All content is the property of the author. © 2002 Kiera Dellacroix

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I flipped up the collar of my coat to protect me from the cold and walked by the two uniformed bookends standing guard over the scene. They didn't look at me as I entered the house, and I appreciated the small gesture of respect. They closed ranks after I entered and cast denying eyes on the throng of journalists ecstatically congregating over the scent of fresh blood. Journalists. A fancy name for overeducated yet criminally ignorant, self-infatuated, ultra-liberal bottom feeders. Preying on the misfortunes of others so they could go home and jerk off over how good they looked during their last five-minute spot.

Tonight, it was my misfortune, and the reality of that was beginning to weigh on me heavily as I traveled slowly down the hall toward the back of the house. I passed several people on the way, many of which stood aside to let me pass and nodded politely. A few even reached out to pat me sympathetically.

Billy Winters, a good man and a family friend, was waiting for me at the entrance to the den. Pushing forty and wickedly smart with the appearance of an average slob in a wrinkled suit, he was the perfect cop. He lifted a hand to bring me up short.

"Maddie, he was shot low. It ain't pretty."

The words struck me painfully, and suddenly the weight assaulting me increased tenfold. There was only a meter or so between me and a corpse that lay in a pool of blood. The body of a man I considered my father. A man who had traveled halfway around the world to provide me with a home when his brother died. A man who loved me unconditionally. A man who was there for me through thick and thin, always ready with a shoulder to cry on and, more often than not, equally ready to turn me over his knee. I smiled slightly as I recalled just how many times the latter had taken place. Gus never let me get too big for my britches. As early as yesterday, he only had to hint at the threat of a walloping to bring me back in line. The man could have his belt off in the blink of an eye, and he wielded it with the skill of a maestro. Considering what an ornery bitch I was and am, it was nothing short of miracle I had an ass left to fill out the back of my jeans.

It dawned on me abruptly that never again would I have Gus to fall back on and the next time I needed him, he wouldn't be there for me. At this moment, I needed him in the worst way, and the knowledge that someone had stolen something as precious to me as he was life began to simmer hotly in my stomach. I drew strength from my anger.

"Step aside, Billy."

"You sure, Maddie?"

I nodded and brushed by him to enter the room. My eyes tracking immediately to the fallen corpse of my Dad. With a violent resolution, I fought off the tears I felt forming. It was hard to see the man I fancied invincible lying dead on the floor.

I knelt to lay a tender hand upon his cold cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. It took a minute for me to acquire the detachment necessary to study the scene with professionalism, but I managed it. My eyes tracked carefully around a room that was at once alien and achingly familiar.

"Anything been moved, Billy?" I asked.

"Nope, forensics still enroute."

I stood and felt my eyes narrow as a picture of events took shape in my mind. There was a wide hole in the back of Gus's chair and blood on the wall behind it. Whoever had shot him had done so while he sat behind his desk. From the angle, the killer had shot him from a seated position. Which meant Gus was at gunpoint when the killer entered or was comfortable enough to allow him entry and let him take a seat in one of the two chairs that faced his desk. Probably the latter, as Gus was no one to fool with. If uninvited and detected, the intruder would have a fight on his hands. With this conclusion, I knew the round that had struck Gus had come to him as a surprise.

The blood trail on the hardwood floor started at the corner of the desk and led to where the body now rested. The chair in which the killer sat lay overturned on the floor. With a wound that began with a hole that could've been made by a drill and ended with an opening in his back that you could fit a can of beans into, Gus had risen from his chair. No doubt with the intention of reaching his assassin. He had managed to get around the desk before his strength failed and he fell to the ground. Rapidly bleeding to death, he pulled himself forward in a desperate attempt to crush his assailant, who surprised at his determination, retreated. The blood trail and the overturned chair told me the story as plainly as if I had been a fly on the wall.

Yet the thing that got my dander up, the fact that left my throat thirsty for vengeance, was the comprehension that Gus had been shot only one time. The twisted fuck wanted Gus to suffer. Instead of firing another round to finish him, the killer was content to sit in front of the desk and watch him die from the slow and agonizing pain of a belly wound. It was the kind of death one inflicted on a hated enemy. A thought I would have to give careful consideration to later.

"What do you make of it, Maddie?" Billy asked.

"It was malicious."

"I agree," he said. "Large caliber hollow point. Just one shot fired."

"They wanted him to suffer, Billy."

"We'll get the son of a bitch who did this, Maddie."

"No, you won't. But I will."

"You know I can't allow that."

"You can't stop it either."

Billy took a deep breath and gestured to the two uniforms in the room. "Take a break, fellas. Close the door on the way out."

They did as they were told and I prepared myself for the impending lecture.

"I'll yank your license, Maddie. I won't have you wandering around out there in a temper. Believe it or not, there are more than a few people in high places that would love to get a piece of you. I can't keep your ass out of the fire if you light a new one every five minutes."

I almost smiled. "You just gave yourself away, Billy. I thought it was Gus that kept me out of prison, but it was you wasn't it?"

He opened his mouth to protest but gave in with a slight nod.

"Just give me some room, Billy," I asked. "I want this guy and I know you do too."

He shuffled in place and I could practically see the debate warring furiously behind his eyes. I played my ace.

"Please, Billy," I asked sweetly, begging him with my best puppy dog look.

"Goddamn it," he shot back instantaneously. "That bullshit look didn't work with Gus, and there ain't one fuckin' reason why I should let it work on me."

"You loved him, Billy. Just like I did. Prison just isn't enough and you know it."

He caved. "Two conditions."

"I'm listening."

"One, you keep me informed," he said sternly, and I knew there would be no negotiating.

"Done."

"Two, don't let me live to see in you in the slam. I can't protect you on this one. Gus was a good cop with a lot of friends. Friends on every rung of the ladder. A lot of people are gonna be watchin'."

"Point taken."

"I hope like hell you mean that. You best tread lightly."

"This means too much to me to fuck up, Billy."

He spent a long moment studying me and finally turned to open the door, readmitting the uniforms and the overdue forensics team.

"Who found him?" I asked as the men made their way into the room.

"A patrolman I sent by when he didn't show for work," Billy said.

"Gus had some people over last night. He asked me to come, but I couldn't make it. What time do you figure for time of death?"

"Four to six hours," Billy said. "That's preliminary. Do you know who was on the guest list?"

"No, but if it wasn't the regular guys, Woody will know."

"Was he here last night?"

"Gus said he was coming," I said. "I'll give him a call when I get home."

"Alright," Billy replied. "I'll let you tell him, and I expect a complete copy of that list."

I nodded to agree.

"Who's making the arrangements, Maddie?"

The weight on my chest reappeared with the words, and suddenly I had to leave. I needed a dark and quiet place. "Woody will, I gotta go," I said, my voice strained even to my own ears.

"Maddie," Billy said softly. "You need anything. Anything at all, company, a place to stay, or just a sympathetic ear. You call me, understand?"

"Yeah," I choked out gratefully. "I'll buzz you tomorrow, Billy."

"You do that," he ordered and I mustered a small smile before striding quickly from the room.

Instead of the front door, I changed course and slipped out the back. Skulking through the yard to avoid the media vultures waiting out front. I made it to the shitbox I laughingly called my car and managed a clean getaway. The tears started a block away from home and I ran up the stairs, hoping to get safely inside before I shattered. It was a close call.

I spent the rest of the day and night sitting up on the floor between my bed and the wall, practically mummified in a comforter. It was a long night. When I was twelve, I said goodbye to a father that didn't care and having no memory of the woman known as mother. Nineteen years later, I cried for my father's brother. A man who had made room in his life, without hesitation or regret, for a niece he never knew existed. I cried until I fell asleep.

I awoke before dawn and spent the early hours coming to terms with the course of action I was soon to embark on. I needed suspects, and it occurred to me that I was only one of many who loved Gus. He was a bear of a man who made friends easily. He could be accused of many things, but even those he confronted on the other side of the law would be hard pressed to call him unfair. All who knew him, respected him. He was the kind of man you wanted as a friend and feared as an enemy. But who could hate him enough to watch him suffer? I was dying to know the answer.

As the new day dawned, my first one without Gus, I made a promise. A promise to myself. Justice would be done. It wouldn't be the kind of justice dispensed from the courts. There would be no flower power attorney endeavoring to persuade a jury with sob stories of broken homes and extenuating circumstances. No ridiculous accusations of racial bigotries or bullshit insanity pleas. Fucking lawyers. They were just a step below journalists on the evolutionary scale. No. The soon to be dead bucket of monkey spunk that shot my Dad would know how it felt to die by degrees on the floor with their guts on fire.

It took longer than I thought to pick myself up and head for the kitchen. I needed a hot shower and a cup of coffee, lots of coffee. I had a moment of sheer panic when I opened the cupboard and found an empty box of coffee filters, but a few moments of rummaging through the trash produced one I could easily reuse. I got the java started and dug a cigarette out of my jacket as I relieved myself of my clothes.

I soon found myself standing naked before the mirror in my bathroom, and I placed the smoke carefully on the edge of the counter. I was lonely and it wasn't just because I lost Gus. That only made it more unbearable. I had long been suffering from the effects of a complete lack of companionship. I needed a lover.

Now don't get me wrong, I needed a lover for all the right reasons. I didn't need sex, although that had a certain appeal. Sex could be easily had, and I thought more of myself than to just hop in bed with the first slut that happened along. I couldn't take anything away from a one-night stand that I couldn't get from a finger or a modestly sized vibrator that, in occasional moments of self-induced passion, I called Stephanie. I wanted more than gratification and had wanted it for far too long. It bothered me that at thirty-one, I was still waiting for the right person. What was the hold up?

I was attractive. Hell, I was fuckin' gorgeous. Despite a face made puffy from recent tears, I had pretty pale green eyes and long, rusty black hair that I always wore in a tail. I stood five-five and wasn't at all hard to look at. I mean shit, if I was me, I would want me. I had tits that would make the lactose intolerant beg for buttermilk and my ass could give the Pope a holy boner. Not for the first time, I concluded that my marital status was due in large part to my personality. It needed some tuning.

I spared a moment to feel sorry for those who would never know the pleasure of my company before I threw my smoke in the toilet and climbed into the shower.

After my coffee and three more cigarettes, I picked up the phone to call Gus's son, my cousin Woody. It was a difficult conversation and his words haunted me long after he disconnected.

"We're the only Ledoux's left, Maddie."

It was true and I decided to make more of an attempt to ease relations with my often infuriating and overbearing older cousin. Gus had long been peacemaker between us, and I knew it would make him happy if I put in a little more effort. It wouldn't be easy; Woody was a lawyer. Worse yet, Woody was a civil rights lawyer. Hypocritical, treasonous, draft dodging, pot smoking bastards! I honestly believe that if you asked a civil rights attorney who wrote the U.S. Constitution, three out of five would say racists and the other two would say Adolph Hitler. Obviously, making nice with Woody was going to take a lot out of me.

I did, however, receive a list of guests who had graced Gus's home on the night of his death. More than one of the names raised an eyebrow, and I dialed Billy's number, hoping to get the skinny on the people I didn't recognize.

The conversation lasted through another cup of Joe and I hung up the phone with a destination in mind. A starting point. Gus had invited seven people into his home, excluding Woody, and all but one were suspects until I got proof that said otherwise.

I left a smoke burning in the ashtray while I slipped into a pair of jeans and an olive button up; a pair of boots and a leather half trench completed my ensemble. I took one last drag from my cigarette and reached for my cell phone and gun. The weight of the .45 on my hip always provided me comfort and this time was no different. Why a .45? Because I don't go in for plastic pussy pistols or Eurotrash double actions, I was made in the USA and .45 was the caliber of champions.

A pair of Vuarnet's found a home on my face when I emerged onto the street, and, if you didn't count the gun, they were the most expensive part of my wardrobe. Actually, the sunglasses were more expensive than my car.

The vehicle I refer to was once a Buick, but for the last ten years I just referred to it as a piece of shit. A homeless wino, in the midst of a blizzard, would pass up my car to take refuge in a newspaper someone had wiped their ass on.

The shitbox started on the third try, and I zipped up my jacket because turning on the heater would only kill the engine. When my hands stopped shaking from the cold, I consulted my list. The first two people I wanted to talk to were ones I knew only by reputation. Two people I would've never figured Gus to give a squirt of piss about, let alone invite over to dinner. It was a thirty-minute drive to the upper crest part of suburbia, and I hoped to arrive before hypothermia set in.

The home of Sidney and Tish Binkowski offended me on sight. In the middle of a painstakingly manicured lawn there resided, to my complete horror, a family of plastic lawn animals. I knew several things immediately. The Binkowski's were either Democrats or Baptists and if both, I could guarantee that they would lie to me. Lawn animals were always a dead giveaway. Fake animals meant fake people. I knew in my heart that somewhere deep within the homes of Rosie O'Donnell and Al Gore, one would find a plethora of plastic animals. That is, if Rosie hadn't broken down by now, dipped them in cake frosting, and eaten them.

I pulled into the driveway and parked in front of closed garage doors, going over in my mind what I knew about the Binkowski's. The howitzer-like backfire of my shitcar didn't distract me, I had long since gotten used to it.

Sid was an old money banker and a small time launderer who liked to fancy himself part of Organized Crime. It was true he had connections, but he was only thrown enough action to keep him feeling important. A dope on a rope. An outsider that served the dual purpose of unrelated resource and potential patsy.

The dish on Tish was that she was an ex-blowjob ho that lucked into a sugar daddy. After they hooked up, they bought an upper class home in a respectable neighborhood and tried hard to blend in with the rich and pretentious. I wasn't fooled. What I couldn't figure was why Gus would give these two the time of day. I intended to find out and waited less than a minute for the door to be answered by, of all things, a butler. If he had an English accent, I might just laugh.

"Yes?"

No accent but I'd be willing to bet his name was Igor. "Sidney and Tish Binkowski, please."

"And you are?"

"Maddie Ledoux, I'm a private cop."

He raised an eyebrow. "Identification, please."

"But, of course," I said, letting him have a split-second glance at my credentials.

"I'm afraid neither of the Binkowski's are available," he said with refined insolence.

"So you're telling me that if they heard you screaming out on the lawn, neither of them would respond to your pleas for help?"

He caught his smile before it bore fruit, quickly appraising me and realizing I was serious. Lucky thing, although I was disappointed. I was cold and wiping that grin off his face would've warmed me up a little. "Please, follow me," he said with a sarcastic gesture of gallantry.

I was led into a spacious den that was encircled by overflowing bookshelves. Igor excused himself, and finding myself alone, curiosity forced me to choose a book at random. Upton Sinclair's 'The Jungle', the title surprised me. Lawn animals and classic literature seemed a contradiction. The book opened with a creak, the spine so stiff I could tell it had never been opened. Fake people. I put the book back just as the door opened and I smiled at my own cleverness.

I was on a roll.

Tish had a bogus rack that defined ludicrous. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I poked her with a sharp object, and I conjured up images of her flying all over the place like a deflating balloon. Aside from hooters that made the room feel somehow confining, the woman was apparently trying to fight off middle age with the assistance of pancake makeup and a rivet gun. A Tammy Fay Baker clone used hard and put up wet, one could almost see the stretch marks around her mouth. She must have gone down on a few guys that bred horses for a living.

