The Goddaughter's Revenge (5 page)

“No security system on this place, so we don't need Stoner,” Nico said. “Traveling light today.” He patted the black leather pouch at his waist.

“Promise me something,” I said. “No moving furniture this time either, okay?”

Nico sighed. “You're no fun at all.”

This house was in the tony area of Red Hill. I parked around the corner from the property. There were two other cars parked in front of me.

“This is good. We're well out of sight.” I gestured to Nico to show him the way.

We walked nonchalantly down the sidewalk, just two young people out for a walk. At the target property, we turned and strode up the path to the front door.

Nico took a set of keys from his pouch. He eyed the lock and then selected a key. In it went. He turned it and pushed the door. It swung open.

“First key I used—how crazy is that? Never happens. Must be our lucky day.” He was all cheery.

That didn't last long.

Nico walked in first. I was right behind him and pulled the door closed. I could hear voices coming from the living room. The television was on or something. Some people do that to make you think they're at home.

Nico gasped and put a hand to his throat.

“Uh—Gina? We're not alone.”

Two goons were looking right at us. They looked mean. There was a third guy, as big as a dump truck and probably just as classy. Worse, I knew him.

“
Gina
?”

Crap. Joey Battalia, my Buffalo cousin. And—wait for it—Bertoni, the creepy, slimy guy I'd most like to nominate for Whack the Wanker. The one who had made my life miserable in what Pete likes to call
The Great Shoe Fiasco
. I preferred to think of that episode as “Gina bails out the family, as usual.”

Bertoni still had the greasy hair. And the charm of a wood louse.

“Christ, Lou, it's the crazy broad with the shoes,” Bertoni said to the other goon.

I didn't even bother to acknowledge them.

“Joey, for crissake, you're supposed to be in Buffalo. What the hell are you doing here?” I yelled, flinging my arms around.

Joey snorted. “What the fuck does it look like?” He put his big fists on his hips. “You got a monopoly on The Hammer?”

I stared at Joey. Then I closed my eyes to wish him away. Didn't happen. He was still in front of me, all three hundred pounds of him, when I opened them.

“This isn't fair,” I said, waggling a finger in his face. “You're freaking American. Go work in your own country, why don't you?”

And then I had another thought. “Does my uncle know you're doing this?”

“Of course he does. I'm not stupid.”

Uh-oh. This made things rather awkward. I looked away. The problem was, Joey wasn't stupid at all. The other problem was, Uncle Vince didn't know I was doing this. And it would take Joey mere moments to put two and two together…“Holy shit! That means Vince doesn't know YOU'RE doing this! HA!” He started to laugh. “Hey Bertoni! We got somethin' on her.”

Bertoni grinned—at least, I think it was a grin—but it was pretty clear he didn't get it. He looked pained. His skeletal face obviously wasn't meant for smiling.

“I'm NOT doing this. STOP that. I don't break into houses and steal things. I'm just replacing a fake ring with a real.” It was simple. I had to stop that stupid laughter. I also had to do the switch and get out of there before I accidently killed someone.

“You mean you're stealing a real ring and replacing it with a fake.” He shook his head.

“Nope. I meant it the first time.”

“Huh? I don't get it.”

“Do you think we could sit down to discuss this?” Nico said. He put a hand to his head. “I've had a fright, and I'm feeling a little weak from lack of coffee.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can we get going here? I just need to make this switch and then we can leave you alone to do whatever you want to do.” Believe me, I wanted to get out of there. I never wanted to see those losers again.

“Where's the boyfriend?” Joey asked.

I didn't answer.

“I heard you were hot and heavy. So why isn't he here instead of Fancy Pants?”

“Hey! I'm right here, remember? Oh. I guess that doesn't have to be an insult.” Nico looked confused.

I pretended to be deaf.

So Joey laughed again. A big hoarse chortle. “He doesn't know you're doing this either. Shit, this is a hoot.”

“Shut up!” I hissed like a harpy. “Shut your fat face!”

