Athica Lane: The Carpino Series (37 page)

The counter tops are polished travertine as Megan simply couldn’t find a granite that she could live with.  They are light with gorgeous veining of browns, greys and blacks that run along the two walls of base cabinets, housing a deep farm house porcelain sink on the long wall. 

It might be weird, but I have a thing about sinks and this one is seriously the bomb.  Single basin, so deep and wide you could bathe a medium size dog in there easily (not that Megan is going to do this, of course).  It’s finished off with a tall, arched faucet with a pull down spray nozzle. 

The counter tops turn the corner to the short wall of the room and continue over the front load, stainless steel washer and dryer.  The heavily tumbled marble travertine tiles on the floors are laid in a Venetian pattern and are three shades darker than the counter tops. 

The counters are spotted with seeded glass apothecary jars, a gift from me, of all sizes and shapes filled with items such as clothes pins, cleaning powders and cleaners.  I am sure Megan will never use any of them, I’m not even sure she even does her own laundry, but they’re super cute and cried out to me when I saw them because they matched the seeded glass perfectly in the upper cabinets. 

Megan, in her hot pink sundress to match her perfect shoes, goes on, “Seriously, you don’t charge enough.  It’s amazing!”  

This does make me roll my eyes because I charge plenty for my decor services. 

“Please, Megan.  You’ve paid your invoice, you know that’s not true.  I just stopped by with the final touches, do you like the apothecary jars?” I asked.  At the end of any project, I always find a little something-something for the space as a gift to my clients, a thank you from me. 

“Never would have thought to put them there myself.  Looks like a magazine, I cannot wait for Trevor to see it.  He’s out of town this morning, had a quick trip come up at the last minute and left right before you got here.  My girls are here cleaning so I will get them in here and show them around.  The kids will be back soon from the park with Pam and we are going to get their stuff loaded into the lockers.”  As she walks around the island still admiring her new room, she turns to me, “My next project is their playroom in the basement.  As soon as Trev gives me the ‘all go’, I’ve got to get on your calendar.  I don’t know if it’s too much to hope for, but it would be great if we could have that done by Christmas.  I’m thinking Pottery Barn-ish, ya know, but Gabby-style.  I’m sure you can come up with something even better.  Why you ever went into accounting, I will
never
know.”

Just when I was about to pretend to check my calendar, knowing full and well there is no way I can fit that project in before Christmas with the five others I am currently working on, we heard the ruckus.  The ruckus that led to me being cuffed and tossed upon Megan’s sofa by the tall, dark, big guy with messy (note:  sexy) hair. 

As I calm down while retracing my crazy-ass morning, I’m finally able to take in the activity around me.  There has to be six to eight of these police-like guys prowling around in and out of the room.  I look across the entry way to the dining room to see Megan’s three cleaning ladies seated in dining chairs separated by a good amount of space, all looking pale and freaked. I find myself wondering if I look the same, all the while, wondering where they put Megan. 

“Miz Carpino?” a voice comes at me. 

I look up to see an older man in his black macho police uniform.  He’s big in a way that you can tell he could still take down a bad guy even though he’s carrying some weight that isn’t muscle.  His salt and pepper hair is short and the smile lines coming out from his eyes make him seem a little less scary in his black formidable police getup.

“Yes?” I respond. 

He’s walking toward me holding my purse, what looks like either my driver’s license or Conceal and Carry Permit and my little Bodyguard Smith and Wesson 380.  If you could call a gun cute, mine would be super cute.   It’s small, fits my hand well and almost every purse I own.  Gun manufacturers have begun making guns in different colors in recent years to attract women buyers.  But this gun was a gift from my uncles and even though there was this little pink handgun I had my eye on, they put all three of their right feet down simultaneously and denied me the pink little gun.  They said this is the one I need, it has a good safety, a laser and a long trigger pull that my uncle Gino said, “You’re gonna have to mean to pull that trigger, sweet girl, no accidents with that trigger,” but added, “besides, we’re men and hunters, Gabby, we’re not buying a pink gun.”  So there you go.  I own a black gun.  But black matches everything, right? 

“Your C and C checks out, but we gotta keep this until we’re done here and if you’re released, you can have it back,” he tersely informs me.

“
If
I’m released? 
If I’m released?
  What’s going on?  Am I under arrest?  And why am I handcuffed?  I know my rights,” I semi-yell, finally getting my wits about me, shooting off every thought that pops into my head. 

“We’ve gotta warrant to search the home and land.  Agent Ortiz will be around in a sec to ask you some questions.  If he clears you, you can go,” he answers.

“Can I call someone?” I shoot back. 

“Maybe in a minute,” Salt and Pepper returns. 

