The Bootlegger's Goddaughter Read online

  “Well, well. Look who’s here,” said a familiar voice.

  Crap. It was Spence. Tall, skinny Spence. The creepy guy who once had a crush on me in high school. Now a cop in The Hammer and my personal nemesis. Could this week get any worse?

  “Gina Gallo, the girl with the longest confession. Who just happened to be involved in a gunfight in Hagersville. What a coincidence.”

  Gulp. “What are you doing here, Spence?”

  “Following up on that gunfight. You were seen. I figured you’d turn up here eventually,” he said.

  “What gunfight? Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t the Wild West.” I forced a smile. “Besides, I don’t even own a gun.”

  “Then what about these bullet holes here in your fender?”

  “What?” I hoofed it around to where he was standing. Holy shit. There were three holes in the back passenger-side fender. I hadn’t seen them when I got in on the driver’s side.

  “Freakin’ hell!” I said, throwing my arms in the air. “They shot up my car!” Now I was mad.

  “Who shot up your car?” said Spence, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Don’t know,” I said, going in for a closer look at the holes. “Two big guys. Don’t know them personally.”

  “I’ll bet you don’t.”

  “Give me a break, Spence! I’ve had a really bad day.” No kidding. Not to mention it was the first time I’ve ever been shot at. “Besides, how did you even know it was me?”

  “Got a report about a hijacking and gunfire at a Tim Hortons. The local cops got a description of the car from some bystanders, and the license-plate number. I recognized it. My lucky day.”

  Shit.

  “Gina,” Spence said, shaking his head. “Stealing a truck. I never expected to see you sink as low as this.”

  That hurt.

  “I wasn’t stealing it! It was my truck,” I said, poking a finger through the air at him. “I was merely sneaking it back from the thugs who took off with it!”

  Oops.

  And that’s when I got hauled down to the police station.

  NINE

  Twenty minutes later, I was sitting on a bench in my least favorite place in The Hammer. Paulo, my slick lawyer cousin, met me there.

  The bench lined one side of the room, which was the perfect place to watch Paulo’s entrance. As usual, it was dramatic. Every female in the place was aware of him the second he walked into the station. Something about pheromones, I’ve been told. As always, he looked like he had just walked off the cover of gq. Paulo scanned the room, found me and strode over.

  The first thing out of his mouth was, “Zia Sophia saw a crow.”

  “FUCK THE STUPID CROW!” Oops. I might have yelled that a little too loud. Every head in the place turned.

  “Watch the potty mouth, Gina. These cops have tender ears.” Paulo was grinning.

  Spence started over to us. His face turned to a snarl when he saw Paulo. But that was nothing compared to when Aunt Miriam came charging in seconds later.

  “Jesus Christ,” muttered Spence.

  Aunt Miriam stood at the entrance, wearing a massive coat of sheared beaver. Her eyes were fierce. She looked this way and that. All five feet four inches of her marched into the room and took command.

  “Where’s that boy?” she demanded. Her mouth was fixed in a grim line. Her black helmet hair was solid, as was her sturdy body. I was never so glad to see someone.

  “There you are.” Her beady brown eyes fixed on Spence, who was attempting to sneak into one of the back rooms. “You come here. I wanna talk to you.”

  Spence froze. And I knew why.

  He and my aunt were not unknown to each other. In fact, you could say there was a faint odor of blackmail in the air.

  I may not have mentioned that Spence and I went to the same Catholic high school. Suffice it to say that my aunt worked there and had the dope on him. By this I don’t mean drugs. I mean the stuff of adolescent embarrassment nightmares. The kind you don’t want your mother to know about.

  Or any of your co-workers, for that matter. Even better.

  “You all right, Gina? This shameless boy bothering you?” She poked her cane at Spence, who was managing to look green.

  “I’m fine,” I said, enjoying the show.

  Aunt Miriam turned to my older cousin. “You need help, Paulo?”

  Paulo was still grinning. He shook his head. “I got this.”

