Authors: Jack Parker
Tessa blinked. "That was different."
"Is it?" He shrugged. "In the end, friendship and family only goes so far with you."
"As I see it, the definition of 'family' is relative. I have to agree with the guy that defined it as an exaggerated concept of an individual force as the sole arbiter of every conflict—of every idea." The tiny orator paused, cleared her throat. "Tessa Morgan, orphan—no loyalties here," a sad smile flickering at the corners of her mouth.
She allowed them to take a few more steps in silence. Her sad admission took her off guard. Rather than asking the obvious questions, she went for one he wouldn't expect her to ask. "Who was with you last night?" Detective Blaine had mentioned a second man; she held her breath, wondering if he'd drop a name.
G.J. started walking. He searched his pockets for his sunglasses but found none. Crossing his arms, he squinted into the morning sunlight. "It's no one you need to worry about, Tessa." His voice softened "With or without your help, I will find out who kidnapped Darla."
His words fell heavy on her heart. "Don't say it like that. She was one of my best friends."
"Cy came back because he loved her. We thought you did, too. My mistake."
She looked over her shoulder, but no one seemed to be following. The mysterious men she'd seen earlier must have been imagined. "Uh, G.J., if you're rolling down the path that whoever kidnapped her, killed her—you're going to need to rethink the suspects."
He didn't even pause to give her a cursory look.
"Ah, yes, of course the Principessa would know this after talking with her Daddy." The condescending tone in his voice refueled the anger she'd felt earlier.
"No, and don't call me that," she insisted. "I know because Darla had my help to set the whole thing up."
Now he did stop. "What?"
"We got the idea to copy Gail Lorence's disappearance as a way to smoke Cy out of hiding."
"Gail? You mean…and so, what—she kidnapped and killed herself?"
"She wasn't really kidnapped."
Teeth clenched, he hissed. "The 'e'." His eyes rolled up to the sky and he shook a fist. "The backwards fucking 'e.'"
Tessa looked down and nodded. Once upon a time, as a young girl, the little quirk had been cute. One difference between the left-handed twins, was that Tessa was able to print with her right hand also but her e's sometimes came out backwards.
"Ahh!" he hollered and lifted his hand, barely restraining himself from striking the woman beside him. "You stupid women!"
"G.J." Tessa took a step back. "None of this was supposed to happen. We thought Cy'd come out of hiding – that she'd be right back."
Stepping forward, she took his hand, her tiny fingers closing over his clenched fist. "Tell me something…anything, so maybe I can figure out who did this."
The anger faded and his eyes looked dead as he looked down at her. "I wish I knew."
She looped her arm in his and they began walking again. The clamor and excitement of the precinct died as they made their way further into the neighborhood. Tessa glanced up at the street sign. On this street she'd learned to play jacks and how to skip, and how to load a gun in the dark. She'd been taught the internal structure of the government, the police and 'the family', the latter of course being the governing rule.
"Where's Scott?" G.J. asked, interrupting the little trip down memory lane.
"Gone, I suspect," Tessa said, but turned her face away.
"He might be one of the good guys," he responded. "You have to keep in mind, not everyone is like your father…"
She cut him off mid-sentence, her own doubts finding words. "Actually, it's surprising what some men are capable of…to prove a point…to try and change the world." Tessa fell silent, and finished the thought to herself …
or maybe even just for that award-winning story
.
Chorus
Lalalalala
The radio blared as Scott drove towards downtown Chicago. "DeMarco was killed at St. Joseph's. Why not somewhere less public?"
When Ric didn't respond, Scott said, "Right after that, your Uncle Donatello had a stained-glass window made and gave it to St. Joe's but surprisingly, Father Luke passed it on to some museum." He waited a beat or two, hoping Ric might say anything that would shed some light on the Smith Museum and its unusual voice messaging system.
The window of the Mustang was down, and Ric leaned back in the passenger seat. The enforcer's eyes were half closed, feigning sleep…or boredom. "Ah yes, Father Luke," he said, "a God-fearing man."
"Is God all that he fears?"
Ric turned his head and glanced at Scott as he drove. "It would seem so."
Scott pushed for more, "Family connections?"