Far less impressive than his wife, Sidney was nothing extraordinary. A balding little man that had given over to fat and grown comfortable with it.

"Was it necessary to threaten my doorman?" Sid asked.

"You wanna tell me why you were at Gus Ledoux's the night he was killed?" I asked.

"Mr. Ledoux was an acquaintance and we were delighted to accept his invitation to dinner."

I sighed. "Okay, let me rephrase. Mr. Ledoux was a cop. Why would he invite a hooker and a fraud into his home?"

Tish stood up so fast she almost overbalanced, but Sid beat her to the microphone. "How dare you!" he spat. "Get out of my house!"

The door opened behind me, and I didn't have to turn around to know the Binkowski's had a thug. I ignored his presence and leveled a bored look at Sid. "I can rephrase the question again if I haven't made myself clear."

Sid sneered. "I'm under no obligation to answer you. Now if you'll excuse us? Michael, please remove this… woman."

I felt the thug place a hand on my shoulder and I spun immediately, kneeling slightly to grab a handful of his package through the crotch of his slacks. The hand on my shoulder fell away and landed on my wrist in a futile attempt to break my grip. When the barrel of my gun made contact with his chin, he reluctantly brought both hands away and raised them above his head. Almost comical since he couldn't stand up straight and was close to tears.

"When I let go, you're not going to test me are you?"

He shook his head violently.

I released my grip and he let out a whimper. "On the floor, lie on your back," I said, gesturing to a spot several feet away with a wave of my gun.

He did what he was told, moving with small, hunched over stutter steps. Lowering himself to the floor with a groan, he cupped a soothing and protective hand over his mangled jewels.

"Spread eagle and look away from me," I said. "If you open your mouth or look in my direction, you'll piss blood for a month."

He complied and I turned my attention back to the Binkowski's. "Now, I want an answer to my question, and don't dick me around."

Sid pursed his lips, the expression striking me as ridiculously queer. "What do you intend to do with the gun?"

"Bend over and I'll show you."

"Don't talk to me like that!"

I lowered my sunglasses to the end of my nose and cast a lascivious look at Tish. "I wasn't talking to you."

I got a sharp gasp from the whore and a furious look from both for my joke, and I smiled nefariously. "Now that the pleasantries are over, answer my question."

Sid struggled with himself but finally relented. "Mr. Ledoux and I had bumped into each other several times in the past. He invited us over to discuss an old case he had been working on."

"A case involving you?"

"No, but he claimed to have come across a connection that he thought I could help him with."

"What case?"

"I don't know exactly, he only asked us about a person I dealt with many years ago."

"And this person was?"

"Sabrina DiCarlo."

The name rang a bell, but I couldn't place it. "I feel I should know that name."

"The DiCarlos have ceased to exist, they were wiped out by the Sirico family in a vendetta almost seven years ago. Sabrina was the daughter of Salvotore DiCarlo."

"What was your association with her?"

"She was heir apparent to the DiCarlo family. Appointing a woman to be head of the family offended many old world sensibilities and led to DiCarlo's downfall," Sid hesitated. "I met her once to discuss…uhm… laundry. She disappeared soon after and I'm glad."

"Why's that?"

"She was just a teenager, but she was a snake. Ruthless even by harsh standards."

"Is that all you and Gus talked about?"

"Business wise, yes. The rest of the evening was spent socially. Mr. Ledoux was an interesting and entertaining host."

"Yes, he was," I said under my breath.

"You're his daughter aren't you?" Tish finally spoke. "I thought you looked familiar. There were several pictures of you in Mr. Ledoux's home."

"Yes," I said brusquely. "What time did you leave that night?"

"Around eleven I think."

"Where did you go after?"

"Home."

"Did you stay at home for the rest of the night?"

"Yes."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

Sid's brow wrinkled. "I think the staff had already retired. So other than my wife, I don't know."

"I see."

"Miss Ledoux, my first intention was to call the police after you had left, but realizing who you are, I'll swallow my pride. I liked Gus. He seemed an honest man and that's a rare thing."

"That he was," I agreed. "I'll call if I need anything else. Thank you for your time."

"Good day, Miss Ledoux," he said dryly and I turned to make my way through the house.

When I sat down behind the wheel, I reached for a cigarette but didn't light it. Sometimes you learn that even fake people have a trace of reality in them. It was unsettling.

My cell phone rang on the way back into the city, it was Billy.

"Maddie, ballistics came back."

"And?"

".357 magnum. It was carved."

I ground my teeth. "What?"

"You heard me the first time."

I fought back a violent outburst. A carved round was a personal touch designed to aid expansion after impact. The effects in flesh were brutal.

"Anything else?"

"That's all I got so far."

"Do me favor. I need all the info you got on a Sabrina DiCarlo."

"As in the DiCarlo crime family?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, I'll look into it. Wanna tell me why?"

"Not quite sure yet, gimme a little time."

"Fair enough, I'll have a uniform drop a copy of the ballistics off at your office."

"Thanks, Billy."

"Be in touch."

I slipped the phone back into my jacket and saved my hate for a day in the hopefully not too distant future. The next name on my list was one Billy had provided details for since I had never heard of her. Sarah Caruso was a do-gooder that ran a halfway house on the east side, active in many of the local charities and community volunteer. I groaned. Her name might as well have been Mary Poppins. The woman probably tortured and killed small animals for fun and used a bidet to wash her ass.

The address Billy had given me turned out to be a respectable looking building, despite the bums assembled in groups out front. I parked next to the curb and hurried inside to escape the cold. The interior was surprisingly clean and was even equipped with a secretary who smiled at me as I approached, no doubt pegging me as another vagrant to cater to.

"May I help you?"

"Maddie Ledoux to see Sarah Caruso, please."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but she'll make time," I said, whipping out my identification.

Unimpressed, she picked up the phone. "Miss Caruso, there's a private detective here to see you."

A second of silence and she hung up as she rose from her seat. "Follow me, please."

I trailed her to an old elevator that took us up exactly one story and I rolled my eyes. When the doors opened, I found a populated floor covered in cubicles and I caught a snippet of conversation as I was led through the maze. A woman was loudly complaining that her welfare check wasn't large enough to pay her cable bill and the bastards had discontinued her service.

Gee, what a kick to the head.

I didn't need an aerial photograph to know the woman was so fat that if she went to the zoo, the elephants would probably throw her peanuts. I'm glad my tax dollars fed her while she sat around watching cable TV and inhaling raw bricks of Velveeta cheese.

Now I'm a hard ass, but not as hard as you probably think. I'm more than willing to admit that some people need help, and by God someone should be there to give them a hand. I know that life sometimes throws you a curve and though you may fall down, the country I live in is there to help you get up. However, that same country shouldn't be held hostage by those who want to stay down, and there isn't one fuckin' reason why I or anybody else should have to tolerate it. Far too many people sat around expecting a free ride. Me, me, me. That's all they cared about. Happily content to take and take and never give anything back. Nobody owed these people an existence, and I resented every penny the government gave to a woman who probably drank ketchup straight from the bottle as she watched cable television. I wouldn't let her mow my lawn for a dog biscuit. It's a fuckin' crime they let people like that vote. They didn't give a shit about their country, yet demanded that the country give a shit about them. It was a liberal tragedy inflicted upon us all that so many could care less about anything other than the next handout they felt they somehow deserved.

The thundering from my imaginary pulpit came to an abrupt end as my guide opened the door to a walled office and gestured me inside. I managed two steps before stumbling the last few paces into a chair.

Wow! I was glad I still had on my shades so she couldn't see how dilated my eyes were. Sarah Caruso made my beaver twitch. She had long blonde hair that was tied up in a bun and moody green eyes that I would love to see looking up at me from between my legs. Her face was cute but held subtle signs of depth and maturity. Her body… well, I couldn't see her from the waist down because she sat behind her desk, but there was no doubt I'd still be a nursing long after the tit ran dry.

She looked at me curiously and I resisted the urge to lick my lips. "What can I do for you, detective?"

"I…" I cleared my throat. "…I wanted to ask you a few questions about the night Gus Ledoux died."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Maddie."

"Can I see your identification, please?"

I reached into my jacket and leaned forward to lay my ID on the surface of her desk. She reached out to pick it up, and my eyes strayed to her hand, wondering what it would be like to…

"Matilda Ledoux?" she asked, her mouth quirking in amusement.

"That would be me."

"Actually, I know who you are. Gus had a lot of pictures. I could tell you were very important to him. I was saddened to hear of his death."

"That's why I'm here."

"Of course," she said with a nod. "I'm at your disposal."

Yowsa! I fumbled for words and concentrated on the wall behind her head.

"You're a bit of a local legend, you know," she said playfully.

"Oh?"

"Sure, there was a piece on the local news about you."

"Is that a fact?"

"Are you being modest?"

" I'm just wondering what piece you were referring to?"

She laughed and I instantly crossed my legs, suddenly debating the merits of a lunchtime liaison with Stephanie. "Alright, I've seen more than one, but I was referring to your time in the Army. Local girl flies Apache gunship into combat."

I nodded noncommittally. "That's not the thing most people remember."

"Unfortunately true. May I ask, just for my own curiosity, why you felt it necessary to stun gun Senator Hilary, drag him from his vehicle, beat him to within an inch of his life and then mace him in the face?"

I squirmed in my seat. "He resisted arrest."

"I see. Did you know that even today he still walks funny?"

"Hadn't noticed," I lied.

"Just between you and me," she leaned forward conspiratorially, "I hate that man. It boggles the mind he continues to get reelected."

I might be in love.

"So how long were you a cop?" she asked to hold up the conversation since I was no doubt staring at her in adoration.

"Three months."

She laughed again and I hoped my jeans would remain absorbent enough to keep me from sliding out of my chair. "I followed your trial rather closely in the papers. I was relieved to hear you avoided incarceration."

I shrugged. "So how did you know Gus?"

"He came to me about four months ago and asked about a stray that passed through here a few years back."

"A Sabrina DiCarlo?"

"Uhm… no, the name was Marissa Fiore."

"What was her story?"

"Not much to tell," she shrugged. "Came to us in the middle of the night six or seven years ago, stayed for two days and then completely disappeared."

"Do you have any records on her, a picture maybe?"

"No, she wasn't here long enough for much of a file, and at the time we suspected the information she gave was false. After she disappeared we never followed up."

"Alright, what time did you leave the party the night of the murder?"

"I think everyone left around eleven, but I'm not certain."

"Did you come straight home?"

"Yes."

"Anyone able to verify that?"

"I live alone."

"No husband?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?"

"No," she smiled slyly. "I don't have a girlfriend either. Not yet anyway."

"Thank you for saving me the trouble of asking," I said, hoping like hell I wasn't blushing.

"I'm glad I could help."

"Me too. Besides Gus, did you know any of the people there that night?"

"I knew Woodrow from a court case a few years ago, but other than that no."

I smiled a little at that. Woody hated to be called Woodrow. "Did you notice anything suspicious or out of whack about the other people present?"

"Just Tish's boobs."

The answer caught me by surprise and I laughed, somewhat charmed at the bright smile I got in return.

"You have a delightful laugh, Matilda."

My smile faded a little. "Call me Maddie."

"Of course," she said. "And the answer to your next question is yes."

"Oh?" My eyebrows went up in surprise. "What question would that be?"

"You were going to ask me to dinner."

"I was?"

"Tomorrow night would be perfect."

"It would?"

"Yes, it would. Let me give you my private number, call me later and we'll decide on a time and place," she said as she scribbled on the back of a business card.

Oh, man! Stephanie was definitely gonna get a workout today. I tried not to look as desperate as I felt when I reached over her desk to accept the card. "You'll definitely be hearing from me, Miss Caruso."

"Call me, Sarah," she said as she rose to her feet.

"Alright, Sarah," I said with what I hoped was a beguiling smile. "Do you mind if I ask you one more question?"

"Not at all."

"Do you own a gun?"

"Uhm… why yes."

"What caliber?"

"Nine millimeter."

"Thank you for speaking to me, Sarah."

"It was indeed a pleasure, Maddie. I look forward to hearing from you."

I thanked God when she walked over to open the door for me. I was afraid I wouldn't get a chance to look at her ass. It didn't disappoint.

She held out a hand and I stopped to shake it gently. "Talk to you soon."

She just nodded and as I walked away I listened for the sound of her door closing. When it didn't come, I turned a look over my shoulder and caught her staring. My jacket got in the way so I lifted the back of it so she could get a look. When ya got it, flaunt it.

She smiled and I shot her one in return before continuing on my way. I avoided the elevator and hurried down the stairs, anxious to get home. I had an urgent need… uh… I mean I had something important to do.

II

Foolishly, I decided to save time and take the Interstate. But as luck would have it, I ended up at a complete stop and boxed in by traffic. That is to say that although my homeward momentum may have ground to a halt, my libido had done nothing but accelerate. When it became obvious that I was in for a wait, I ground my teeth in frustration and studied the people in the cars that surrounded me. Perhaps, I could sneak in a quickie and no one would notice. Besides, it might keep me from freezing to death. Looking around carefully, I undid the buttons of my jeans, my hand only inches away from the oven when traffic in the next lane began to move forward.

Wasting no time, I grabbed the wheel and forced my way into the next lane only to travel three car lengths before coming to another halt. Angrily, I watched the lane I just vacated begin to move, the car I'd been sitting in front of passing me and disappearing from view. Teetering perilously on the edge of a tantrum, I was preparing to change lanes again when all movement ground to a stop and I threw my hands into the air. The beginnings of a sulk closing in on me from all sides until cars again began to move in the next lane. Thoughts of escape promptly turned to frustration as everything quickly came to another standstill.

The tangible vibration and sound of an incredibly loud, annoyingly persistent bass suddenly assailed me, and I cast unbelieving eyes on the car that had pulled up beside me. My jaw clenched so tight it began to hurt. Rap music was tied with Al Sharpton as the first thing I would eradicate from the Earth if I were ever declared Empress. How do people listen to that shit? And why did I have to be rudely subjected to it from another person's car when all I really wanted to do was get home and butter my muffin? It was a cruel world.

I waved to get Coolio's attention and leaned over to roll down the passenger side window. At first he looked at me as though I were an idiot, but shrugged and lowered his own window a crack.

"Could you turn that down, please?" I had to yell to make sure he heard me.

He gave me a blank look and rolled his window back up. A second later, the music stopped and I gave a nod of thanks. My eyes dropped to my open pants and I sighed as I buttoned them back up. The thrill was gone.

Suddenly, every window in the car started shaking violently from a fresh barrage of ghetto fabulous jams and I jumped a little in my seat, barely suppressing a startled yelp. In the distance, I could see traffic beginning to move, and I turned an irate look on my wannabe gangsta neighbor. Impulsively, I put the shitcar in reverse and backed up a few inches to get the correct angle. When I was in position, I slid across the dilapidated bench of my front seat and opened the passenger door a crack. Busta Rhymes was into his music and making a production of not looking in my direction, so I turned sideways and leveled a powerful kick into my open door. I was rewarded with the satisfying sound of crumpling metal and I reached out to pull my door closed, smiling at the enormous dent I had created in the superfly cherry red Monte Carlo.