  “Then I wait here until you say go.” She parked herself on the bench beside me. It rocked dangerously.

  No sooner did she plunk down than her nose started to twitch. “What’s that smell?”

  “Probably motor oil. I rolled in some when I fell out of the truck cab.”

  “Sammy told me about the truck. You’re a good girl, Gina.” She patted my arm.

  “How’s Jimmy?” I said, remembering why I’d gotten involved in this in the first place.

  “Not so good.” She shook her head solemnly. “Too old to pull jobs like that anymore. But what can you tell men? So like children. Never listen.”

  That made me smile. I couldn’t imagine anyone not listening to Aunt Miriam and living to tell about it.

  “What you got in your hair, Gina?” she said. Then she reached over and pulled out something icky.

  Paulo did his magic. All I had to do was give a description of the thugs who hijacked the truck and shot at me. We were out of there in five minutes. I suspect no one in the station wanted Aunt Miriam staring at them with her evil eye for longer than necessary.

  I waited until we were out of the building before stating the obvious. “Before you say anything, I know about the crow.”

  “It was a flock of crows,” she said.

  Of course it was.

  ***

  I dreamed about birds that night. You know that Alfred Hitchcock horror movie with Tippi Hedren?

  In my dream, birds were following me everywhere, squawking at me. Little birds, big birds and one especially scary black bird that, unfortunately, reminded me of Zia Sophia. I forced myself awake when the other birds started to acquire faces.

  My relatives had turned into birds.

  Even I had to admit it was not a good omen.

  TEN

  When the phone rang at eleven the next morning, I ran for it.

  “Lainy!” I yelled into it.

  “How ya doin’, sugar? All set for the big day?”

  “You bet. Except I don’t have a car right now.” I explained the previous day’s fiasco, including the unexpected bullet-holes incident.

  “Wow, hon. You do lead an exciting life.”

  This, coming from a country and western star who was mobbed wherever she traveled. But that was the great thing about Lainy. She never judged you. Of course, we wouldn’t have lasted long as friends otherwise. Not with my history.

  “I’m flying in Friday, landing in Toronto around three,” she said. “I’ll rent a car at the airport and be there in plenty of time for the rehearsal. Sorry I can’t stay longer. We were lucky to get this Vegas gig, and I just gotta be back for the band on Sunday night.”

  “You’re a doll to make the trip,” I said. “Can’t thank you enough.”

  “Seriously, I wouldn’t miss it, Gina. You still sure this is the fella you want?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Good stuff. Then it’s time to rope ’im, brand ’im and bring ’im on home.”

  I clicked off with a big smile on my face.

  ***

  It was almost noon when I got to Pete’s apartment. He was sitting at the kitchen table in his underwear, counting a bunch of twenties. He didn’t look too worse for wear. In fact, he looked positively spry.

  “Watcha got there?” I said, kissing the top of his light-brown head.

  “My winnings from the bachelor party,” he said proudly. A big grin split his face. “Seven hundred bucks!”

  I frowned down at the twenty-dollar bills. They looked suspiciously newish. “Em�
��you might want to check those to make sure they’re real. I mean, you did win them off my family.” I moved to the kitchen in search of coffee.

  “Good point. I’ll take them to the bank this afternoon,” Pete said. “They have those counterfeit-catcher machines there.”

  I stopped abruptly with my hand reaching for the coffeepot. “Oh, right,” I said feebly. “Counterfeit catchers. That should work.”

  Somehow I was going to have to make sure those bills only got used in The Hammer.

  “How did the lunch go with Uncle Vince?” I said, pouring coffee into a mug.

  “It went great,” said Pete. “He just wanted to welcome me to the family. And make sure I was going to treat you right. Which, of course, I am. I’m not a fool.”

  I flinched. The dreaded speech. Just as I had feared.

  “Better yet, look what he gave me.” Pete rose from the table and disappeared into the bedroom. Seconds later he came back gripping an item in his right hand.

  I nearly dropped the mug. “Holy crap! A handgun?”

