The Mobster's Daughter, page 26
I unfolded the drawing, and my throat thickened.
It was a man’s profile.
His hat was pulled low, and he wore a suit as common as any other fellow walking the street. But his lined face held a distinction I’d seen once before—a cross-shaped scar on the left cheek.
Major Ford.
His slightly hunched silhouette stood beside a door marked with the number 11. My apartment.
My breath hitched. While huddled on my porch, Charlie had signed the word drawing and then urgently pointed to the wreckage. I could picture the plea in his eyes, the quiver in his hands. He hadn’t been referring to his treasured sketchpad as I’d thought. He’d wanted me to look at this paper. To tell me who had broken into my apartment.
My fingers worked to refold the paper. The monster was Major. He’d destroyed my things. Taken Papa’s letters. But why steal what he could’ve easily seen with a simple request to Rhett?
Unless … he had something to hide. What if there was something in the letters that would’ve incriminated him?
My joints locked. Rhett intended to meet Major in less than an hour to discuss the last letter!
How could I stop him? There was a phone in Frank’s office. Maybe Rhett was still at the agency. Blood coursing faster than the current of the Allegheny River, I sped to the hallway only to collide with Peggy.
“Kate!” She gasped. “What are you doing? The brass band’s almost done. You’re next!” She tugged my elbow.
I squirmed free. “I need to call Rhett.” I started toward Frank’s office, but this time Peggy’s hand clamped on my wrist with the tenacity of a bulldog.
“You have an entire Norwegian country waiting on you.” She yanked on my arm, pulling me back into the small room. “Detective Dashing can wait.”
But then it may be too late.
My eyes landed on my Mozart folder, sticking out as if divine fingers had picked it from the pile. An idea swirled. I could inform Rhett through our discreet means of communication—the airwaves. Though this time, it could cost my job.
But the alternative could cost Rhett his life.
Chapter 38
Rhett rested his heels atop his office desk at the agency and reclined in his chair. A brass ensemble boomed through the radio’s speaker. He’d been listening to KDKA for the past twenty minutes waiting for his favorite performer to wow Norway with her talent. She’d mentioned this morning that the entire program was only an hour long, so maybe he could fight off the drowsiness weighting his eyelids.
He’d tossed and turned all night long. Hugo’s words had rolled in the crevices of his mind, like a metal ball in a labyrinth, hitting mental blocks and walls in search of the right place to settle. He tipped his head back on the plush chair’s cushion.
He was missing something.
Something important. But what? It was a good thing he’d see Major soon. His father’s friend had always been a good problem solver.
He should’ve asked Major to meet him here at the office, then Rhett could’ve gotten in some more shut-eye. His mentor wanted to meet across town at a café Rhett had only eaten at once. And hated it.
But Major had carved out time in his hectic schedule, so Rhett should be grateful. He still hadn’t told his former boss about his relationship with Kate. Major would no doubt be skeptical. Maybe they could all get together soon. Then Major could witness Kate’s goodness firsthand.
Though Rhett needed to smooth things over with her. He’d struggled with her father’s letter and had been emotionally detached last night. She hadn’t deserved that. She was a victim like him. Her apartment, the only place she’d called home while in Pittsburgh, was still in disorder. Someone had invaded, violated her space, destroyed all her belongings, and here Rhett was moping over Hugo’s words.
He’d make it up to her. Tonight, he’d take her on an official date. Somewhere nice.
A masculine voice filtered through the speakers and announced Kate and the Norwegian piece she’d perform.
His eyes slid shut, waiting for her soprano voice to grace the airwaves and seep into his heart. He probably wouldn’t understand a word she’d sing, but he’d feel her emotion behind the music.
The first few bars from a piano sounded, and Rhett pitched forward in his chair, his feet plunking to the ground.
That wasn’t a song from Norway.
But a piano sonata by Mozart.
Confusion rippled through him. She’d told him the entire program was in Norwegian, had stressed how important this broadcast was, yet now she played a completely different song? The sonata was a popular one.
