The ‘café’ was the single leaning table and two chairs crammed against the wall. Dusty candy and soda vending machines that had ‘Out of Order’ signs hand written in magic marker completed the quaint ensemble.
“May I speak to a manager?” she asked, approaching the counter.
A toad-like man with slumped, sunburned shoulders adjusted denim overalls over a beer barrel of a stomach. Folding the paper he was reading and placing it on ledge behind the counter, the man gave her an inquiring look. He didn’t bother budging from his stool.
“Who’s askin’?” he asked, squinting his eyes. His skin had the ruddy appearance of a proliferate drinker.
“My name is Peaches. How’re you?” she asked, pouring on an extra dose of southern charm and burying her New Jersey roots as deep down as she could in a syrup laced accent.
“What’d’ya want?” he demanded. Her charm bounced off an impenetrable protective hide thickened from years of dealing with drunks, cheats, drug addicts and the IRS.
“Well, how do I get started? I’ve never played sweepstakes and would like to know how it works.” She asked, gesturing to the computers and leaning a hip against the counter.
“It’s very easy,” he said, thawing perceptibly at the thought of initiating a player as good-looking and young as the woman in front of him. Most of the people that came in were regulars: little old ladies spending their Social Security checks or drunks out to lose their money and get drunk again because of it.
She would be a very, very welcome change. Who knows? Maybe he’d even get a little something extra. His crotch, inactive save for hours spent gazing at internet porn, budged a little with excitement.
He smoothly continued his spiel, “Sweepstakes are perfect for someone who just wants to kick around a little and win a bit o’ cash. You just buy ten dollars worth of internet time or phone cards. That gives you an hour to play and get started. You win some money you can cash it in for more play time or we give you a check to help pay your bills.”
“Pay my bills?” she inquired, skeptically. Peaches composure slipped just the slightest, a disapproving curl twisting her lips.
“Or buy yourself some new high heels. Maybe a nice new dress,” he said, hastily recovering lost ground. He smiled greasily.
“Had a friend of mine lose two thousand dollars to a shady sweepstakes place that got shut down. There any fear of that happening here?” Peaches threw an exaggerated glance around, hand running along the counter. When she lifted it, her palms were covered with black streaks and lint. She grimaced. Did the man ever dust? She wiped her hands on a crumpled napkin she fished out of her purse. “Heard the state’s getting a little antsy about these places.”
“Oh, no—noooo! That’ll never happen here. Your money is safe with Big Pete.” He issued a jolly, rolling laugh on cue and Peaches smiled, apparently appeased.
A tall, thin woman with hard, steel grey pin curls and a scowl of discontent, stomped up to the counter.
“Jake, been comin’ up here all week long and ain’t won one measly point!” she yammered, crossly. “Think my luck ran out on me. I’m gonna head on home.”
“Well, wait a minute now.” That jolly laugh again. “Don’t want one of my best customers leaving unhappy.” He leaned over, unlocking a file cabinet with a set of keys attached to his belt by a plastic retractable clip. “On the house.”
He tossed two twenty dollar internet play cards on the counter. The woman’s eyes lit up and she snatched the cards greedily, eyes glazing over as she imagined all the money she might win. She hurried away, returning to the computer that had just moments ago represented all that was wrong with her life.
“Hold on one moment, sweetheart,” he said, eyes shifty.
“Sure.”
Using an awkward, leaning motion to bodily disembark from his stool, he hustled to a rear area, opening a narrow door and disappearing inside.
A minute later, there was a sudden whoop of excitement from the woman with the pin curls. She shot up off her chair, jumping up and down.
“I won! I won!”
Jake smoothly reappeared, heavy frame waddling back upon the stool. His face contorted into a calculated expression of surprise as steel curls ran over with the good news.
“You my good luck charm, Jake. I just won!”
“You wanna trade in your win for some more playing time, right?” His smile was encouraging.
“I—I should take this on home…” Her voice petered off as she hungrily eyed the internet play cards hanging behind the counter.
“How about this,” Jake suggested, his tone dripping sincerity. “Why don’t you put your winnings on some internet play cards? Don’t forget, you can cash them in anytime.”
“That sounds good.”
They made the exchange and steel curls strolled away, a radiant smile on her face.
“So, where were we?”
There was a battle waging inside Peaches. A battle between saying things that would get her nothing but on the bad side of this shyster, or sweet talk that would get her exactly what she wanted, maybe even a little more.
The latter won. She was, after all, here on a mission.
“I have a quick question,” Peaches said. “Did you know Lenny Richards?” She pulled out the picture Ms. Penny had given her, holding it aloft.
“That’s the guy that got murdered.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” His eyes were shuttered and growing colder by the minute.
Tuning her exaggerated southern accent to hot and heavy, she said, “It’s not often a girl goes somewhere that a guy in the paper was before he got killed. It’s just so--,” she gave a theatrical little shiver that made her boobs jingle. “—exciting.”
“Oh—well. Yes, I guess when you put it like that,” he said, eyes glued to her heaving breasts.