“Well, I know my rights,” I decide haughty is the way to go.  “I’m not answering any questions until I call my attorney.  I’d like to make that call now…please…if I may.” 

I could try and be haughty all the live long day, but in the end my mother’s southern manners that are so deeply ingrained win out. 

Salt and Pepper looks down and his lips barely tip up as he replies, “Sure.  You can call your
attorney.
” 

The way he says it I’m surprised he didn’t hold up both hands making little air quotes with his fingers.  If I didn’t know any better, I would think he found me amusing. 

“Thank you, my phone is in my purse,” I inform him and he starts rummaging for my phone. 

“Ortiz,” Salt and Pepper yells while digging through my purse.  “This one wants to make a call, can I uncuff her?  Says she won’t talk to any one until she calls her,” and he looks up before finishing, “
attorney
.” 

Yep, he’s clearly making fun of me now so I give him a glare and small frown.

“Yeah,” I hear coming from around the corner.  I look up to see Hot Helmet Hair, who also must be known as Agent Ortiz.  Hmm, maybe I was right about the Latin in him.  “Just don’t let her move, we’ve gotta find out why she’s here.”

Salt and Pepper comes over with a ring of keys, I turn as ladylike as I can in my pencil skirt with my hands cuffed behind my back and he bends over to unlock me.  Since I’ve never been cuffed before, I never would have thought that removing cuffs would feel so damn good. 

He hands me my phone, I slide the lock on the screen, go to my favorites, find who I need and hit call.  Feeling a bit self-conscious, I pull myself up to full posture and cross my legs hoping to muster a bit of decorum after being squished up against a wall, searched for weapons and cuffed.  Looking up, I see Agent Ortiz and Salt and Pepper towering over me.  Agent Ortiz is observing me with a cocked eyebrow and incredulous look. 

Dropping my head to find some make believe privacy, I say the only thing I can say when Tony answers, “Hey…um…I’m in a tiny bit of a situation.” 

Chapter 2 - You’re An Accountant?

I hear the front door open, look up and find Tony stalking into Megan’s entry way with an infuriated look on his face.  Always the picture of perfection when at work, he’s now lost the suit jacket, his tie is loose with his top button undone and his sleeves rolled up.  His ultra-dark brown wavy hair is rustled and I can tell he’s been running his hands through it in frustration. 

Even though we’re on the heels of August and it’s still freaking hot outside, I doubt his state of appearance has much to do with the weather.  I wonder if he’s pissed at me for pulling him out of a meeting with a new client or maybe he’s pissed because his favorite cousin, and although he won’t admit it, one of his favorite people
ever,
has been caught in the middle of some big raid and is being detained and questioned by two federal agencies.  I’m praying it’s the latter.  I’ve never been a fan of a pissed off Anthony Carpino, Jr.

The last forty-five minutes have been interesting to say the least.  As I’ve sat here on Megan’s super comfortable sofa (it should be noted, I shop for furniture for a living so I know not all formal living room furniture is made for comfort) there has been a flurry of activity around the house. 

In addition to the original group of big guys dressed in black, we’ve had a second wave of plain clothed people with badges and guns on their belts breeze through.  Everyone’s wearing plastic gloves and searching through everything.  And I mean everything.  Seeing as the FBI and ATF are present, I can only assume this is something big on the scales of bad, which freaks me way the hell out.  Although Megan and I aren’t super close, we are friends and I would never in all my life guess that she could be involved in something illegal.  That shit happens to people on the news, not my people.  

I could hear Megan throwing a fit from the other room and I have offered up many prayers of thanks in the last forty-five minutes that the big guys decided to separate us.  Listening to her go on about calling Trevor, trying to find Pam the babysitter to tell her to keep the kids away, trying to figure out who her attorney is so she can call him, yadda, yadda, yadda, was wearing on my last nerve.  Needless to say, I’m grateful we’ve been separated. 

The housecleaners have been questioned, and after foregoing attorneys, have been released.  They hightailed it out of here as fast as they could.  They looked relieved to say the least.  I heard them whispering to each other while they were waiting and it’s safe to say Megan is not going to get the chance to fire them because I’m pretty sure from what I heard they are never coming back.  They seemed pretty resolute on this, can’t say I blame them. 

From what I gather, Salt and Pepper, Agent Ortiz and one person in plain clothes seem to be running this party.  They’re hanging out here in the living room, answering questions, directing everyone else and watching over me.  They talk low and look over at me from time to time.   I hope they don’t think I’m going to bolt.  I am in heels, a tight pencil skirt, plus they have my purse, keys, phone and I’d really like to have my gun back! 

