She did, but it was over before I wanted it to be.
“Tell me what it’s going to take,” I said.
Her eyes broke from mine, and she almost seemed embarrassed. “I’ll get over it, Brando. I just need to refocus my mind.”
“Focus on you and me. Us.”
She nodded toward the scene. “You better go. I have to be at rehearsals in a bit.”
I saw her to her seat. I reached in and removed her music pod. Thousands of songs, but the one I looked for appeared in a matter of seconds. “To Love Somebody.” I pressed play and left her to it.
The song played in my head as I walked toward Romeo. He lifted the crime tape and let me in.
“This better be good,” I said.
He nodded. “Is that Bun Head in the car?” Sometimes he called hertesta di ciambella, which translated todonut head. He went back and forth between her given name, Sissy, and Bun Head.
“Guido and Nino are sitting with her until I’m done.”
“Does she not have practice tomorrow?”
“Is this call about my wife?”
“No, ah, here—” He directed me to the area where three body bags were lying on the ground. Two detectives hovered around. The rest were officers.
The Hudson spread in the distance, a great big, mysterious body that called to me. She dared me to break her surface and find all of her treasures beneath. Danger and struggles were an added bonus. Just the thought of it made my heart pound harder and my palms tingle.
Both detectives looked up when we approached. The bags hadn’t been zipped yet.
I didn’t hide the shock on my face when I recognized the three bloaters in their solitary bags. The three from the bar—Brawny two’s face was still all mashed up, made only more grotesque by tide and current and whatever had been feeding on him. Bulldog’s mouth was frozen into a frightened position. His eyes were missing, nothing but sightless deep sockets. The other Brawny was in the best condition, though that wasn’t saying much.
It was easy to tell the three had met violent deaths. Each one had a chunk missing out of their chests, where their hearts should’ve been. Collectables from the bottom of the Hudson had settled into their voids.
“You seem surprised,” Detective One said to me.
He seemed vaguely familiar.
“Stone,” he said, holding out his gloved hand to me. “Detective Scott Stone.”
This was turning out to be a hell of a night for me. Stone. If a police station existed, one of them belonged to it.
We shook hands.
“You know who I am,” I said. “So I’m not going to waste time on trivialities.”
“I’ve heard—” he smiled “—things.”
Detective Two stepped forward and introduced himself. Paul Marinetti. He was the opposite of Stone. He was haggard and bleak-eyed, ready for bed a year ago.
After introductions were made, I nudged Romeo. He and Stone were engaged in a battle of the eyes. Romeo was about to marry the woman that Brandon Stone, a relation of Scott’s, had been engaged to. It had ended after Romeo entered her life.
A lot of bad blood existed between the Stones and the Faustis. Not beginning with Romeo claiming Juliette as his.
Where this fucker fit into the Stone family, I wasn’t positive. But I was sure he was a nephew of the sheriff of Natchitoches. He had the Stone look about him.
Marinetti broke my train of thought when he asked me if I could identify the three men. I was honest when I told him the only thing I knew was how their faces felt against my fists. I had been arrested for engaging in a barroom fight with the three.
He seemed to know this already. That was when I spotted O’Brian across the way, talking to a few officers. He looked up and gave me a subtle nod.
