonight.”
Eddie always had a healthy appetite, and not just for food.
Her phone rang while she was still tending the popper.
“Fire” by the Ohio Players. It was Keegan. “Hey, Steve.” She cradled the phone under her chin and turned the popcorn off.
“I called to let you know we closed the case on The Jokers Wild,” he said. “Got a couple of clean prints off a cigarette lighter found at the scene. It took a while to identify them because of the damage caused by the extreme heat. Turns out the guy had a record—professional arsonist who already served two stretches for different fires. We brought him in. Phoenix PD leaned on him and promised him a deal if he gave up his paycheck. It was the club owner.”
“Congratulations to us all,” Jordan said. “You’re the man, Steve.”
The arson case was closed. The police were now looking for Tony LaSalle. Jordan felt really good for the first time in two weeks, so good in fact she let Eddie choose the movie. Make that movies; he’d opted for an Expendables marathon.
Chapter 24
It was Thursday noon. As always, Kierland Commons in North Scottsdale was a little bit of Beverly Hills—high fashion, upscale restaurants, all the bells and whistles. Mary Welsh and her American Express card nearly lived there or down the road at Fas
hion Square.
One of her favorite lunch places was Café du Mer. The ambiance, obsequious service, and delicate cuisine were right up her alley after many, many evenings spent with the robust flavors of Welsh’s Steak and Chophouse.
The interior was red, black, and whiteeverywhere. The servers wore stiff white shirts with red ties and aprons and black stovepipe pants. There were a lot of personal greetings, and her favorite cocktail always waited at her special table.
She sipped it now; nothing like a Grey Goose martini with extra olives to start off a good meal. She liked them dry, so dry that she instructed the bartender, “Don’t add the vermouth. Just walk by it with the vodka.”
She was still working on her first but beginning to think about her second when Rose Marino appeared in the entryway, her head swiveling.
Mary stood and waved. “Rose! Rose, dear. Over here.”
Rose hugged Mary then sat. The waiter appeared at her side, picked up her napkin, snapped it smartly and attempted to lay it in her lap. Rose grabbed his wrist and glared at him like he was some kind of pervert. “Give it a rest, sonny. I’ll take care of the lap work.”
Mary sent him away with a wave.
Mary laid her hand atop Rose’s. “I’m so glad to see you, darling. This was a brilliant idea. I have to say I’m most flattered to be asked to help you pick out your trousseau.”
Rose’s smile was huge. “I’m just happy as a clam you agreed to do it. I never told you this, but you’re my fashion role model, Mary. Always so put together and chic. I want to look pretty for Mark on our honeymoon. Thank you for agreeing to help me shop.”
The two women chatted. When it came time to order, Rose complained, “I don’t know what to get. Nothing’s in English.”
Mary was delighted to do the honors. “Don’t worry, Rose dear. I’m an expert at French cuisine, and nearly everything else as well.” She laughed, only half-joking. “But you wouldn’t know I had a single brain cell if you asked my children.”
Rose snagged a breadstick from the glass vase on the table and munched. “Don’t I know it? Rotten kids.”
When the food came, Rose looked at her plate and said it was all too pretty to eat, but eat she did, every bite.
When they finished and went outside into the bright Arizona sun, Mary rubbed her hands together enthusiastically and said, “Where to start? I have it. Lingerie. Let’s go. The timing’s perfect. Everyone’s eating lunch. The stores won’t be busy.”
And so it was—lingerie then swimsuits. Rose purchased a scandalous purple bra with plenty of padding and a turquoise swimsuit with a pretty little skirt around the middle.
Pleased with their purchases, they stood on the corner about to cross the street to a dress shop specializing in resort attire when a black Expedition barreled around the corner and screeched to a halt in front of them. The passenger door swung open, and a man jumped out. He was lean with long black hair. Mary noticed his clothes. Urban chic was the way she’d have described them. Expensive jeans, designer T-shirt.
The thought crossed Mary’s mind that he was sexy in a dark, bad boy sort of way. She didn’t have time for second thoughts as he took hold of the handle on the back door and yanked it open. He grabbed Rose by the arm and pulled her.
“What!” Mary didn’t think twice. Shopping bags flew everywhere as she jumped on his back and began to beat him on the head with her Prada clutch. “Run, Rosie, run! Leave her the hell alone, you brute.”
He jerked his elbow, smashing her face as she hung over his shoulder. Her head snapped back. Stars swam, and she fell onto the cushion of the shopping bags then rolled over onto the sidewalk.
Rose screamed like a banshee. He shoved her into the backseat, slammed the door, and jumped in.
Agitated people came from the stores and cafés nearby and stared as the tires spun, grabbed, and the car sped away. One man even ran out into the roadway after it, but stopped as the Expedition pulled out onto Scottsdale Road.
A hand came into Mary’s line of sight. She took it and was pulled to her feet by one of the young parking valets. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
She patted her hair and pulled down her pastel blue skirt, noticing the red stain at the hemline. “Oh, damn! My favorite Chanel.” She examined her bloody knee. “And that’s going to be a scab.”
