A Stitch to Die For (An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Book 5) (21 page)

Once I returned the lock box to the bottom drawer of the file cabinet, I pulled open the top drawer, which held thirty-five to forty file folders, each labeled with a long series of letters and numbers. I pulled out the first file and opened it to find a series of statements for a bank located in the Cayman Islands. The account belonged to Continental Machine Works, Inc. I snapped a photo of the top statement and returned the folder to the file.

The next folder I withdrew contained statements from another bank, this one located in Bermuda, and for another company, American Industries, Inc. I snapped a photo of that account’s most recent statement. I quickly realized that each file contained bank statements from different banks in various countries and all under different company names.

As I stared at the folders lined up in the file, the truth stared back at me. Lawrence had never owned a commercial laundry; Lawrence laundered money for the mob.

My hands shook as I closed the open folder and slipped it back into the file drawer. I’d had enough run-ins with the Mafia to last me a lifetime. All I wanted to do was hightail it out of the condo and forget what I’d discovered. But how could I when I’d just learned my mother had married into the mob?

At that moment, though, I faced a more pressing dilemma as I heard the front door of the condo open. The alarm began to beep, and Mama called out, “Anastasia? Are you here, dear?”

SIXTEEN

What the hell were they doing home?

I couldn’t let Lawrence catch me red-handed at his desk. I quickly closed the file drawer, realizing I had about fifteen seconds to come up with a plausible explanation as to why I was in the room. Luckily the file cabinet lock was the kind that locked by depressing the mechanism flush with the cabinet.

As soon as I’d clicked the lock into place, I stepped away from the desk and tossed my phone under the sofa. Then I flipped one of the cushions and dropped to my knees just as Mama and Lawrence entered the den.

“What in the world—?” asked Mama.

“What the hell’s going on here?” asked Lawrence.

I stood, placed my hands on my lower back and stretched. “I can’t find my phone. I thought maybe I dropped it here last night.”

Mama’s brows knit together. “But I spoke on the phone with you this morning, dear.”

“I called you from my office phone. Anyway, I’ve searched all over—home, office. I even stopped at the diner we went to last night. This is the only other place I could think to look.”

Lawrence whipped out his cell phone. “What’s the number?”

I rattled off my cell number. A moment later the air filled with the sounds of an orchestral version of “I Am Woman,” the music I’d chosen as my new ring-tone. Lawrence bent down and fished the phone out from under the sofa and handed it to me.

I shook my head and faked an exaggerated sigh of relief as I slipped the phone into my purse while I avoided looking directly at him. “What a relief! This phone isn’t even a week old, and it cost me a fortune.”

The phone actually hadn’t cost me a penny, thanks to Zack’s generosity, but Lawrence would never know that. I added an ironic chuckle. “Always the last place you look, right?”

Then I turned to Mama. “What are you doing home? I thought you were planning to spend the night out on Long Island.”

“Some maniac ran a stop sign and plowed into us,” she said.

My jaw dropped, and my stomach plummeted as I swept my gaze up and down Mama for signs of injury. No casts. No bruises. No swelling. No bandages. “Were you hurt?”

Lawrence answered for her. “We’re both more shaken up than anything.”

Mama placed her hands, one on top of the other, over her neckline and shuddered. “I swear my life flashed before me. I really and truly thought we would die.”

“But you’re both okay? Did you hit your heads?” I stood nose-to-nose with Mama, checking for dilated pupils.

“We’re both fine,” he said. “The hospital ran scans before they allowed us to leave.”

“You were able to drive home?”

He nodded. “Luckily, the jerk only clipped the rear end of our car.”

“Only?” Mama’s voice climbed two octaves. “You make it sound like he just tapped our bumper.” She turned to me. “The impact spun us around, and pushed us onto a sidewalk crowded with pedestrians. Somehow Lawrence managed to keep us from hitting a traffic light pole and several people walking down the street at the time.”

She removed one hand from her neck, placed it on his forearm, and graced him with a worshipful smiled. “He not only saved our lives but the lives of all those other people.”

I turned to Lawrence. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to Mama.”

He nodded.

“I’m going to soak in a hot tub,” said Mama. “I may not have any injuries, but I feel like I was run over by a freight train.”

“That’s a good idea.” I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a gentle hug. “I’m glad nothing worse happened. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I grabbed my purse, waved goodbye to Lawrence, and left the condo. I was about to step into my car when someone grabbed my arm and spun me around.

“Want to tell me what you were really doing in the den?” asked Lawrence. He held out his hand to show me the two bent paperclips I’d forgotten on his desk.

Lying is definitely not my forte; I have a hard time looking someone in the eye and keeping a straight face. However, a little voice at the back of my brain told me my life might depend on whether or not I could pull off an Oscar-worthy performance at that moment.

I knit my brows together and stared at the misshapen bits of metal in Lawrence’s hand, poking them with my index finger. “What in the world are those?” I asked.

“You tell me.”

I raised my head, looked him straight in the eyes, and shrugged. “I have no idea.” I ducked into my Jetta, locked the door, and started the engine, but before I drove away, I rolled down the window. “Have you heard the news?” I asked.

“What news?”

“‘Stevie “Jelly Bean” Benini is dead.”

His face showed no emotion. “How?”

“He was found slumped over his steering wheel. No obvious signs of foul play, but an autopsy is scheduled to determine cause of death.”

“I see.”

“You don’t look surprised.”

“The man had a heart condition and smoked three packs a day. I told him nicotine would kill him sooner than any of his former associates.”

I wondered, considering I’d once heard there were methods of murder that simulated the appearance of a fatal heart attack or actually caused one. But Lawrence couldn’t have killed ‘Jelly Bean,’ not if he and Mama were on Long Island when ‘Jelly Bean’ died in Weehauken, New Jersey.