"You could say." Ric shifted his shoulders and sat up straighter. "All Italian mamas want a priest in the family."
"Maybe," Scott said, "but I think Donatello has his eye on the good padre."
"How do you mean?"
"We know Cy and his friends got money from outside the family to fund their version of a takeover. Luke grew up with all of them. The church has access to money. Maybe the Xenex Corporation and Novus Glass have religion in common."
"I overheard that Novus was struggling to keep above the red line."
"Where'd you hear that?"
Ric smirked, "Our good friend Marlayna."
First the muscle bound man beside him was here to do her bidding – next he was using her first name. Scott wondered how familiar the two might be.
Scott moved on, "Construction causes a lot of money to change hands. Expansion takes money. Do you know anything about the Chicago Pier and Exhibition Authority contacts here?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
"Get used to it." Scott fired back dryly.
"Well, you're not paying me to answer. In fact, you're not even paying me to listen."
Abandoning the study of the passing scenery, Ric said, "Now you answer something for me. You weren't some lowly reporter at The Post; you were Marlayna's top boy. Why did you come to Chicago?"
"Business," Scott said.
"This business?"
"Maybe."
"Uh-huh, so you figured that a fellow reporter could get close to Tess, and get the information her brother wouldn't part with?"
He was surprised at Ric's perception and offered an assessing glance in his direction. "In the beginning, money had something to do with it, of course." He shrugged as though the telling had no consequence. "Can't live on trophies alone."
"Fame," Ric growled, "ever worry that the next time your name appears in the paper it will be in the obits?"
Scott smiled. "No." He turned the car down Regent Street. "Do you know who killed Darla Perelli?"
"Yep," Ric answered with conviction, then pointed to an open parking space. Nearby, St. Joseph's stood tall against the Chicago skyline.
Scott parked the car and studied the old church.
Ric got out of the car. "Father Luke's inside. Let's see how he does with your questions."
With some trepidation, Scott followed the bruiser. Ric pulled open the wooden door of the basilica, waving the reporter inside. Dressed in a black robe, the good Father stood midway down the center aisle.
It wasn't until Scott's eyes adjusted to the dim church lighting that he realized the priest was not alone. Seated in the pews nearby, as though the three had been talking, were G.J. Perelli and Tessa.
Father Luke stepped further into the center aisle and approached the new arrivals. He looked warily at Ric. "I'm sorry, gentlemen…this isn't a good time..."
Scott was busy studying Tessa, so he missed the opportunity to respond. However, Ric moved forward and captured the priest in a hug. "Is that any way to greet famiglia? How are you doin'?"
Father Luke's response was tentative, his voice holding no confidence, "Fine, fine."
The use of the word 'family' did not slip Scott's notice. "Cousins?" he asked.
"There he is with the questions, again." Ric said.
Tessa started to stand, but G.J. pulled on her arm and forced her to sit. It was clear from the look on her face she had something to say, but her jaw was set and she remained silent.
The priest stepped out of the embrace and looked over his shoulder at the couple in the pew, then back to the new arrivals. "Perhaps if you made an appointment…"
A clicking sound caused Scott to glance towards the choir loft. Distracted, the reporter offered little resistance when Ric grabbed his wrist and twisted, forcing the car keys from his hand.
"Hey," Scott protested.
But Ric moved out of reach, taking a few steps towards the pews, jangling the keys.
Tessa growled, "You brought my car?"
Although the accusation and glare were not meant for him, Ric replied, "Not
your
car. Dante's." His focus shifted to the seated man. "G.J., is that you? This is not where I expected to find you."
Clapping his old friend's shoulder, Ric dumped the keys in the older man's lap. "Go wait for me in the Mustang. You can help me give it the once-over before I leave town."
The direction to go was clear, but G.J. turned in his seat to look at Tessa. He hesitated for a moment, but then without a word, rose and did as he was told. The heavy cathedral door shut behind him with an ominous thump.
"And then there were three," Ric said.
"What exactly are you looking for?" Tessa asked.
"The key to the treasury and all that Xenex money. Cy won't be coming by any more." His last words were addressed to the priest. "You'll be dealing with me now."
"There is nothing to deal with."
"The revolution isn't over—it's just taken a new direction."
