wall, I counted to the fourth iron-barred window from the left of the building. Cristina and Halah’s room. Climbing on the box, tip-toed and craning my neck, I peered through a gap in the curtain. They were still there—the violin was on the dresser, a laptop on the bed. I blew a breath of relief. It appeared Cristina had found refuge in a gentler, more insulated California community. Because somehow, in four years, she’d forgotten the precautions one takes in a big city.
Hugging the wall, I made my way down the row of windows. At each one I dropped the wood box on the cracked asphalt and stretched to spy through the faded curtains. Some rooms were unoccupied. Some guests watched TV. And I saw some things a good Catholic girl shouldn’t have to see. At the end of the long row I found what I was looking for. Two beat-up, hamburger-faced guys stretched out on their beds. The driver sucked on a cigarette. Beefy boy’s supersized hands gripped a James Patterson thriller. I was mildly surprised he could read.
I trotted back to Tino’s car. A woman and her young son tossed a ball on the sidewalk. Her name was Irene. Colby was five, and the tooth fairy has his two front teeth. They were new in town, here from Georgia. Her husband was a mechanic. He was out looking for work.
“Is he any good?”
Irene nodded proudly. “He has a certificate from Universal Technical Institute. But nobody’s hiring.”
“My mechanic is. He’s the best in Bridgeport. Maybe Chicago.” I jotted Jack’s number on the back of my card. “I’ll let Jack know your husband’s stopping by.”
“How can I thank you?” She looked at the card. “Pants On Fire Detective Agency? Caterina DeLuca?”
“Oops. Wrong side.” I flipped the card over for her. “Jack is no picnic to work for. He’s tough but he’s fair. And he pays his guys well.”
“You’re a real detective?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is there a mystery at the hotel? Is that why you’re here?”
I smiled. “Sort of.”
“You’re like Kinsey Millhone. I’ve read all the ABC mysteries.” She waved my card. “Maybe I’ll call once we’re settled. See if you have a little undercover work for me.”
“Do that. In fact, I may have a little something right now. It’ll take five minutes.”
She almost jumped up and down. “What do you want me to do?”
I reached into my bag and pulled out a Benjamin. “For this, I need to borrow your son.”
Chapter Twelve
I slid behind the wheel of Tino’s Buick and dialed Rocco’s number.
“Yo. Cat. Talk to me.” My brother believed the caller ID.
“If you and Jackson have a few minutes, I need a favor.”
“You got it. Where are ya?”
“At the Marco Polo Hotel. Two of Tierney’s thugs are staking the place out. They know Billy’s client is here.”
“The bartender you told me about?”
“Yeah. Can you do something?”
I heard Rocco smile. “I can make them disappear.”
I hung up and unbuttoned my top three buttons. I made up my face to just short of skanky. When I finished, I gazed in the mirror at a $50 ho. Beefy boy wouldn’t recognize me. I hardly recognized myself.
The Hummer arrived a few minutes later and snagged a spot in the hotel parking lot. Cristina and Max climbed out, and Cristina hopped in the backseat behind the tinted windows. Max jumped in beside me. He did a double take.
Max whistled. “Damn, girl! I’m all out of twenties.”
“Twenty! You call this a twenty dollar date?”
Max reached over and touched my blond wig. “I could throw in a burger and a pack of smokes.”
Cristina laughed. “You two have great chemistry. How long have you been together?”
I stumbled over my words. “We’re not. I mean, not like that. We are just good friends.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Max winked.
“Uh hunh,” Cristina laughed.
I blushed and tugged at my wig. “Tierney’s men took a room down the hall from Cristina’s. They don’t look so good. You beat
Hugging the wall, I made my way down the row of windows. At each one I dropped the wood box on the cracked asphalt and stretched to spy through the faded curtains. Some rooms were unoccupied. Some guests watched TV. And I saw some things a good Catholic girl shouldn’t have to see. At the end of the long row I found what I was looking for. Two beat-up, hamburger-faced guys stretched out on their beds. The driver sucked on a cigarette. Beefy boy’s supersized hands gripped a James Patterson thriller. I was mildly surprised he could read.
I trotted back to Tino’s car. A woman and her young son tossed a ball on the sidewalk. Her name was Irene. Colby was five, and the tooth fairy has his two front teeth. They were new in town, here from Georgia. Her husband was a mechanic. He was out looking for work.
“Is he any good?”
Irene nodded proudly. “He has a certificate from Universal Technical Institute. But nobody’s hiring.”
“My mechanic is. He’s the best in Bridgeport. Maybe Chicago.” I jotted Jack’s number on the back of my card. “I’ll let Jack know your husband’s stopping by.”
“How can I thank you?” She looked at the card. “Pants On Fire Detective Agency? Caterina DeLuca?”
“Oops. Wrong side.” I flipped the card over for her. “Jack is no picnic to work for. He’s tough but he’s fair. And he pays his guys well.”
“You’re a real detective?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is there a mystery at the hotel? Is that why you’re here?”
I smiled. “Sort of.”
“You’re like Kinsey Millhone. I’ve read all the ABC mysteries.” She waved my card. “Maybe I’ll call once we’re settled. See if you have a little undercover work for me.”
“Do that. In fact, I may have a little something right now. It’ll take five minutes.”
She almost jumped up and down. “What do you want me to do?”
I reached into my bag and pulled out a Benjamin. “For this, I need to borrow your son.”
Chapter Twelve
I slid behind the wheel of Tino’s Buick and dialed Rocco’s number.
“Yo. Cat. Talk to me.” My brother believed the caller ID.
“If you and Jackson have a few minutes, I need a favor.”
“You got it. Where are ya?”
“At the Marco Polo Hotel. Two of Tierney’s thugs are staking the place out. They know Billy’s client is here.”
“The bartender you told me about?”
“Yeah. Can you do something?”
I heard Rocco smile. “I can make them disappear.”
I hung up and unbuttoned my top three buttons. I made up my face to just short of skanky. When I finished, I gazed in the mirror at a $50 ho. Beefy boy wouldn’t recognize me. I hardly recognized myself.
The Hummer arrived a few minutes later and snagged a spot in the hotel parking lot. Cristina and Max climbed out, and Cristina hopped in the backseat behind the tinted windows. Max jumped in beside me. He did a double take.
Max whistled. “Damn, girl! I’m all out of twenties.”
“Twenty! You call this a twenty dollar date?”
Max reached over and touched my blond wig. “I could throw in a burger and a pack of smokes.”
Cristina laughed. “You two have great chemistry. How long have you been together?”
I stumbled over my words. “We’re not. I mean, not like that. We are just good friends.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Max winked.
“Uh hunh,” Cristina laughed.
I blushed and tugged at my wig. “Tierney’s men took a room down the hall from Cristina’s. They don’t look so good. You beat
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