Dirty Trouble (13 page)

The knowledge that my house escaped ruin eased the fact that my garage might be a charred nightmare.

In the bathroom, I faced the mirror and dragged a comb through my wild mop of hair and I wondered what started the fire. Was my life a single pile of manure, or what? I checked the bedroom, but Lola wasn’t in there, and I could smell food. I listened to the soft voices for a moment longer before I strode back into the bathroom.

An extra toothbrush lay on the shelf in the cabinet. I ripped the package open. After a quick scrub of my teeth, I rambled toward the kitchen. Come what may, I needed coffee – and not decaf either – pure caffeine, unadulterated, and strong. I couldn’t start a day without it.

The threesome sat at the kitchen table. It was covered with food. Lola served omelets, grilled toast, and sausage patties. Chunks of fresh fruit filled bowls that nestled alongside each dish, and the smell of coffee permeated the air. Life was good.

Men always look great in the morning. A woman always looks like a shipwreck.
Why is that?
Pasting a smile on my face, I hobbled toward the table, exerting an extreme amount of effort to appear as though I wasn’t stiff.
Is that considered showmanship?
Probably.

After one look at me Marcus glanced at Aaron, and a smirk quivered on his lips. Aaron chuckled outright, and I gave in. The effort it took to pretend wasn’t worth much, and I succumbed to my aches and pains. Marcus leaned sideways and pulled a chair from the table while Lola poured a mug of rich, dark brew and set it in front of me.

“So tell me what started the fire,” I demanded.

“Good morning to you, too.” Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Sorry. Good morning. What time did you get finished at the house? How bad is the damage?” I tempered the questions with a touch of patience. It was tough, but I managed.

“We left around four and the Fire Marshal hasn’t made a determination yet. He’s still working on it. The house isn’t damaged at all since the fire started on the rear, western side of the garage. It does appear to have started at the lower corner of the structure, though. Curious, isn’t it? An arsonist doesn’t usually do things that way.”

“Have you guys started questioning anyone?” I meant had they questioned Tony, but I wouldn’t say so.

“Just some preliminary questions to the neighbors. Do you have anyone in mind?” Narrowed eyes gleamed at me as Marcus scanned my features.

“No, I just wondered.”
Evasion is a wonderful tool at any given moment, don’t you think?

“By the way, you’re taking Mafalda to her hearing this morning. I was at your apartment getting your clothes when your mother called. She left a message that you need to be in court by eleven o’clock this morning. An attorney, John Schmuck, will meet you there around quarter of. You’re to go to Superior Court on South Main Street. If you get dressed, I’ll give you a ride.”

Handing me a gym bag, Marcus grinned and I could only imagine what a great time he had in my underwear drawer. When I searched the contents, I saw he’d included a filmy bra with panties to match. Slacks and a sweater set accompanied a pair of shoes. My purse lay at the top of everything.
The man has clothes sense.
I smiled.

A wide grin met my eyes as I rose from the table to shower and dress. Time was short and I needed to get a move on in order to make it to court on time. Reaching inside my purse, I retrieved the cell phone. I grinned at Marcus and went toward the bathroom.

My mother answered after the first ring. She explained that Muffy would meet me at the courthouse on the first floor. I could only imagine my aunt going through the security system set up just inside the entry. She’d probably get lugged if there were an issue with her purse, jewelry, or anything at all. I agreed to meet Muffy there and stepped into the shower after the call ended.

Hot water coursed down my body, and the soreness of my muscles melted away. I knew the feeling wouldn’t last, but for the moment the reprieve was most welcome. After I dressed, swiped make up over my pale features, and added lipstick and mascara, I swung through the doorway, ready to take on the world. Well, maybe not the world, but Aunt Muffy at least.
How do I get involved in these issues?

Ready and waiting at the door, Marcus looked me over. I imagined he envisioned my underwear rather than the outerwear. A smile hovered around his mouth and before he broke into a wide grin. The wolf grin, I thought. He nodded his approval of the choices he’d made for me.

Before we went to the courthouse I glanced around for Lola, but she’d disappeared. Aaron explained she’d be gone all day but would call me when she could. He said he’d straighten the house and meet me back at the Colonial. I nodded and left with Marcus.