He gaped at me in disbelief and I slid back over to sit behind the wheel, lighting a smoke and shooting him a smile. I watched with supreme amusement as he pounded on the window in a useless attempt to open his creased door. I couldn't hear what he was saying and didn't know how to read lips, but it wasn't hard to spot multiple variations of the word 'fuck'.

Am I a bigot? Hell no! Am I guilty of occasionally preying on cultural differences? I can't deny it, but then again, who isn't? If the situation had been reversed and I had pulled up next to Snoop Dogg blaring Frank Sinatra loud enough to be heard in the next county, do you think he would've had politically correct things to say about me? Grow up. It's sad fact of life but unfortunately, everyone is equally worthless. Including me.

The car ahead of me began to move, and I shot the Fresh Prince a happy wave as I pulled away. A few minutes later, the shitbox was up to speed and I took the next exit. Coming to the decision to give Stephanie a reprieve and visit the next person on my list, the only one I didn't consider a suspect and someone I was actually looking forward to seeing.

Joseph Vendito was a Sirico family capo and Gus's best friend, despite the obvious clashing of career choices. It was kinda funny when you thought about it, but Gus had lived in the same neighborhood pretty much his whole life. A middle class neighborhood that both the police force and the mob recruited heavily from. A little section of America that had grown up attending the same schools and churches, reaching adulthood yet remaining friends that opposed each other in the eyes of the law. Growing up with Gus, I had attended more than one wedding or event that had been populated with both cops and robbers. In fact, I called Joseph Vendito, Uncle Joey.

Joey owned a malt shop and, as a kid, I spent many an afternoon a fixture in his establishment. Frequently waiting there after school for Gus to come and pick me up, playing cards or dominoes with the goodfellas until he showed. I smiled fondly and goosed the accelerator a little, Joey had always been good for a sundae and I hoped he still was.

The little malt shop was your typical family storefront business, and I had to put change into a meter to park on the street. I really needed to get a new car, my hands were so cold I had trouble separating the required coins, and afterward, I hurried down the sidewalk to get inside.

The door opened with an old fashioned chime and the interior was warmly inviting. Joey wasn't in view and the only people inside were two goons that I didn't recognize playing checkers near the back, and a guy about my age behind the counter who spoke to me.

"Can I help you?"

"Is Joey here?"

One of the goons stood up. "Who's asking?"

I turned to face him. "Maddie Ledoux."

"Is he expecting you?"

"No, but I'm sure he'll see me."

"Why is that?"

I pointed to a section of wall behind him. "That's me in those pictures."

The goon turned to look and then gave me a quick once over. "Wait here."

I nodded and walked over to look at the photos when he ambled through a door in the back. Pictures lined every available inch of wall space in the little shop, snapshots of the places and people that had touched Joey's life over the years. My eyes grew a little moist at the photographs of Gus, and I smiled at one Joey had taken himself of both of us together at my college graduation. There was one of me standing in a flight suit in front of my helicopter and another in police uniform when I graduated from the academy. Joey even had one of the rare photos taken of me in a dress when I was Maid of Honor at his daughter's wedding. I risked a quick glance around and swiftly wiped at my eyes when I was sure nobody was looking.

A voice boomed from behind me. "Maddie, get your ass over here and give me a squeeze."

I turned around and smiled widely. The dark featured Joey resembled Gus in a lot of ways, as both were huge, brawny men that were quick to laugh and cut up but fierce and dangerous if riled. Physically, I always felt like a dwarf around them, and mentally the pair of them had the ability to make me feel like little kid. I practically skipped across the room to enter his embrace.

"Hi, Joey," I mumbled into his chest.

He let me go and ruffled my hair affectionately. "I'm damn glad to see you. You've been keeping to yourself lately, been about six months if I remember right."

"Yeah, it has," I said apologetically.

"Well, let's get you fixed up so we can go in the back and shoot the shit," he said with a knowing smile and turned to the guy behind the counter. "Fix me up a double vanilla sundae."

"With two cherries," I added childishly, barely stifling the impulse to tug on his sleeve excitedly.

He chuckled. "You heard her. Two cherries."

The guy turned to prepare my ice cream and Joey leveled a look at the goon who had summoned him. "Jimmy, you best remember Maddie here. You give her any static the next time she comes in, and I'll let her crack your head for you."

Jimmy grinned brightly. "Oh, I'll remember her, Joey."

That got a rumbling laugh. "Ignore him, Maddie. He's new and doesn't know any better."

I smiled, feeling somewhat ridiculous at how easily I reverted into a little girl in the presence of certain people.

"Have you talked to Sophie lately?" Joey asked.

I shuffled my feet guiltily. "Not for a long time."

He gave me a disappointed look. "She'll be coming to town the day after tomorrow. You two should get together."

I nodded politely, it dawning on me that she was coming for Gus's funeral and I suddenly felt like an ass. Sophie was Joey's daughter and for a long time, the best friend I had in the world. That is until I developed a not so secret crush on her that, for reasons unknown, Gus and Joey found highly amusing. To my utter teenage humiliation, they used to go out of their way to tease me about it. As if growing up gay with a French name in a predominately Irish and Italian neighborhood wasn't tough enough, I had to endure anguish on the home front as well. It seemed that everyone but Sophie knew that I was sweet on her, and I carried on bravely, always hoping she would eventually fall under my spell. Alas, pray as I might, Sophie stayed straight, and when she got married I went into a spiteful, jealous, and completely irrational depression. After the wedding, I stubbornly let the distance and the years grow between us. I was a jerk.

"How long is she staying?"

"A couple of weeks, should I tell her to call you?" he asked with a hopeful lilt. "She misses you."

"I miss her too," I whispered and it was true. "Yeah, have her give me a ring."

"Great," he said, obviously pleased.

The soda jerk placed my sundae on the bar and I wasted no time, ignoring Joey's amused grin as I helped myself to several napkins. He turned to stride toward the door in back and I followed him.

"No interruptions, Jimmy," he said and waited for a nod before he closed the door behind us.

He led me to a withered card table and I sat down as he helped himself to a cup of coffee. He spent a few moments rummaging through a filing cabinet and finally took a seat across from me, placing a little metal box on the table in front of him.

He cleared his throat. "Billy called and filled me in."

"I figured he would."

"Then you should know that if you need anything…anything. All you have to do is ask. You have a lot of friends."

I nodded. I knew what he meant. "What's the story on Sabrina DiCarlo, Joey? I'm guessing Gus had a line on her."

He leaned back in his chair. "If he did he was playing it close to the vest. Old man Sirico would love to get his hands on her."

"I got a version of why from the Binkowski's. What's the real story?"

"What did those idiots tell you?"

"That the DiCarlos were wiped out in vendetta. Supposedly, because Salvotore promoted his daughter to head of the family."

He grunted. "That's nonsense and if Sirico had a daughter half as smart as Sabrina, she'd already be in charge."

"So what's the scoop?"

"It was an old feud. Back in the sixties, Sirico and DiCarlo were good friends until they both courted the same girl. She married DiCarlo and the old man never got over it. Relations between the two families were strained but it didn't fall apart until Sirico's oldest son, Danny, fell into lust with Sabrina."

My eyebrows climbed. "Really?"

"Yeah, that was the catalyst."

"How so?"

"Danny was the kind who thought the world existed because he let it and couldn't believe that the girl didn't want him.

"I can buy into that."

"Tensions escalated due in large part to the fact that DiCarlo landed a series of big money deals that some speculate Sabrina had a hand in. It bugged the shit out of the old man, but the fire didn't blossom until Sal whacked Danny."

This was news and my eyes widened in surprise. "Salvotore killed Sirico's son?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Because Danny was an arrogant prick with a mean temper. When he couldn't win Sabrina over with his charm he decided to take her by force."

My temper started to rise. "He raped her?"

Joey shook his head. "No, but not many doubt that he would have if Salvotore hadn't shown up. You see, Sabrina lived on the estate and Danny broke into her room. The word is he had beat her up pretty bad by the time her father walked in on it. He emptied a gun into that kid, and Sirico got his son's balls in a paper bag the next day. The rest of the body was never found."

"Jesus, he had to know that would start a war."

"Sabrina was his only child. I would've done the same thing if I'd been in his shoes."

"Did you take part in the vendetta?"

"No, most of the capos abstained and the old man brought soldiers in from out of town. It caused a rift, but the majority of us sympathized with DiCarlo and refused to rally around the banner."

"What happened to Sal's wife?"

"Cancer got her a few years earlier."

"So he takes it in the neck and his daughter disappears into thin air?"

Joey chuckled. "That's what everybody has been led to believe."

I leaned forward in curiosity. "There's more to it?"

"The DiCarlo family holdings were vast, and many of them are still in operation today."

I blinked. "Huh? Who runs the business?"

"That's the kicker. No one knows," he said with a shrug. "Some think Sabrina does."

"I don't get it."

"DiCarlo was a tough old cob with a loyal family. After Danny took the dirt nap his operation disappeared almost overnight. The captains and soldiers melted into the woodwork. The only casualty of the Sirico vendetta was Sal himself. There were no spoils to gloat over."

"So the family and all the personnel and holdings just vanished?"

"Yep. Sirico has been battling a ghost family for the last six years. In fact, the old man has been losing ground, and every effort he's made to uncover his competition has turned out to be a waste of time. On occasion he's nabbed a bagman, but they can't reveal anything because they don't know anything. Each and every one of them were hired blind for a single job and never used again."

"How did Salvotore die?"

"He waited at home until they came for him and shot himself before he could be taken."

"Hmmm. So you think Sabrina is out there running an invisible syndicate?"

"That's what I think, yes. Sal wasn't a fool and neither was his daughter. He knew a vendetta was coming and he sacrificed himself to avoid it."

"Did you ever meet her?"

"Sabrina?"

"Yeah."

"Once, when she was a little girl."

"Are there any pictures of her?"

"Sirico has several of her as a child, and those are the only ones anybody has been able to find. The family photos disappeared with her and there are no yearbook photos or the like, she didn't even have a drivers license."

"Impressive. So what was Gus's angle?"

"I really don't know, Maddie," he said. "Like I said, he was playing it close to the vest."

"I've already talked to the Binkowskis and Sarah Caruso. Anything I should be aware of regarding the ones I haven't seen yet?"

"Nothing you probably don't already know."

I dug through my jacket to produce the list. "Billy gave me the story on the Frank Brothers but I don't have any info on Anabel Hamilton."

He smiled deviously. "I don't know anything about her."

I eyed him carefully. It was the same look he always got when he had one over on me. "Why do I suddenly smell a rat?"

He made a show of sniffing the air in front of him and chuckled. "I don't smell anything."

I scowled, having played this game many times in the past. I knew from experience that needling him for answers would only end up amusing him and frustrating me. Instead, I employed a tactic that had a fifty-fifty chance. "Please, Joey," I said demurely while beaming my best smile.

He rolled his eyes. "That stopped working years ago, Maddie."

"Fine," I said irritably and he laughed.

I pointed to the box he had set on the table. "What's that?"

His chuckles tapered off and he assumed a grave expression. "I've known you a long time, kiddo," he said slowly, pushing the box in my direction. "You have a temper problem and tend to act before you think things through. I also know that your name is at the top of a lot of shit lists. Use your head and don't sign your name to anything."

I let him finish and reached out to open the lid. His message landed on understanding ears. I pulled the holstered gun from the box and inspected it. A stainless steel Kimber Ultra Carry in my caliber. A miniature companion to the gun I was already packing.

A set of keys hit the table in front of me. "And lose that hunk of shit you drive around in, too many people know it's yours. There's a loaner parked out back. Leave me the keys and I'll have yours towed away," he paused and thumped the table with the palm of his hand. "Take off those damn sunglasses and listen to me now, Maddie."

I did as I was told.

"The people watching you are gonna be waiting for a corpse to turn up. It's okay for them to know who did it; you just can't let them prove it. Get my meaning?"

"Yes."

"If you end up in the pokey, that damn Gus will talk God into letting him return just long enough for him to kick my ass." He looked away suddenly and when his eyes found mine again, they were shining. "Damn," he said quietly, bringing a hand up to wipe away the moisture. "I'm gonna miss that gruff old bastard."

I tried really hard but the tears started anyway. I couldn't stop it and both hands came up to cover my face. I heard the scrape of a chair as Joey rose to his feet and soon a comforting hand landed on my shoulder as he seated himself next to me.

"Ya know, I remember a little tomboy sitting in my shop with bloody knees and a broken arm, trying so hard not to cry she got pissed off at herself," he said with a chuckle. "Everybody cries, Maddie. I even caught Gus at it a couple of times."

I came out of hiding and rubbed at my eyes. "Really?"

"You bet. Augustus had a big heart, although like you, he kept it under wraps."

"I never saw Gus cry."

"Well honey, you weren't around when he lost his wife. The man was a zombie for a long time after that. It wasn't until you came along that I stopped worrying about him. You gave him a reason to carry on, Maddie."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did. Gus wasn't the expressive sort but you gotta know you meant the world to him. That man cried a river when you went off to fly in the war. He must've aged twenty years in the time you were gone. He rarely slept and when awake he was glued to the television or radio, praying to Christ he would never hear your name."

The tears started again and I choked. "I never knew that."

"When he talked about you one could almost see a ray of sunshine coming from his ass," he said softly. "You were born his brother's daughter but you were his little girl and he was very, very proud of you."

All of my control fled and I flung myself into Joey's arms. The heartsick tears that I had hoped to keep private falling unhindered. He didn't rush me and waited patiently for me to subside.

"Maddie, you don't have to follow through with this," he whispered. "All you have to do is point a finger and the wiseguys will take out the trash. Gus was one of their own, so the PD will sweep it all under the rug."

I buried my face in his shoulder and considered his words, unexpectedly doubting my own ability to kill someone in cold blood. Would I be breaking the promise I made to myself if I played the jury and turned the execution over to others? There was no doubt that the men Joey would send were capable of a cruelty I knew I didn't possess. I decided to let the issue ride and cross that bridge when the time came.

"I'll get back to you on that, okay?"

"Alright."

I gave him a squeeze and lifted my lips to his cheek before extracting myself from his lap with a sigh. "Thanks, Joey."

"Anytime, kiddo," he said with a little smile as I stuffed the gun in my jacket pocket, picked up the keys to my new wheels, and left him the keys to my shitcar. "When Sophie calls, I don't wanna be getting a bad report on you, ya hear?"

I chuckled. "You won't"

"Good," he said cheerfully, rising from his seat.

I leaned in to give him another hug and turned to walk for the door in back, pausing on a thought and turning back in his direction. "Joey, what did Sabrina DiCarlo look like?"

He ran a hand over his hair. "God, Maddie, I only saw her the one time and she didn't stand as tall as my waist."

"Hair color, eye color?"

He lit up. "Her eyes. They were so blue they could appear almost white. She was a pretty girl."

I nodded. "Okay, I'll be in touch."

"Maddie," he said before I could get through the door. "Gus wasn't the only one who loves you."

A smile of the kind that I was woefully unfamiliar with made itself known. "I know, Uncle Joe," I said and suddenly uncomfortable, I hurried through the door.

The weather assaulted me immediately, and I was enthusiastically grateful for the little Grand Am parked a short distance away that undoubtedly had a working heater. I looked at my watch as I sat down behind the wheel and started the car. It was late enough in the day to expect the Frank Brothers to be at work and I decided to pay them a visit.