I did take this quiet moment of reflection while no one was talking to me to take in Agent Ortiz.  He did feel me up, I mean, pat me down, so I figure I should at least get to check him out, right?  Apparently bullets flying were no longer a threat, because he’s since lost the bullet proof vest.  He’s wearing a black t-shirt with big FBI lettering across the front, fitting snug across the chest and biceps.  He is broad and thick across the shoulders, but still lean with long muscular legs. 

He glanced over at me twice as I was inventorying all that was him, caught and held my eyes for long moments before looking away.  This was a tad bit embarrassing, but really, this is an intense situation and I am trying to ward off my freak out over a search for who knows what’s going on around me so I’m doing everything I can to distract myself from my thoughts.  And he’s very distracting to say the least. 

So, watching Tony stalk into Megan’s house, whatever he’s pissed about, is a sight for sore eyes.  I immediately relax, not realizing how tense I really am.  Tony’s eyes scan the room, finds me and he moves directly toward my sofa. 

Agent Ortiz steps in front of him asking, “Excuse me, who are you?”

“Anthony Carpino, representing Gabrielle Carpino,” Tony reaches into his pocket withdrawing a business card and handing it to Agent Ortiz.  “And you are…?”

“Special Agent Jude Ortiz, FBI.  I’m the case agent on this operation,” he answers.

“And would you like to describe your operation and what my client has to do with it?” Tony bites back.

“No.  I don’t have to tell you anything about this operation, but your client was here when we served the warrant and neutralized the premises.  She was armed, we disarmed her, she probably could have been gone by now but she refused to speak to us without you.  So now that you’re here, maybe we can move this along.”

“My client has a Conceal and Carry and has been given the right to be armed by the state, hopefully you know that by now,” Tony replies.  Agent Ortiz jerks his head once in agreement.  Tony looks over and scowls, “Gabby, let’s get this done.” 

Hmm, maybe he is pissed.  I get up, walk over to stand next to Tony and find I was right.  Tony’s six foot two,
Jude
Ortiz has to be six foot three or four. 

“Ask away,” I reply, trying again for haughty.

Jude’s eyes move between Tony and me, then he slowly takes me in from tip to toe and back up to my eyes.  I look away quickly, slightly uncomfortable and he moves to the dining room table.  Tony rolls his eyes at me shaking his head, putting his hand on the small of my back and gives me a nudge, so I head that way as well.  We all sit down, Tony next to me. 

“Ms. Carpino, how do you know Trevor Harper?” Jude asks, his voice deep and raspy. 

Well this seems easy enough, so I simply answer, “Trevor’s married to my friend Megan.  They’ve been married for about five years give or take.  I guess I knew him a year or so before when they were engaged.  Megan’s my friend, but I try and not have anything to do with Trevor.”

“What do you mean, try?” he asked.

Oh shit.  Why did I say try? 

“Well…,” how do I explain this?  I feel my eyes widen and they instantly move to Tony. 

“Gabby,” Tony grunts out with frustration and now I’m almost sure he’s pissed.

“What?” my voice going too high, as I turn to speak directly to Tony.  “You know I don’t like him.  He’s weird and is always trying to set me up with his friends or business associates.  I’ve told you before I don’t get a good vibe from him.  I go to Megan’s parties, make an appearance for her sake, but he always looks at me creepy-like even though he’s
married to my friend
, not to mention all the creepier guys he tries to introduce me to.” 

I turn to Jude and keep going, “I’m only here because I just renovated the laundry room.”  Jude’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, so I carry on, “I’m an interior decorator, the laundry room was old and icky and one of the only rooms yet to be redone in the house.  I know, it’s a little over the top for a laundry room, but Megan insisted on spending all that money, so what was I supposed to do?  I redecorated her powder bath last year, the sink was especially amazing, hammered copper in an oval shape that sits on top of an antique vanity.  It took me forever to find the right piece for that vanity, not to mention my plumber had one hell of a time getting the faucet plumbed out of the wall what with the house being some thirty-odd years old.” 

Jude has now leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest stretching his t-shirt to its limits, his head cocked to the side staring at me.  I look over at Tony and say quietly, “What?  That sink is a showstopper.” 

“Gabby,” Tony impatiently replies, “just tell him everything you know about Trevor.  That’s it.”

“I don’t know anything about Trevor,” shaking my head.  “And, why in the world are you investigating Trevor?  This is really bad, isn’t it?  I knew there was something not right about him.  Megan never really says what he does for a living.  Is she going to be okay?  The kids?” I turn to look at Tony again.  “They’re little hoodlums because no one ever says no to them, but they’re just little kids.  Timothy is only six months old and hasn’t even learned how to be a hoodlum yet.  They can’t help it that their dad’s a jerk.”

