Force of Habit: A Falcone & Driscoll Investigation (15 page)

Frank held the door
of Tutti Mangia for Giulia in silence. She wondered when he would speak to her. Not a word from him during the twenty-minute car ride. Any small-talk ideas withered on her lips before she opened them.

This restaurant catered to sophisticated diners. No dripping candles in straw-wrapped wine jugs. No imitation peasant costumes. Italian opera played at a discreet volume through invisible speakers. Stainless flatware that almost looked silver graced linen tablecloths.

Giulia wanted to snatch a menu. It was 99 percent guaranteed they served greens and beans as an appetizer at $4.95 a bowl. A small bowl. She could make an entire pot of greens and beans for three dollars. The thought would’ve made her smile any other day. She would’ve explained the joke to Frank, and he would’ve laughed at the pretentiousness of passing peasant food off as gourmet. On any other day.

A hostess led them to a corner booth already occupied by their client.

“Blake.”

“Frank. Ms. Falcone.” He waited for the waitress to open her pad. “Merlot for Mr. Driscoll and myself. Water for Ms. Falcone.”

When she left, the cold smile returned to Frank’s mouth. “I didn’t realize you knew my assistant’s drinking preferences.”

“She stuck to water Monday night, so I figured it was a good bet.”

Giulia kept silent. Whatever she said would make it worse. Especially since she wanted to grab Blake by his silk tie and demand he tell Frank the truth.

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress set their drinks in front of them. Crystal goblets, even for the water.

“Rigatoni Fra Diavolo for me. Frank?”

“Linguine primavera.”

Giulia wondered if anything would stay in her chaotic stomach. “A small antipasto, please.” Their manners were slipping; she should’ve ordered first.

The waitress brought a bowl of steaming marinara sauce and breadsticks in a silver-plated basket. Giulia took one and began picking the crust to pieces. Anything to keep herself occupied.

“Do you have any progress to report?” Blake dipped a breadstick in the dish of sauce and took a bite.

“Yes. In addition to the cameras, we’ll be watching your condo and Pamela’s house every morning from four to six. All the house deliveries were made between those times. We think it’s our best chance to get a decent look at her.”

Giulia noticed he still referred to them as a team. Keeping up a good front for the client.

“Yeah, well, you missed a delivery this morning.” Blake opened a briefcase on the seat next to him. From a 6 x 9 plain brown envelope, he handed Frank a pile of photographs.

Giulia let out a tiny gasp. “Oh.”

Frank glared at her.

Blake laughed. “Nothing to get jealous over, Frankie. Right, sugar?”

If Frank’s laugh was forced, Giulia couldn’t tell. He grinned at Blake. “Our friend taped a set to my office door sometime last night or this morning. Quite a wake-up call.”

“She put them under my windshield wiper.”

“Care to explain them?”

Giulia shredded more bread.

“What’s to explain? My ex decided to try amateur photography and digital manipulation.”

“She must have had some interesting images to work with.”

Their food arrived. Frank slid the pictures together and dropped them in his lap.

Giulia swallowed bile at the mixed odors of sauce, hot peppers, and salad dressing. Her stomach cramped and burned, but she picked up her fork and played with the julienned salami.

Blake gestured for the photos and spread them on the table. “I didn’t realize your curtains were open, sugar. My ex sure got an eyeful of what she’s missing.”

Frank speared shrimp and macaroni into his mouth. Blake stabbed a hot pepper and swallowed it whole. Giulia hid the salami beneath the lettuce.

“Come clean, Blake.” Frank slugged his wine. “You’re not telling me this one of you in all your glory is faked.”

Blake laughed and poked his own abs. “Of course not. I work hard at these muscles. The important muscle down there, well, that just comes naturally.”

Frank brayed. There was no other word for it. “Always the stud, Golden Boy. But I have to object at seducing my assistant.”

“Your sweet little assistant offered me a place to crash. What was I supposed to think?”

Frank spread the photos along the center of the table. “So this one of you happened when, exactly?”

“Right out of the shower, just like it looks. I asked sugar here if she wanted me to bother with clothes. Struck you speechless, didn’t I?” He chucked Giulia under the chin.