Major F.
Why would she play Mozart’s Major F? The song director had to have been oblivious to the switch, considering he’d just announced the Norwegian piece she was to perform. So, the adjustment had been Kate’s idea. Something deliberate.
Was she trying to communicate with him? The notion seemed silly, but Rhett couldn’t rule it out. Especially since the classical piece was such a drastic contrast to what she was originally supposed to perform. He listened for intentional variations in the melody, but he couldn’t spot any. Was the message in the song itself?
Major F.
He rubbed the strain in his forehead. The only connection he could make was to Major Ford.
“Why?” He thought aloud. “Why would she tell me something about Major?”
“Because she knows something you don’t.” A gravelly voice yanked Rhett’s gaze to a man standing in his doorway.
Hugo Salvastano.
t t t
My hands shook violently, but I ended the piece. Several pairs of widened eyes glued on me. But there wasn’t time to defend my rash actions, I had to get ahold of Rhett. Quiet as possible, I stood from the piano bench, choosing to ignore the song director waving me over, and exited Studio A.
My fingers snatched my purse from the table without pausing my swift strides. As fast as my legs could carry me, I rushed to Frank’s office.
Locked.
My palm slapped the wooden door in defeat. I didn’t have time to search for him. The plant stretched across forty acres. My boss could be anywhere. I raced to the secretary station, bursting through the door like a crazed racehorse let out of the starting gate. Stella perched at her desk, receiver in hand, talking on the phone.
“Sorry,” Squeaked from my lips as I grabbed the candlestick base and clicked the disconnect.
Stella gasped. “What on earth, Kate?”
“Can’t explain.” I gave the operator the exchange. I tapped my fingers against the phone’s wooden base, willing the connection faster.
“That was H.P. you just hung up on.” Stella snapped.
The vice president of Westinghouse, and I didn’t even regret it. No doubt I’d already lost my job after switching songs for my performance.
Stella lunged for the phone, but I pivoted back as far as the cord allowed. Come on, Rhett, pick up. Pick up! I cut a glance to the clock by the door. Had he left already? I waited several more alarming seconds.
Nothing.
There was no way I’d beat him to the café where he was to meet Major. But I had to try. I surrendered the phone to Stella, who mumbled her displeasure, and took off toward the stairwell. My heels clicked a choppy rhythm against the concrete steps as I rushed down several flights.
My name was called in the distance, but I couldn’t stop. Any delay would be costly. Rhett needed me. I couldn’t be certain he’d heard my song, caught my message.
God, please keep him safe.
I stumbled on the last step leading to the lowest level. I grasped the metal railing, keeping me from tumbling into the stairwell exit.
The main floor of the building hummed with its usual activity. I sidestepped a worker pushing a cart loaded with crates, and I almost collided into a cluster of men entering the building through the double doors. I snaked my way through, earning a few grumbles as well as a couple ‘pardon me’s. Once outside, gray skies loomed over me, spitting rain.
Darting toward the parking lot, I came to the railway tracks and skidded to a halt. My gaze swiveled left to right, making sure the plant’s shipping trolley wasn’t approaching. High-stepping over the ribbons of rails, I continued forward. My mind caught up to my panic, and my momentum slowed. The cable car route went through homestead before entering the heart of Pittsburgh. It’d be over an hour before I’d reach the café. I’d never make it on time.
I could call the police. No, no I couldn’t. Major worked on the force. Besides, how would I know which cop was trustworthy?
What could I do? Maybe I could get ahold of David. He was closer to the café than I was. I needed to call the agency again. If I couldn’t reach Rhett’s partner, Peggy had a car. I could ask to borrow it.
A fancy automobile pulled directly in front of me and braked to a stop. I stumbled. My knee smacked against the metal bumper, darts of pain jarring my bones.
Of all the stupid things.
I could’ve been seriously injured. Maybe the driver hadn’t spotted me because of the drizzle. But that didn’t negate the dull throb rocking through me.
A man emerged.
