Dirty Trouble (14 page)

“I’m sure she does,” the judge said with a tiny grin. He leaned back in his tall leather chair, cupping his jaw between the thumb and index finger of his left hand.

“Tell me, Ms. Ciano, how do you think we should handle this?”

Until this moment, Mafalda hadn’t uttered a sound. She crossed her legs and smiled at the judge.

“I would be happy to apologize for my behavior if I thought I’d done anything wrong. However, those cops were beastly to me. I didn’t warrant their rough handling. I’m not a woman who breaks the law, you know. I’m an upstanding citizen who pays taxes, and I’ve worked hard for a living all my life.”

“Be that as it may, this is a serious charge, Ms. Ciano, one that needs to be addressed. Would you consider doing community service? It is better than jail time,” the judge said.

My aunt, on the front seat of a bus, headed to the Women’s Correctional Facility?
It was beyond comprehension. I squirmed in my seat as the Judge turned his attention to me. A smile hovered on his lips. I wondered if the jail time threat was a ruse.

“Did you have something you might like to say?” he asked me.

“My aunt could work with the senior citizens at the center near her home as a community service. There is always a shortage of help, especially with coordinating functions. I’m sure Mafalda would be happy to assist, Your Honor.” My foot met Muffy’s under the chair leg, and she nodded. My head pounded from a headache. I guessed stress to be the cause of it.

“Indeed, that is a wonderful idea,” Muffy added.

The jail time suggestion loomed in both our minds as an impossible solution, I guess. She’d be lucky to get off so lightly, and we both knew it. We turned toward the attorney and watched him fumble in his valise for several papers.

“Your Honor, it appears Ms. Ciano is amenable to this arrangement.” Schmuck handed the documents to the bailiff, who passed them to Judge Alibaster.

The judge skimmed the pages and slid them into the file. He glanced at the three of us, sitting before him. Stiff as bowling pins, we waited for the ball to knock us down.

“That’s a fair solution, and I think seventy-five hours of community service in a seniors’ center of your choice will be sufficient. You’ll be responsible for contacting the administrator of that facility, who in turn will report to me. If you do not follow through on this, I will be forced to have you arrested and sent to the Women’s Correctional Facility for three months. Don’t disappoint me, Ms. Ciano.” His harsh words softened with a tiny smile.

Was he serious about the three months of prison time, or was that threat to keep Muffy in line? I didn’t know, but I was curious – as ever. The judge nodded to the bailiff. We were finished, and we rose in unison.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” I murmured with relief.

He grinned back at me and then turned to Muffy, a sparkle in his eyes. I watched the attorney stuff papers back into the leather bag and head toward the door. I stepped behind him and realized Muffy wasn’t moving.

I halted and stared at the judge and Muffy. He inclined his head toward her, and she stepped away with a smile on her features. I wondered what that was about, as we strode from the room into the people-filled corridor outside.

Schmuck moved ahead of us and disappeared into the crowd. Astounded, I watched his bald crown bob away, adrift in a sea of people. Muffy grabbed my arm and we hustled through the courthouse, onto the sidewalk of South Main Street.

“My car is parked right up the street. Let’s stop for lunch at my favorite restaurant on the Hill, dear,” Auntie said.

Stunned, I watched Muffy’s self-satisfied face and had the urge to strangle her. The courtroom scene felt like a set-up. The judge was likely an old flame, and the attorney probably worked for the mob. As these thoughts raced through my brain I realized it was a sure thing. I scrambled to catch up to this squat, mature woman as she approached her green Toyota sedan.

“Auntie,” I demanded, as I reached for her arm. “Don’t tell me that was a scripted scene?”

“Lavinia, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said as her dark eyes darted around the street.

With hands outstretched, palms up, I pleaded with her.

“Auntie, what the hell is going on here?”

“Lavinia, get in the car and we’ll go have lunch. Just damned well do as I say.” Black eyes glittered and her head dipped toward the car.

Am I stupid, or what?
The sixty-plus woman would answer me once we were in the car – not before. I stumbled into the front seat and buckled the seatbelt. The pounding in my head beat like a set of drums. The last thing I felt like having was lunch, especially on Federal Hill.