The skinny from Billy informed me that the brothers owned a nightclub on the outskirts of the projects that was nothing more than a front for drugs and prostitution. I shook my head as I pulled out onto the street, wondering where a couple of pimps fit into the scheme of things.

I chose to park in the alley behind the club and when I got out, I undid my belt so I could accommodate the roscoe Joey had given me. Holstering the little pistol at the small of my back and keeping big brother on my right hip. It was beginning to get dark but I kept my sunglasses on anyway, I found it an advantage to conceal my eyes when dealing with people. It tended to make them nervous.

I circled the building that was nothing more than a converted warehouse sitting in the middle of a demilitarized neighborhood. The entrance was locked so I looked around for a buzzer or at least a bell and came up empty. Finally, I knocked loudly on the door, waiting almost two minutes before starting up again. I was startled when in the middle of my pounding an eye level slot in the door opened abruptly.

"What?" came the harsh inquiry.

I dug my ID out of my jacket and held it up so he could see it. "I'm looking for the Frank Brothers."

A long silence and I put my ID back into my jacket and cast a bored look at the eyes peering out at me from within.

"Why?" he asked finally.

"I wanna sell 'em some Amway."

"Fuck off," he said, slamming the slot closed with a thud.

I sighed, and pounded on the door again. When the slot opened this time, I was ready.

"Look bitch, don't make…" he shut up when the barrel of my gun protruded through the slot to make contact with his forehead.

"Maybe you didn't hear me," I said. "I'd like to see the Frank Brothers… now."

"Damn, woman," he stuttered. "All you had to do was say so."

I heard the locks being turned back and the door opened a crack. "Put your hands through the slot and pull the door open."

He did what he was told and I stepped in quickly, moving a safe distance away from the door. "Close it and lead the way. Keep space between us."

Pulling open the door had trapped him behind it and I waited for him to reveal himself and pass me in the narrow hallway. Once he was in front of me, I holstered my gun and followed him inside. Emerging from the hall revealed one big room with a dance floor, a bar and tables set up off to one side.

My guide pointed toward a group of people congregating at the far side of the room. "They're over there."

"Thank you," I said, moving in that direction.

There were several people lounging around and a few girls were goofing off on the dance floor, but the building was pretty much deserted. I couldn't help but notice the attention directed at me as others became aware of my presence. Most of the glances were of an offended nature; even a few of the girls shot me looks of revulsion. I almost had to laugh.

How many black girls could walk into a club in America and get the looks being directed at me? Odds are that no one would look at her just because of her race. She certainly wouldn't be getting the attention I was now receiving based solely on the fact that I was white. It's kinda funny that racism is a word still often spouted. Funny because whites were increasingly the focus of it and ever more seldom the cause of it.

As I drew closer, I guessed the Franks to be the twins with a woman on each arm. They eyed me with interest as I came abreast of their table and stopped.

The Frank on the right leaned over to whisper in his brother's ear and looked me over carefully. "You've got the goods but the harem is full, Cinderella," he said, instigating a round of laughter at my expense.

I smiled and took a seat across from them. "I'm not looking for a job but I could use a drink. Have one of your sluts fetch me a Guinness."

Their smiles faded.

"What country you think this is?" Frank on the right spoke. Apparently, Frank on the left was a mute.

I shrugged. "Do you have 'Danny Boy' on the jukebox? This rap shit makes my teeth hurt."

Frank on the right leaned over to speak to one of the girls and then gestured them all away. A few seconds later, we were alone and the jukebox was silenced. "You're riding the wire, lady. What the fuck you want?"

I flipped my ID on the table and slid it across to him. He wiggled his fingers in the air and I didn't have to turn around to know that a gun was pointed at the back of my head.

"I hope your woman likes tongue service because if the guy behind me twitches, they'll be sending out a search party to find what's left of your Johnson."

He went perfectly still and studied me carefully, finally reaching out to nudge his brother. Frank on the left slowly leaned over and looked under the table, he came up a second later and gave a nod of confirmation.

Frank on the right gave me another long look and finally cast his eyes to my ID, spending all of a second with it and sliding it back to my side of the table. "Tell me a joke, Cinderella."

I smiled. It was a game of brinkmanship. "What kind of joke?"

"Something you might think I'll find funny."

I raised an eyebrow. The Franks were cool customers. I had a .45 leveled at the guy's crotch and he was brave enough to issue a dare. If I backed down now there was a good chance things would go bad for me.

"Alright, this little Irish midget walks into a bar and orders a beer…"

Frank on the right leaned forward with a little smile.

"… He gets his beer and asks the bartender to point out the toughest son of a bitch in the room. The barkeep points to the Marine sitting at the end of the bar so the midget downs his beer and slams the empty bottle on the counter. He wipes his chin, hops up on the bar, waddles over to kick the Marine in the face, and proceeds to just beat the hell out of him…"

A little chuckle from both.

"…Every other day for the next week the midget comes and pulls the same act. Always having a beer and beating the crap out of the toughest guy in the place. Finally fed up, the bartender has his brother the zookeeper smuggle a gorilla into the bar and locks him in the bathroom. Sure enough, the midget returns the next day, orders his beer and asks the bartender who the toughest guy in the room is. The midgets slams down his beer and stomps into the bathroom…"

Another chuckle.

"… As soon as the door closed the walls started shaking so hard pictures began fall to the floor and the bartender covers his ears to drown out the screams coming from the bathroom. Half an hour later, the door opens and the midget stumbles out covered with cuts and bruises, his clothes in tatters and barely able to walk. The bartender is amazed, unable to believe the little guy is still alive. The midget takes a deep breath and says…"

Eyes widened expectantly.

"…When that nigger wakes up, tell him his fur coat is in the toilet."

I couldn't help it; I started to laugh even though the looks I was getting from across the table were less than friendly. Finally, Frank on the right began to smile, eventually emitting a very reluctant chuckle and waving off the guy behind me. When he started to walk away, I holstered my own gun.

Frank on the right shook his head amusedly. "You a bigot, Cinderella?"

"No more than you are."

"Then you're lucky I'm not."

"The ink is black, the page is white. Together we learn to read and write."

He laughed. "You gotta be either crazy stupid or scary smart, lady."

"Probably a little of both," I said with a smile. "And my name is Maddie."

"Yeah, I looked at your ID. You're Gus Ledoux's kid."

I nodded.

"Well, what can I do for you?" he asked amiably. "Gus usually comes by in person to give us a hard time. He's gettin' lazy to be sending his kid instead."

He suddenly had all of my attention. "Gus was murdered the night he had you over to dinner."

Two sets of eyes widened in surprise.

"Say what?" Frank on the left finally spoke.

Acting wasn't their forte and I began to mentally cross them off my list of possible suspects. "Someone shot him not long after the festivities wrapped up."

"You're shittin' us?"

"Wish I was."

Frank on the right leaned back hard in his chair and threw a disbelieving look at his brother. "Goddamn."

I was pretty sure but I had to ask anyway. "Do either of you own a gun?"

Two condescending looks.

"Alright, dumb question. Do either of you own a .357 magnum?"

One shake of the head and one nod.

"I'll need to take it with me."

Frank on the left stood up. "No word of where you got it?"

"Done."

"Am I gonna get it back?"

"Is it legal?"

"Gimme a break."

"Then I can't guarantee you'll get it back, but I'll see what I can do."

"Fair enough," he said and turned to walk away.

"I take it we're suspects?"

"Five minutes ago you were."

He nodded. "We've known Gus a long time, we knew better than to fuck around with him."

"So what were you guys doing at his house the night he was killed?"

"He invited us, wanted to know about some old business we had with Sal DiCarlo."

"Wanna tell me what you told him?"

"Will anything I say come back to haunt me or my brother in an official capacity?"

"No."

"More importantly, will anything I say be used against us in an unofficial capacity?"

"No."

"We always took Gus at his word and he never let us down. Can we assume the same of you?"

"Yes."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully in appraisal. "Alright," he said after a moment. "The business that my brother and I currently manage was purchased from the DiCarlo family."

"Is that a fact?"

"DiCarlo was attempting to legitimize. He found pharmaceuticals to be distasteful."

"So he sold it to you?"

"Yeah. That is, after he beat Sirico out of it."

I leaned back in my chair. "Tell me more."

He shrugged. "DiCarlo and Sirico were always at each others throats. Don't ask me why."

"Is Sirico aware you guys are running a network he coveted?"

"Hell no," he said, shaking his head back and forth passionately.

"How could he not know?"

"When we bought it from Sal, he provided the education that enables us to keep our involvement a secret."

"Education?"

He chuckled. "Would you believe that my brother and I attended a five-day seminar before acquisition and had people on call for several months to answer any questions we might have?"

I smiled. "You're kidding me."

"Nope. Sal had his shit together."

"No doubt about that," I said. "But how did you keep it under wraps on the other end? Sirico had to have contacts with supply if he and DiCarlo were both jockeying for it."

"The cartel won't betray DiCarlo. He has a long arm. Even today."

"You still have contact with the DiCarlo family?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Keep talkin'."

"DiCarlo may be dead but someone's still running the show. We have to annually donate a certain percentage of proceeds to charity. It's different each time, and we get a note telling us which one. It was a stipulation we had to agree to in order to obtain the contract. We've been late twice over the years and both times got a visit from the scariest damn dude I've ever seen."

"You got a name?"

"Fuck no, and if I had one there ain't no way I'd repeat it."

"What's he look like then?"

He shook his head determinedly. "No way you get info on this. The guy's a boogeyman. Just leave it at that."

I sighed and gave up. "Alright, tell me about DiCarlo's daughter, Sabrina."

"Never met her."

"Ever talk to her?"

"Nope, we only dealt with Sal."

I grunted and reached for my smokes. By the time I had fired it up, the other Frank returned and placed a revolver on the table in front of me as he took up his seat.

"So what are your names?" I asked, mainly out of curiosity.

"I'm Bobby," Frank on the right said. "And my brother is Robby."

"Bob and Rob?" I said with a grin.

They both hit me with identical shrugs.

"Did you guys know any of the people Gus invited over that night?"

"I knew Woody from law school," Bob said. "And we both knew Joe Vendito by reputation. Never seen any of the others before."

"Law school?"

Bobby nodded. "Robby has a degree in Economics."

I grinned and crushed out my smoke. "Thanks, you've given me a lot to think about," I said as I stood from my chair and picked up the magnum.

They stood as well. "We're damn sorry to hear about Gus," Bobby said.

"Thanks," I said uncomfortably, stuffing the revolver in my jacket and turning away from the table.

"Ledoux," Robby spoke up and I turned a look over my shoulder. "It isn't wise to go looking for ghosts."

"I believe you," I said and turned to make my way out of the building.

III

I wanted to grab something to eat on the way home and decided to stop at the first fast food place that popped up. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a Burger King but I was hungry enough to pull in anyway. Their fries tasted like salted strips of a Maxi-Pad but their burgers weren't half bad.

I pulled into the drive-thru lane and ended up with two cars ahead of me, so I rolled the window down a crack and fumbled for my cigarettes. A little unsettled at the cool breeze that wafted into the cozy confines of the car. Having a heater for all of a few hours had already spoiled me. I vowed to never go without one again. I didn't realize how cold my feet actually were until they started to hurt as they began to warm up.

My smoke was down to the filter when I pulled up to the menu and rolled down the window all the way to place my order. A last second sighting of a 'Lord of the Rings' light-up glass goblet deal prompted me to amend my selection and I excitedly sped around to the window to pick up my food and new toy.

The geek waiting to take my money had a face that was nothing short of an explosion of adolescent splendor. He had several whiteheads that were on the verge of erupting and I cringed at the thought of pimple pus somehow making its way onto my food. I hoped fervently that he wouldn't open my bag and I abruptly decided not to ask for extra ketchup lest he be the one to handle it. He opened the window and spoke with a squeaky voice.

"Four-twenty, please."

I handed him a five that he had to reach for twice because he was busy staring at my tits. "Can I have my goblet now?"

"Uh, sure."

I rolled my eyes when he turned away and a second later he thrust the change and my new play pretty out the window. I stuffed the change in a jacket pocket and examined my purchase. I was immediately disappointed. I didn't give a frog's fat ass about Frodo. When he returned to hand me my food, I extended the unwanted glass back out at him.

"Frodo sucks, do you have any of the others?"

"Uh, yeah. Which one do you want?"

"Arwen."

"Lemme look."

I nibbled on my fries while I waited for him to come back, trying valiantly to pretend they really didn't taste like absorbent cotton. Finally, he arrived with goblet in hand and I grinned; Liv Tyler got my motor running.

"Thanks," I said brightly and shot him a wave as I pulled away.

I know it's ridiculous, but chicks get excited about the most trivial and stupidest of things. Regrettably, I'm no exception to the rule.

The burger didn't last much more than a block and I even polished off the rest of the fries by the time I parked my ride in front of the three-story building I kept a small office in. The lobby was already closed so I had to use my key to get in and trudged off in the direction of the stairwell.

My office was on the second floor and situated in the far corner. It wasn't much, but the price was right. The building itself was over sixty years old and primarily housed employees from small state sponsored agencies or nonprofit organizations. The décor was typical of an aging and mostly abandoned government building; cinderblock heavily painted in beige accompanied by the dusty smell of times well past their prime.

The door to my office didn't have anything as romantic as 'Maddie Ledoux - Private Eye' stenciled on the glass, and I didn't have a gorgeous secretary, although I often considered the latter to be a grave oversight. The 229 in white paint at the top of the doorframe was the only thing that made my door different from any of the others in the building. I fumbled for the keys and stepped into the nerve center of my bordering on bankrupt private enterprise.

I found a manila envelope on the floor and I picked it up, correctly guessing it to be a ballistics report from Billy. My eyes skimmed over it tiredly as I walked across the room to sit down behind my desk. Eventually, I set it aside and my gaze strayed to the phone, I sighed at the number of messages blinking for my attention. No small amount of wisdom went into the decision to listen to the calls in the morning, that way I could be good and cranky by the time I was ready to start my day. Instead, I closed my eyes and sank into my chair, going over the day's events until they slowly faded away.

I always woke up horny and today was no exception. It was my theory that long periods of time without nookie was a lot like playing with Legos. You can stack one on top of the other, but the higher you go, the more unstable the structure becomes. At this point, I was the Leaning Tower of Pisa and I either needed to get laid or sequester myself away and pet the kitty until my head caved in. Thankfully, the phone rang before I could dwell on it any further.

"Ledoux."

"Did you sleep in the office?" Woody asked.

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just woke up."

He grunted into the phone. "Alright, we need to get together later today. Can you meet me at Abernathy's on 35th and Central around four? We need to decide on a few things."

My throat constricted and it took me a moment to answer. Abernathy's was a funeral home. "I'll be there."

"Good. I got a call from Glen Porter."

My eyes narrowed. Porter was the Chief of Police and a true son of a bitch. The only thing we had in common was a mutual hatred for each other. "And?"

"We need to get Gus's personal things from the station. I thought you might you want to do it."

I chewed on my lip. Wanting to do it and wanting to avoid it. Afraid that I might embarrass myself if confronted with the emotions of Gus's friends and coworkers.