“So, he was here then? Right before?” She leaned forward, allowing the slight opening in her blouse to droop open, exposing a heart attack amount of cleavage in the process. “Oh, my gosh!”
“Well--,” A thick, pink tongue darted around dry lips. He unconsciously leaned forward, tit mesmerized. “He wasn’t here right before. He talked about going over to some titty bar. That’s where he said he was gonna spend some of the money he won.”
“Oooh! He won money?”
“Some,” he said, growing tight-lipped again.
“Oh, not that much?” Peaches stepped back, snapping her blouse shut. The deep disappointment on his face was comical. She tapped her lips, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Maybe I should go to that sweepstakes place across the street. I had a friend win three thousand dollars over there…”
Jake, ever the businessman and a sore loser when it came to competition, was furious at the thought.
“You wouldn’t win nearly as much with those losers!” he spat, savagely. “Lenny won twelve thousand dollars over here. You can’t even come close to getting that amount with those bozos over there.” He jabbed a thumb in the vicinity of his hated sweepstakes competitor.
Her mind was spinning. Twelve thousand dollars?
The room fell silent. Players who had previously been in their own little gambling world, peered over the tops of their computers.
Realizing he may have said too much. Jake hunched down on his stool.
“Twelve thousand dollars, Jake?” a man dressed in a white, polyester leisure suit accused through a severely smoke damaged throat. “The most I done ever won was three hundred and that was three months ago.”
Other players agreed. An atmosphere of dissent swirled and coalesced. Complaints and accusations begin to fly. One person complained they hadn’t been able to pay their electricity bill because they hadn’t won in so long. Of course, Peaches thought, that had more to do with the woman’s compulsive gambling than her lack of winnings. But there was no reasoning with an addict.
Pretty soon, a cacophony of loud, angry voices floated to the ceilings and a full fledged sweepstakes revolution wa
s underway.
Peaches made a quiet exit, slipping out the doors.
By the time she started her car, two police cars came speeding up, wheels spinning, lights flashing, into the parking lot.
Lenny had won twelve thousand dollars. Peaches already knew his wife had known nothing about the money. But perhaps someone else had.
But she would have to ponder those questions later. The forbidding Detective Mendoso had just driven up, looking as dour as he had the last time she’d encountered him.
Figuring he wouldn’t be pleased to see her so soon after their last ‘meeting’, she got the hell out of there.
**
Out of the corner of his eye Detective Mendoso saw a car driven by a person that looked a lot like Peaches Donnelly hoofing it out of the parking lot.
Frowning suspiciously, he pulled up to the sweepstakes place just off Roxboro Street. He had gotten a call about a disturbance in the area and since he wasn’t far away, came over to investigate. Having been to the same sweepstakes place a few weeks before while investigating the murder of Lenny Richardson, he was familiar with this particular shady business. The potbellied owner was outside gesturing, his body language agitated as he dismally observed the damage to his establishment.
It looked like a mini war had erupted. Smoke was streaming out of broken plate glass windows, shards of glass were strewn across the ground like so much confetti and a computer monitor had been tossed out of the double doors and lay broken on the ground.
“What happened here?” Detective Mendoso asked, walking over to a tall, dark-skinned police officer surveying the scene.
“The owner says some woman came in and caused a ruckus. She started asking questions about that guy got murdered a few weeks ago near the Old Durham Bulls Ballpark. For some reason people got pissed off and started trashing the place,” the officer said. “You ask me, ain’t much of a loss.”
He had a pretty good idea of exactly who this mysterious woman was. Fuming, Detective Mendoso felt the beginnings of a migraine taking hold at the rear of his skull.
Hadn’t he just told that infuriating woman to leave this investigation well enough alone? It was time to pay Peaches a visit.
Chapter 17
A visitor’s first impression of a new country or city is often based on where they arrive.
Cosimo had been to exactly twenty-three countries, each of them more exciting than the last.
If this airport was anything to go by, North Carolina would be the most boring place he had travelled to thus far.
He disembarked to a sea of sterile blues and grays. The fashion sense of the people travelling through was abominable and the food, atrocious. Starved, he had eaten at a place that sold pieces of deep fried, greasy meat and biscuits. This unfortunate culinary transgression already had his stomach tied up in knots.
Despite these cultural setbacks, he was excited. He still couldn’t believe his luck. La bella cantante d'opera had requested him, Cosimo Penta.
When his agent Mariella had told him The Viviana Donnelly had personally invited him to visit with her in her home state of North Carolina, it was like a dream. This had to mean his luck was turning. Mariella had redeemed herself. Perhaps he wouldn’t fire her after all. Maybe after this Viviana would vouch for him to some of the famed producers and directors with whom he was certain she was chummy.
He was currently awaiting the arrival of his beautiful and infamous companion. The wait made his stomach tighten anew.
Maybe he should have a tiny little drink when he got to the room…
No! He had given that up. This was his second month sober and he didn’t want to ruin that now. He popped an anti-nicotine tab in his mouth. But the desire for a drink still nagged at him.
