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Authors: Lawrence de Maria
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and familiar voice answered.
“Mack-Sambuca
Funeral Home. How may I be of assistance?” Very proper.
“I
kill ‘em, you chill ‘em,” Scarne replied.
“Jake,
how are they hanging! Where you been? I was just talking to Alice about you.”
Not very proper. Scarne laughed, as he always did when the “real” Laura Mack
came out to play.
“Is
your miscreant brother around?”
“Oh,
Deadley’s somewhere, being a miscreant, whatever the fuck that means. When are
you gonna learn to speak English? Did you try his cell?”
“No
answer. Left a message”
“Probably
getting a nooner. Want me to track him down. Be my pleasure.”
“Good
God, no,” Scarne laughed. “Just tell him I’m on for dinner Sunday.”
“Great.
We can catch up on our sex lives.”
“I’m
afraid you and Alice will be doing most of the talking.”
“You
better believe it. Hey, did you hear me and Bobo are an item?”
“Bobo?”
“Don’t
be a snot. I could do worse. And have. See you Sunday, sweetie.”
CHAPTER
6 – MARIA BRUTTI
Garza
didn’t like to kill women, let alone this woman. If he’d had more time to plan
the operation, perhaps he could have avoided it. But Victor was insistent.
Their West Coast clients had to be distracted, and quickly. The big Australian
was getting more reckless.
From
long experience Garza knew hasty actions often backfired. They were dealing
with some very dangerous people. He’d thought about taking his concerns to
Alana. Christian had never warmed to her, but Garza had come to respect her
judgment. Ballantrae had specifically told him to keep her out of the loop on
this one. Something had changed in their relationship. It was obvious that they
were no longer having sex. But it went deeper than that. Ballantrae had fallen
in love with her. Now spurned, he was listening to her less and less. As ruthless
and calculating as Alana had proven to be, she had somehow managed to rein in
Victor’s more impulsive propensities. And the simple truth was that it was
usually Alana’s coups that were the most profitable and least risky.
Garza
sighed and rubbed his shoulder as he followed the woman out to the parking lot.
I hope it’s not a rotator cuff. I’ll never make fun of Christian and his
Pilates again. One class and I can feel it. That instructor must have trained
with the Green Berets. I must be getting old. He put on his gloves.
***
Maria
Brutti was tired. Perhaps Pilates three times a week was a bit much, especially
after teaching recalcitrant fifth graders all day. But her husband was proud of
her. She lifted the rear hatch of her S.U.V. and threw in her gym bag. Carlo
thought she was crazy. Which was funny. Because her brother was crazy,
though she loved him. He liked the way she looked as is, probably because she
reminded him of their mother, who died young and still beautiful. Maria knew
she was attractive, but would not consider herself beautiful until she lost the
15 pounds her last (definitely the last) baby had added to her frame. Seven
more pounds to go.
“Maria,
you dropped your wallet in the locker room!”
She
turned toward the voice and saw a man in a black sweat suit running up to her
holding something in his hand. She strained to make out his face. It was the
good-looking Spanish guy who had worked out next to her. It was his first time
and she had given him some help with his form. They had chatted amiably and he
said he was going to sign up again. She waved hello and then instinctively
looked down and started going through her pocketbook. What was his name? She
was always doing that. Exchanging names and then forgetting the other person’s.
So lame, especially when they remembered yours.
Her
wallet was right where it was supposed to be.
“I
have my wallet,” she said. “It must belong to someone else.”
Only
then did she wonder why he hadn’t checked the name in the wallet. But it was
too late.
“I
know,” Garza said. “I’m sorry, but it won’t hurt
“Mack-Sambuca
Funeral Home. How may I be of assistance?” Very proper.
“I
kill ‘em, you chill ‘em,” Scarne replied.
“Jake,
how are they hanging! Where you been? I was just talking to Alice about you.”
Not very proper. Scarne laughed, as he always did when the “real” Laura Mack
came out to play.
“Is
your miscreant brother around?”
“Oh,
Deadley’s somewhere, being a miscreant, whatever the fuck that means. When are
you gonna learn to speak English? Did you try his cell?”
“No
answer. Left a message”
“Probably
getting a nooner. Want me to track him down. Be my pleasure.”
“Good
God, no,” Scarne laughed. “Just tell him I’m on for dinner Sunday.”
“Great.
We can catch up on our sex lives.”
“I’m
afraid you and Alice will be doing most of the talking.”
“You
better believe it. Hey, did you hear me and Bobo are an item?”
“Bobo?”
“Don’t
be a snot. I could do worse. And have. See you Sunday, sweetie.”
CHAPTER
6 – MARIA BRUTTI
Garza
didn’t like to kill women, let alone this woman. If he’d had more time to plan
the operation, perhaps he could have avoided it. But Victor was insistent.
Their West Coast clients had to be distracted, and quickly. The big Australian
was getting more reckless.
From
long experience Garza knew hasty actions often backfired. They were dealing
with some very dangerous people. He’d thought about taking his concerns to
Alana. Christian had never warmed to her, but Garza had come to respect her
judgment. Ballantrae had specifically told him to keep her out of the loop on
this one. Something had changed in their relationship. It was obvious that they
were no longer having sex. But it went deeper than that. Ballantrae had fallen
in love with her. Now spurned, he was listening to her less and less. As ruthless
and calculating as Alana had proven to be, she had somehow managed to rein in
Victor’s more impulsive propensities. And the simple truth was that it was
usually Alana’s coups that were the most profitable and least risky.
Garza
sighed and rubbed his shoulder as he followed the woman out to the parking lot.
I hope it’s not a rotator cuff. I’ll never make fun of Christian and his
Pilates again. One class and I can feel it. That instructor must have trained
with the Green Berets. I must be getting old. He put on his gloves.
***
Maria
Brutti was tired. Perhaps Pilates three times a week was a bit much, especially
after teaching recalcitrant fifth graders all day. But her husband was proud of
her. She lifted the rear hatch of her S.U.V. and threw in her gym bag. Carlo
thought she was crazy. Which was funny. Because her brother was crazy,
though she loved him. He liked the way she looked as is, probably because she
reminded him of their mother, who died young and still beautiful. Maria knew
she was attractive, but would not consider herself beautiful until she lost the
15 pounds her last (definitely the last) baby had added to her frame. Seven
more pounds to go.
“Maria,
you dropped your wallet in the locker room!”
She
turned toward the voice and saw a man in a black sweat suit running up to her
holding something in his hand. She strained to make out his face. It was the
good-looking Spanish guy who had worked out next to her. It was his first time
and she had given him some help with his form. They had chatted amiably and he
said he was going to sign up again. She waved hello and then instinctively
looked down and started going through her pocketbook. What was his name? She
was always doing that. Exchanging names and then forgetting the other person’s.
So lame, especially when they remembered yours.
Her
wallet was right where it was supposed to be.
“I
have my wallet,” she said. “It must belong to someone else.”
Only
then did she wonder why he hadn’t checked the name in the wallet. But it was
too late.
“I
know,” Garza said. “I’m sorry, but it won’t hurt
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