Bertoni started to laugh then. He sounded like a hyena. Then the third guy joined in.

I hate being laughed at. This is when I went a little crazy. I picked up a china figurine that had been sitting on the oak end table and whacked Joey over the head with it.

“Fuck!” he yelled. “What are you doing?” One huge hand went to his scalp to massage the injured spot.

The china skirt was now in several pieces on the floor. I was left with a head in my hand.

“Hold it right there, Gina.” Nico grabbed my arm before I could pick up anything else. “That was a Doulton you just wrecked.”

I shook him off. Then I turned and stalked off, my head held high.

“Bloody cousins,” I muttered as I stomped down the hall to the bedroom wing. All I wanted to do was switch a little ring to make things right. And now they would probably steal the damn thing, after all my trouble—
Wait a minute
. If Joey and gang were going to steal it, why didn't I just keep it? Then I'd recover some of the money I'd lost because of that dweeb Carmine.

I entered the master bedroom and went straight to the jewelry box on the dresser. There it was—the fake ring. I took it just in case. No sense leaving a trail of fakes. But I didn't leave the real ring in its place.

This joint was in the process of being burgled. The cops would assume the ring had been taken by the real thieves.

I walked back to the living room feeling pretty smug.

Joey, Bertoni, Lou and Nico were crowded around a glass display cabinet.

It was kind of weird. Nico appeared to be giving a lesson in valuables.

“This china figurine stuff—it's pretty commonplace.” Nico sniffed. “Ignore that stuff. Now this…” He pointed to a crystal statue. “This is Lalique. Gorgeous. And super valuable. Be real careful with it.” He picked it up reverently.

Bertoni looked amazed. “How do you know all this shit?”

“
Antiques Roadshow
, of course. Every day I would rush home from school and watch it on the telly. Didn't you guys?”

Joey shook his head.

“Really.” Nico tch-tched. “
Antiques Roadshow
should be required viewing for all aspiring break-and-enter artists. You have to do your homework, guys. Otherwise you end up stealing crap.”

Joey said something, and then we heard a strange metallic squeaking sound.

We all stopped moving. Nobody said a word. The squealing continued.

EEEEEEEYIEEEE

“It's the garage-door opener,” Nico cried. “Everybody run!”

Bertoni and Lou went wide-eyed, like crazy men. They dropped the china dolls they had been holding. Both Doultons hit the hardwood floor and shattered.

Joey turned quickly and smashed into a spindly side table. It went crashing over, dumping more figurines on the floor.

Bertoni leaped over the fallen table and hit the back of the couch, shifting its position. Joey was right behind him, with Lou on his tail. Lou tripped on something and a lamp went flying.

They had the patio doors open by the time I got my legs moving. Nico sprinted through the wreckage and beat me to the doors. I noticed he still had the Lalique in his hand. We all raced for the ravine behind the house. We spilled into the Red Hill Valley and scattered through the brush, just like we'd all been taught to do.

* * *

It was completely black outside when I finally stopped running. No stars and hardly any moon. I was breathing so hard, my heart was slamming against my chest wall.

No one else was in sight. I pulled out of the green nature stuff onto a path and surveyed the damage. My neck itched. Something had bitten it and was coming back for more. There were odd bits of foliage in my hair. I moved farther out of the bush and made for a streetlight. This road didn't seem familiar. These bungalows were much smaller than the ones on Country Club Drive, and older than Elvis. I walked the length of the block, until I hit a Stop sign. My brain recorded the road names, but they didn't ring a bell. I had no idea how far I was from my car or which direction to walk in order to get back to it.

Luckily, I had my cell phone in my pocket. I thought about calling a cab. But I didn't want there to be a taxi record of me going back to the vicinity of the break-in. So I called another number.

Tiff wasn't answering. I thought about it for a few seconds. No one else knew I was doing this, not even Sammy. I really didn't want to bring the family into this.

So I called another number.

“I need a ride,” I said. I gave the names of the crossroads and then sat down on the curb to wait.

