A Scarlet Cord (31 page)

Melanie cradled the cordless phone on her shoulder and watered the plants on the sun porch as she talked. “Are you sure, Karly? I’d love to come help with the baby, but I don’t want your mom to feel like I’m butting in.” Karly and Matt’s baby was due late in March. Jerry LaSalle had already offered to fill in for Melanie at the office.

“Actually, you’d be an answer to her prayers,” Karly replied. “With my sister in Iowa due the same week I am, Mom is going crazy trying to decide which direction she should go. This is Kelly’s first baby, and I told Mom she really ought to be with her. But Mom’s worried about who will take care of the boys. If she knows you’ll be here with Brock and Jace, she can go to Des Moines with a clear conscience. Besides, I’d love to have you here.”

“And you’re sure you don’t mind if Jerica comes with me?”

“Are you kidding? The boys will be ecstatic. It’ll make the time go so much faster for them if Jerica’s here.”

Karly’s enthusiasm now was all the convincing Melanie needed. “I’ll call about tickets tomorrow,” she told her friend.

Melanie set the watering can down and pinched a yellowed leaf from a philodendron, rolling it absently between her finger and thumb. She cleared her throat. “Karly … I don’t mean to nag, but … do you know if Matt has heard anything? About Joel? I know he promised to call me the minute he had any news, but … I just thought I’d ask.”

Karly hesitated on her end. “I’m sure he would have said something if he had news, Mel. But I’ll tell him you asked … I know you’re anxious.”

“Thanks. Well, I’d better let you go. I’ll call you as soon as I have our flights booked.”

She took the phone into the kitchen and replaced it in its base, then went to wash the pungent scent of the leaf from her fingers. The last weeks of her life had been lived in a state of limbo. While she waited to hear what Matt’s investigation might turn up, she was merely going through the motions—putting in her hours at By Design, giving Jerica as much attention as time allowed, and trying not to drive her brother crazy with her frequent phone calls.

Melanie thought Matthew had seemed nervous and detached the last time she’d spoken with him. She understood. He was afraid of what his search might turn up. And to be honest, she was fearful too.

Trying for the thousandth time to put the whole situation out of her mind, she went to her computer to search for airline tickets for the last week in March. She would have to work overtime to get things in order at the office before she left. And even though Jerica’s school had a spring break during that time, she would still miss a few days of school. But how much homework could there be in first grade?

As she finalized the details of the trip, her excitement grew. It would be good to get away and spend some time with her brother and his family. But there was something more—a vague feeling of anticipation that she couldn’t quite explain.

Joel wiped the blackboard clean, dusted the chalk from his hands, and turned to face his class. “Why do you suppose that four hundred years after it was first performed,
Romeo and Juliet
remains so popular—especially with young people?”

“Because teachers like you are always forcing us to read it?” Gina Salvatore deadpanned from a slouch behind her desk.

“I’ll give you that,” Joel said, tossing the plump girl a grin that said
Touché
. “But think about it. This story has been produced as a new movie every generation in the history of film. How do you explain that?”

Five hands shot up. Joel called on Danny Barrientos, pleased that the boy was prepared for once. “Twenty words or less, Danny.”

Good-natured laughter rippled through the room. Danny Barrientos was not known for brevity. “Probably because it’s about kids our age.”

Joel nodded. “I’d buy that. Any other ideas?”

“Because it’s got the same issues we deal with?”

“Like?”

“Love, suicide, intolerance,” Danny offered.

Again Joel nodded his affirmation. Several other students offered their opinions.

“Okay, good. Great thoughts. Now who can give me a quick synopsis of the play?”

Danny stood, bowed ostentatiously, and gave a creditable review of the plot.

“Good,” Joel said, then winking, “Straight out of
Cliffs Notes
but good nevertheless. Okay. You can take a seat, Danny. Let’s give someone else a chance. Somebody name the major protagonists in the story.”

“Duh. Romeo and Juliet,” Gina muttered from the back of the room.

“Well, I see somebody did their homework,” he said dryly. “Okay, major antagonists?”

Again several eager hands went up.

The conversation grew lively when he asked them to think of modern comparisons to Shakespeare’s theme. As ideas flew back and forth across the room, Joel came around and leaned on the front of his desk, arms folded. He listened, letting the students carry the discussion, stepping in occasionally to steer them toward the next level of analysis.

After a long semester struggling with Shakespeare, it seemed these kids were finally getting the hang of it. “You guys are something else,” he said now, slapping his copy of
Romeo and Juliet
on his thigh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were actually enjoying this unit.”

A few sheepish smiles hid behind notebooks. A few more broke into full grins.

He looked at the clock. “Well, let’s stop there for today. Tomorrow we’ll discuss Act Two. If you haven’t read it, get—”

The old building’s clangorous bell cut him off abruptly, and the classroom emptied like salt from a funnel into the noisy hallway.

Smiling to himself, he tidied up the room. That finished, he chalked some sentences on the board for tomorrow’s first-hour English class, then headed down the hall to the teacher’s lounge to get his coat.

“Hey, Joel! How’s it going?” Elaine Waring was at the sink rinsing coffee grounds from an ancient coffee maker. Her blond hair fell softly over her shoulders.

“Fine, Elaine. Hey, how was your vacation?”

“It was fantastic. Seventy degrees the whole week I was there.”

“Well, I hate to tell you, but it wasn’t far from that here.” He grinned.

“So I’ve heard,” she said, hands on hips in mock indignation. “Why does everybody insist on telling me that?”

“Ah, we’re just jealous. Don’t pay any attention.”

She gave him a grateful smile, put the clean carafe back on the burner, and grabbed her coat in a none-too-discreet effort to walk out with Joel.