My eyes took in Gio Pitrello, and I skittered back.
“What’s the hurry, Kate?” His smile shoved a chill down my spine. “Or should I say Catarina Salvastano?”
My heart sank in my chest.
They’d come for me.
Nine months of hiding, of lying about my identity, and they’d found me. Rainwater soaked through my blouse, dread seeped into my bones, but I refused to shiver in this man’s presence.
His gaze raked my wet body in a slow sweep before landing on my eyes. “I have orders to take you to Big Dante.”
The phantom crime lord summoned me. No way I would get out of this alive. I glanced about. Maybe I could sprint to the main building. Or scream loud enough to attract a crowd.
With a smirk, Gio pulled back the edge of his rain-dotted sportscoat, revealing a sidearm pistol. “This can be easy or painful. It’s your choice.”
Die now or die later. Was that even a choice? But the longer I cooperated, the better my chances of escape.
Smile widening, he rounded the car and opened the passenger door in a grand gesture. “Your chariot, princess. Big Dante will be pleased to welcome Salvastano royalty.”
My gut twisted. I was to enter a vehicle with a man who’d once tried to assault me. Said man was to take me to the gangster who’d been bent on destroying the Salvastanos. Rhett had no idea where I was or who with. Little by little, my chances of survival drained like the rainwater into the sewer grates.
Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance.
I took a stabling breath and shuffled toward Gio’s Rolls Royce.
“Kate!” Peggy ran toward me, face lined with worry. “Where are you going?”
Gio tugged my elbow and leaned close. “Get rid of her.” He rumbled low in my ear. “She’s too pretty to shoot.”
I stiffened. “Gio’s taking me to lunch, Margaret.”
“Huh?” Peggy’s eyes shone her confusion.
“Let’s go, gorgeous. Time for our date.” Gio adopted a charming smile that soured my stomach.
With one more subtle, but pleading, glance to my friend, I ducked into the passenger seat.
Chapter 39
Rhett had waited for this day. He’d coveted that pivotal moment of glaring into the face of the man who’d wrecked his entire world. But never had he thought the elusive mobster would stroll right into his office. Rhett gripped his gun, keeping his hand steady despite the shock raging through him.
“You have some nerve, old man, coming in here like this.” At least the telephone had stopped its obnoxious ringing. Rhett wasn’t about to take his eyes off Hugo’s ugly mug to answer the blasted thing.
Hugo raised his hands in surrender. The mighty crime boss appeared nothing more than skin stretched across bones. The brim of his homburg threw a shadow over his eyes, but his gaunt cheekbones caught the daylight slanting through the blinds, revealing waxy skin. Yet he stood tall and proud, even with Rhett’s pistol aimed at his heart.
He hobbled a step inside the room. “Your papa reacted the same way.”
Rhett’s thumb pulled back the hammer, the click echoing. “Don’t mention my father,” he said through clenched teeth. How easy it would be to put a bullet through him. He could deal the same deadly card Hugo had given Father. But that kind of shuffled deck wasn’t in Rhett’s hand anymore. God was the dealer of vengeance. A sobering reminder Rhett needed to heed.
“Your papa and I met at the baseball park. His hand never left his revolver.” Hugo’s upper lip hid beneath a bushy mustache, hanging unkempt over his mouth. “That day, I told him his partner’s a killer.”
Major Ford. “I don’t believe you.” Because Hugo spewed lies like a black widow spit out webs, and Rhett wouldn’t be snared in his twisted tale. He rounded his desk, keeping his gun trained on Hugo’s every move. “You’re the killer. You shot my father and your own brothers. Yet you shove the blame on a man who’s given his life taking out garbage like you.”
“I didn’t do it.”
Rhett’s fists grew white hot. “You’re a liar.”
“Then believe Catarina.” His head jerked to the radio. “She was warning you.”
The sonata. Her strange behavior had to mean something. But not what Hugo claimed. “What do you know of your daughter? Nothing.” Rhett approached the crime boss with slow, calculated steps, fully aware the man could withdraw a firearm at any moment. With a light jab of the barrel to Hugo’s side, Rhett motioned him forward.