Father Luke fiddled with the cuff of his robe. "I'm surprised to see you here, Enrico."
"Really? Then you're dumber than I thought. Although, I'll admit I've had my doubts on your intelligence before." Ric snorted in derision and pointed a thumb at Scott. "Idealists are always blind—like this one."
Scott defended, "Blind isn't the word I want to use." He looked over towards Tessa.
Father Luke stared at the ground. "I thought we'd agreed you wouldn't be back?"
"Well, I was busy the last couple days but…" Ric said to the priest, ignoring everyone else around him for the moment. "What? Didn't you like helping me out last month with that lil' package?"
Tessa blinked and looked innocent. "Package?"
"On the 19th?" Scott said.
"Kate Russo was a mistake!" Father Luke swore.
Turning conspiratorially to the other two, Ric explained, "We thought she had Dante's car."
"There is no
we
," growled the priest.
"Don't get self-righteous with me. You need that money back—you'll never make bishop if they find it missing."
"You wanted it for yourself."
"There is plenty for us both."
Father Luke no longer looked contrite. He took a menacing step forward. "I warned you about coming back."
The two Italian men stared at each other and silence fell in the church. Ric pulled a pack of cigarettes from his slacks and tapped one into his palm. "I believe you said you'd pray for me."
A match was struck. A flame flickered and caught as Ric took a drag from the cigarette and blew the smoke into the aisle.
Father Luke snatched the cigarette from the man's lips, crushing it on the floor. "Get out."
"We are at war!" Ric moved forward, his upper lip curled in a snarl as he stared down the priest. "And now it's every man for himself."
"At what price?"
"I need that car. Whatever is in that car, people are willing to die for. Darla wouldn't tell me where it was and there's no place else to look. I…I..."
Tessa stood, her eyes narrowed. "You what?"
For a moment he looked penitent, but then recovered. "I was committed."
"You killed Darla Perelli?" Scott dared to interrupt.
"It was an accident," Ric said, as if it made it alright.
Father Luke's face was flushed. "I told you, no more killing."
"What!" Tessa launched herself at her cousin, but Ric batted her away.
"Nothing anyone of you wouldn't have done. Don't you remember our conversation at Rhen's funeral? You didn't want to be Daddy's little girl, but you did want your brother avenged. An eye for an eye, you said ….."
She gasped, "I wasn't talking about…"
It was Ric's turn to interrupt "It's all about fair exchange and payback. And you," Ric pointed at Scott, "you had to keep poking around."
Tessa whispered, "Darla had nothing to do with anything."
Ric said, "She thought she was clever enough to smoke Cy out of hiding. Or maybe she figured I'd share what I knew about him in return for her own knowledge of Dante and his courier duties." He offered a nod to Scott, seemingly enjoying dropping a small fact. "Every month Novus always made pay role courtesy of the Catholic Church."
He didn't appear the least uncomfortable as he continued, "But Darla, she over played her hand. If she had actually been able to tell me what Dante could – maybe I wouldn't have had to give her so much to make her talk."
"Where is Dante?"
Ric ignored her and made a sharp arm movement in the air; the motion causing his sleeve to pull up his arm that inadvertently showed off a big red tattoo. "Tessie, go over to your boyfriend and pat him down. Experience tells me he's smart enough to have come packin'."
With his left hand, Ric drew his own gun. "You've been useful, Crawford, but your time is over."
Tessa made her way the few paces to stand beside Scott. She felt numb and the voices around her had become nothing more than droning noise as she lifted the back of Scott's jacket and retrieved the gun. She'd seen him hide one there before. Now she held one of Dante's own in her hand, but she didn't think about how he must have searched the house to find it.
Stretching each finger, Tessa wrapped her hand a little tighter around the grip, getting used to the feel of a pistol again. "Don't you just wonder sometimes…," she muttered idly. A question, but really meant for no one, only thinking out loud.
It was the sound of Scott's voice that brought her back, his voice cool and aimed at Ric. "You might want to check with Morgano before you do anything; I'm pretty certain he has other plans for me."
"Yeah, well, Dante had other plans for you, too, and look how that turned out," Ric snapped back arrogantly. "You owe me a thank you."
"What do you mean?"