Baby Girl Doe (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 5) (6 page)

“Ma?
What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” she said pretending to mist up. She stepped away from the kitchen counter and threw her arms around me.

I gave her a big smooch on the cheek. “You missed us so much? We’ve only been gone a few days.”

“It’s not the time, pudd‘n’head, it’s the distance.”

“You could’ve called if you missed us so much. You know, reach out and touch someone?”

She shrugged. “I wanted to give you your privacy.”

So you unexpectedly show up at our front door?
My mother has a strange understanding of the word ‘privacy.’

“Well it’s a lovely surprise.” I looked around. “Hey, where are my two men?”

“I sent them to the store for groceries. Tomorrow’s Gus’ birthday, you know.”

“Of course I know. I’m planning on giving Max a heavy dose of baby Benadryl and sexing up Gus until his brain explodes.”

Ma looked disappointed. “Don’t you think he’d rather have a nice home-cooked meal?”

I can’t believe this woman.
“No! I figured we’d drink a bottle of wine and then I’d drag him to bed and practice world-class gymnastics.”

“Stephanie,” she blushed, “You’re embarrassing your mother.” She pointed at the stovetop. “Look, I’m making fresh sauce.”

I fanned the aroma toward my face. “It smells terrific, but do you really think Gus would rather eat spaghetti and meatballs than make love to his wife?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sly wink. “My sauce is pretty damn good.” She hugged me again. “Forget about it . . . fill your bellies. I’ll turn in early, and you can still screw your brains out.”

“Are you kidding? With you in the next room?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take the Benadryl too.” We laughed as we walked to the kitchen table. Ma had brought a liter bottle of wine and had already poured a glass for herself. She poured one for me. “
Salute
,” she said with the Italian twist at the end of the word. We clinked glasses. “Here’s to vacations and pain-in-the-ass mothers,” she said with a wink.

It was a bargain-priced bottle of wine, but it was pretty tasty nonetheless. My stomach was empty, and I felt the alcohol hit me right away. “I can’t believe this. How did you get here?”

“I caught a ride with Ginny Menucci’s daughter, Dina.”

I almost choked on the wine. “You rode out here with Dina Menucci? You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“Did you pick up any sailors on the ride out?”

She made that hand gesture that only Italians make, with all five fingertips touching. “Stephanie, what the hell are you talking about?”

I smirked.

“Why? What’s with that look on your face? What’s wrong with the Menuccis?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the Menuccis, but you know how Dina earns a living, don’t you?”

“She works evenings selling restaurant supplies. Are you crazy or something?”

“Ma, listen to yourself. Who sells restaurant supplies at night? She’s a call girl. My God, how gullible can a person be?”

“
Madonna mia
, sweet little Dina? Are you sure? She said Vesuvius is her biggest customer.”

“Vesuvius, the Italian restaurant on 49th Street?”

Ma nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s an eruption there every time she walks through the door.”

“How can that be? You know Mickey V, the owner; he’s a family man.”

“First of all he’s not Italian, even though he professes to be. He’s Greek. That’s why he never uses his full last name.”

“For real?”

“Yes for real. His last name is Vloganitis, or Vaginitis, or something you’d need antibiotics to clear up, and he’s the biggest sleazeball on two feet. Believe me when Dina visits him in the restaurant, his soufflé isn’t the only thing that rises.”

“So Mickey is Greek?”

I nodded with conviction. “Mickey is short for Mikolas. He got into a jam over unpaid traffic tickets several months back and asked me to help him out. That’s why I know his real name.”

“Were you able to help him?”

“I made a call over to my friend Tay at the DA’s office. She pulled some strings. They let him pay the fines, and he was able to avoid criminal charges.”

“And he’s Greek.”

“Like baklava, Mama.”

“Oh my? Does that mean . . .”

“That’s right, Ma, Dina’s probably multi-portal.”

She cringed. “Stephanie, that’s disgusting.”

“You brought it up. Do you prefer I use the term
backdoor specialist
?”

“
Madonna,
too much information.” Ma pretended to retch.

“Ma, you’re such a prude. You’ve never heard of ass play?”

“What play?”

“Ass play.”

“Isn’t that the group that sings about clocks?”

“Oh my God.”
What am I going to do with this woman?
“No, Ma, that’s
Cold
play.”