"Maddie?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Good. I think he would've wanted that."

I closed my eyes. "Yeah."

"Are you sure you're okay, Maddie?"

"I'm coping. Look, I need to get going."

A sigh. "Alright, I'll see you around four, right?"

"I'll see you then."

"Bye, Maddie."

I hung up the phone slowly and sat silently for several minutes, building up the courage to face the day. I needed coffee and a shower but decided to listen to my messages first. The calls consisted of the usual assortment of people wanting advice for free and a few potential clients. I deleted all of them and headed for home, wondering what had possessed me to spend the night in the office.

After a shower that included a rather intense orgasm, I dressed myself and called Billy over a cup of coffee. He didn't have anything new for me and I told him I'd be by the station around lunchtime to drop off a gun for ballistics and to go through Gus's things.

The next call was to Sarah Caruso, I was more than a little excited about the prospect of having dinner with her and waited through five rings for an answer.

"Hi, this is Sarah."

"It's Maddie."

"Hey there," she said brightly. "I was hoping you'd call. Are we still on for tonight?"

"Looking forward to it."

"Me too. How does seafood sound?"

"Sounds great."

"Wanna meet me there or do you want me to pick you up?"

I considered. "Come pick me up. I'm on the corner of Lincoln and Wellington."

"Is seven good?"

"Perfect."

"I'll be there with bells on, I can't wait."

"Me either."

She giggled. "See you then, Maddie."

"Okay."

"Bye bye."

"Bye."

Jesus, she had a sexy voice. I disconnected with nipples hard enough to cut glass, and seriously considered the virtues of another shower. Reluctantly, I decided it against it. Sarah Caruso was understandably enamored of me and if I played my cards right, I might at least get a little heavy petting for dessert. Of course, this thought prompted several minutes of wanton contemplation that I had to forcibly extract myself from. There were things to do.

First on my list was to pay a visit to the mysterious Anabel Hamilton. I grabbed my keys and made my way to the car with this destination in mind. Anabel only lived about ten minutes away, so it turned out to be a quick trip.

The address led me to a trendy little neighborhood of street front businesses and brownstones. Not half bad. I was curious to know why Joey had been so cheerfully uninformative about her the day before since it was obvious he knew her and his attitude told me he in no way considered her a suspect.

Anabel's house had a one-car driveway that was empty so I helped myself. Like many older homes within the inner city, the brownstone was within a cumshot of the houses on either side. You couldn't fart without your neighbor hearing it. Once upon a time, before the arrival of burb's and baby boomers the neighborhood had probably been home to the somewhat prosperous. It was still well cared for.

I walked up to the door and rang the bell, waiting patiently as I discreetly dug high-riding panties out of my crack. An answer wasn't forthcoming and I was preparing to knock again when interrupted by a shrill voice from next door.

"Annie's at work."

I turned to find an impressively plump, Godzilla ugly, middle-aged woman with rollers in her hair and wearing a housecoat staring at me from her front porch.

"And where is that, ma'am?"

"Where is what?"

"Where does Annie work?"

"Who's asking?"

The woman's voice sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. "I'm Maddie Ledoux," I said, digging out my ID and holding it up.

"I can't see that from over here."

I sighed and started to walk in her direction.

"Use the sidewalk!" she shrieked. "I don't want you to damage my flowers."

I cringed and took in the little row of winter dead plants that separated us. It wouldn't take a gazelle to avoid stepping on them.

"My husband planted those for me, he'd be very disappointed if anything happened to them…"

I drowned her out and walked around the long way, coming up her little drive and stopping a safe distance away.

"… He works twelve hours a day and…"

Looking at the woman and listening to her it was no wonder her husband worked such long hours. He probably volunteered for the weekends as well. Poor bastard.

"… Hey, are you a cop or something?"

"In a manner of speaking, ma'am," I said, again holding up my ID. "I'm a private investigator. Would you mind telling me where I could find Annie?"

"Is she in trouble or something?"

Give me strength. "No, I just need to talk to her."

She eyed me warily. "What about?"

"I'm afraid that doesn't concern you," I said, quickly tiring of being in the woman's presence. "But I assure you she's not in any trouble. I just have a few questions she might be able to help me with."

She huffed and much to my disgust, a wiener dog came out of the house to stand behind a pair of legs that resembled two pillars of chewed bubblegum. The vile little creature began barking at me in a tone just as piercing as its owner's.

I hated dogs.

I hated wiener dogs most of all.

"Who do you think you are walking up here and telling me…?"

I was confused. Just where did I go wrong? Had I not been polite? The woman's blathering and the barking dog was too much to handle. I took a step forward.

"Look, lady," I snarled. "Just tell me where Anabel works before I fuckstart your head and punt your dumbass dog into traffic."

Her mouth closed with an audible collision of teeth and she looked at me as if teetering on the hysterical. I suddenly felt a real pang of sympathy for her husband. He deserved a medal, or at least, one night of freaky sex with a group of teenage girls.

"Tell me, goddamn it," I growled. "Your fuckin' mutt is pissing me off."

"Annie owns the video place just down the street," she said, pointing in the general direction and quickly bringing the hand back to her chest protectively as if afraid I would bite it off while it was extended.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said sarcastically. "You've been very helpful."

She didn't reply and I didn't really expect her to. I started in the direction of my car but changed course, the store was only a block or so down the street and it wouldn't kill me to walk. I lit up a smoke and gladly left the yelping dog and its offensive owner behind to console each other.

The cigarette lasted until I was within sight of my objective. 'Rocket Video' was a little shop emblazoned with painted glass windows depicting various types of spacecraft. It was cute in a girlish sort of way.

The door opened with the soft rattle of bells that hung in its path and I stepped into a warm but cluttered room. My eyes instantly pinpointed the little, but supremely alluring, brunette behind the counter talking spiritedly with a customer. She didn't look over when I entered and I hid behind a shelf of movies so I could study her unnoticed.

Anabel was gorgeous in a way that made my knees go weak. The eyes behind a cute pair of slightly tinted glasses were an expressive hazel. Her features soft yet defined, almost Elven in appearance and crowned by thick, dark brown hair that she wore loose around her shoulders. I'd be the first to admit that I'm a shallow person in a lot of areas, but she attracted me in a way that I can only describe as pure. Sex was never far from the forefront of my mind and strangely, it suddenly seemed inappropriate to indulge in the fantasies I usually immersed myself in when confronted by a beautiful woman. Anabel was too good for that and I hadn't so much as exchanged a word with her. For the second time in two days, I wondered if I was in love.

Watching her interact with the customer had me mesmerized. With an easy grace that I could only envy, she smiled and giggled flirtatiously with the elderly man who clearly ate up every second of the attention. I was jealous.

Eventually, it appeared that the old man was gearing up to leave and I was at a loss. What if she didn't like me? Thoughts like this were as alien to me as fellatio and it was bewildering. I usually didn't give a shit what people thought about me, but this was somehow different. I also didn't buy into instant karma yet that was exactly what the moment felt like.

The bells from the front door jingled and I looked over to see the man exit the store. My eyes strayed back to Anabel and she looked around curiously, obviously aware that someone else was present although she couldn't see me. It was time to come out of hiding and I ran my hands over my hair, wishing I had a mirror and willing to piss on a sparkplug for a breath mint.

I picked a movie off the shelf at random and approached her as casually as I thought I could pull off. Surprisingly, she looked in my direction and gasped in apparent recognition. It wasn't the reaction I had been hoping for and I groped for an opening.

"Uh… Hi."

She started to blush. "Hi, Maddie."

My brow wrinkled. "I'm sorry, have we met? I can't imagine not remembering you."

She bashfully studied the countertop. "No… but we were supposed to."

"We were? When was this?"

"The other night," she said, raising sympathetic eyes. "I heard about Gus. I'm so sorry."

"Me too." I faltered for a moment but quickly regained my focus. "But I don't understand."

Her gaze returned to its timid but intense investigation of the counter. "I guess Gus didn't tell you…"

"Tell me what?"

She sighed and took a deep breath. "Uhm… he invited me over the other night thinking you'd be there. He was… uh… well… he was matchmaking."

I hid a frown for her benefit. Long ago, I made Gus promise to refrain from playing Cupid. His first and only attempt had merely resulted in adding another person to the long line of people that would like to see me in Hell with a broken back. It had been disastrous. No wonder Joey had been so evasive yesterday, he was an accomplice.

"Uhm… maybe we can pretend this didn't happen and…"

Shit. She thought my silence was a rejection. "No, it's okay. I think Gus did me a huge favor."

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

"Really. Would you like to have lunch tomorrow?"

"Yes," she said, bouncing a little on her feet but then scowling slightly. "I can't leave the shop though. Would it be okay to get together here and order in?"

"Sure. I'd like that."

She beamed a smile that made me feel faint. "Great!"

I smiled back at her, more charmed than I cared to admit at her exuberance. "I…" My response was cut short by the door chimes and I turned to see a group of ladies enter the store.

Anabel frowned disappointedly but then brightened. "When you come by tomorrow, I'll lock the doors," she whispered.

One of the ladies sauntered up behind me and I felt cornered. "Okay," I said but managed a sly grin. "I guess I'll let you get back to work."

"Noon."

"Huh?"

"I have lunch at noon."

I giggled. "Okay."

"Are you gonna rent that?"

I looked stupidly at the box I had picked up, having completely forgotten I had it and why I grabbed it in the first place. I felt heat rise to my face. Could I be a bigger dork? Like I would really rent 'Kama Sutra'.

"Uhm… no," I said lamely. "I didn't realize I had it. I'll put it back."

I got a small chuckle and I mustered a weak smile. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Maddie."

I gave her an embarrassed wave and hurried over to put the ridiculous movie back where I found it. I offered another smile before I slipped outside and got one in return. A few strides up the sidewalk; I caught myself close to riding a hesitant wave of euphoria. A possible love life? Who would've figured? I sure didn't.

Sobriety encompassed me as I traveled across town. The worst part of my day was ahead of me and my apprehension was growing. When I arrived at the station, I parked the car and smoked half a pack of cigarettes before I gathered enough courage to call Billy and let him know I was coming in. It took another ten minutes after that to actually leave the car and cross the street.

He was waiting for me just inside the doors and I felt a wave of relief.

"Hey, Maddie. You got something for me?"

"Yeah," I said, digging Robby Frank's revolver out of my jacket. "I'd be surprised if it matches, and I'd like to have it back if possible."

"I'll give it a go. Where did you get it?"

"Can't say."

"Alright," he agreed easily and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Porter's here, I'll try and run interference."

I rolled my eyes. A confrontation was inevitable but I knew Billy would delay it as long as possible. "Thanks."

"I let the guys know to give you some space and I gathered up some boxes for you. They're in his office. Take all the time you need."

I gave him a desperately grateful look.

"You ready?"

I nodded and he led me to the elevator. We rode up three floors in silence and, not for the first time, I marveled at what a smart and deceptively sensitive man Billy was. He didn't feel the need to fill the quiet with conversation but he stood close, relaying to anyone who might notice exactly where his allegiance stood. He gave me distance and respect yet offered support by proximity. I had both friends and enemies among the police force. Principal among the enemy was Glen Porter.

Porter had thrown the book at me after my incident with Senator Hilary and he wasn't alone. Many of his colleagues, including the mayor and the governor, wanted nothing short of my public execution. I was an embarrassment to the police force. Only three months out of the academy and still probationary, I was considered a rookie hothead with obvious ties to Organized Crime who had brutalized a public servant for no apparent reason. Battle lines within the department were immediately drawn. One camp political, the other fraternal.

Up in arms over the treatment a beloved liberal Senator had suffered at my hands, the press portrayed me as a monster. Little if anything was ever mentioned about the Senator being drunk off his ass and driving around with a bottle of Jim Beam between his legs, and of course, it didn't matter. No one was going to pursue charges against him while he lay in a hospital bed unsure if he would ever walk again. It was only a matter of hours before I was suspended and standing before a judge.

Truth be known, I lost my temper. Lost it in a way I hope never to experience again. He pushed every one of my buttons and he did it with a sadistic glee, confident that a man of his stature didn't have to answer to anyone. He told me as much before he spit in my face. Until that moment, I'd never hurt or wanted to hurt anyone just for the hell of it. I didn't think I had it in me. Senator Hilary proved me wrong and if backup hadn't shown up and intervened, I probably would've killed the man.

I never admitted my loss of control; in fact, I never reached the stand to testify in my own defense. After two months of suffering through a public lynching, the hoopla died quietly and without a word of apology. A hasty and clandestine backroom deal brokered my resignation and the dismissal of charges.

It turns out that the good Senator made a practice of recording conversations that, among other locations, included his car. Surprisingly, and I emphasize that word with heavy sarcasm, a tape of our encounter turned up in an evidence locker that had somehow been overlooked by the prosecution. The tape not only exonerated me to a certain extent, but also incriminated the Senator in a host of other… indiscretions. I was unimpressed and didn't need a recording to tell me he was and is a piece of shit. The charges against me couldn't be dropped fast enough. Unfortunately, my return to duty was out of the question, the department couldn't justify it to the public or to the press. I lost a career and the Senator can't walk without pain. I think I got the better part of the deal.

However, grudges within the department ran deep, and there were more than a few of the politically elite that would pounce on me the minute I fucked up, eager for the vindictive opportunity to settle perceived wrongs.

The elevator doors opened and Billy began the process of leading me toward Gus's office. I knew the way of course; I'd been there many times. It was Billy's way of providing me with a shield.

My worries turned out to be unfounded as we made our way across the room; no one approached me or commented. Most gave me silent nods of sympathy or a friendly wave. It struck me then, that even though there were those who might dislike me, almost no one disliked Gus. They had lost a brother, a man everyone respected, friends and enemies alike.

Billy came to a halt and opened the door to Gus's office. "No rush, Maddie. Give me a call when you're to ready to go and I'll come back down."

"Thanks, Billy," I said quietly as I slipped inside the room. He shut the door behind me and I was alone. I noted the closed blinds and the boxes stacked in front of the desk. Apparently, Billy had prepared for my arrival. Gus always kept the blinds open.

I circled the desk and plopped down in the chair with a thud. My eyes slowly roamed the little room, seeing things I previously didn't think twice about. Gus had a lot of awards and citations that decorated the walls. It wasn't the typical 'I love me' display, for it included his kids. There were framed photocopies of about every award or diploma Woody and I ever received. Pictures of us were on almost every surface that could support them. My eyes landed on one in particular.

It had been taken the evening of my thirteenth birthday. A couple had snapped a picture of us with a Polaroid as Gus carried me piggyback toward the parking lot. The man had simply walked up and handed Gus the photo.

Back then; I was relatively new to Gus and still very uncertain of things. Suddenly finding yourself living in a different country with a new family was a sluggish process to adjust to, especially for a child. He gave me everything I wanted or needed, but I was a little slow to come around. I soon learned that what I really needed, and desperately wanted, was a parent. The picture I was looking at was taken on the day I realized I had a father. It was the best day of my life.

