Saturday, January 12, 2019

Nerina, Part Two

Forty-five minutes later my phone buzzed again. “We’re in a black minivan at the corner,” Russo told me.
            I groaned. “I’m in a red Honda across the street from the house.”
            “I know. I’m sending someone—”
            The knock on my passenger side window made me jump. I unlocked the door.
            A woman slid in next me.  “Hi, Tom. Remember me?”
Georgeanne. She’d been with Carole Rossigna in Urbana last year. That time she’d been in a black T-shirt and tight white shorts. Not that I remembered her vividly or anything. Now she wore a skintight black turtleneck and dark slacks like yoga pants. She looked like a theater stagehand, or a would-be ninja, except for the heavy belt cinched around her slim waist that held a long dagger, an assortment of black pouches like Batman’s utility belt, and a massive handgun.
            “Uh, hi.” I tried not to stare. “Nice to see you again. You’ve been all right?”
            “I’m good.” She giggled. Then she reached into a pouch. “Take this.”
            It looked like a pen. “So what is it?”
            “It’s a transmitter.” She clicked it on top. “We’ll be able to hear everything. It writes pretty good too.” She tucked it into my shirt pocket. “Don’t zip up your jacket. I’m supposed to stay here. The others are around the house. The safe word is ‘pineapple.’” She kissed my cheek. “Nice to see you again, too, Tom. You’re looking good.”
            Oh boy. I gripped the door handle, glad Rachel wasn’t anywhere around. “So, uh, ‘pineapple’? Wait! Just a test! Don’t come in! Just testing!”
            Georgeanne laughed. “Relax. You’ll be fine.”
            “Okay.” I nodded. “See you soon.”
            I crossed the street, walked up onto the porch, and pressed the doorbell. 
            The door opened. Elliot Barsch stared through the screen door. “Mr. Hale.”
            “Call me Tom.” I pulled on the screen door. “May I come in?”
            Ben stood behind him. Another guy—big, with shoulders like a linebacker—leaned on his heels, arms crossed. “I’m Andre.”
            Okay. I felt duly intimidated. “Where’s Nerina?”
            “Right here.” The voice, soft and shy as a lark, floated down the stairs behind Barsch.
            Nerina wore jeans and a pink T-shirt with a kitten on it. She stopped on the bottom step and grabbed Ben’s hand. “Is this—what you said?”
            “You just have to talk to him.” Ben squeezed her fingers. “Just for a minute.”
            “Nerina?” I smiled. “My name’s Tom.”
            She nodded. “H-hi.”
            “Are you all right?”
            “What? Sure.” She looked at Ben, and then at Barsch. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
            I sighed. “Your family is worried.”
            Her shoulders tensed. “This is my family now.”
            Barsch stepped forward. “Are we done here?”
            I shook my head. “Not even close. I want to talk to Nerina outside. You can watch through the screen if you want, to make sure I’m not—grabbing her away, but far enough so we can talk. Otherwise I’m calling the cops right now.”
            “No!” Nerina stomped a foot on the floor. “I’m here by myself! I won’t let anyone—”
            “Neri . . .” Ben stroked her shoulder. “You’d better just talk to him. Then he’ll go away. Right, Tom?” He cocked an eyebrow at me.
            I shrugged. “Sure. Is that okay with Andre?”
            The big guy chuckled. “Whatever.”
            Nerina grimaced. “Okay. Fine.”
            Outside she crossed her arms and glared at me. “Who are you? What do you want?”
            I started with the basic question: “Were you kidnapped?”
            “No!” She looked back at Barsch through the screen. Then she dropped her head. “I just couldn’t take it anymore. I hate them. I had to get out.”
            “Away from your family?”
            She closed her eyes. “You don’t know what they’re like.” 
            I had an idea. “You left without saying anything, or taking anything. Your suitcase was still in the closet.”
            Her eyes narrowed. “You searched my place?”
            I shrugged. “You disappeared. People were worried.”
            “It was . . .” She glanced away from me. “Sort of an impulse. I just got tired of them. Anyway, I’m fine here.”
            “You’ve been staying with Barsch? Why?”
            “He’s Ben’s uncle.” She planted her hands on her slim hips defiantly. “I’ll find a job.”
I nodded. “Okay. So what happens next?”
            “I don’t know. Look . . .” She leaned against the house with a sigh. “Ben’s nice, okay? I don’t exactly love him, but he’s a good guy. But I can’t go back there.”
            “Okay.” I held up a hand. “I’m not here to kidnap you. Your family thought . . . anyway, I just need to do one thing.” I handed her a Thomas Hale card. “Call me if you need anything.” 
            Inside, Barsch smiled as Nerina hugged Ben. Andre watched me with suspicious eyes.
            “Are we done?” Barsch glanced at the doorway.
            “Just one thing.” I pulled my phone out. “Do you have a copy of today’s paper?” I’d seen this in a movie.
            Andre found this morning’s Tribune. I had Ben hold it up so I could snap an image with him and Nerina. “Okay. Thanks.”
            Nerina shook my hand. “Tell them I’m okay.”
            