“Stephanie, I’m confused.”

Evidently.
“Ma, ass play . . . anal sex. Stop being such a Girl Scout.”

She shrugged. “You mean like for a gay man.”

“It’s not just for gay men, Ma. Straight couples do it too.”

“But why?” Ma was completely out of her comfort zone. Fine droplets of sweat broke out across her lip.

How can I put this delicately?
“Sometimes a man prefers to squeeze his car into the garage instead of just leaving it to hang out in the nice wide driveway.”

“You’re losing me. What does this have to do with cars?”

Sometimes there’s just no beating around the bush. Yikes. I can’t believe I just said that
.
“Because, Ma, after a woman shoots two or three linebackers out of her vagina, it isn’t exactly a snug fit anymore.”

Ma smiled with revelation. “Ah. So you’re talking about a man’s pleasure.”

“Correct.”

“What about the woman?”

I flashed my palm like a stop sign. “I’m not going there, Ma.” I wasn’t saying I don’t go there, but I wasn’t going there with my mother.

“I still don’t believe it. Dina told me flat out that she sells macaroni.”

I giggled. “A hooker whose cover story is that she sells macaroni? Does that make her a
pasta-tute
?”

Ma was aghast. “This is too much.” She looked pensive for a moment. “Come to think of it, she does drive a big fancy convertible.”

“Believe me, the top’s not the only thing in that car that goes down.”

Ma put her hand to her forehead. “I must be losing my mind. She talked three hours straight about how difficult it is for women to get ahead in a man’s world.”

“I don’t think getting head is an issue for her or any of her dates.”

“I said, ‘
ahead ahead,’
not
getting head
. She’s a very bright girl.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s a lot faster on the intake than the uptake.”

“Stephanie, are you drunk already? Is the wine getting to you?”

I closed my eyes and sank back in my chair. “Sorry, Ma, just unwinding. It’s been a busy morning.”

“What kind of busy morning? Isn’t the idea of a vacation to relax?”

“I—”

“I nothing. Gus told me what you were doing. Stephanie, are you a glutton for punishment? Can’t you just leave well enough alone for once? You’re on vacation for God’s sake.”

“Just satisfying my curiosity is all.”

“God love you. You’re just like your father . . . but while you’re on vacation with your husband and your son? Give it a rest, Stephanie. Don’t you know when to stop?”

“Trust me, I’d like to stop, but I can’t. In the few days we’ve been out here, I’ve heard about a young woman who went missing and the young woman who used to live in this house has disappeared too. Oh, and our vacation rental burned to the ground with the owner presumably inside.”

“I told you to go to the Finger Lakes but does anyone listen to me? No. You had to go to someplace dark and disturbing like Montauk, didn’t you?”

“Ma,” I said impatiently, “Dark and disturbing? It’s Montauk, not Casablanca. We came here to have a good time and we are. I just have trouble sleeping at night knowing that bodies are piling up and women have gone missing.”

Ma waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, come on, Stephanie. Admit it. You can’t help yourself—you seek out all these crazies and it makes you happier than a pig in shit.” She glanced toward heaven and then shook her head in exasperation. “It’s inappropriate. Do you want Max to grow up thinking this kind of thing is normal?”

Ma had a point; a good one. Neither Gus nor I would oppose Max if he chose a career in law enforcement, but he would have to understand that there were other alternatives and that not everyone was a paranoid, law-enforcement nut case like his mother. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll dial it back.”

“So I’m right?” she said with a gloating smile.

Aren’t you always?
I picked up my cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” Ma asked.

“Gus. I’ll ask him to pick up a gallon of
adult
Benadryl and maybe some Sominex too.”

Ma snickered.

I had so much aggression built up inside me. If I couldn’t pursue bad guys, I’d have to channel all of my energy into a more enjoyable pursuit. God knows, putting all of my police instincts on hold was going to take a Herculean effort, and I was counting on Gus to tire me out so exhaustively that I just wouldn’t care.

“My name is Josh, and I’m a drug addict.”

My name is Ray, and I’m going to take your life.
Ray zoned out right after Josh had introduced himself to the group. He had heard stories exactly like his many times before, the twelve steps and blah, blah, blah . . . Josh’s iteration sounded generic and boring. He didn’t even have any juicy admissions. The woman who spoke just before Josh had confessed to the group about getting loaded up on meth and ecstasy, becoming paralyzed behind the wheel of her father’s new Benz and T-boning a minivan. Compared to her story, Josh’s was barely worth staying awake for.