Once upon a time, Federal Hill, the neighborhood located on the outer edge of downtown Providence, was a hangout for the mob. Social clubs still exist, and the inhabitants aren’t friendly folk. The FBI, state police, and local cops keep a close eye on the activities of the people that frequent those establishments. I knew little of the places and cared about them even less, until now.

The Toyota crossed the Providence River and headed west, through the city. We careened around corners and I held tight to the dashboard. My glance slid toward the woman at the wheel. I saw her determined chin jut forward as we pulled into the Ristorante Da Ravioli.
Oh, boy.

In the parking lot, we sat in silence for a moment until Auntie turned to me with a serious face. She stuffed the car keys into her designer purse and licked her lips. It seemed as though she made an inner decision, so I waited.

“You deserve an explanation, Lavinia, and I’m going to give it to you. However, I must ask that you not speak about it to anyone else.”

“Okay, Auntie,” I murmured.

“The judge and I dated when I was younger. We had a wild affair but parted company when he was forced to marry a woman of wealth. His parents considered an Italian woman without a college education beneath him, and that was that.” Muffy paused, stared out the windshield and then turned back to me. “The attorney doesn’t know this, and I’d rather it stay that way. Your father pulled strings to have Alan, Judge Alibaster, handle this case. Gino knew I’d get off with a reprimand, and handled the whole affair with finesse. Your dad knows how to get things done, Lavinia. He’s a wonderful man.”

“There’s no question about that, Auntie, but you could have warned me,” I snapped.

My aunt turned to me, wide-eyed at my snippy remark. “I don’t think I like your attitude, my dear.” Her voice was calm, though laced with steel.

“My life has been an incredible pile of shit lately and without the ability to know the workings behind the scene, it’s been a bit unfair,” I whined.

Again Aunt Muffy glanced at me with wide eyes. “Tell me about this so called pile of shit, honey.” Her tone changed, softened somewhat – held a hint of curiosity.

In turn, I stared at the old dragon. Could I trust her not to squeal to my parents? Would she fail me? I remembered how Aunt Livvy always kept mum about my sorry-ass life. With a deep breath, I gave Muffy a brief rundown of my affairs.

“These are most unfortunate events. What can I do to help you, dear?”

She managed to make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
How did that happen?
Muffy was a tough character, holding her own against the world. She’d been forced to, from day one, though her connection to the mob was just a little over the top as far as I was concerned.

I begged her. “You’ve got to keep this information to yourself. If my parents find out, they’ll have a conniption fit. They worry enough about my lifestyle as it is.”

“Never fear. Everything will work out, and I won’t say a word to anyone. Now, let’s go have lunch.”

Unable to refuse, I slid from the seat and walked alongside her short, stiff-backed form. Muffy was up to something – I could feel it in my bones. Besides, there was a certain gleam in those sharp eyes that boded ill for someone.

Chapter 13

The restaurant’s reputation was an outstanding one. Advertised in the best magazines, wannabes and real film stars often frequented the place. Filmmaking was on the rise in Rhode Island. It wasn’t unusual to see show biz folks, directors, actors, and actresses hanging out on the Hill.

We strolled through the columned front door, and entered a high-domed area. I could hear the low buzz of voices from diners engaged in conversation over lunch. We waited for an escort to seat us in the dining room.

My gaze traveled around the luxurious walls of tinted Tuscan plaster. A warm, rich golden hue on the walls, burnished to a textured sheen, complemented floors of glossy veined marble. Soft leather chairs in various shades of red, rust, deep orange, and rich mustard yellow, were placed around the oval foyer. Giant potted ferns accompanied these chairs. The restaurant overflowed with ambiance.

Dressed in a starched white shirt, black bow tie, and black slacks, the man turned to us with a smile. His even white teeth glowed brilliantly in the soft lighting as he greeted my aunt. He knew her by name. That was the first sign that lunch would be interesting.

“Ms. Ciano, it is such a pleasure to have you with us today. Are you meeting someone or is it just you and your lovely friend?” His eyes swerved toward me, and I beheld the rich green eyes of an undercover cop, about my age, from one of my past classes.