Frank nudged the one of her kneeling before Blake. “Not for long, obviously.”

Giulia swallowed, trying to reverse an attack of cotton mouth. “Mr. Parker.” She coughed. “Mr. Parker, Mr. Driscoll is under a misconception—”

Blake laughed. “Misconception? Good one, sugar. When I take a girl sack-wrestling, she knows she better prevent a misconception.”

Giulia hooked her fingers under the edge of her antipasto dish, ready to chuck it in his face.

No. If you make a scene, Frank will misquote Shakespeare and say you’re protesting too much.

Frank caught her eyes. He looked down at the dish and up again, and she could swear he was thinking,
You turn shrewish when you’re rejected
.

Could this get any worse? In the movies, that question was the signal for the bad stuff to happen. Even though she honestly could not imagine this farce getting any worse. No, not farce. Theater of the absurd.

Frank tapped his index finger on the same photo. “What about it, Blake?”

“As much as I’d like to tell you all the details, Frankie, it didn’t happen.”

The waitress arrived with Blake’s second glass of wine.

“I’m good, thanks,” Frank covered his glass with his hand. After she left, he shook his fork at Blake. “You’re not going to tell me that a boner like that sprang up on its own.”

Blake slapped Frank on the back. “I have a good imagination, Frankie-boy.”

“Uh-uh. You’re shoveling it pretty deep.”

Blake set down his fork. “Listen, Frank. I’ve had some hot women come to my bed. Your little girl here, well,” he let his eyes roam from Giulia’s hair to her waist, and back to her breasts, “she’s not up to my standards. Sorry, sugar. I know you wanted me, but it wasn’t going to happen.”

Giulia’s facial temperature soared past the heat index of the Fra Diavolo peppers. From the corner of her eye, she watched the sneer return to Frank’s mouth. He’d never believe she hadn’t slept with Blake now. Blake’s locker-room act would convince his own mother.

“By the way, sugar, did your last bed partner give you that double shiner? You don’t look like the kind of girl who likes it rough. Guess you never can tell, can you, Frank?”

Dear Jesus God in Heaven. She had to get away. But what would they say about her if she hid in the ladies’ room? Did it matter? She had no career to ruin now.
No. Cowards ran.
She survived ten years in the convent and a sexual assault. She could survive Blake’s slander.

Frank pushed the photo of Blake’s head between Giulia’s legs toward Blake. “You’re telling me that flagpole wasn’t from this oral exercise? It looks pretty hot to me.”

“Well, if you ask Cammy or Mags, they could tell you some stories.” Blake winked at Giulia. “But I’m telling you, Frank, the photos aren’t real. Here’s how it was: your girl didn’t have cable; I got bored. I decided to reminisce about some of my best lays and apply a little elbow grease. Of course, knowing sugar here was only a thin wall away helped.” He turned that grin on Giulia again. “Did you hear anything? I wondered if you were peeking.”

Giulia couldn’t keep her eyes on his wide baby blues. Her gaze dropped to the soggy salad in front of her.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, save me from this hell.

“Blake, you’re full of it.” Frank tucked the photos in his pocket. “You’ve never stopped yourself when there was a willing female within shouting distance. Save that story for Pamela when she catches you with a stacked file clerk.”

Blake guffawed. “I’ll be the soul of discretion and a credit to the van Alstyne name and fortune. I’ve changed.”

“You have?” a cultured, feminine voice said.

Everyone looked up. A beautiful blonde stood at the end of the table, a brown envelope dangling from one manicured hand.

Blake half-rose. “Pamela?”

She’s everything I’m not.

Giulia stared without embarrassment because the men sat in a tableau of open-mouthed surprise.

Pamela van Alstyne’s shining hair curled just at the tips: a blonde Julia Roberts. Her linen skirt skimmed her narrow hips; her sage-green silk shell draped with just the right amount of cling. Her makeup accented her flawless complexion. A touch of brown mascara brought out the highlights in her hazel eyes.

