“I told her about this great group of rich guys I’d been hanging with. One of them bought me the Miata and it wasn’t even my birthday.”
“Mr. Mazzilli?”
Marny shakes her head. “Mr. Johnson. He was my first. The first one to take me to the house on Tangerine Street.”
“What goes on there?”
She gives me a look. “You know …”
“Yeah. So, Gail Baker was with Mr. O’Malley?”
“For about three months.”
“When Mrs. O’Malley died, did she want to marry him?”
“I hope not. He’s, you know … old.”
“And rich.”
“True. But we didn’t need to marry them for their money. They had wives for that.”
Okay. It makes sense. Sort of.
“But,” says Marny, “I think Gail told too many people about what was going on. She even wore that silly T- shirt.”
“The one with ‘Sugar Babies’ on it?”
“Yeah. We were supposed to be, you know, discreet. Classy. She was kind of broadcasting it. I know she told her personal trainer. That is so against the rules.”
“There are rules?”
“Sure. Like, we can never call our guy. Text messages only. And we never went anywhere our man might be with his wife and family. We weren’t supposed to rub any noses the wrong way in it, you know?”
“Sure,” I say, because I’ve known Marny long enough to know what she’s trying to say even when she says it wrong.
“That’s why they killed her like that, left her in a public place. To warn the rest of us.” She shivers. “I think I need to leave town, Danny. They’ll come after me next.”
“Why?”
“Because Gail and I were close and Mr. Mazzilli wanted us to do this, you know, thing with him and Gail said no and that really torqued Bruno off so if he had them do that to her they’ll do something worse to me because I laughed.”
“What?”
“He wanted a three-way. Grabbed Gail. Squeezed her ass. Sucked on her neck. She pushed away and said, ‘Sorry, there’s no way two girls can share three inches.’”
I smile.
“Yeah,” says Marny. “That’s what I did, too. Only I laughed. And Mr. Mazzilli heard me.”
“He can’t get you here,” I say. “Grab some sleep. First thing in the morning, I’m taking you to my partner’s place. You’re in protective custody now, okay?”
“Okay.” She pulls back my blankets. Fluffs up a pillow. Turns to me and says, very shyly, like we’re cousins on a camp-out, “You want half the bed?”
“Nah. I’m not really sleeping tonight. I’m on guard duty. Gotta keep one eye open at all times.”
I give her a wink and sit in my chair.
She pulls up the covers. Yawns.
“Remember Ms. Fabricius’s math class?”
“Marny?”
“Yeah?”
“Go to sleep.”
“Okay.”
She yawns one more time, flops sideways, and, I swear, conks out on command.
I take off my holster. Lay the Glock in my lap.
I’ll wake it up if I need it.
25
“Would you like more water?” asks Ceepak.
Marny shakes her head. The blonde coils bounce. “No, thank you.”
It’s a little after six in the morning and we’re sitting in a booth as far from the windows as we can get at the Bagel Lagoon. The Coglianese brothers open their place early every day; bakers always do. Marny has barely touched her cinnamon-raisin with a schmear of cream cheese. She is wearing my navy blue POLICE windbreaker like a vinyl sack but is still shivering, and not because she’s cold.
Rita’s at the counter talking to Joe and Jim about Marny and how important it is for them to forget they ever saw her.
The brothers nod. They dig Ceepak and Rita, their upstairs neighbors. They also look juiced about keeping a secret, playing cops with us.
Me? I’m a little tired from snoozing in the chair with one eye open all night, but I’m happy Marny is safe. She looks more wiped out than me. Pooped. Still, Ceepak needs to ask her a few questions.
“Was Mayor Sinclair ever present at the house?”
“Yeah. A couple times. He liked the hot tub. I was with him one night. Bruno asked me to, you know, show him a good time. This was back when Bruno, Mr. Mazzilli, wanted to buy that burned-down pier for the roller coaster him and Mr. O’Malley wanted to build.”
Ceepak nods. Guess he understands New Jersey politics. Guess we all do. You grease the wheel. Let people dip their beaks. That’s why you see so many of our elected officials perp-walking into court with handcuffs on their wrists and raincoats over their heads.
“Tell us about Mr. O’Malley.”
“He was kind of bossy at the house,” says Marny. “Told me I was getting chubby this one time when my face was bloated after a heavy night of partying. He could also be very generous. Gave Gail a ton of money to buy better clothes. He had a thing for lingerie, too. I think he runs a tab at Victoria’s Secret. And, he bought her, like, a ten-pack of personal training sessions she couldn’t afford so she wouldn’t get fat.”
“Were Mr. O’Malley and the mayor close?”
“How do you mean?”
“When the mayor dropped by the house on Tangerine Street, was Mr. O’Malley with him?”
“I don’t think so. No. It was Bruno and Mr. Johnson and the guy who owns the newspaper. He was there. Said I could make a ton of money modeling swimsuits for local stores like Teeny’s Bikinis and offered to give me an audition.”
Yeah. Right. A private audition, I’m sure.
“Did you ever see the mayor with Mr. O’Malley?”
“No. But Gail might’ve. You could ask-”
She realizes what she almost said.
Her eyes tear up.
“I’m sorry.”
Ceepak reaches across the table. Gently puts his gigantic hand on top of Marny’s tiny one. “Ms. Minsky-what happened is not your fault.”
“I got her into this.…”
“Perhaps. But you did not kill her.”
“Who did?”
“We can’t say for certain. Not yet. However, Danny and I intend to find out.”
“We better get busy,” I say, standing up. It’s time for us to hit the house, put on our uniforms, climb into a police car, and go nab the bad guys. Once we, of course, figure out who that might be.
