Джанет Иванович - Twisted Twenty-Six

I found a Fred Astaire movie on the old movie channel and watched him dance with Ginger Rogers. Ginger was slim and Fred was slim and instead of talking all the time, sometimes they would sing. And then they would dance for no special reason and they’d be in perfect step without practicing. How cool is this? This is the planet I want to live on.

Morelli called at ten-thirty. He had nothing new to tell me, and he was going home to let Bob out and go to bed. He said all this to me in his flat cop voice. This meant that either he was exhausted, or he was putting a lid on unwanted emotion. I honestly don’t know how he does it day after day, slogging through the horror. My job isn’t nearly as demanding as his, and I’m burned out.

CHAPTER TWENTY

GRANDMA CALLED ME at seven o’clock in the morning. I was half asleep when the phone rang, and my first thought was that something horrible had happened. As it turned out I was partly right.

“Did you hear about Julius Roman?” she said.

“Yes. Morelli told me about the shooting last night.”

“It’s because of the keys, isn’t it?”

“Probably, but I don’t think anyone knows for sure. I’m sure Julius had enemies.”

“When you live here in the Burg, you know you have neighbors who are in the mob, but you don’t think about it a lot. I mean, people in the mob have to live somewhere. So why not in the Burg? And they look just like everyone else. Their kids go to school. The wives shop at Dittman’s and Macy’s. The men belong to the K of C. I guess that’s why I could marry Jimmy. I saw the normal part of him. I wasn’t thinking about the bad part. The crazy thinking that he had some sort of permission to do terrible things. People shouldn’t think like that. You don’t do bad things just because you want something . . . like the keys, or money, or to make someone think like you do. Nobody has the right.”

“Are you wearing your necklace?”

“Yep. I got it on.”

“There are a lot of people working to sort this out. In the meantime, you have to be careful.”

“I’m staying home and making cookies all day. Fresh-baked cookies go a long way to filling a house with goodness and happiness. And I’m going to give some of the cookies to the sisters to make up for Barbara’s. I hope they didn’t get too sick from them.”

“Maybe she wasn’t trying to poison you,” I said. “Maybe she was trying to butter you up, so you’d tell her about the keys.”

“Well, she’s in for a disappointment then, because I haven’t got anything to tell anybody.”

I dragged myself out of bed and stood in the shower until the water started running cold and my brain started functioning. I got out and towel dried and noticed one of my extensions was lying on the tile floor. Beauty doesn’t last forever. Fortunately, in this case, I can buy replenishment. Just one of the many good things that can be said for extensions.

I made my way to the kitchen and surveyed my breakfast options. Coffee and cereal. I was out of milk. I had the fixings for a peanut butter sandwich, but probably I should save that for dinner. I looked in the freezer. Package of hot dogs covered in freezer frost.

I had my rent covered for the month. My credit card bill was minimal. I had a paycheck for the three FTAs I brought in. I could afford to make a quick trip to the supermarket.

Twenty minutes later I was in the cereal aisle trying to decide between one that was sugar and gluten free and one I actually wanted to eat. I looked up from reading the ingredients and saw Jeanine Stupe coming my way.

“I tried that healthy cereal,” she said when she reached me. “I didn’t think it was so bad, but no one else in my family would eat it. Now that it’s just Bernie and me, we settle for toast and coffee.”

“I haven’t got a toaster,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about buying one.”

“Get a toaster oven,” Jeanine said. “They’re more versatile. I think they’re better at heating breakfast pastries.” She leaned in a little and lowered her voice. “Did you hear about Julius Roman?”

“Yes. I heard the news last night.”

“He was such a sweet man. I know in his day he might have done some questionable things, but to me he’s always been Uncle Julius.”

“I just recently got to know him,” I said.

Jeanine gave her head a small shake. “I’m sorry you and Edna had to get drawn into this over such a silly matter. I always thought the keys were ceremonial. Like they opened the liquor cabinet or something.”

“Have you heard any talk about who killed Julius? I thought it might have been tied to the keys.”

“Everyone has a theory. You know the Burg. We love a murder and a scandal.”

“Who do you think did it?”

“I’m leaning toward someone on the outside. He had his share of enemies. I think it didn’t have anything to do with the keys. I think the timing was coincidental.”

I nodded. “That makes sense.”

“I have to keep moving,” Jeanine said. “I’m meeting my mom for coffee at nine o’clock, and she hates when I’m late. She’s become so rigid with age.”

“She gave Grandma a tin of homemade cookies last night. Please thank her again for us.”

“Oh jeez,” Jeanine said. “I hope you didn’t eat any. She makes the world’s worst cookies.”

Besides getting staples like strawberry Pop-Tarts and coffee ice cream, I also got a bunch of frozen vegetables, frozen chicken nuggets, frozen enchiladas, and frozen turkey burgers. Next time Morelli looked in my freezer I’d have food in it. Whether I would actually get around to eating any of it, other than the ice cream, was something else.

—

Connie stood at her desk and waved a file at me when I came through the door.

“I have a priority job for you,” she said. “This just came in. Steven Cross. Didn’t show up for court yesterday. His judge set bail at six figures. High risk of flight. Vinnie should never have posted a bond for him.”

“I remember when he was arrested. It made national news. Good-looking older guy. Worth tons of money. Hung out with movie stars and European royalty. Thought he was the Pink Panther. Robbed jewelry stores for kicks. Over a five-year period stole a couple hundred million dollars’ worth of stuff. Got carried away at Stiffow Jewelers in Trenton and beat the seventy-year-old security guard senseless.”

“Yep, that’s him,” Connie said. “He lives in a mansion-type house across the river. Also has houses in Monte Carlo, Palm Beach, Carmel, and Washington, D.C. If you’re lucky he’s still in Pennsylvania. He has a boyfriend here.”

Lula was on the couch, taking it all in. “What’s the boyfriend do?” Lula asked.

“He’s a hairdresser,” Connie said. “Has a salon in downtown Trenton. Sort of a local celebrity.”

“I like it,” Lula said. “This is right up my wheelhouse. I love those Pink Panther movies with David Niven and what’s his name.”

“Peter Sellers,” I said.

“Yeah, Peter Sellers,” Lula said. “And now you add a hairdresser into it. It couldn’t hardly get any better.”

I took the file from Connie and paged through it. Lula was looking over my shoulder.

“He even looks like David Niven,” Lula said. “He’s got the mustache.”

“He might not have it anymore,” Connie said. “I think it was a paste-on that he used when he was doing a heist.”

I pulled his address up on Google Maps and went to bird’s-eye view. “This is impressive. It looks out over the river, and it has its own tennis court.”

“He’s going to have a hard time adapting to prison life,” Lula said. “Most prisons don’t have tennis courts.”

I shoved the file into my messenger bag. “Let’s roll.”