Cosimo fussed over his newly installed ash-blonde hair extensions. They fluttered about like tattered pennants in the warm, southern breeze. He could feel, rather than see, many eyes upon his new hair and he felt empowered and manly. His hair dresser, Alex, had told him its added length would give him stature and presence. Two qualities that were most important when it came to pursuing roles as an action hero…and celebrity lover to Viviana Donnelly.
The thought made him shiver with anticipation. He could already feel her soft body writhing and moaning beneath him, see her full lips parted, feel his face buried in her…
He shivered again.
Mariella had strongly warned against the hair extensions. Bluntly telling him he would look like a short, Fabio knock-off. He had, as usual, ignored her advice.
His transformation wouldn’t have been complete without a tight new pair of black trousers and an even tighter white shirt unbuttoned far down his squat torso. After splashing on a liberal amount of cologne one could smell long after he had departed, he looked in the mirror and felt he was finally seeing the true Cosimo.
This belief was confirmed when two supple blonds strolling through the airport, designer suitcases in tow, nudged one another, staring in his direction and giggling merrily. Patting his hair, he squared his shoulders, standing at his tallest and giving the two attractive women his most sizzling smile. They looked at one another and burst out laughing.
He tossed his hair, proudly pushing his chest out.
Viviana Donnelly, eat your heart out.
**
Istanbul, Turkey
“Şerefe!”
ContiCom was officially the largest communications company in Europe.
Flush with victory, Augostino and several other executives, celebrated with small glasses of Raki, the local anise flavored liquor so popular with the locals.
He wanted to share his success with Viviana. He missed her. They hadn’t spoken since he left. He had felt it wiser to allow her a cool down period. Certainly, that’s what he had learned when she had flown into rages in the past.
Finishing his drink, he shook hands all around, then made his exit.
Calling her phone the moment he was in a cab speeding towards his hotel, he was dismayed when his call went straight to voicemail. The number was to a private phone he had purchased Viviana for his exclusive phone calls. The agreement was that it would always be on unless there was an emergency or she was working.
Listening to the rather nasty message she had recorded, Augostino’s jaw tightened until he felt his teeth would shatter.
She was in the States.
Women!
For just a moment, he considered being finished with Viviana. After years of dealing with her dramatics, everyone would certainly understand. But, like most people enmeshed in poisonous relationships, he was helplessly addicted and her fiery behavior merely fanned the flames of his desire to be in her arms.
He would go back to Italy to see his wife, for appearances sake. Once that was completed, he would surprise Viviana in the United States and lure her back to Italy.
Once at the hotel he quickly packed his bags. He would make his apologies and back out of the merger celebration planned for tonight. He made a quick call, telling his secretary to move his flight up by two days.
Augostino was anxious to get his family business over with and get back into Viviana’s inviting arms.
Chapter 18
“Mummy! Some police officer is at the door looking for you!”
Peaches gulped, hand suspended midway through her hair combing. She had a pretty good idea of who the police officer in question was. What did he want? Was he going to arrest her? What did he know?
Well, there had been the matter of the minor rebellion at the sweepstakes place. But that hardly warranted a call from the detective. That was probably handled by some lowly underling or other.
Pasting a smile on her face, she exited her bedroom, nervously smoothing the sides of the Capri’s she had changed into. She stank of cigarette smoke after leaving Big Pete’s and had rushed home to shower and change before the Dreaded Drop-Off/Child Exchange with The Ex.
She’d barely had enough time to scramble to the other side of town and pick up Sly bef
ore the after school program started charging her double the normal rates. She had decided to go to That Place another day.
That is, if she could make it through Detective Mendoso’s scrutiny.
“Detective Mendoso, what a surprise” she said, as soon as she entered the living room. He was standing irritably by the door.
“Cut the bull, Ms. Donnelly. You’ve been investigating when clearly I told you to stay away from this investigation.”
Formal. Hmmm…that couldn’t be good.
Despite his short stature, the detective looked intimidating. He was wearing military styled black boots, glossed to an unnaturally high shine and was standing with his feet parted, hands behind his back. He radiated authority and aggravation, his unibrow scrunched together in one big, fat caterpillar of hair rapidly undulating along his forehead.
Both Nina and Sly were sitting on the living room couch, suitcases packed and ready, watching their exchange as though it were a prime time movie on Lifetime.
“Mummy, you’re investigating something?” Nina asked, frowning.
“None of your business. Let’s take this outside please.”
“Yeah. Let’s.” His tone was clipped and sarcastic.
He opened the door, strode outside and made a neat about face. His deliberately confrontational positioning forced Peaches to keep his unfaltering gaze as she closed the door.
There was a long silence.
“Well?” Peaches demanded.
“I saw a woman that looked a lot like you speeding out of the parking lot of Big Pete’s International Sweepstakes Café today,” he began, crossing his arms.
“Lot of woman that look like me out there,” Peaches responded, nonchalantly.
“Really? These women would also be asking questions about your dead friend?”
“Maybe.”
He sighed noisily, rubbing a hand distractedly through his thick curls. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired.
The detectives breath crossed the short space between Peaches and he, carrying with it the stale odor of his breakfast, lunch and dinner. She wrinkled her nose at its nasty smell.