Chapter 6
Sam
Once Suds is convinced I won’t be filing for divorce any time soon, I walk to the hair salon where Mikey, the prince of Bensonhurst, has all the ladies fawning over him.
I lift him into my arms, inhale his scent, and sit with him on my lap, prepared to pay the price of free babysitting. A few of the women call their friends and insist I not speak until they arrive. When satisfied, they all look to Mrs. Rossini, a woman in her nineties.
Leaning forward, she whispers, “Did you see any grisly murders lately?”
“Sorry, no.” I pat her hand.
As the rest moan their disappointment, I put up an index finger, and smile. “However, there’s a missing teen in Buffalo and a mysterious hooker. A turtle wandered off from the pet store and all of the Bingo balls with the letter ‘I’ have been removed from the spinner.”
A maroon-haired woman sitting in Rose’s station raises her hand. “The church needs better locks. The doorknob came right off the night I brought chicken curry for potluck.”
“I’ll talk to Mrs. O’Shay.” At the thought of dealing with the church’s dour housekeeper, I shudder.
“Won’t do any good. She gives duplicate keys to everyone, so she doesn’t have to stay to the end and clean.” This comes from Mia, snipping madly as she listens in.
“Noted. Until we solve the mystery, I’ll need to count on you guys to search for suspects.”
“Balls? Who’s missing balls?” Mrs. Murphy stops her knitting needles, turns off the hairdryer, and eyes me over the half-glasses perched on the end of her nose.
Everyone else cracks up.
A new elderly woman looks up from her People magazine. “You’re holding out on us, deary. I heard from my neighbor, who heard from Mr. Danforth at the hardware store. Shots were fired in front of the Suds and Sam office building.”
I lift Mikey into my arms and secure him in the stroller. “It’s an ongoing investigation. Very hush-hush. I promise to let you know as soon as I can. However, this much I can say, and no one else knows except you. The bullets were blanks.”
I leave them with this thought and wave goodbye. “Keep your eyes peeled for those lost letters.”
“Pish posh. It’s Mr. Nealy. He’s squirrely.” My aunt kisses my cheek and holds open the door.
“I’ll keep all that in mind.” Outside, I heave a sigh of relief, don my headset, and call my mom. When she doesn’t pick up, I try Nonna.
In Italian, I ask for her to put her daughter on the phone. Footsteps sound in the background and eventually, my mother picks up. “Samantha. Why in the world are you calling on the landline?”
“I tried yours and you didn’t answer.” I roll my eyes, working hard to keep the exasperation from leaking into my tone.
“Oh. Well, I may have had it muted. Why do all these people think my auto insurance has expired?”
Not wanting to have this discussion right now, I quickly change the subject. “I was calling to ask if you could watch Mikey for a few days.”
“Oh, and now you need my help?” She uses her feigned hurt tone which I became immune to at age eleven.
“It was Aunt Marion’s turn, Mom.”
“Not so. Currently, she has watched him three more hours than me.” Good God, between her and Joey, I’m going to need to hire an accountant.
“Well, this should even the score.”
“It would, except your father has forbidden me to babysit unless you apply for the new opening with the Joint Terrorism Task Force.”
My old man has never forgiven me for getting fired from the FBI. In my mind, it was the best thing, ever. I met Suds, left a demeaning job, and started my own business. However, my dad views my current occupation as a sign of my decline.
Arriving home, I lie without a shred of guilt. “Great idea. I’ll get right on it. Have him send me the link.”
I lift my little guy, collapse the stroller, and walk to the back entrance. The stairs are steeper outside, but this way I can skip sparring with Joey.
