“Her GPS has been dislodged.”
“What GPS?” Duke asked. But Mick, as usual, didn’t answer.
Duke hurried behind the desk and stood over his shoulder looking at the computer screen too. “What are you doing now?”
“Pulling up the GPS.”
Duke frowned. “I thought you said it was dislodged.”
But Mick had a backup system in place for times like these and he pulled up the backup GPS to locate her Mercedes. And he got a hit.
Duke saw it too. “1072 Bartram Road in Fangen, P.A.. Where’s Fangen? I’ve never heard of no town called Fangen.”
But Mick had. He didn’t know why he heard of it, but he had. He pulled it up on the map. Duke saw it too. “That address is a police station? Why would her car be at a police station?”
But Mick was already pulling up the phone number to that station. And then he phoned it.
“Fangen Police Department. How may I help you?”
“I believe my wife may be in your custody?”
“Your name?”
Mick was always hesitant to give his name. It carried all kinds ofis he or is he not a mob bossstigmas that he never wanted his wife or children to carry. But they carried it anyway. Especially Roz. “Mick Sinatra,” he said.
“Oh. Um. Just a moment please.” The call was placed on hold.
But only briefly. “This is Chief Browery. How may I help you, Mr. Sinatra?”
“I believe you have my wife in your custody?”
“We do, yes sir.”
Mick stood up. “And what’s the charge?”
“Reckless driving. We believe she fell asleep at the wheel. We had to impound her car. Our ordinances says we can’t let her drive for twenty-four hours.”
“May I speak with her?”
“No sir. Not tonight. Phone calls are first thing in the morning only.”
Duke rolled his eyes.
“I’ll send a team to pick her up.”
“Yes sir,” the chief said, and they ended the call.
Duke looked at Mick. “A team? Why aren’t you going yourself, Pop?” But Duke also noticed how his father was hurrying out of his office and toward the foyer. “You’re going yourself, aren’t you?”
Mick didn’t respond.
“I’m going too.”
“Like hell.”
“But I wanna make sure Ma’s alright too.”
“No.”