  Pete grinned. “Glock nine millimeter. All the men in the family have one,” he said proudly.

  “I guess they’ve accepted you completely then.”

  “Good to know.” Pete turned the gun over in his hands, admiring it. “This beats the hell out of my old revolver.”

  I was relieved in an ambivalent sort of way. Relieved that Uncle Vince had made this gesture. Not so relieved that Pete had a new, somewhat illegal handgun in the house. Also not so thrilled that Pete seemed to be quite fond of and familiar with guns in general.

  Of course, he was from Buffalo. One had to make allowances.

  But guns. I wasn’t so keen on guns at the moment. Which reminded me. I had to get my car to my cousin Tony’s body shop before Pete noticed the bullet holes.

  I made him put the gun away. Then we had a small argument about what to have for breakfast. I suggested bacon and eggs. Pete put forth a whole lot of other ideas. As usual, he won. Which means I also won, because Pete is a generous guy.

  An hour later, I extricated my various body parts from his.

  “What are you doing today?” he murmured from the bed.

  “I have to meet Nico and the girls at the reception hall later to fill out name cards for the tables,” I said. Where were my undies? Oh yeah. I could see a trail of clothes on the floor leading down the hall.

  “So this is really the last time I see you before the wedding?”

  “Yup,” I said, picking up items of clothing as I found them. “I’m going to be really busy today and tomorrow. But I’ll call you.”

  “Mmmph,” he said.

  He was asleep when I left the condo.

  I was just getting into my car when Nico called.

  “Jimmy’s still with us. I talked to Magda.”

  “What a relief!” I said, truly happy to hear it. “Can we go to the hospital and visit him?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. Magda wants to talk to us, and she won’t leave his bedside. Frankly, this makes me nervous, Gina.”

  I was more philosophical. “Well, we won’t know more until we visit. Wait a minute. Does she know about the shootout with the truck?”

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m nervous.”

  Now I was nervous. “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

  I had just clicked off the phone when it rang again. This time it was Sammy.

  “Gina, I think it’s important you come to the chicken coop. Now. Bring your dippy cousin.”

  He clicked off. I stood staring at the phone in my hand.

  Wow. That was weird. Sammy was hardly ever short with me.

  I called Nico back and told him I’d pick him up in fifteen minutes instead.

  ***

  When we got to the chicken coop, Sammy was pacing. This was never a good sign.

  “What were you thinking, Gina? Stealing the truck back when they’re armed and you’re not?” His whole body was stiff with anger. “You know better. Leave it to the family, like you were trained.”

  I put up both hands like stop signs. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I was just so freaking mad. First the skinny dude mugged me. Then these scumbags took off with my truck. I was sick and tired of people taking advantage of me, and I just reacted.” Okay, overreacted. “Besides, I didn’t know they were carrying. I’m not stupid.”

  “It’s true, Sammy,” said Nico. “We had no idea they were carrying until we heard the gunshots.”

  Sammy came over and gave me a big hug. “I was all shook up when I heard. Don’t ever do that again, you hear me? You’ll give me a heart attack. ” He kissed me on the cheek, then pushed back.

  “Oh god, that reminds me. I should call Magda,” said Nico. “We’re a little later than I said we’d be.” Nico worked his speed dial.

  Probably that should have been a clue. Things might have worked out differently if I had been thinking straight. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with weddings and black birds, maybe I would have been sharper and stopped to consider why Nico had Jimmy the Cat and Mad Magda on speed dial.

  “Hey, Magda, Jimmy still good?…That’s even better news…Yeah…Yeah…Okay… You really think so?…But I mean, Bertoni? And Lou?…All right, if you say so…Yup, we’ll be by later. Ciao ciao.” He clicked off.

  “Jimmy’s going to pull through,” he said. “The doctors are optimistic for a good recovery.”

  “Great!” I said, truly relieved. “What was all that about Bertoni and Lou?”

  Nico shifted uncomfortably. “Magda wanted us to do something for her and Jimmy, but it was time sensitive. So she got Bertoni and Lou to do it instead.”