Despite the fact that Josh was a poor entertainer, he was just right for Ray. Josh was from out of town, a wandering soul who moved aimlessly through life. He was an unremarkable transient doing odd jobs as he found them to survive and buy drugs. For some reason, God had put them both in the same place at the same time, and as the lesson from high school physics clearly pointed out: two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. One of them had to go.

It was the third time that Ray had encountered the young man at the Narcotics Anonymous group. The actual details of Josh’s life blurred in his memory, but he was able to retain the pertinent information. They were about the same age. Josh had no ties to his immediate family and never stayed in one place very long. He was all that Ray could hope for—a loner with a history of substance abuse, someone that nobody in town knew or would miss.

Ray had spoken with him at the last meeting, just for a couple of minutes, a strategic introduction with the sole purpose of facilitating a subsequent conversation.

Tonight after the meeting, Ray stood at the refreshments table filling a cup with apple juice when Josh grabbed a handful of Oreos from the snack tray in front of him. “Hungry?” Ray asked with a chuckle.

“I’ve got the munchies,” Josh replied. “I was so nervous about getting up in front of the group that I had to go out to the car and take a quick drag on my one-hitter just to settle my nerves, yo.”

“Yeah, I’ve done that,” Ray said in a friendly voice. “Definitely takes the edge off.” He picked up an Oreo, twisted it apart, and scraped the icing off with his teeth. “Now that’s how it’s done.”

Josh popped two cookies in his mouth and crunched down on them. “I need a faster delivery system,” he said while he chewed. “Hey, do you believe that girl who mixed crystal and X? What a moron.”

Do you believe I’m really interested in anything you have to say?
“Of course I believe it. I’ve heard much worse than that.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Some jerk got messed up on speedballs, drove through an old lady’s living room, and turned her into a street pizza. Another speedballer fell off a six-story scaffold at a construction site and lost a leg. I’ve been coming here for a long time. Stories like that scare the shit out of me and keep me clean.” He shrugged. “I guess that’s why I keep on coming.”

“I guess my story was nothing special. I’m just lost, yo. You know what I mean?”

That’s right. You’re a boring little twit.
“Then you’re better off than the others. Some of these people have experienced real tragedy. There’s still time for you to straighten out and fly right.”
Well, not really.
“That’s what I’d do if I were you.”
And I will be you. Don’t worry. I’ll do you proud.

“I’m trying, but I’m weak, yo. I quit a couple of times but I go right back to it as soon as the road gets bumpy.”

“What’s
it
for you?” Ray asked.

“H.”

“That’s tough shit to quit. So you’ve been clean for two months?”

“I-I . . .”

“What are you hemming and hawing about? Why are you here? Are you clean or what?” Ray asked impatiently.

Josh dipped his head shamefully. “No, man.”

Man, I’m good. He thinks I actually give a rat’s ass.
“You’re wasting everyone’s time. Didn’t you just stand up there and tell everyone that you were off dope?”

Josh nodded.

The meeting room had pretty much cleared out. Ray looked around. “Man, you’re a disgrace. Look, I’m about to do you the favor of a lifetime. Would you like me to be your sponsor?”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it, but I’m telling you right now . . . when you sign up with me, you sign up for a good ass kicking. You’re only fooling yourself by lying to the group, and if you continue along this path, you’ll end up in the Suffolk County morgue. Is that what you want?”

“No, man, I want to pull out of this tailspin, yo. I haven’t had a real home in years. I’ve just been running around from one place to another and not planting any roots.”

Ray put his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Good. You’ve taken a big step. Getting clean is one thing. Staying clean is another.”

Josh smiled hopefully. “I really want to stay clean, yo.”

“Good. So listen, can you meet me tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. I want to give you the ground rules. I’ll meet you for coffee.”

“Coffee? Can’t we—”

“No. No beer. No booze and especially no weed. The door only has to open a hair before you get sucked back through. You don’t want a relapse do you?”

Josh didn’t answer immediately. “Sure. I’ll meet you.”

“Great. I’ll turn you into a new man.” Ray grinned.
Me.