Pete pulled up in his convertible about ten minutes later. The top was down. He waited until I had plunked myself into the seat and fastened the seat belt. He stared at me. He tried to look stern. Maybe it was the fact that my hair was a rat's nest. Maybe it was that I couldn't stop scratching my neck and swearing. His face twisted into a grin, then went back to being serious.

“I just spent an hour trying to get out of the stupid valley,” I said.

“Never mind,” he said, picking something out of my hair. “You brought back some of it with you.”

He threw whatever it was over the side of the car. I didn't ask if it was animal, vegetable or mineral.

“Where's the Lone Rearranger?” he said finally.

“He took another route.” I said, closing the door.

* * *

Later the next day, Nico told me that the noise in question wasn't a garage-door opener after all. It was the furnace coming on. He had deliberately fooled us because he was getting concerned that the double burglary was going to end badly. By this he meant all of us being hauled down to the cop shop. This had worried him because he had a class in color theory the next day. He was really looking forward to that class.

Of course, the incident made the Friday paper.

Lone Rearranger Targets Living Room

Hamilton residents are stunned to learn that the Lone Rearranger has struck again, breaking in last night to a home in Red Hill and trashing the living room.

Very little was taken, but furniture was overturned and several figurines were smashed.

“I'm mortified,” said Mrs. O'Brien, owner of the home where the break-in occurred. “This is such an embarrassment, being targeted in this way. I thought the room was charming. I guess he didn't like it. Nobody told me shabby chic was out. What will my friends think?”

“I hated all those knickknacks. Now maybe she'll listen to me,” said Mr. O'Brien.

Police believe the intruder…

“Don't you think it's about time you told me exactly what's going on?” Pete said smoothly.

I gulped, then started to spill.

CHAPTER TEN

An hour later, we had finished the blueberry pancakes I had made. Pete liked his food. Luckily, I'm a damn good cook. You can't be Italian and not learn a thing or two about food.

I was clearing the table when Pete said, “So. You still need to get a few rings back?”

No wonder I loved this man. No lectures, no recriminations. No mention of the police. Especially that.

“One or two,” I said. It felt good, telling the truth. Rather an unfamiliar feeling, but good.

“You should have told me in the first place,” Pete said. “Might have saved you and the masked man some trouble.” I raised an eyebrow hopefully.

“I can think of other ways to get those rings back. Easier ways,” he said.

“Give,” I said.

Pete shrugged. His big footballer body rocked the wooden chair he was sitting in.

“I work for a newspaper, remember? Just tell these women the
Steeltown Star
is doing an article on precious jewelry in the city, and we want to feature theirs. Have them bring the rings in to the store to be examined and photographed. Then you can do the substitutions and give them back. We all live happily ever after.”

I felt my jaw drop and my mouth open. “Pete, that's brilliant! Can you pull it off with a
Star
photographer?”

“Sure. Ben owes me. You can give the ladies a professional photo of their trophy jewelry and tell them you don't know when the story is going to run. But I might be able to get the Life section to do an actual story. I'll try.”

I bounced around the island and slid myself into Pete's lap.

“Did I ever tell you that I am just crazy about you?” I ruffled his wavy dark-blond hair.

Pete grinned, and my heart turned over.

“Back atcha,” he said. “Against my better judgment, I might add.”

I swiveled my head to look behind me. “Looky there. I cleared the table.”

Pete laughed. His eyes dazzled. “Think it will hold us?”

I like dessert after breakfast.

* * *

We had a nice morning. I said so to Pete while climbing out of bed for the second time.

He came up behind me.

“Personally, I object to the word
nice
,” he said, fondling parts of me with his hands. “I am not feeling the least bit nice at the moment. Although these are…rather…nice…”

“Stop that,” I said, smacking his hands down. “I'm trying to get dressed.”

The phone rang. It was my oldest and best friend, Lainy McSwain.

“Hiya, Sugar,” she said happily. “Whatcha doin'?”

“Lainy!” I screamed into the phone. “It's so good to hear your voice!”