He gathered up Rose’s shopping bags as Mary tried to figure out what had just happened. Was Rose really kidnapped? Were the kids playing a trick? She was confused and scared, and suddenly she felt very, very old. She made her way to a bench and sat. The valet set the bags at her feet.
Jordan’s number was the first on her favorites list. She spoke into the phone. “Call Jordie.”
It was nearly eleven Thursday night, and the mood at the office was tense, somber. No word had come in as to the whereabouts of Rose. Eddie could only remember being so terrified twice beforeonce when he’d been told his father was dead and again last year when Jordan had nearly died in a car bomb incident while working the Moon & Stars Foundation case. Neither had made him feel as helpless as he did now.
He leaned against the sofa cushions as Jordan walked back into his office, shaking her head.
“Where’s he taken her?” He looked up. “Why would Tony take Mama when it’s me he wants?”
Jordan leaned over him and cradled his head. “We’ll find Mama Rose. We will.”
“Sorry,” Coop said, his voice soft and apologetic. He stood in the open doorway. “I got something, you guys.”
The three went into the back room where the state-of-the-art video surveillance equipment had been upgraded even more and rearranged by Simon Cooper earlier in the day when they first got word Rose had been taken. There were so many flashing screens and scanners, buttons and switches, it looked like the operations control center at the Pentagon.
Coop took a seat at the panel and started a video. “I hacked the security system for the shopping area.”
“You go, Coop.” Jordan offered her fist for a bump.
As the screen came to life, Mama Rose and Jordan’s mother stood on the corner, waiting to cross. They chatted. Mary laid her hand on Rose’s arm while Rose threw back her head and laughed. The big black vehicle roared around the corner, and Rose was gone in a flash.
It was all there, the whole incident, and it validated what Mary had told them about the vile, evil man who took Eddie’s mama. They knew it was Tony LaSalle, but knowing it didn’t put them any closer to getting her back or learning what he wanted.
Eddie watched the video, eyes suspiciously bright. “My little mama put up a damn good fight. And Mary was no slouch either. How’s she doing?”
Jordan shrugged. “Skinned knee, black eye. But she’s not complaining, if you can believe it. She’s scared and waiting to hear, just like the rest of us.”
Eddie’s phone rang. He looked at the screen. “The number’s blocked.”
Jordan held her breath.
“Eddie Marino.” His voice shook. “Tony. You touch her and you’re—”
Jordan squeezed his arm and shook her head. He took a deep breath, let it out and switched over to speaker.
Tony’s hateful voice was amused. “I’m what, Marino? What were you going to say?”
Eddie nearly choked but kept his cool. “What’s the deal? Just tell me and let’s get this over with.”
From somewhere behind Tony, Mama’s high-pitched, muffled voice delivered ultimatums worthy of a street thug. “You better let me go if you know what’s good for you, punk.”
“It’s not your mom I want, Marino—not like you didn’t know.”
Rose shrieked. “My son Eddie will nail your knees to the floor, slime ball!”
Coop looked at Jordan. His mouth hung open in amazement and he whispered, “Slime ball? She’ll get herself killed if she doesn’t stop.”
Tony went on, his voice away from the phone, “Shut it, bitch!” Then back. “Your old lady has a mouth on her. Here’re my terms. I’ll let her go, safe and sound,
not a single hair on her old gray head ruffled. But you’re going to take her place.”
“Why?” Eddie said. “Why you doing this? Why now?”
No response.
Eddie looked at Jordan. “Tell me when and where you want me. I’ll do whatever you say as long as I see she’s safe.”
Feelings spun inside Jordan like a whirlwind. Mama was safe. Relief. But Tony wanted Eddie. Fear. And Eddie was going. There was nothing she could do about it. Above all else, she felt powerless.
Eddie disconnected the call, stood and headed to the front of the office. She followed, hearing the plea in her voice. “Let’s get the guys in place before you do this. Please. Call in Tank and Diego off the street. I can call Ann. Let’s do it the right way.”
He never turned around or looked at her. She knew there would be no reasoning with him when she heard his voice. It was dead flat. “No. No one else. Just me. It’s all me this time.”
Papago Park in south central Phoenix was popular with families and hikers. Situated very near the impressive Phoenix Zoo, it was a desert area where the hiking trails and climbing areas brought people from all over the valley. The beauty of the red rock formations was the big draw.
At night, it was a whole different matter—isolated, dark, and quiet. And it was Tony LaSalle’s choice of exchange points.
Jordan and Eddie waited in Jordan’s Pilot under a halogen light pole in the deserted parking area at the base of one of the main trailheads.
They held hands but were both so keyed up and paranoid, conversation was limited.
“What’s your plan?” Something about the atmosphere and the situation made her whisper.
He didn’t speak for a minute. “The plan is to go with him quietly, no resistance. When you and Mama are safely away, then ….” He looked at her in the darkened interior of the car, the dash lights casting his face half in shadow, half in light. “I’ll know what move to make when the time comes.”