Elaine had been flirting with him for weeks. He knew she would go out with him in a second. All he’d have to do was ask. And he had to admit that he was attracted to her outgoing personality. She was cheerful and thoughtful, and extremely pretty besides. And he was so lonely.

But there was only one woman he was lonely for. Only one woman for whom his heart ached.
Oh, Melanie
.

He reminded himself again how unfair it would be to put someone else through the torture he had put Melanie through. Trying not to be rude, but not wanting to encourage the young teacher in any way, Joel headed the opposite direction when they reached the end of the sidewalk. “I need to run by the grocery before I head home,” he explained. “See you tomorrow, Elaine.” He waved over his shoulder.

Obviously disappointed, Elaine walked away with a glum good-bye.

Joel brushed away the feeling of depression that threatened to blanket him. He gave himself the familiar pep talk: He had made a new life for himself.

In spite of the circumstances that had brought him here, it was actually rather good to be back on his native East Coast. And he was teaching again and finding his job ever more rewarding.

Though the shock of seeing Melanie on the streets of New York had caused him a serious emotional setback, he was finally beginning to feel he’d been given a chance to start over once again. He forced himself to dwell on the small happinesses of this new life: the bright students who had opened up their lives to him, a clean apartment in a decent neighborhood, access to all the opportunities and entertainments this vibrant city had to offer.

Not wanting to make himself a liar, he stopped off at a small corner grocery and bought a few things he needed. Putting the small bag on one hip, he turned west toward his apartment.

The sun was low in the sky on a February afternoon, but the air felt almost balmy after a week when the thermometer had climbed high into the fifties. Feeling more lighthearted already, he whistled a cheerful variation of “Danny Boy” as he strolled up the street to his apartment.

He was almost on his porch when he saw them.

The two figures were partially hidden in the shadows of the porch overhang, smoking cigarettes, not speaking. His heart leapt to his throat, and he fought the instinctive urge to turn and run.

The heavier of the two men stepped into the sunlight and extended his right hand with a half smile. “Hello, Joe.”

Twenty-Six

Joel’s heart thudded in his chest as he eyed the two large men who stood, waiting, on his porch. He glanced at the street and saw a hulking black sedan parked half a block down. One of the men stepped off the porch and started toward Joel, his hand outstretched. Joel had never seen the man before. The blood pounded like a jackhammer in his ears as he considered taking flight.

Then the taller man moved into the light and relief surged through Joel’s veins, followed quickly by apprehension. It was John Toliver. There must be some news about the trial. “What’s going on?” He hurried toward the apartment now, not wanting his neighbors to overhear. “Toliver? What is it?” Joel heard the tremor in his own voice, and he despised it.

John Toliver motioned toward his companion. “Joe, this is Marshal Harvey Denton … Justice Department. Can we come inside?”

This must be significant if they sent a U.S. marshal
. Joel dug his keys from his pocket and, without a word, let the two men inside the apartment. He led them to the small living room and motioned for them to take a seat on the threadbare sofa.

“Anybody care for something to drink?”

Both men held up their hands, declining the offer.

Joel grabbed a can of Coke from the refrigerator and returned to sit across from them on the edge of the old vinyl recliner. The heavy coffee table formed a barrier between them.

“We have some good news for you.” The marshal took a stack of
papers from the briefcase on the floor beside him and handed them wordlessly across the coffee table to Joel.

Joel leafed through them, noting what seemed to be copies of court dockets, and other legal rhetoric he didn’t recognize. One name jumped out at him though: Stanley Difinni, listed as a defendant in the case. He looked at Toliver now, waiting for the explanation he knew would come.

“The sentencing took place yesterday. Difinni got forty years … without parole.”

Joel slumped back in the recliner, surprised at his relief, trying to figure out just what this news meant to him. “No parole?”

“No parole. No hung jury, no technicalities, no appeals, no nothin’, Joe … this guy ain’t goin’ nowhere. And they hauled the alleged accomplice in on another charge a couple weeks ago. I think his case’ll go the same way.” The inspector’s voice had taken on the streetwise inflection of the New York detective he had been before joining the Justice Department ten years ago.

Joel couldn’t speak for a minute. Finally he asked, “So what are you telling me?”

Harvey Denton fielded the question. “You’re a free man, Mr. Bradford. As far as we can tell there aren’t any other important connections to the Sartoni murder on the outside.”

“As far as you can tell?”

“There isn’t anybody, Joe,” Toliver reiterated firmly. “We’re confident of that. You have no value to them now.”

“So … what does this mean?”

Toliver looked around the apartment. “Well, that’s up to you. You got your job fair and square now. You’ve been paying your own way for a while. You’re free to go.”

“You’re telling me I’m out of the program again?”

“You’ve been secure for months now anyway. These new convictions pretty much sew it up.”

“So I’m out from under your protection? Just like that? Don’t I
have anything to say about it?” His voice sounded hollow, not unlike the feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What about retribution?”

“We don’t think that’s a threat, Joe. Not with these two locked up. Their thugs are small potatoes. They don’t have the power they once had. La Cosa Nostra is a dying breed … The Mafia’s a dinosaur.”

Joel snorted. It hadn’t felt like a dying breed that night in the dining room of Ciao! It hadn’t felt like a dinosaur while he watched the flames rise from Tori’s apartment.

Toliver shifted in his seat. “C’mon, Joe. Most people are overjoyed with this kind of news.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

Harvey Denton looked at Joel with sympathy. “Hey … you’ve got credentials with the school, so if you want to relocate, you can go anywhere, and good references will follow. You can keep the ID you’re using. Everything’s legit … Social Security, the driver’s license, all of it …” His words trailed off as if he knew he hadn’t convinced Joel.