Jude leans forward with his forearms on the table and clears his throat, “Can we get back to you, Ms. Carpino?  So you’re an interior designer--”

“Decorator,” I interrupt and correct him at the same time.  “Interior decorator.  I’m not licensed, I don’t have a degree as an interior designer and I know nothing about architecture.  I’m an accountant,” I simply state. 

“You’re an accountant?” Jude asks, now looking confused and frustrated with the conversation. 

“Well yes, but I don’t do accounting for anyone but myself, maybe some family members if their taxes aren’t too complex.  But I’m really good at decor, so that’s what I do…well, right now, anyway.”

“Fine,” he bites out with a sigh, looking as if he’s trying to find the patience to continue. “You’re a
decorator,”
he pauses and looks to me with eyebrows raised for confirmation, so I give him a small smile and he continues, “and are here because of the laundry room.  Do you know where Trevor Harper is right now?  Who he’s with?”

“No,” I answer honestly.  “Megan said he had to leave town on a business trip unexpectedly.  She said he left right before I got here this morning.  And why would I know who he’s with?  I told you I do my best to avoid Trevor and his associates.” 

“He left right before you got here this morning?” he asked.

“Well yes, that’s what Megan said.”

“What time did you get here?” he shot back.

“Eleven, maybe eleven fifteen.  I was barely here fifteen to twenty minutes before you all barged in.  Why?” I asked.

“Just needed a time line,” he responded. 

Looking even more frustrated and maybe a bit disappointed, I think Agent Ortiz finally understands that I have no idea what’s going on and know nothing about Trevor, either. 

Tony, shifting at my side, says, “I think it’s pretty clear she has no useful information about Trevor Harper.  Is she free to go?” 

“Sure.  We’ll need your contact information, Ms. Carpino, if you don’t mind filling out some paperwork for us before you leave, we’d appreciate it,” Jude says on a sigh. 

“Of course.  Can I have my things back, please?”

“Yeah.  Mac has your stuff and I’ll be right back with the paperwork,” Jude answers. 

“Can I see Megan?” I add.

“No, absolutely not,” Tony butts in, joining the conversation.  “You are not talking to Megan Harper until after all this is settled.  It’s important, Gabby, you need to let this play out the way it’s gonna play out, but no contact. Got it?  You’ve been pulled into this shit just by being here, you do not want to buy into more of Megan’s drama.”

Okay, Tony’s pissed.  He knows Megan, we all went to high school together so he knows her tendency for drama.  I get that but he can’t order me around and tell me who I can or cannot talk to.

I glare at him as I hear Jude agree, “Yeah, the best idea would be to stay away from Megan Harper for a while.”

Looking back at Jude, I ask, “Why?  How serious is this?”

It’s not Jude, but Tony that answers, “Gabby, I don’t even know what the fuck’s goin on here, but I can see there’s a hell of a lot of Federal Agents and Police Officers goin through all their shit.  I can only assume this is pretty serious and I don’t want you anywhere near anyone with the last name Harper or anyone who has anything to do with them.  Are you feeling the magnitude of what’s up here?  No.  Megan.  Harper.  Period.”

“Are you her husband?” Jude asks out of the blue. 

I guess I can see how he might come to this conclusion since we have the same last name and Tony being all bossy with no patience for me.  But still, yuck!  He’s my cousin.  Tony’s only seven months older than me, but was a year ahead of me in school.  He has seven inches on me, almost black eyes to my blue, rich brown hair to my dark blonde but we do share our dads olive toned complexion. 

“Fuck no.  She’s my cousin, but she’s still a huge pain in my ass at times,” Tony answers as I gasp. “At least she knows enough to call for representation when she gets herself into shit like this,” he goes on, shaking his head.

“You are unbelievable, Tony Carpino,” I say throwing him my dirtiest look.  I turn to Jude, “Just for your information, I’ve never had to call for representation before.  Ever!  But if there’s a next time, I’m calling another Carpino,” I turn to Tony, “
got it?” 
Looking back at Jude, I say, “Paperwork…my things…please?”

“Yes ma’am” Jude replies, gazing down with a hint of a grin. 

*****

Salt and Pepper, who turns out to be Mac, returns my purse with all my belongings and my gun.  He smiles kindly to me and despite him making fun of me earlier, I’m pretty sure had I met him at say, a picnic, or any happier occasion I would really like him.  He seems to have a soft side under his tough black police outfit. 

I fill out my paperwork and without giving Tony a glance, turn and strut myself out to my car.  It’s a miracle I’m not blocked in with the amount of cars parked in the drive.  I walk as fast as my heels will take me and start to climb up into my pearly white Tahoe.