Chapter 12

As we maneuvered through the traffic in Providence, I sat in silent contemplation of what would happen with Muffy in court. The woman, a harridan on a good day, wasn’t afraid to take on anyone. After all, she hung out with mobsters, right? The attorney’s name wasn’t familiar to me, and I had no idea what to expect from him. Frayed nerves stretched, and I let out a sigh.

“Are you worried about Mafalda or everything in general, Vin?”

With a quick glance at Marcus, I hauled in a deep breath. “I guess it’s everything, though I never know what to expect from Muffy. She’s quite a character, to put it mildly.”

“Things will work out, I’m sure. If you need a ride home, just give me a call. I’m off today, but I have a detail tonight. The governor is holding a bash, and I have to be there.”

“Lucky you, hanging out with the brightest and best again, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah, it sucks, but the money is good.”

Marcus swung the Dodge Ram truck around the corner and pulled to a halt in front of the courthouse. The Grecian-styled building was an imposing structure, columned in the front with a set of wide swinging doors for entry. It appealed to the artist within me.

Swinging the truck door open, Marcus grasped my hand and pulled me toward him. His lips met mine and I hovered there for a moment, wishing I didn’t have to exit the vehicle. His warm lips played over mine once again and sexy hazel eyes met my dark brown ones.

“Call me if you need to. I’ll be around all day, Vinnie.”

“Sure thing. Thanks for the ride. Get some rest. You look tired.”

“I am. By the way, I like your underwear drawer. Very nice stuff. Maybe you should model some of it for me, huh?” His smile gleamed.

I grinned before sliding from the seat. With a wave of my hand, I headed into the courthouse. Scores of people milled near the entrance while attorneys, cops, and criminals hustled through the huge doors. When I entered the great hall I glanced around the foyer. Veined, cream-colored marble covered the floors and walls and shimmered in the sunlight.

A huge set of gateways and security conveyor belts squatted in front of me. People with swipe cards were allowed to enter the inner sanctum of the structure without so much as a glance from the Capitol Police who guarded the courthouse. I, on the other hand, shuffled into a line of people who had to enter through the conventional means of search and seizure.

Mafalda stood near the gateway, and it wasn’t until I stepped forward in line that I fully noticed her short frame. She looked elegant dressed in a classic black suit with a diamond brooch and her neatly styled dark-hair. Her eyes stared into the crowd. She scanned everyone, while seeking me, her life preserver. At least, I think she sought me.

With ramrod straight shoulders, Mafalda approached a middle-aged man with thin brown hair scraped across his dome. A bald spot shone like the sun on the crown of his head, and a loose suit hung off the slight frame. I took in his appearance in one swift glance.

He was likely the attorney, Mr. Schmuck. A worn leather valise hung from his left hand as he reached out with his right to shake Muffy’s extended hand. Muffy stepped closer to him, and they started to speak.

By this time, the line closed in on one of the security ports and I was near enough to hear Muffy and her attorney. I stepped forward, and since they stood with their backs turned toward me, the opportunity to listen presented itself. Without shame, I leaned my head in their direction.

Muffy listened intently as Schmuck explained what to expect in the courtroom. It was unusual for her to be so calm and collected, especially because she just didn’t get arrested every day. Judge Alibaster was the
Judge du Jour
, and, though I never met the man, his reputation was exemplary. If my aunt didn’t shoot her mouth off, she’d be fine. I’d heard the judge was a nice man with a terrific sense of humor. In his line of work humor was a much-needed commodity.

With a nudge, someone behind me pushed forward. Sometimes Rhode Islanders are so darned rude. I touched Muffy’s shoulder as I caught up to her.

“Auntie, let’s get through the security line,” I said, getting her attention.

The look on her face sent chills along my spine. Was I in for a day of days? Was that vengeful glare bent towards me, or was it just a look of surprise? These were questions that needed answers prior to entering the courtroom.

The attorney and my aunt stepped in front of me and slapped their belongings onto the conveyor belt. The guy behind me moaned and mumbled about people cutting the line. I sent a nasty glance in his direction, but he’d turned away and knelt to tie his shoe. We all moved a step forward as Muffy went through the metal detector doorframe.