  I snorted. “Those losers? Why would she ever choose them?”

  “Joey and Mario are busy with the bank project,” Nico said.

  Bank project? What bank project? Were we pulling a bank job? Holy crap, and then I remembered. The counterfeit-catcher-exchange plan.

  Phew.

  “What did she need done, Nico?” Sammy looked up from the table.

  “Er…” Nico was hedging. I could see it. “You know that project they have going in the basement of the, um, building.”

  “Fly By Night Funerals?” I said.

  “No, doll,” said Sammy. “The funeral-home business is shutting down.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said. It was pretty hard to hide an illegal funeral home. Too many dead bodies going in and out. People were liable to become suspicious. Though I had to admit, the branding had been superb. You plug ’em, we plant ’em had a certain ring to it, besides being the truth.

  “So what’s the new business about?” I said. They both squirmed.

  “Thought you would have figured that out by now, Gina,” Sammy said.

  Okay, that made me feel crummy. Was I losing my touch? I looked over at Nico. He wasn’t connecting.

  Sammy said, “Nico, I’m thinking you should get over there anyway. It is Bertoni and Lou we’re talking about, after all.”

  Sammy appeared to be worried. The lines were etched deeper than usual on his face.

  “You’re right,” said Nico, snapping to attention. “Come on, Gina. We need to get moving.”

  Oh great, I thought to myself. More involvement. Yippee.

  ELEVEN

  “Where are we going?” I said to Nico when we got into my car.

  “The reception hall. You remember. Aunt Pinky and some of the others are decorating for the wedding, and I promised we’d be there to help.”

  This was strange. I’d thought we had to be checking something out for Jimmy and Magda.

  It occurred to me, since I was already involved up to my neck, that I might as well get the whole story. So when we pulled into the laneway leading to the reception hall, I stopped the car and cornered Nico. “Does this new business have anything to do with the truck that got hijacked?”

  “Technically, it wasn’t hijacked, Gina. We weren’t in the thing when they stole it.”

  “Don’t change the subj
ect. Does this involve the cargo we were moving?”

  “It might,” he said cryptically.

  “Come on, Nico. Give!”

  He sighed. “You remember the Last Chance Club from the retirement home.”

  “Of course,” I said. Who could forget their main event, speed dating for geezers?

  “Well, remember they all wanted to take a bus trip to Vegas but couldn’t afford it? That’s what the underground funeral home was all about. They wanted to raise money to play the tables.”

  “I get it, Nico. Embalming for dollars. Continue.”

  “Right. Well, they tried another tack to raise money.” Nico turned to look at me. “You have to realize that these people are really old, Gina. They remember the old ways. Fondly.”

  Old ways. Okay. I could buy that. But what…?

  “Oh. My. God. They’re the bootleggers!” Sweet Jimmy and dear Magda. Channeling the 1920s right here in The Hammer. I started to giggle.

  “Jimmy found the old family recipe for grappa. He went to Vince for permission, and Vince has been bankrolling the operation. Those bottles in the truck were grappa, not gin.”

  “So my godfather is the bootlegger?” Well, that was fitting. Just like his grandfather before him.

  “He’s the money behind it. Jimmy and Magda are the managers. Joey and Mario are the muscle.”

  Well, they sure weren’t the brains.

  I put the car back in gear and continued along the laneway.

  The Forum is a typical Italian banquet hall. By this I mean it is extremely overdecorated and gaudy.

  Several Roman columns line the drive. As you drive up to the entrance, a huge fountain greets you. The fountain has several marble cherubs frolicking about in it. If you look closely, you can see water spurting out of their wee-wees. You really don’t want to look that close.

  The building itself is a mixture of Roman temple architecture and over-the-top baroque. My relatives don’t believe in doing anything halfway. Yes, the family owns it.

  I parked in the reserved parking out front. There were four cars there already, including my aunt Pinky’s Lexus.

  “Good,” said Nico, noticing the Lexus. “That means the others will be here too.”