Mug in one hand, I stand behind him and dig my chin into his back. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nope.” Haunted eyes tell me he hasn’t fully recovered from his nightmare.
“The doctor says-”
“Sam, I said no. Okay? Some shit’s too damn dark.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll be fine in a bit.”
“Eggs?”
“Sure. But not hard-boiled.” He raises his brows, no doubt remembering how I lost track of time, the water boiled away, and the white shells turned black.
“Ha ha ha. Very funny.”
After we eat, he starts work in the bathroom. With a few hours to kill, I research Mr. and Mrs. Gallo a little more. According to what I can find online, they run a small import/export business. However, the amount of shell companies triggers a red flag. Anytime someone wants to hide their identity in layers of paperwork, there’s usually a reason, most often illegal.
Huh. I was hired to see who was killed in the apartment across from Mrs. Rossini but my internal FBI agent senses there’s more.
Suds pokes his head out of the bathroom. “Honey? Don’t you have to go to work?”
“Oh shit.” I fly up the steps, bump my head on the ceiling, and curse while I dress.
No place to put on makeup, I grab it all, stuff it in my purse, and kiss Suds.
“Bye.” I button my coat on the way down the stairs, flip off the obnoxious workers, and run to the salon.
“Hi Aunt Marion.” Frowning, my employer points to Mrs. Costa, sitting at my sink and as I rush to the back, Rose and Mia raise their brows.
Surely, I’m going to catch hell as soon as there’s no customers in sight.
Dropping my coat into an empty chair, I smile at one of our most regular patrons. “I’m sorry. Have you been waiting long?”
“No, no. Take your time and breathe, dearie. I’m in no hurry. Retired. You know how it is.”
Actually, I don’t and if I don’t get my shit together, I never will. I picture myself shuffling along with my holster hanging off my walker. I’ll be in the Guinness book for oldest private eye.
Amused at my own joke, I squat down, grab a towel, and start the water warming for Mrs. Costa.
“I was wondering. Have you ever met Mrs. Rossini?” I gently lower her chair back so her neck rests on the sink.
“Of course. She heads up the neighborhood watch. That’s why there’s no crime in our area.”
“Oh.” I don’t argue but the real reason is no one in their right mind would think of pissing in my uncle Vinny’s backyard.
However, if spying on people gives lovely old women something to do, who am I to disagree?
Mrs. Costa closes her eyes under my spray. “But it’s all very hush-hush. Don’t tell anyone.”
I glance up at Mia and Rose, listening intently, along with the other ladies getting a cut. No doubt, everyone in the parish will know everything before you can say bingo.
After the first hour, the salon fills quickly. No one else can tell me much about Mrs. Gallo except she doesn’t go to our church and is probably a Greek pretending to be an Italian. This, apparently, is as low as you can go.
At noon, my replacement arrives. Silently, while my boss is busy, I retrieve my coat, pad to the door, and throw my cousins a kiss.
However, as I grab the glass handle, Aunt Marion turns and glares. “A moment please, Samantha, we need to talk.”
Shit. “I’m sorry I was late. They’ve started construction next door and the noise is unbelievable.”
She stares over her reading glasses perched on the bottom of her strong Roman nose. “It’s not about your tardiness. I want you to continue to do your detective nonsense for Mrs. Rossini.”
