whisked away. They’re probably worrying that they’ll be written up in the tabloids for partying with mobsters, Sterling thought. They should know what Junior is going to do to some poor guy’s warehouse. He couldn’t wait to slip into Nor and Billy’s car and hear what they had to say about everything that had happened.
A guest, who clearly had slurped as much vodka as Mama had grappa began to sing, “Happy Birthday, Heddy-Anna” in Wallonian, but didn’t have his phonetically marked song sheet to consult. He switched to English and was joined by several other guests, who were also feeling no pain.
Sterling heard a valet ask one of the guests if his vehicle was an SUV
Billy’s SUV was parked in the back. Don’t want to miss them, Sterling thought. Two minutes later, when Nor and Billy appeared, lugging their equipment, he was in the backseat.
It was obvious from the nervous expressions on both their faces that they were deeply worried.
Wordlessly, they loaded the car, jumped in, and joined the line of vehicles exiting the long driveway. They did not speak until they were out on the main road. Then Nor asked, the words rushing out, “Billy, do you think they were serious about burning down someone’s warehouse?”
“Absolutely, and we’re damn lucky they don’t know we overheard them.”
Uh-oh, Sterling thought. Their lawyer-what’s his name? Charlie Santoli-saw you come out of the office. If he tells the Badgetts, your goose is cooked.
“I can’t help thinking that I’ve heard that voice before, the one on the phone message,” Nor said slowly. “Did you notice he said ‘wery,’ not ‘very,’ when he asked for more time?”
“Now that you say it, I guess I did,” Billy agreed. “I just figured the poor guy was so nervous he was practically stuttering.”
“No, it wasn’t that. Maybe he has a slight lisp. I think he’s had dinner at the restaurant. The thing is, if I could only remember who it was, then we could warn him.”
“When we get to the restaurant, I’m going to call the police,” Billy said. “I don’t want to use the cell phone.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence. In the backseat, Sterling shared their anxiety.
It was nearly nine o’clock when they entered Nor’s Place. The holiday diners were in full force. Nor tried to greet people quickly. At the same moment, she and Billy spotted one of their old friends, Sean O’Brien, a retired detective, sitting at the bar.
They looked at each other. “I’ll ask him to sit with us. He’ll know what we should do,” Billy said.
A smile plastered on her face, Nor went to her usual table at the front of the restaurant. From this vantage point she could oversee the operation, hold court, and easily greet her patrons. Sterling joined her, taking the seat he’d been occupying a few hours earlier.
Billy came to the table followed by Sean O’Brien, a solid-looking man of about fifty-five, with a full head of graying brown hair, alert brown eyes, and a genial smile.
“Season’s greetings, Nor,” he began, then immediately sensed something was wrong. “What’s up?” he asked abruptly, as he and Billy sat down.
“We were hired for a party the Badgett brothers gave this afternoon,” Nor began.
“The Badgett brothers?” O’Brien raised one eyebrow, then listened intently as they told him of the message on the answering machine and Junior Badgett’s response to it.
“I know the voice,” Nor finished. “I’m sure that man has been a customer here.”
“Nor, the feds have been trying to pin something on those two for years. They’re as slippery as fish in olive oil. They’re crooks and they’re vicious. If that was a local call, I wouldn’t be surprised to be reading tomorrow about a warehouse that burned down overnight.”
“Is there anything we can do to try to stop them?” Billy asked.
“I can alert the feds, but those guys have interests all over. We know for sure they have a presence in Vegas and Los Angeles. That message could have come from anywhere, but no matter where it came from, it doesn’t mean the warehouse is in that vicinity.”
“I never knew the Badgetts were that bad,” Billy said. “You hear rumors, but they have those car and boat dealerships…”
“They’ve got a dozen legitimate businesses,” O’Brien said. “That’s the way they launder their money. I’ll make some calls. The feds will at least want to keep them under surveillance, but those guys never dirty their own hands.”
Nor rubbed her forehead, her face troubled. “There’s a reason I remember that voice. Wait a minute.” She beckoned a waiter. “Sam, ask Dennis to join us. You cover the bar.”
O’Brien looked at her. “It’s better if nobody else knows you overheard that conversation.”
“I trust Dennis with my life,” Nor said.
The table is getting crowded, Sterling thought. I’ll have to stand. He felt the chair being pulled out and jumped up quickly. He had no desire to have Dennis sitting on his lap.
“… and, Dennis, I’m sure I’ve heard that voice in this restaurant,” Nor concluded a few minutes later. “He pronounced ‘very’ as ‘wery.’ Granted that could have been just nerves, but I thought maybe it’s a guy who sits at the bar and talks with you sometimes.”
Dennis shook his head. “I can’t think of a soul, Nor. But I do know this-if that Badgett guy was on the level when he talked about burning down a warehouse, the fellow who called him will be ‘wery upset.’ ”
“Wery, wery upset,” Billy agreed.
They all laughed nervously.
They’re trying to use humor to cover their very real anxieties, Sterling thought. If the Badgett brothers are as bad as Sean O’Brien believes they are, and if Nor and Billy have to testify about that call… Poor Marissa. She was so happy today.
O’Brien got up. “I’ve got to make some phone calls,” he said. “Nor, can I use your office?”
“Of course.”
“You and Billy come with me. I want to put you on the phone and have you repeat exactly what you heard.”
“I’ll be at the bar.” Dennis pushed his chair back.
If I were still alive, that chair would have smashed my big toe, Sterling thought.
“Nor, I thought you and Billy were doing a holiday performance here at the restaurant tonight,” a patron at a nearby table called. “We came specially to hear you two sing.”
“You’re going to.” Nor smiled. “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
In the office, O’Brien phoned his contact at the FBI, and Nor and Billy recounted what they had overheard. When the call ended, Nor shrugged her shoulders. “It is what it is. Unless I can remember whose voice that is, I’m no use to them.”
Billy’s cell phone rang. “It’s Rissa,” he said as he looked at the Caller ID. His troubled expression cleared. “Hi, baby… We just got back… No, we didn’t see the swimming pool or the bowling alley… Well, I wouldn’t say they were like the Sopranos.”
“I would,” Nor murmured.
“Uh-huh, we did our usual bit…” He laughed. “…Of course we were sensational. They couldn’t get enough of us. Listen, baby, NorNor will say a quick hello, then you get to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”
He handed the phone to Nor, then turned to O’Brien. “You’ve met my daughter, Marissa, haven’t you?”
“Sure. I thought she owned this place.”