Hugo winced and clutched his stomach.
Rhett’s brow lowered. The gun hardly poked the man. “Are you armed?” With swift movements, he patted Hugo’s person for weapons.
His sickly frame swayed like a sapling in the wind. Rhett gripped the convulsing elbow, stabling, then chided himself for doling out compassion. Satisfied to find Hugo unarmed, Rhett stepped back and observed the criminal. “You left Kate to fend for herself. You don’t deserve to speak her name.”
Sadness filled his jaundiced eyes.
As if the man had a heart. No, he’d been gutted from the inside out, a shell of the powerful crime lord he used to be. Rhett shook his head at the pitiful display, and Hugo’s chin notched higher.
“We don’t have time to discuss my mistakes.”
“The state will give you plenty of time. Unless they choose for you to go to the chair.” Or if Hugo’s health allowed him to live that long. The man looked half-decayed, and Rhett hardened himself to the pity swelling in his chest. Hugo wasn’t worth a shred of sympathy.
“Catarina’s in danger.” His jowls, extending past his knobby chin, shook with his words. “They know who she is.”
Was Hugo baiting him? Using his own daughter in his devilish schemes? “I’m driving you straight to Major Ford. And he can take your sorry hide to jail.”
Hugo ambled farther into the room and claimed the chair Kate had occupied weeks ago. “I’m not moving until you call her.”
A growl stalked his chest. “I’m not at your bidding.”
“I know they’re after her today. They’ll kill her. Kill them both. Just like my brothers and your papa.” His accented voice hitched, his shoulders crumbling forward. The gaze he’d so steadily fixed on his dark-rimmed fingernails lifted to Rhett. “You can stop it, Radish Nose.”
Rhett lunged forward and cinched Hugo’s collar with his left hand, shoving the pistol into his chest with his right. “What did you say?”
The skin on Hugo’s neck felt papery thin against Rhett’s knuckles, but the determination in the man’s eyes was tough as steel. “I said your code name.”
Radish Nose.
The clandestine words from Rhett’s childhood when he’d played “secret service” with Father. They’d made a pact inside Rhett’s fort, constructed out of fallen sticks and branches, never to tell a soul about their undercover names. Only if it was life or death. And even then, with great caution. It had been all fun and games when he’d been eight.
But not now.
Rhett released him, and Hugo slunk onto the chair.
“Father told you.”
“Potato Lobes said you’ll never believe me otherwise.”
Father’s code name. Rhett hadn’t heard that spoken in decades, and now it was voiced from the person he’d hated. His father wouldn’t have shared something so nonsensical—but sacred between them—to someone like Hugo Salvastano without a specific purpose. William Jennings had been a strategic man. It had been deliberate. Like Kate playing the sonata instead of the important Norwegian song.
Kate.
Rhett dove for the phone and rattled off the exchange to the operator. He glanced at Hugo, who gave a solemn, approving nod. Could Rhett have had it all backward? What he’d thought bad was good, and right was wrong? Could Major Ford—the mentor Rhett’d welcomed into his home, considered as a second father—be the true killer?
A feminine voice greeted him on the other end.
“This is Rhett Jennings calling for Kate Chamberlin.”
A huff sounded, crackling the line. “For goodness sakes, this is getting ridiculous.”
“Stella.” He’d know that hissing voice anywhere. “Where’s Kate?”
“Your sweetheart was in here ten minutes ago. She disconnected me from a very important call trying to get ahold of you. Now you’re calling for her. This isn’t your personal line to play cat and mouse.”
Kate had tried to contact him. That had to have been her the moment Hugo had walked into the office. And Rhett had ignored it. “It’s important I speak to her.”
“As of two minutes ago, my lunch break officially started. Find someone else to be your—” Another voice spoke in the background. “It’s none of your business.” Stella’s tone seemed distant, as if she held a hand over the receiver. “Hey!”
