Dirty Trouble (29 page)

“Is that why you shoved me to the ground?”

“I didn’t and wouldn’t do that. This other guy who drives a beat up old pickup truck did it. Sorry I couldn’t help, but things worked out okay.”

Ah, Tony.
I should’ve known.

“All right then. Why don’t you come closer and let me get Evergreen off your jacket? Then we can talk about restitution.”

The gangly kid drew near, and I lifted the cat from his coat, taking great care to release the claws.

On the ground, Evergreen strutted away as though his job were finished. I smirked at the independent creature and turned back to the kid standing nervously before me. He was sweating profusely and looked ready to run. He also was dressed too lightly for the weather. He shivered….

“Come inside. It’s cold out here, and I have to get ready for work. I can only spare a few minutes, but we need to discuss your actions.” I grasped his arm and led him into the kitchen, and made a quick call to Margy Gluck, the Secretary of All and Everything, to have someone fill in until I could get to class.

His blue eyes roamed the room as he smoothed down his wind-tossed locks of hair. The kid appeared awestruck and I wondered why. The house and furnishings weren’t exactly from a designer magazine.

“Nice place you got,” he said.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” There’s that Italian hospitality thing again. I would be late for class at this rate.

“If it isn’t too much to ask, yeah.”

I poured him some juice and whipped up some toast. I was handing him the butter and jelly when the sound of footsteps on the stairs caught my attention. I figured Aaron had seen the whole incident from his deck and couldn’t contain his curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

“Eric Strom.”

“Well, Eric Strom, eat up and tell me how you think we can work out a deal to fix the garage.”

Round blue eyes widened. I figured the kid’s age to be around fifteen or sixteen years old and it was obvious to me that he had no money. His clothes weren’t quality, and his jacket had frayed edges which meant he probably wore hand-me-downs, or the clothes were just plain old.

“Ma’am, I don’t have any money to repay you for the damage.”

A knock sounded at the door. I strode forward and opened it. Aaron stood outside, concern evident on his features.

“Not now,” I said. “Come back later, okay?”

“Sure.” Aaron nodded.

The door slid shut and I heard the feet move back in the direction from which they came. A smile twitched across my lips at the thought of his protectiveness.

“Eric, it occurred to me just now that maybe the builder, who will start work on the garage within the next few days, could use a hand with the job. If you’re willing to help him out, then we can call it even. What do you say?”

“You mean you won’t call the cops?” Eric’s eyes rounded again.

Being the softhearted dummy I am, this kid got to me. I nodded and he actually smiled.

“Sure, I can do that. As long as you don’t call the cops.”

“Great, then we have a deal. I’ll give you the phone number and you call him. Explain that I want you to help him out and he can call me to confirm it. All right?”

“Sure, ma’am. I’ll call him right away.”

“Call me Vinnie, please. Also, tell me how the fire started.”

“I was smoking out back. The wind blew the ash and it caught the evergreen tree. From there it burst into flames. The trees are pretty dry and dead back there and should be cut down. I could do that for ya.”

“Sure thing. Let’s get the garage done first, though. If you want to earn some extra money, I can keep you busy with a few odds and ends around here.”

“Great, ma’am. I mean, Vinnie.”

“We’ll keep the garage incident between us. There’s no need for anyone else to know about it. You can work with the builder after school. Is that fair enough?”

His smile lit up the thin face, and I realized the kid probably hadn’t had much of a break in his life. Some of us only think we have it tough, I thought, as my father’s lectures came to mind.

Eric Strom left the house with a smile on his face and maybe a sense of relief as well. My book bag lay on the counter, the contents strewn about when the door opened and Aaron strode inside. He leaned against the door casing and stared at me.

“That kid set fire to the garage, huh?”

“Yeah, but it was an accident. He seems a good kid and has agreed to assist the builder.”

“You’re sure this is how you want to handle the situation?”

“Yeah, he showed remorse and has an aversion to the police. So, yes, I do want to handle it this way.”

A wide grin crossed his handsome face as the huge man stepped forward. He kissed my cheek and said, “Good, I’m glad you’re willing to give him a break.”

“I didn’t tell him you’re an FBI agent either.” I chuckled, and he did, too.

“By the way, were you on Federal Hill the other day? Some of my guys thought they saw you enter Da Ravioli. You did promise to stay away, didn’t you?”

“It must have been someone else.” I lied with my fingers and toes crossed.

“Mmm, I’m sure.” He smiled good-naturedly.

Nah, he didn’t believe me, and who could blame him? I chuckled at the handsome brute, gave him a peck on his cheek, and dragged my bag off the counter. Then I headed out to teach cops how to be cops.

Author
’
s Biography

J.M. Griffin is a student of the human condition, wielding the written craft to stimulate the imagination much like she wields her paint brush. The pages are a blank canvas on which J.M. draws vivid characters. Other titles featuring the intrepid sleuth Lavinia (Vinnie) Esposito include
For Love of Livvy
and
Dead Wrong
. J.M. lives in rural Rhode Island, a state she considers colorful and interesting.