Blake really was marrying the perfect woman. Next to her, Giulia was both of the Ugly Stepsisters combined. Mousy, unimportant, and frustrated. No wonder Blake thought she’d be easy.

“Pammy, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Blake pushed his dishes toward the wall. “Sit down and have lunch with us.”

“Thank you, no, Blake.”

Even her voice was perfect. Low without being sultry, flat vowels probably trained out through elocution lessons.

“Do I have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Driscoll?”

“Of course, forgive me, my manners must be out to lunch.” Only Blake laughed feebly at his own joke. “Frank Driscoll, Giulia Falcone, allow me to introduce my fiancée, Pamela van Alstyne.”

Frank stood in the cramped space and shook her hand. “My pleasure.”

When Giulia held out her hand, Pamela’s dropped to her side.

“I’ve seen so much of you already, Ms. Falcone. I feel as though we’ve no need of a formal handshake.”

Giulia kept her eyes away from the envelope in Pamela’s hand. She had to say something, or Pamela would think she remained silent out of guilt. Well, what else could she think?

Frank sat. “I didn’t know you and Giulia had met, Ms. van Alstyne.”

“Not in person, no.” Pamela opened the envelope. “But someone was kind enough to give me some photographs of Ms. Falcone. I do wish I could thank the photographer for the informative morning I spent with these.”

The room wavered, and Giulia’s ears buzzed. She dug her short fingernails into her palms, and the slight pain brought her back. She might wish the Second Coming would happen right now, that very moment, and save her from this humiliation, but she’d salvage what dignity she could and not slump into her antipasto.

“Thank you,” Pamela said to the waitress hovering at her elbow, “I won’t be staying to eat.”

The waitress glanced at the men and Giulia.

“Thank. You,” Pamela said again through her rose-tinted lips. The waitress tore her eyes from the photos in Pamela’s hands and scurried to the next booth.

Blake tried to take the photos from her.

“Blake, dear, it’s very rude of you to grab.”

Frank said, “Ms. van Alstyne, I—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Driscoll. I haven’t finished. If you’ll allow me?”

Frank inclined his head. A waiter carrying a loaded tray looked over Pamela’s shoulder and stumbled, nearly upsetting three bowls of pasta fagioli.

Giulia’s body no longer threatened to faint. That would be a release she didn’t deserve. She’d spewed her rage and hate at God last Friday—only five days ago? When she renounced Him, He’d obviously bowed to her whim. Look what happened in the park as she spat out her last curse.

Pamela set the photos on the table. “Blake, darling, I can see you passed a delightful evening—Monday, wasn’t it?”

“Pammy, I can explain—”

“Ms. van Alstyne, let me assure you—”

“Gentlemen.” Pamela’s voice, softer than theirs, still silenced them. “I think the explanation is obvious.” She clasped her now-empty hands in front of her. “This common whore spread her filthy legs for my fiancée and he mounted her like a bull in heat. Have I omitted anything?” She gazed at all three of them. “Oh, yes. Blake, dear, I wondered about that odd smell on your face when you kissed me Tuesday afternoon. How foolish of me not to recognize the musk from another woman’s cunt.” She finally looked at Giulia. “That is the word, isn’t it, Ms. Falcone? I looked it up to make sure someone like you would understand me.”

Giulia dropped her eyes to the ravaged breadstick. If she concentrated on counting the crumbs, maybe she could trick her ears into not hearing another word.

“Blake, Mr. Driscoll, Ms. Falcone, thank you for a most enlightening experience. And may I compliment you on your hiring acumen, Mr. Driscoll. You certainly found an enthusiastic employee. Blake,” she gave him a tight smile. “I believe this belongs to you.” She removed the one-carat diamond from her left hand.

“Pamela, please listen.” Sweat beaded Blake’s forehead as she let the ring fall to the table. It bounced and landed against Blake’s knife with a high-pitched ring.

“I really must run. I have an auction meeting in ten minutes.” She transferred the smile to Giulia. “Should I advise you to get tested for HIV and sexually transmitted diseases, Ms. Falcone? Or is it Blake who needs to worry? Perhaps you should share your sexual histories over dessert. Enjoy your lunch.”