Gus had rousted me out of bed and hurried me through a morning routine. Energized about something he would only hint at, I was spirited to the car and he drove a couple of hours, entertaining me the whole time with an endless stream of stupid jokes. Eventually we arrived at his surprise and I was awestruck. The State Fair was Disneyland for as far as I was concerned, I'd never seen anything like it. We spent the entire time going from ride to ride, only taking a break to stuff ourselves with junk food before rushing off to the next one. I chattered constantly, excitedly dragging him from one place to another until I was sure there was nothing left to do or see.

I fell asleep on the way home, having used up a month's supply of energy in one day. Awaking only when he tucked me into bed that night, still half asleep but remembering clearly when he said he loved me. It was the first time I ever heard the words, and I knew then that I had a home.

I could count the times he had said it on both my hands. He didn't say it very often, but each time he did, it only meant that much more. He didn't give his love lightly, but he loved all the way.

I was a lot like him and had adopted more than a few of his personality traits but this was one I could've passed on. I wish I could tell him now how much I love him. I wish I had told him more often. I hope he knew how much he meant to me. How much I miss him. I wish…

The tears came suddenly and I buried my head in my hands, waiting for them to run their course.

IV

I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, carefully wrapping the more fragile stuff in newspaper when my cell phone rang. I'd been in the office a few hours, lost in memories and oblivious to anything but the task in front of me. I reluctantly dug the phone from my pocket.

"Maddie, Porter is on the way," Billy said.

"Great."

"Don't make it worse than it is."

Good advice. "I'll do my best, Billy. Thanks."

I put the phone back in my pocket and wiped at my face, the sobbing might have stopped, but I had no control over the tears that continued to leak from my eyes. It occurred to me suddenly that I didn't give a shit. He was my Dad and I loved him. I was allowed to grieve him, goddamn it.

A knock came at the door and I didn't bother to acknowledge it. He would come in anyway. Sure enough, he poked his head in a second later.

"Maddie," he said, entering the office and closing the door behind him.

I didn't look up. "Glen."

I could almost hear him stiffen at the casual address and I sighed, maybe I should try and heed Billy's advice.

He took a seat in the chair next to the door, crossing one leg over the other primly. He was a little man with feminine mannerisms and a bad comb over.

"I bet you think I'm here to bust your balls?"

I shrugged. It was what I expected.

"I'll admit the thought did cross my mind," he said amiably. "But that would only make me out to be the prick you think I am."

Gee, was that an opening or what? I clamped down on the impulse to jump all over the opportunity with both barrels. With an effort, I remained silent.

After a long pause, he chuckled. "I can't believe you passed that up."

I almost grinned. "Me either."

He laughed. "Alright, I'm not here to make any apologies," he said. "Your situation was a bad one with no simple solution, and the fact of the matter is, we were both wrong. You were wrong because you damn near beat that man to death, and no matter what he said or did, it was your job to enforce the law, not break it."

There was no arguing with that, and I gave a little nod of concession. It was the closest I've ever come to admitting any culpability.

"And I should have handled the situation differently. My job requires an unfortunate amount of political wrangling and I made some bad decisions. Regardless of what you may believe, that tape came as a surprise to me. If I had known about it sooner, I wouldn't have tolerated your crucifixion. "

It took me a moment to digest this. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because you deserve to hear it and because Gus would've wanted me to say it."

My eyebrows climbed into my bangs. "Thank you."

"You have fewer enemies than you realize, but you'd be remiss to think you have none," he said, rising to his feet. "Gus was damn good man, one of the best I've ever known and, believe it or not, I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

I could only manage a nod and he left the room without another word, closing the door behind him. The next few moments were spent in a somewhat stunned contemplation. It was like finding out that the turd you were served for dinner didn't taste all that bad. People were elusive creatures, just when you thought you had them pinned down; they always found a way to surprise you.

Another knock on the door.

"Come on in, Billy."

He entered warily and slowly took a seat in the same chair Glen had just vacated. "Uh… everything okay?"

"Yeah."

He leaned over and studied me. "Jesus, Maddie," he sighed. "I told Woody I'd clean out the office. You didn't have to do this."

"That's not what Woody said. It doesn't matter though, it's been good for me."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He reached into his jacket and retrieved a handkerchief. "You've got mascara all over."

I snatched it from his hand and rubbed at my face. "Shit. That damn Porter saw me like this."

I didn't have to look to see the smile. "How'd that go?"

"It turns out he's not the dickhead I thought he was."

"Well," he snickered. "There's something I thought I'd never hear you say."

I shrugged and turned to look at him. "Did I get it all?"

"Most of it."

I went back to work.

"Anything you want to tell me?" he asked. "I'll have ballistics for you tomorrow on the gun you gave me."

"That's fine, I doubt it's the one I'm looking for. And no, I don't have any real suspects yet. You got anything for me on Sabrina DiCarlo?"

"I got reams of stuff on Salvotore but next to nothing on her."

"A picture at least?"

"Nothing even remotely recent."

"Can I see what you have? Gus was poking around in the DiCarlo mystery."

"You looking for something in particular?"

"I really don't know. Almost everybody Gus had over that night had dealings with DiCarlo."

"I'll get something together for you. I'm heading up the investigation for the department and have already come under some pressure for dragging my heels. Keep me in the know so I can make myself look good, okay?"

"I will."

"You already talk to everyone there that night?"

"Yeah."

"Soooo," he purred. "What did you think of Anabel?"

I stopped my grooming and shot him a glare. "For Christ sake, you too?"

He laughed at me and I threw the handkerchief at him. "Come on, Maddie, gimme the story. Joey and I promised to fill each other in."

"Aren't you two a little old for gossip?"

He leaned back in his chair and waved to himself with both hands. "Give it to me."

I ignored him.

He snorted amusedly. "Did you like her?"

Much to my dismay, I began to redden.

"Oh, my God. Is that a blush?"

"No," I growled. "I'm on the rag. It's just a hot flash."

"You never could lie worth a damn," he chortled happily. "I'll tell Joey we picked a winner. Did ya kiss her?"

I rolled my eyes and scooted around on the floor so I wasn't facing him. "Would you please shut the fuck up?"

Another gale of laughter at my expense. "For someone who comes across as tougher than a coffin nail, it's a riot to see you get all girly over your love life."

I sighed. I'd heard it all before. My eyes fell to my watch and I jumped to my feet. "Shit. I'm supposed to meet Woody in half an hour."

"Where at?" Billy asked, his chuckles finally tapering off.

"Abernathy's. Help me pack up the rest?"

"Sure," he said, sliding from his chair and taking a seat next to me on the floor. "Here, I'll finish wrapping this stuff."

"Okay," I said, rising to my feet.

I sat down in Gus's chair with the intention of going through the desk, but froze when my gaze returned to Billy.

Unexpectedly, moisture again rose to my eyes. Here was a guy who had a million other things clamoring for his attention yet chose to ignore it all so he could be here with me. I looked at him sitting on the floor in his wrinkled suit, carefully wrapping picture frames, and I felt a moving wave of affection. It dawned on me then that I wasn't near as alone as I thought, and my family was larger than I had previously realized.

"You okay, Maddie?" he asked, and I blinked to find him looking at me curiously.

I wiped at my eyes and shot him my best smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Ya sure?"

"Very."

I jogged into the lobby of Abernathy's a little over five minutes late and ran right smack into the disapproving glare of Woodrow Ledoux. He was a big, chubby guy with man breasts and a head of dark hair that would've made Elvis Presley jealous. Other than the brown eyes, Woody didn't take after Gus, physically or in any other way, they got along only because they both made the effort.

"Glad you could make it, Maddie," he said in his holier than thou voice.

"Sorry," I said brusquely, hoping to avoid a confrontation.

"Are you planning on being late to the funeral too?"

That pissed me off. "Don't fuck with me today, Woodrow."

We spent a few seconds indulging in a spaghetti western stare down, a game he not only sucked at, but always lost. He kept his record intact by releasing a sigh and looking away.

"That was uncalled for, I apologize."

"Yes, it was," I agreed. "Apology accepted," I couldn't help but add condescendingly.

His eyes flashed. "Do you wanna fight?"

"Do you? I'm not the one who made a shitty comment the second I walked in the door."

"You were late."

"So? I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are. Surprisingly enough."

"What should be surprising is the fact you could take a break from defending the poor, oppressed masses from the imagined evils of The Man, long enough to be having this stupid argument with me."

He ground his teeth. "You're not wrong. This is a stupid argument."

"If I'm not wrong, then I'm right, and other than gorgeous, it's my favorite thing to be."

Anger battled briefly with amusement. It was a close call, but he finally chuckled. "Alright, goddamn it. I was being a prick. Can we just let it go?"

I shrugged indifferently. "Sure."

He stomped off a few paces, performing his standard indignant lawyer routine. "Jesus, you make it so hard," he exclaimed, raising his arms in plea to a higher power.

"What do you want from me? A fuckin' benediction?"

He didn't answer and turned away, walking over to stand in front of a casket with his back to me. I rolled my eyes and waited for him to emerge from his sulk, casually looking around and finding no interest whatsoever in the surroundings. I sighed. He was a bastard and I was a bitch. There was no getting around it but there was no harm in trying to ignore it, at least for a little while.

I turned to apologize and came up short when I noticed his shoulders shaking. Suddenly ashamed of myself, I eased up behind him and placed a sympathetic hand on his back. Much to my surprise, I encountered eyes shining not with grief, but with mirth.

"What's so funny?"

"Do you remember old Tomaso's funeral?"

My eyebrow's knit. "I don't think so."

"Sure you do," he said. "Gasbag Tomaso?"

I let out a quick bark of laughter, the nickname igniting the memory instantly. Tomaso had been a local mafia icon for as long as I could remember. A crotchety, vindictive old man that had lived to the ripe old age of ninety-six. He was such a nasty son of a bitch that all the neighborhood kids were terrified of him. When I was growing up, his little house at the end of the street was generally thought of as a portal to Hell, and was avoided like a hooker with a 'Herpes' tattoo. If one were unlucky enough to get too close, the old man, who spent most of his day in a rocker on the porch, would scream profanities and throw garbage at you.

He acquired the nickname 'Gasbag' sometime during the last few years of his life. Tomaso went senile and developed a deafening, chronic case of gas that made nuclear fallout seem harmless. The family, of course, took care of him, but fights often broke out between the wiseguys over whose turn it was to watch over him. Nobody wanted to stay in a house that smelled like a sulfur factory with an old man, that when he was lucid, took his misery out on anyone unfortunate enough to be within range.

Finally, the old bastard kicked the bucket and received a funeral with honors. As malicious as Tomaso had been, he'd also been an old school gangster who defined loyalty and, out of respect, the family had shown up in force.

When Father O'Brien opened his mouth to begin the service, someone in the crowd made a generous and shockingly loud fart noise that echoed throughout the room. A stunned silence followed in its wake, everyone afraid to even breathe. It was the Father himself that finally broke, emitting a strangled titter of laughter that instigated an avalanche. It was the only funeral I've ever attended where there truly wasn't a dry eye in the house.

"How could I forget?" I said. "What brought that to mind?"

"No clue, it just popped into my head."

I snickered. "I've always wondered who was to blame for that."

He smiled. "You don't know?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You mean you never fell prey to Joey's whoopee cushion?"

I gaped at him. "Joey?"

He nodded amusedly. "Yeah, Dad finally ended up taking it away from him."

"That's hilarious."

"You remember O'Brien scolding everybody for laughing?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, he yelled at us and then giggled all the way through his sermon."

"The damn pallbearers stumbled the casket out to the hearse laughing so hard they almost dropped it."

We roared at the recollection and were still at it when one of the junior Abernathy's entered the lobby and addressed us.

"Woodrow and Matilda Ledoux?"

"That's us," Woody said, wiping at his eyes.

The ghoul started to give us a well-oiled look of compassion but it changed quickly to confusion when he realized we were laughing, not crying. "Uhm… if you'll come with me?"

We got ourselves together and followed after him. I was startled when Woody grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry, Maddie."

I squeezed him back. "Me too."

I sped all the way back to my loft and hurriedly carried all the boxes from Gus's office up the stairs. I was running late. The appointment at Abernathy's had taken longer than expected. I stacked everything next to the kitchen counter and discarded my clothes on the way to the shower. Sarah was due to show up in less than an hour so I rushed through my routine.

After I dried off and got into some underwear, I paused while surveying my possible choices of attire. Should I go for casual or something sexy? Of course, it didn't really matter. You could dip me in babyshit and I'd still be the bomb. With that in mind, I decided on the usual jeans and shirt and hastily headed for the mirror to fix my face. Not that it needed fixing, just a few touches to highlight my natural magnificence.

The doorbell rang as I was tying back my hair and I felt a little jolt of excitement. My last date had been so long ago that it was only a barely recognizable memory. However, I could clearly recall how it had ended and I decided to put an extra effort into softening my admittedly abrasive edges. No need to scare another one away. I was desperate but then again, I always had Stephanie to fall back on. She'd never leave me. She was smart enough to know she had a good thing.

My hand was a foot away from the door, when it struck me that my place was a mess and generally resembled a Gypsy landfill. I chewed on my lip for a second and then hastily ran into the kitchen to get my jacket and gun. Coming to the conclusion that it would be better if she didn't come in.

I opened the door and quickly stepped outside, closing it behind me and forcing her to back up a step.

"Hi!" I said brightly.

"Hi," she giggled. "I guess the place is a mess?"

"Uhm…was I that obvious?"

"Nah," she scoffed. "You look great."

"Thanks, so do you," I said, and I meant it. Other than a gray leather jacket, Sarah was dressed to kill in a pretty pink blouse that made my mouth water and tight white jeans that greased my weasel.

"Thanks," she grinned. "You ready?"

I put my jacket on and undid my belt to accommodate the gun. "Now, I am."

"You always carry that?"

"The gun?"

"Yeah."

"Always."

"Hmmm," she grunted and shrugged dismissively, extending her hand. "Come on."

I took her hand with a little smile and happily let her lead me down the stairs. We hit the street and I was escorted to a little blue Camaro. She even opened the door for me. Smart chick. She wanted me bad.

When she sat down behind the wheel, she cast a smile in my direction. "Ready?"

"Yep."

She pulled away from the curb and sped off down the street. "How long were you in the Army, Maddie?"

"A little over six years."

"Why did you get out?"

"I realized they wouldn't let me fly forever."

"Did you have one of those cool nicknames?"

"Huh?"

"You know, like Iceman or Maverick?"

"Oh. Yeah, I did."

She waited a few seconds and then turned a look on me. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

Eyes rolled. "Well, what was your nickname?"

I grinned. "What do you think it was?"

"I dunno. Hotpants?"

"Would've been fitting, but no."

A chuckle. "Just tell me."

"Maddie."

"Maddie?"

"Yep."

"Hmph. Ya hungry?"

"Yeah. Haven't had anything all day."

She shot me a wink. "Well then, we'll have to get you filled up."

Sweet Jeebus. It was at times like these that I truly wished I were easy. I'd like to be a slut. One look at Sarah and I really wanted to be a slut. I don't know where I picked it up and if I did, I'd take it back, but I'd never been able to jump right into the sack with someone I just met. I didn't want every woman, just the right one. Was Sarah the right one? Was Anabel? I sure as hell hoped one of them was because I didn't relish the idea of growing old with Stephanie. Maybe I was just a romantic at heart.

"You still with me?"