With a chuckle, my aunt turned and introduced me to the man. “Lavinia, this is Andre Messino. He works here and is a handsome devil, don’t you think? This is my niece, Lavinia Esposito.”

Smiling in acknowledgement, I reached out to shake his hand. His eyes never registered recognition, but he as an undercover cop – acting was one of the first things taught in his training.

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Messino,” I said with a nod.

“Andre, please. I am so glad you could join us here at Da Ravioli today. Our luncheon menu is quite wonderful, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Have you been here before, Ms. Esposito?”

Now, I know he’s an undercover cop, probably a narc from the narcotics squad, but he was fishing for information. His name was definitely not Andre Messino either. It tickled me to take the bait from his hook.

“No, this is my first visit. My aunt thought it would be a nice treat, didn’t you, Auntie?”

She grinned and nodded. I wondered if she realized this man was a policeman. In light of how she felt mistreated by the PPD, the probability she knew was slight, to none. We followed Andre to the booth where he left us to peruse the menu.

My appetite perked up at the tasty fare offered. While I glanced around, Aunt Muffy mentioned a few things she’d ordered before. Other diners were ushered in. Among them was Antonio, the businessman. The same man who left my aunt to rot in a jail cell while he made bail. And I knew, she knew.

The appetite I’d just found, now fled. My mouth dried out, and my glance swung to Muffy. I knew Auntie would undoubtedly play for the lunch crowd. Good Lord, I thought, and then did a mental eye roll.

Antonio stopped at the table. His eyes rested on me for a second and then on Muffy. The wicked gleam in her black eyes caused my armpits to sweat. Shit, here it comes, I thought. Act One was about to begin.

“Mafalda, how are you, sweetheart?” he murmured.

“Very well, no thanks to you. How could you leave me in that place with those beastly cops? I fought for you, and look where it got me.” Muffy’s voice rose. “You should be ashamed of yourself, leaving me to the likes of them.” Bright, razor sharp eyes pierced him. The smoke nearly curled from her lips as my aunt, the dragon lady, threatened him. “So, I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna make you so sorry you’ll wish you were never born. I’m gonna make you pay, you slimy son-of-a-bitch.”

If Muffy were a witch, she’d have given Antonio the Mallorca Curse and pointed three fingers at him. He’d probably have shit his drawers, since most Italian Mafia men are superstitious to a fault. As it was, his features tightened, and his face paled.

This was the last thing he expected, I thought. Served him right that Muffy was on his ass. After all, he abandoned her in a time of need. Every rat for himself, and all that.

I saw Andre grinning in the corner, his shoulder leaning against the wall. It was an enjoyable moment for him and an embarrassment for me. Dang, I do hate when that happens. Not for one second did I acknowledge that he was watching or that I was embarrassed. I stuffed my head in the menu and tried for invisibility.

The invisibility thing wasn’t happening today – no, not for a second. Uh-uh, not for me.

Mumbling that he was so sorry for any harm Muffy may have sustained, Antonio, the businessman, tried to move away from the table. Auntie reached out with blood red claw-tipped fingers and snatched his wrist up in a steel-trap grip.

Here we go, Act Two, I thought, and slid down in the seat. I knew better than to interfere.

“You think you can simply apologize to me, and that will make everything all right? You really believe that? Could you be that stupid? Let me tell you, Antonio, you are a complete asshole, and you will pay big time. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

The other men with Antonio moved on when Auntie started her tirade. However, they kept an eye on developments when Auntie hoisted her handbag onto the table and started rummaging around in it. The room became quiet as a tomb.

Wide-eyed, I stared, and from of the corner of my eye I saw Andre straighten up and tense. Antonio, already gaunt in appearance, paled to paste white, and started to sweat. He stood cemented to the spot. I waited to see if Auntie would pull a .38 Special from her bag, and shoot him right there.
God help me
. I prayed.

Tipped sideways, her hand withdrew something from the designer bag. She turned it over. A cell phone filled the palm of her hand, and she dialed a number. Her other hand shooed Antonio away as though he were inconsequential, which I’m sure he was. The phone flipped closed as the bum walked away from us.