The super sensor didn’t make a sound and I breathed a pent-up sigh of relief. Muffy stepped into the inner sanctum of the courthouse. No guns, no knives, no bombs in her purse.
Life is good.

The attorney went next and I waited for my turn. The guy behind me mumbled under his breath for a few more seconds. I tried to ignore him.

The security cop motioned me forward. When I didn’t move as quickly as the person behind me thought I should, I received a shove. My purse flew toward the conveyor belt, and I heaved forward in surprise, and tripped over the floor pad within the metal detector frame.

Flat on my face with the rubber mat for support, I heard guffaws from the crowd. The security cop hauled me to my feet and asked if I was all right. I nodded and turned toward the jerk that pushed me. It seemed a gleam of satisfaction entered his eyes as I realized Tony DeGreico stared back.

With a swift rush of anger, I tried to return through the detector frame. The cop caught my arm and turned me around. With a negative shake of his head, he handed over my purse and said, “Move on ma’am. No need to get angry.” He smiled in a kind way, probably to defuse the situation.

I nodded back and thanked him as I shot Tony a nasty look. It’s a look worse than the one your mother gives you, kind of like a look of promise, a look of bad things to come. It’s not in my nature to be vindictive, even though Tony was a thorn in my side that refused to go away. If there’d been no one around, I’d have enjoyed kicking the shit out of him, but it would have to wait.

Together once again, Schmuck, Muffy and I wandered through the marble-lined corridors in search of our courtroom. We’d gone two floors up by the time we found the right place. When we entered, the spacious room was empty of anyone other than the bailiff and secretary. They both glanced up with curiosity.

Schmuck stepped past the bar and approached the secretary. He mumbled some words. She checked the docket and glanced over Schmuck’s shoulder toward Auntie and me. Her eagle eyes rested on Muffy for a fraction of a second before she turned back to Schmuck and mumbled something unintelligible. He nodded and thanked her, then returned to us.

“The judge will see us in chambers. He’s not holding court today, but he has agreed to speak with us privately. This is very unusual, Ms. Ciano.”

“Who else will be there?” I asked.

“Just us, the bailiff, and the judge – no DA or anyone else. Like I said, this is unusual. I’m not sure what to make of it, quite frankly.” His pale features wrinkled as his eyebrows rose.

The bailiff left the room for a moment or two and then returned. The brawny man motioned us toward the office behind him. We lined up like wooden soldiers outside the judge’s chambers and waited until the door opened to allow us access.

Charged nerves tightened, but I gave what I hoped was a confident smile to Aunt Mafalda. She stared at me for a moment, and said nothing. Foreboding marched along the frayed nerves and sore muscles of my body. I envisioned shackles and handcuffs on her ankles and wrists after she assaulted not only the bailiff, but the judge as well.
Okay, so my imagination was in overdrive again.

The bailiff ushered us inside and the judge turned toward us in greeting. He wore a suit – not robes – and I relaxed a bit. Black robes are a tad daunting, especially when they accompany the mega power that judges hold within their hands.

He stretched his hand out, motioning to chairs lined up in front of the massive desk. A black leather blotter covered the majority of the desktop, and the remaining mahogany gleamed from years of polish.

Judge Alibaster’s character-lined face showed strength. His eyes sparkled with humor as he welcomed us to his sanctuary.

“As you’ve been told, I’m not holding a court session today, but I’ve agreed to speak with you as a courtesy.” The brilliant blue-eyed stare held Muffy’s own as he spoke.

I gaped in awe. It dawned on me that Muffy not only knew the judge but was probably also listed in his little black book.
Dang, the woman gets around.

Attorney Schmuck listened as the judge expounded on the incident in the file before him. Judge Alibaster glanced at Muffy every so often and tried to hide the humor within his gorgeous eyes. Eventually he stopped speaking and just stared at her.

Schmuck said, “Ms. Ciano is not the type of person to break the law, Your Honor. She was taken aback by the rough handling she received from the officers. I’m certain my client regrets the incident.”