"Huh?" I asked, looking up to see her gazing at me amusedly. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"Potatoes."

She snickered. "What?"

"I was thinking I had a craving for potatoes."

Dinner was an entertaining and in some ways, enlightening affair. Sarah was great. She was smart, funny, and very alluring. I had a moment of incredible weakness when she excused herself to go powder her nose and I got to watch her walk away in those fantastic jeans. If she had returned to the table with a carrot and asked me to eat it out of her ass, I probably would've dropped to my knees immediately and ordered her to bend over.

Fortunately, she didn't make any such request and I eventually regained my bearings. However, she dropped enough hints over the course of the evening to make it quite obvious what she wanted. That want was me and well, who could blame her? She thought I was wonderful and I couldn't help but agree.

She also wasn't the bleeding heart I was afraid she might be. She had a head on her shoulders that could be admired for more than just a pretty face. Her halfway house was only one of several successful business ventures. She'd made her money and had decided to give a little back to those less fortunate. In my view, there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

"Do you want dessert?" she asked.

My mind instantly blazed down the path that led to my groin, but I think I recovered nicely. "Sure."

"Want to have it here or at my place?"

There it was. The question I'd been dreading all evening. Oh, how I wanted to go. She turned me on in such a way that I'd probably come the second I stood from my chair. It wasn't just physical; I liked her. I liked her a lot. She obviously liked me so what was the problem? Say yes! Say yes! I was fucking hopeless. Something, something irritating and persistent, emanating from deep down inside, prompted me to open my mouth and decline.

"As much as I know I would like that, I'm afraid it's just a little too soon for me," I said apologetically.

Her disappointment was obvious, but she rallied. "That's not the answer I wanted but it's the one I pretty much expected."

"It was?"

"Yeah," she said with a little grin.

"Why?" I asked, leaning forward in my chair, extremely interested in her answer.

"Because I've hit on you all night and there were a couple of times you seemed to struggle with it."

I saw where this was headed and jumped to put a stop to it. "It's not you. Believe me. It's not you at all."

She grunted. "So if I were to take that at face value and ask you out again, you'd say yes?"

"In a heartbeat."

She leaned back in her chair and beamed a playful smile. "Let me think about that over dessert."

I giggled. "Please do."

We ordered our sweets and fell back into a friendly chatter. Each trying to learn as much we could about the other. I was really hoping that she would ask me out a second time, although I had to admit that if the shoe were on the other foot, I myself probably wouldn't. I felt like a fool and castigated myself for turning her down. It wasn't the first time in my life I'd gotten such an offer and I've always said no. Why? For the life of me I wish I knew. It was a topic I struggled with often, and it seemed I was no closer to an answer than I'd been a decade ago.

Dessert gave way to drinks and we bantered back and forth until the alcohol was abandoned in favor of coffee. I was disappointed when the evening began to approach its conclusion. I couldn't remember the last time I had enjoyed a date so thoroughly. I wanted kiss her. I mean I really wanted to kiss her. I became so obsessed with the desire that I had trouble thinking about anything else.

However, it occurred to me in the car that she still hadn't extended an invitation to get together again. Worriedly, I looked out the window to take in my surroundings and was disenchanted to discover we were only a matter of minutes away from my place. Should I ask her or should I hang tough and see what happens? I was still debating the question when she pulled up to the curb and stopped. It was the moment of truth.

"Want me to walk you up?" she asked.

"Yes."

She got out of the car and started to walk around so I hurried out of my seat to join her. I was afraid she might open my door for me and I didn't want to play the princess. I was offered a hand and I took it.

We walked up the stairs in a companionable silence and when we reached the top she turned suddenly to face me. I hoped my nervousness wasn't showing.

"I'd like to see you again, Maddie."

A wave of relief. "I'd like to see you too. I had a great time."

"So did I."

I offered a nervous smile and she giggled. "I'd really like to kiss you."

My knees almost buckled. "You read my mind."

She closed in shyly and placed hands on my waist. I couldn't wait and leaned forward to meet her. I met lips that aroused me powerfully and was welcomed by arms that moved to encircle me tightly. I think I may have whimpered when her breasts pressed into mine and I know I gasped when the hands on my back dropped to my ass. When she captured my tongue and sucked it on it softly, I almost collapsed. Another few seconds and I wouldn't have the willpower to stop so I carefully started to back away. To my relief, and to my disappointment, she let me.

When we disengaged she kept her eyes closed and licked her lips so seductively that I had to lean back to steady myself on the door behind me.

"You taste wonderful, Maddie," she whispered.

"So… so do you."

"I'd like to do that again."

"I'd better not."

"You sure?"

"No. And that's why I better not."

She chuckled. "Can I call you? Soon?"

"Yes."

"Then I will," she said with a determined nod, leaning in quickly to peck me on the cheek. "Goodnight, Maddie."

"Bye, Sarah," I rasped, unable to look away and torturing myself as I watched her walk back down the steps. She stopped in front of her car and gave me a little wave that I returned robotically.

After she drove off, it took me a few minutes to get my shit together, but when I did, I quickly fumbled for the keys in my pocket. I burst through the door and made a beeline for the bedroom. Stephanie needed me. Needed me in the worst way.

That night, I dreamed about Gus. A memory I hadn't thought about in years.

The public school system was a far cry from what I was previously accustomed to. The size, diversity, and freedom easily allowing a greater opportunity to practice the ignorant cruelty that children often engage in. Not that I wasn't guilty of it myself on occasion, but like everybody, it was an eye opener when it was directed squarely at you.

I was a bit of a tomboy and had an accent when I was younger that easily singled me out of a crowd. Those two reasons alone guaranteed my exclusion from any of the popular cliques. There was also the fact that Gus and Joey didn't really buy into the whole private school idea so Sophie and I had the added bonus of being kids the other children's parents had told them to avoid. When Sophie and I weren't joined at the hip, I was mostly a loner, and to be honest, that suited me just fine.

Now, I've previously denied being a bigot, but if there's one class or culture of people that I'm truly prejudiced against, it's rednecks. Fortunately, your typical redneck tends to avoid your large metropolitan areas and for that, we can all be thankful. I personally think they realize that they wouldn't survive very long in a city, they wouldn't be tolerated and they're just smart enough to know it. Well that, and I'm sure they'd miss molesting their cousins, farm animals, and whatever else they might have a hankering for.

I could go on for hours, and in great detail, illustrating exactly why rednecks are the most useless bags of skin inhabiting the planet, but odds are, most people already know this and I'd be wasting my time. Even bikers hate them and that speaks for itself.

Jesse Wayne Harper stood out like a turd in a public swimming pool. Fourteen years old and the proud owner of an evil smile devoid of dental hygiene, he combed his hair with buttered toast and clothed himself as if he desired to be Willie Nelson's dirty laundry. Every pair of jeans he owned had a faded little circle on the back pocket created from carrying around a can of dip. He was a vicious little prick and he went out of his way to advertise it.

My run in with Jesse Wayne took place just off campus. Apparently, he had seen Sophie and I eating lunch together that afternoon. When we parted ways, I pecked her on the cheek. It was nothing out of the ordinary, we were best friends and if I hadn't done it, she would have. Jesse Wayne took exception and intercepted me after school on the sidewalk with his pathetic little slag. I listened to his venom with an irate ear, trying my best to get through the situation without a brouhaha. I'd had my share of mishaps and I knew if Gus had to come down to the school again because I was in trouble, there'd be hell to pay.

I suspected then that I preferred girls over boys, but I'd never been confronted with the hateful and disgusting comments that Jesse appeared to be taking great pleasure in spewing forth. Surprisingly, I endured it all, snapping only when his commentary switched from me and targeted Sophie.

In a fit of temper, I lunged forward and pushed him as hard as I could, hoping he would fall down so I might escape. He was much larger than I was and my assault only managed to make him collide with his girlfriend. She fell down and before I could get away he grabbed me by the hair and hit me so hard that I too, ended up on the ground. I'd never been hit before and I was stunned. Terrified at how badly it hurt, I immediately burst into tears. When he turned to his girlfriend, I lurched to my feet and managed to push him over as he bent to help her up. He rose with a red face so I did the only thing I could. I ran. I ran for six blocks with him in pursuit. Finally, I flew into Joey's shop scared to death and gasping for air. Jesse Wayne wisely chose not to pursue me inside.

Joey wasn't there at the time so one of the guys called Gus to come and get me. He arrived not ten minutes later with a look on his face that just plain scared the hell out of me. I guess he could see that I was frightened, so he smiled and I rushed over to be engulfed in his arms. Once we got in the car, I blubbered out the whole story. Repeating everything Jesse Wayne had said and done. By the time I was finished, you could easily see dangerous black thunderclouds brewing overhead.

When we arrived at home, he directed me to a chair in the living room and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a washcloth and a baggie of ice, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of me to gently wipe away my tears.

"Maddie, what's right for you may not be right for other people," he said softly. "If they have a problem with that, it's their problem, not yours." He reached out to tap me on the chest. "You follow your heart wherever it leads and you'll never be sorry."

It took me a while to understand what he was getting at. Gus's sensitive conversations were very few and far between.

"Wha…what if he was right?" I finally asked.

"Nothing that came out of that little bastard's mouth was right, Maddie," he growled. "But if you're asking me what I would think if you wanted a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend, I'll tell you."

It took every bit of courage I had to nod my head.

"As long as you were happy, I wouldn't give two shits one way or the other."

I grinned bashfully and he placed the icepack on my cheek.

"Now, you hold that there while I make a call, okay?"

"Okay."

He vanished and Joey arrived not long after. They spent a little while talking out on the porch and then Gus came back inside to fix us dinner. That minute of conversation on the subject of my sexuality was the only time it was ever discussed. In all the years that followed, he never gave me the slightest reason to think that he hadn't meant exactly what he said.

As for Jesse Wayne, well, he never came back to school. A few years later, I learned that the Harper family had received a visit from the goodfellas. Apparently, the gents weren't too fond of rednecks either. They advised the parents that it would be in their best interest to leave town and return to whatever shithole they crawled out of. They also left Jesse Wayne with eight broken fingers and two broken thumbs.

As far as I know. Nobody misses them.

After waking, I lounged in bed for almost an hour thinking about things. Had Gus unmasked Sabrina DiCarlo? She was the only real suspect. I couldn't see a motive anywhere else. Of course, the murder could've been perpetrated by anyone, it didn't have to point to any of the people Gus had over that night. However, my gut told me it did. Someone at the party knew something they weren't telling me. Perhaps, one of them was even the triggerman. But who and why?

The Franks? I doubted it. They were genuinely surprised by the news of Gus's death and were smart enough to realize that messing with him held repercussions. They had nothing to gain and too much to lose. I couldn't figure them for it.

Sarah? That seemed preposterous.

Joey? Gimme a break.

Anabel? That was just ludicrous.

The Binkowskis? I narrowed my eyes. They had lied to me, whether they realized it or not. I leaned toward not. They didn't know they were lying and were just telling me what they thought they knew. However, Sidney had dealt with Sabrina personally. That fact alone required that I visit him again. Then there was Tish. She was about as real as professional wrestling. She merited looking into.

Sabrina DiCarlo? She was the only person that had any semblance of a motive. Sabrina was marked for death. Everyone who knew Gus also knew he was close to the family and old man Sirico had a vendetta to finish. Would she whack Gus to protect herself? A good question. A person who held the kind of power Sabrina did, could probably remove Sirico himself if it came down to it. With that in mind, why hadn't she?

I needed more information and it was time to get moving so I rolled out of bed and made tracks for the bathroom.

V

Once I was ready to start my day, the first order of business was to give Billy a call. He had already assembled the files on DiCarlo and I asked him to get what he could for me on Tish Binkowski. He agreed and we made arrangements to meet for breakfast.

When I walked into the little diner he favored, he was already seated and waiting for me in his usual booth. He shot me a grin and waved me over.

"Well, well," he said as I sat down. "Someone's all prettied up today."

I rolled my eyes. "You're imagining things."

"I don't think so. I can't remember the last time I saw you with a bow in your hair," he drawled happily.

"Give it a rest, Billy."

He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Not 'til you give me something to chew on. You got a date?"

"I tied my hair back with a bow and this leads you to believe I have a date?"

"Uh huh."

"Why?"

"Just a hunch."

I shook my head, but he wouldn't let it go. "Well? Do you have a date?"

I sighed. "Yes. If you must know."

"I must. With Anabel?"

I nodded reluctantly and he chortled, fumbling his cell phone out of a pocket excitedly.

"What are you doing?"

"I gotta call Joey."

I reached out and swiped the phone out of his hand. "Jesus, you're worse than an old bitty. Can't you at least wait until I'm gone?"

He laughed and fell back in his seat. "Oh, alright."

"Gee, thanks," I said sarcastically, getting a snicker in return.

He waved to the waitress and I ordered coffee and a bagel. When she left, he pulled a file from his briefcase and tossed it on the table.

"That's what we have on Tish Binkowski."

I nodded and picked up the folder, surprised to see an official copy. "What's this? You could get in trouble for giving this to me."

"Porter came to see me after you left yesterday."

"Oh?"

"You've got carte blanche. He also said that if he had to, he'd do his best to run interference for you."

I was stunned. "You're shittin' me."

He shrugged. "Nope."

Damn, I had seriously misjudged the man. "I don't know what to say."

"There's more."

I could only gape.

"He told me that he'd fight to get you back onboard if you reapplied with the department."

"No way."

"We've got a new mayor," he said. "Porter thinks he can pull it off."

It was a lot to think about and I sat there in astonishment as I wrapped my mind around it. Eventually, the waitress arrived with our food and Billy spoke again.

"Anyway, give him a call if you're interested. See my Desk Sergeant later; he has the DiCarlo stuff boxed up for you. There's a lot to go through."

"Okay."

"Oh, before I forget," he said, reaching back into his briefcase. "The gun you gave me is a no go," he added, placing the Frank revolver on the table in front of me.

"I kinda figured."

"Also, forensics ran all the fingerprints they could lift from the house. Nothing on that front as well."

"I was expecting that."

"Me too, but ya never know."

"True enough," I agreed. "What are your thoughts on a motive, Billy?"

He played with his fork and hummed for a moment. "I've rattled that around for a while now and I'm still coming up empty. My nose points me to the DiCarlos, but that's mainly because of the mystery enshrouding them."

I grunted.

"Okay, your turn. What's the interest in Tish Binkowski?"

"She just strikes me wrong," I said around a mouthful of bagel. "Plus, the Binkowskis fed me a line of bullshit. Although, I don't think they knew it was bullshit. I'm gonna go see them again after lunch."

"Hmmm," he grunted, and nodded toward the folder he'd given me. "Her sheet makes for interesting reading."

I flipped it open and started to browse while we went about our respective meals. Billy was wrong. It wasn't interesting. It was a tragedy.

"Six arrests for prostitution?"

He nodded.

"Was Sidney a customer?"

"I assume so. Can't prove it though."

"How long have they been married?"

"Almost four years."

"That means Sidney got her cleaned up. Two rehab stays three years ago."

"Probably."

"She's had three arrests for possession," I said, looking up in surprise. "How did she weasel out of those?"

"Yeah, I thought that was a little fishy myself so I looked it up," he said. "You familiar with a Lawrence Merchant?"