As I drove away from the condo, I hazarded a glance in the rearview mirror. Lawrence stood in the parking space I’d vacated, hands on hips, a scowl on his face, watching me drive away. An involuntary shudder coursed through my body.

~*~

My phone rang as I turned off the road leading from the condo and onto South Avenue. “Where are you?” asked Zack.

“Five minutes away.”

“Where you stuck in traffic most of this time?”

“No, I ran into a slight problem.”

“Define
slight problem
.”

“I’ll explain when I get home.”

“Am I going to like the explanation?”

Doubtful but I didn’t tell him that. An image of Zack as an angry cartoon character danced before my eyes. Red-faced with steam shooting out the top of his head, the animated Zack stamped his feet and pounded his fists in the air. “We’ll talk when I get home.” I hung up before he had a chance to say more.

The moment I pulled into the driveway, Zack ran out the kitchen door and stood beside the Jetta, waiting for me to cut the engine and step out of the car. He didn’t even let me enter the house before he began peppering me with questions.

I placed a hand over his mouth. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. Later. After dinner.” That should give me enough time to compose myself and figure out what to say to him.

Of course, I’d tell Zack everything. How could I not? I just needed to do so in a manner that kept him from throttling me or locking me up and tossing away the key. Or maybe he’d throttle me first, then lock me up and toss away the key. No matter how I couched my condo escapade, Zack would shortly morph into one very unhappy guy.

Dinner consisted of Italian subs and chips, easy to eat in-between bouncing up to answer the door and hand out candy. We all took turns except for Lucille who, around every mouthful, offered a nonstop litany of anti-Halloween sentiment—the only opinion the two of us have ever shared.

As dinner progressed, the time between doorbell rings grew longer as the nonstop hordes of kids thinned to a now-and-then trickle. We were nearly finished with dinner when the bell rang once more. This time Zack hopped up to answer. He returned a moment later with Lawrence in tow.

My heart hammered a rapid staccato inside my chest, and I nearly lost my dinner.

Lawrence spoke directly to me, his face a slab of stone, showing no hint of emotion. No fear. No anger. “I’d like to speak with you, Anastasia.” He then nodded toward Zack. “You, too.” He swept a quick glance toward Alex, Nick, and Lucille. “In private if you don’t mind.”

I pushed myself away from the table. “Why don’t we go into the den?”

I don’t know how I made it from the dining room to the den without my legs buckling under me. Once in the room, Lawrence indicated that Zack and I should take seats on the couch. He began to pace back and forth in front of us. “There’s something I need to tell you, but it can’t go beyond this room. Do I have your word?”

“Does it have anything to do with Mama?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing other than I want to spare her any needless worry.”

Zack and I both agreed.

Lawrence took a deep breath. “The recent events over the weekend and earlier this evening lead me to believe the two of you suspect me of some nefarious activities.”

“What happened this evening?” asked Zack. “And aren’t you supposed to be on Long Island?”

Lawrence turned to me. “You haven’t told him?”

“Told me what?” asked Zack.

“I haven’t had a chance. I was waiting until after dinner.”

Lawrence nodded. “No need to go into that now, then. Everything will become clear shortly.”

He resumed his pacing. “As I suspect Anastasia has already discovered, Lawrence Tuttnauer is not my real name.”

“Who are you?” asked Zack.

“I’d rather not say, but you’ll understand why if you allow me to continue.”

Zack indicated with a nod for Lawrence to proceed.

“Cynthia came by her drug addiction naturally. Doctors will tell you addiction is often hereditary. Cynthia’s mother died of a heroin overdose. We were living in Carson City, Nevada. Cynthia was a teenager at the time.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

Lawrence pulled his lips into a tight, thin line. His eyes grew demonic. “I found her dealer and dealt with him.”

From the look on his face I knew there was no need to pose my next words in the form of a question. “You killed him.”

“Not until I’d forced enough information from him to use as a bargaining chip with the police. I gave them everything they needed to take down the largest heroin operation in Nevada in exchange for my freedom.”

“Are you in WitSec?” asked Zack.

“They offered, but I had other resources that provided me better protection.”

“Benini?”

Lawrence nodded. “There are many benefits to having a cousin high up the ranks in the mob. For the right price you can buy anything from a new identity to a new face for yourself and your daughter, along with arranging a certain drug kingpin never lives long enough to serve his time and walk out of prison.”

He stopped pacing and stood in front of me. “I don’t know what you did or didn’t discover this evening,” he said, “but I’ve made certain I have the means to leave quickly and undetected should the circumstances ever arise.”

“I don’t understand. You just admitted to killing Cynthia’s dealer and having the drug kingpin killed in prison.”

“I did. But the kingpin had many associates, some of whom escaped arrest and have since taken over his operation. I can’t grow complacent. I’ve never had to execute my plan, but I have the peace of mind of knowing one exists should the situation arise.”

“And Mama?”

“I’d make sure she was taken care of.”

I hope he meant that in a good way. “And what about ‘Jelly Bean’ Benini?”

“Stevie was more than family; he was a true friend. It’s a damn shame he didn’t take better care of himself.”

“He wasn’t also your bookie?”

Lawrence sighed. “I suppose full disclosure is in order. Yes, Stevie was also my bookie. He’s still in the mob, but as I suspect you discovered, I have more than enough money to frequent the casinos or place an occasional sports bet. I’m not in debt to the mob or anyone.” He paused for a moment and smiled. “And I want to thank you for your honesty, Anastasia. A lesser person, especially one in your financial circumstances, wouldn’t have thought twice, given the temptation.”