Back in the Honda I looked at Georgeanne as I called Russo. “Call off the hounds. Nerina hasn’t been kidnapped. She’s there under her own free will.”
            Georgeanne lifted an eyebrow.
            “She can’t.” Russo sounded angry. “She knows how dangerous the Raen are.”
            I wasn’t sure the Rossini were that much better. “She seems fine. You heard everything, right? There’s really nothing more for me to do.”
            “Fine.” Russo made it a two-syllable curse. “Send me your bill.” He hung up. 
            I gave Georgeanne her pen back. “Good to see you. Love to Mika.” She’d been in Urbana too. 
            “She’s in the van. I’ll tell her.” She patted my hand. “Have a good night.”
            “You too.” 
            She closed the door gently. I watched her disappear into the darkness. Okay, I was watching her butt, but it was gone too soon.
            I decided not to tell Rachel about her. 

Rachel’s ratatouille was excellent, and she’d made enough for three nights. On the other hand, I had to clean up a messy kitchen—my punishment for working late.
            “So the case is done? That was fast.” We sat on the couch looking for something to watch on Hulu.
            “What can I say? I’m good.” I kissed her. Rachel’s got short red hair and hazelnut eyes. We’d been living together for nine months or so, and sometimes it still felt like playing house. 
            My phone buzzed on the table in front of us. I wasn’t going to answer, but it was the Thomas Hale number. Russo again? I groaned. “This will just take a minute.”
            Rachel punched my arm. “You lose your vote in what we watch. It’s going to be a chick flick.”
            I rolled my eyes. “Hello, Tom—Thomas Hale speaking.”
            “Mr. Hale? It’s Nerina. I need—help.”
            Crap. I leaned forward. “What’s going on?”
            “They—they killed Ben!” Her voice was a harsh, terrified whisper. “Andre—he shot him, and then there was this . . . monster. It killed Andre. I’m at . . . a bar. Can you come and get me?”
            She sounded like she was hyperventilating. “Of course. Just breathe. What bar?”
            “It’s called uh . . . Angelo’s. I think. In Evanston. Not far from Elliot’s house.”
            “I’ll find it. Stay there. Make sure people can see you.”
            “Th-thank you.”
            “Now what?” Rachel turned the TV off.
            “I’m glad I didn’t send the invoice right away.” I stood up. “Nerina. The kidnap victim. Something happened, she’s in trouble, and I have to go back up to Evanston. Where are my shoes?”
            “Uh-uh.” Rachel stood up. “Over by the door. I’m coming too.”
            “There was a monster involved.”
            “Then I’m definitely coming.” She pulled on her boots, and managed to look sexy doing it while I tied my shoes. “Let me get my Taser.”
            “Let me make a call.” 

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