"Nope."

"He's a high-dollar lawyer the department would love to see gang raped and left for dead."

"I'll bet," I said with a chuckle, but then it hit me. "Hold it, where would a twenty-dollar whore get the money for an expensive mouthpiece?"

"No idea," he said with a shrug.

"She have a pimp?"

"Again, no idea."

I grunted and bent my attention back to the file. "She has no next of kin?"

"None, but never confirmed."

"Where was she born?"

He tapped a finger on the table. "Detroit, but never confirmed."

I looked up sharply. "What the hell?"

"She never spent more than six hours in custody and like I said, she had a good lawyer."

"She never saw a trial?"

"Nope, all the charges were thrown out before it ever got that far."

"And nobody was curious as to why a streetwalker had an OJ Simpson attorney?"

"Who would've had the time?"

I conceded his point with a slight nod. It might have raised an eyebrow but in a high volume society, her case would be instantly forgotten as soon as it was disposed of. Police work in a large city was a lot like the mail; it never stopped.

He stood up. "I've got court in about fifteen, can I have my phone back now?"

"Sure," I said with a chuckle, sliding it across the table.

He collected it with a stupid grin. "Can I call you later for details?"

"No."

He laughed and dug his wallet from a pocket. "I'll get the tab if you get the tip."

"Deal."

A bill hit the table. "Lemme know what you find out from the Binkowskis."

"Will do," I said, still reading through the file. "See ya, Billy."

"See ya."

I was so engrossed in the details of Tish Binkowski that I didn't look up when he left. I jumped in my seat and almost shrieked when whiskers brushed my face and a kiss was planted on my cheek.

"Say hi to Anabel for me," Billy whispered in my ear.

"Goddamn it, Billy. You scared the shit out of me," I said with a punch to his arm.

"Oww," he exclaimed jovially, rubbing his wounded appendage as he turned and sauntered toward the door.

I smiled at his back and reached into my jacket for a tip. When I picked up the tab I noticed with a scowl the one-dollar bill he had left behind. The jerk had stiffed me. It was kinda funny so I just snickered and put a ten on the table.

I finished my coffee as I read through the file again. This time, I picked up on something I hadn't noticed before. Tish had gotten a traffic ticket late last year in Fowler, Iowa. No big deal, but for reasons I couldn't explain, it seemed significant.

Five minutes before noon I parked across the street from 'Rocket Video', checked my hair in the mirror, and made sure I had some breath mints. The mints were a must; I wanted fresh breath in case Anabel wanted a little taste of paradise.

I got out and bounced all the way to the door, ridiculously happy at the chance to see her again. I entered the store and was disappointed to find a small crowd milling about. Anabel spotted me as I walked in and came up on her tiptoes, shooting me an enthusiastic smile. I waved at her with what I know was the dumbest grin I had in my inventory and hung back to wait for the customers to filter out of the store.

I entertained myself by pretending to browse around and sneaking looks at her when I thought she wasn't watching. With every glance, I grew more anxious to be alone with her and I started to become annoyed when people didn't start leaving fast enough. Finally, when there was only one lady left in the store, Anabel came out from behind the counter and walked to the door, flipping the 'Open' sign over to read 'Closed.'

I tried not to be obvious as I zeroed in on her rear, taking great pleasure in watching the sway of her hips as she walked across the room. She turned around and I smiled, hoping my lower lip wasn't shining with drool. She gestured to the woman still present and rolled her eyes before flouncing back to her station behind the counter.

My eyes tracked irritably to the lady who was delaying my date and I cringed. Her ass was so large I almost expected to see a moon in orbit around it and she was wearing an extremely unflattering dress that could hide Rhode Island from prying eyes. To make matters worse, she was studying a rack of movies with a wishy-washy look that told me she wasn't in a hurry to choose anything.

After what seemed like half an hour of staring at her and tapping my foot impatiently, I could take it no longer. I walked up beside her and pretended to be studying the movies in front of her. My nose crinkled, the cow smelled like she bathed in sour milk.

I opened my mouth to speak but Anabel cut me off.

"Ma'am," she said from behind the counter. "I hate to rush you but I have a noon appointment that I'm already a little late for."

I drifted a few feet away to let Anabel handle it. After all, it was her store and she had dealt with the lady a hell of lot more diplomatically than I would have.

"I'm sorry, dear," the cow said. "I'll try and hurry along."

"Thank you, ma'am," Anabel said sweetly.

I snuck a peek at Anabel and could resist no longer. I wanted to be next to her so I ambled over and leaned on the counter.

"Hiya."

"Hi," she said with a bounce, and with a quick look around, she darted forward to place a kiss on my cheek. "It's good to see you."

I gaped at her. The kiss had been the last thing I'd expected. My cheek tingled from the contact and I felt my body temperature rise several degrees.

"Close your mouth, Maddie," she whispered.

I pursed my lips and stood up straight. A little embarrassed she'd been able to flummox me so easily.

"Cute blush. Is pizza okay?"

"Huh?"

She sighed dramatically. "Pizza, you know, for lunch?"

"Sure," I giggled.

She turned to pick up the phone but the door chimes sounded as she started to dial. A guy in his twenties who obviously didn't know how to read wandered in, glancing around stupidly.

"I'm sorry," Anabel said. "We're closed for lunch."

"Oh," the guy said, looking around a second longer before leaving.

Anabel picked up the phone again and I cast a glare at the cow that was still browsing around. Surely, she had heard Anabel say the store was closed. God, people were so selfish and insensitive. They just sucked. The thought brought me up short for wasn't I selfish and insensitive? I guess I sucked too. My eyes strayed to Anabel's breasts as she spoke into the phone. Oh, I sucked all right. I'd suck all night if I had too.

"The pizza place is just down the street, it'll be about fifteen minutes."

I had to pull myself out of fantasyland to acknowledge her. "Uhm… that's fine."

"Anything you'd like to talk about while we wait?"

"I'd like to hear about you."

"You would?" she asked, shyly glancing away.

"Very much."

She shuffled her feet a little and I couldn't help but think she was just precious.

"Did you really threaten to rape Millicent and kill Whiskers?"

"Wha…what?" I stammered, the question completely blindsiding me.

"My next door neighbor. She said you threatened to…"

I came up to speed and held up a hand to cut her off. "Hold on. That horrible woman who lives next you is named Millicent?"

"Uh…yes."

"Jesus. What a god awful name. Just the sound of it makes my butt cheeks clench up."

She grinned but it faded quickly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you threaten her?"

"Who, Millicent?" I said, throwing in a shudder.

She slapped me on the arm, trying rather unsuccessfully not to smile. "Yes, Millicent."

"Yeah, I threatened her. But believe me, if the thought of raping that woman ever popped into my head. I'd shoot myself."

"I'd hope so," she mumbled.

"You'd hope I what? Rape her or shoot myself?"

I got another swat. "Shush."

I laughed, but it tapered off as I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I had almost forgotten about the cow. It was too much. Anabel had told the woman she had an appointment and had clearly told the idiot that walked in that the store was closed. Yet the dumb, inconsiderate bitch was still browsing as if she hadn't heard any of it. Even I wasn't that selfish and insensitive.

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me, ma'am. But the store is closed and the owner has an appointment."

"Maddie," Anabel hissed.

The cow turned around as if this was news to her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hold anyone up."

Liar! My temper started to slip two notches at a time.

"It's quite alright," Anabel said quickly. "But I do need to hurry along."

"I'll just be another minute. Is that okay?"

"No," I said before I could stop it.

Anabel's hand landed gently on my wrist and applied a warning squeeze.

The innocent mask the cow had been wearing fell away in an instant. "So sorry to be an inconvenience. I thought I was paying customer," she said nastily.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. You can take as…" Anabel began.

I couldn't help it. "Just shut up, lady. Isn't there a box of moon pies and a Slim Fast waiting for you at home?"

"Maddie!"

The cow froze, her jaw working as the M&M she had for a brain struggled for a response.

"Don't fall down on the way out. That would break my fuckin' heart."

The woman went so red in the face that I thought for a second she might explode or at least shit all over herself. She opened her mouth and I stepped forward. She didn't wait for me to take a second step and I was suitably impressed that she didn't have to turn that ass sideways to get it through the doorframe. I let a satisfied smile drift over my features.

I turned to Anabel and the smile faded rapidly. She was standing as stiff as a board with her arms crossed over her chest. The color on her cheeks was a fuming shade of crimson and the look on her face, well, she was fucking livid.

"Uhm… sorry," I mumbled lamely.

"Me too," she hissed. "Please, let yourself out."

"But…"

"This my store, Maddie. My store. I depend on the customers for a living, including that bitch you just kicked out of here. I decide who to show the door, not you. And in case you missed it," she said, pointing to the exit. "There's the door."

Well, gee. Could I have possibly fucked up any worse?

I sulked all the way back to the car and sat down behind the wheel. I was such a loser. No wonder I was still alone. I couldn't even stand me. I was not only selfish but monumentally insensitive. I knew I shouldn't have butted in, so why did I? Why couldn't I learn to keep my mouth shut? If I weren't a Republican, I'd seek therapy.

I started the car and felt like crying as I drove toward the station house. My attraction to Anabel was different from the one I felt with Sarah. It just seemed more natural, dumb as that sounds. Sarah was more of a sexual attraction. Not that I wasn't sexually attracted to Anabel, it just that… oh, hell. I don't know.

When I arrived at my destination, I puttered inside and got my box of files with barely a word. It had been my intention to visit the Binkowskis but I couldn't summon the energy. Instead, I went home to brood and feel sorry for myself, dumping my box on the kitchen counter and throwing myself on the couch. I fumbled for the remote, clicking on the TV and settling on 'I Love Lucy'.

How fucked up was that? I hated 'I Love Lucy'.

The sun was beginning to go down when my cell phone rang. I hadn't moved in hours.

"Ledoux."

"You at home?" Joey asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Don't go anywhere. I'm on my way over."

He hung up and I stared at the phone confusedly. I didn't have to wait long; there was a knock on the door less than ten minutes later. I extracted myself from the couch and trudged over to let him in. I blinked a few times, a little befuddled over why he'd be holding a bouquet of roses.

"What's the occasion? I know it's not my birthday."

He let himself in and brushed passed me. "They're not for you, dumbass."

I chuckled and followed him to the kitchen counter where he deposited the roses. "What's going on?"

"Just be quiet and come with me."

"Joey…"

"Come," he ordered, snapping his fingers.

He sauntered into my bedroom and I belatedly trailed after him, feeling stupid and probably looking stupid.

"In here," he said from my closet.

"Joey, what the hell are…?"

"Get in here, Maddie."

I entered the closet to see him perusing through my wardrobe. He pulled out a dress and walked over to hang it front of me.

"This one will do," he said with a satisfied nod. "Do you have shoes to match?"

I shook my head to clear it. "What the hell is going on?"

He looked at me as if I were a moron. Perhaps I was. "You're gonna get dressed up, cart your ass over to Anabel's, and apologize. That is what's going on."

I felt my jaw hit my chest. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"She threw me out of her store," I said, placing my hands on my hips.

"Yeah, she did. And if you had pulled that crap in my shop, I would've thrown you out too."

"You talked to her?"

"Of course."

"I don't remember asking for anyone's help concerning my love life."

"If you had a love life, you wouldn't need help."

"I…I…" Goddamn, that was a good point.

"Well?" he said, throwing a hand in the air. "Go get dressed."

"I'm not going."

"Maddie," he rumbled. "You're going whether you like it or not. I'll pull you over there by the ear if I have to."

I thought about that for a moment. I'd probably come off as more sincere if I showed up on Anabel's doorstep without Joey standing behind me holding a stick. Wait a second; this was way out of line!

"I'm thirty-one years old, Joey. What the hell would you know about lesbian relationships?"

"Obviously, a lot more than you do."

I scowled.

"You give up too easy, Maddie. Take it from a guy who's done more than his fair share of groveling. You fucked up, that doesn't mean you give up."

"Hmph."

"Do you like her?"

I nodded.

"She likes you too."

An eyebrow crept upwards. "Really? Did she tell you that?"

He sighed. "Yeah, she passed me a note in class."

"Very funny. Really, what did she say?"

"God, you're pitiful."

Another scowl. "And why is that?"

"Because if you'd swallow your pride and bend a little every once in a while, I wouldn't be standing here right now."

I shuffled my feet. "What makes you think she won't slam the door in my face?"

"Trust me."

I began to waver.

"Well?"

I snatched the dress out of his hand and stomped into the bathroom.

Thankfully, I managed to talk Joey out of following me to Anabel's, although he did warn that he'd be checking up on me later and of that, I had no doubt. The mere fact that there were more people involved in my love life than just myself and whomever I might be dating, was both sweet and infuriating. However, as much as I hated to admit it, I really did appreciate the kick in the ass.

A little part of my mind kept telling me that I was wasting my time and already had a pretty good possibility with Sarah, but considering my track record with relationships, I thought it best to keep all options available for as long as possible. Then, of course, there was the fact that Gus, Joey, and Billy, had all conspired to get me to hook up with the same girl. I figured that if three guys were willing to go to such lengths to find and help me keep a girlfriend, I needed all the assistance I could get.

I pulled up in Anabel's little driveway, collected my flowers and checked my face in the mirror for stress zits and boogers. With my first step toward the house, I damn near took a header, stumbling several feet before I managed to right myself. Fuckin' heels! I only wore them once in a blue moon and I felt like a clown every time I did.

I steadied myself at the front door with a deep breath and rang the bell. As soon as my finger left the button, I had the almost overwhelming urge to make a break for it. I probably would've if I'd been wearing different shoes. With heels, I wouldn't get very far, and would most likely end up face down in the lawn with my dress over my head.

She answered the door in a tie-dye T-shirt and a pair of sweats. It was not one of my more heroic moments. I froze. I'd never done anything like this before and was at complete loss as to what do or say.

Her eyes lit up and I felt a spark of hope. It dimmed a little though when she appeared to catch herself and assumed an indifferent expression. I was just sharp enough to know that this was the point at which I was supposed to begin groveling, but again, I was at a loss. How did one grovel? Was I supposed to apologize or throw myself to floor and beg for forgiveness? Should I cry? If there was a sniper targeting me right now I wish he would just hurry up and pull the damn trigger. The silence was starting to stretch into hours; I needed to do something, anything. The pressure was too much.

"Uh… How 'bout those Bears?" I said stupidly, extending the flowers in her direction.

She laughed and I felt a wave of relief. "That is the most asinine apology I've ever heard."

I didn't know what to say and she still hadn't accepted the flowers so I fell back on my standby. I plastered on my puppy dog look.

She shook her head sadly, but I rejoiced internally, it was working. I could see her start to melt. What a sucker! This groveling stuff wasn't so bad. I batted my eyes for effect.

"Are you really as clueless as you would have me believe?"

I fumbled for an answer. "Uh… yeah, probably."

She rolled her eyes and took the flowers away from me. "You might as well come in," she said, backing up to allow me entry.

Heh. God, I was cool.

I took a step forward and promptly lost my feet. Falling forward to smack the right side of my face into the doorframe and bouncing off to land directly on top of her, crushing the flowers between us.

She started to laugh from underneath me and I wished, prayed really, that God would stop fucking around and just finish me off.

Continued