The Misfortune Cookie

“EVERYONE CALM DOWN AND STAY SEATED!” The officer had turned up the volume so loud, the walls reverberated. Seeing the way everyone flinched, he added, “Sorry.”

“So are we prisoners or not?”

“Yeah!” said Tommy. “Inquiring minds want to know!”

The cop said, “Most of you will be able to leave as soon as an officer collects your information. Some of you . . .” He looked across the restaurant at Stella and the Gambello crew. “. . . will be taken into custody, read your rights, and allowed to make your phone call, see your attorney, and use the toilet. This is New York City, not Soviet Russia.”

From the kitchen, we heard, “Viva la revolucion! Vivan los trabajadores!”

“WILL SOMEONE SHUT THAT GUY UP?” After a moment, the cop added to everyone else, “Sorry.”

The restaurant remained noisy and the crowd was still anxious, but the panic died down as some semblance of order took shape. Gambello wiseguys were separated from everyone else and obviously being prepared for a mass arrest. More cops entered the restaurant, and four of them headed straight for the stairs that led up to Stella’s office on the second floor. Another detective presented her with a search warrant. Stella tore it up and stuffed some of the pieces into her mouth before Jimmy Legs advised her not to bother trying that.

Money laundering, I thought suddenly.

Ever since I had started working here, I’d heard the rumors that Bella Stella washed dirty money for the Gambellos. But I’d always vaguely supposed that if it were true, then Stella would be arrested and the restaurant would be shut down.

As the policewoman placed Stella under arrest and recited her rights to her, I realized that OCCB’s intense investigation of the Gambello family in recent weeks must have uncovered evidence confirming the rumors.

My startled gaze flashed back to Lopez, who was glaring up at me again.

Before I could blurt out the questions forming in my mind, he demanded, “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be here tonight. What the hell happened?”

My lips moved in speechless outrage. I hardly knew where to start. If he had bothered to speak to me since leaving my bed a week ago, I’d probably have told him that I was working tonight. I tried to think of words scathing enough for the stinging response he deserved.

Still glaring at me, Lopez added, “And get off the damn table, would you?”

He reached up a hand to help me down.

I slapped it away. “Don’t touch me!”

He looked surprised. “What?”

“Miss, do not behave violently toward a police officer!” a male voice said sharply on my left.

I looked in that direction and flinched when I recognized Detective Peter Napoli. “You!” I said in horror.

Napoli froze when he recognized me. “Oh, God help us, it’s you again.”

Detective Napoli, who had seniority over Lopez, had questioned me in connection with Chubby Charlie’s death here in the spring. That interview had not gone well. In fact, it had gone so badly that Napoli had wanted to take me into custody, and he suspected me of being involved with Gambello business. So he was someone I’d really hoped never to meet again. Judging by the expression on his face now, the feeling was mutual.

Napoli said accusingly to Lopez, “Did you know about this?”

“That she’d be here?” Lopez reacted with apparent revulsion. “No!”

Infuriated, I said, “How could he possibly know I’d be here? He’d have to talk to me for that!”

Napoli said to Lopez, “I don’t want her causing any trouble.”

“Trouble?” I said in outrage.

“She won’t,” Lopez assured him.

“Trouble?” I repeated.

Lopez said darkly, “Not now, Esther.”

“Who steamrolled in here without warning in the middle of the party, scaring everyone half to death and nearly starting a riot?”

“You tell ’em, Esther!” shouted Freddie the Hermit.

“Thatta girl!”

I continued, “That’s trouble, and it sure wasn’t me who caused it, you sorry bast—”

“Please come down from there now,” Lopez interrupted, reaching up to grab my hand.

I slapped him away again. “Don’t you dare—”

“Miss Diamond,” Napoli said sharply, “this is your last warning about striking a police officer.”

“What? Are you kidding me, you moronic jack—”

“I’ll deal with this,” Lopez said loudly to Napoli. “Leave her to me.”

“‘Leave her to me?’” I repeated, appalled.

“Sort out your problems with your girlfriend on your own time,” Napoli said tersely. “We’re working.”

“She ain’t his girlfriend!” Jimmy Legs said.

The redheaded cop smacked him on the back of the head. “Shut up, Jimmy.”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” I insisted from my tabletop, looking down at Napoli.

“All right, everyone take a deep breath,” said Lopez. “Let’s calm down and—”

“Shut up,” Napoli and I said to him in unison, which made him blink.

Napoli looked up at me. “Whatever you call your thing with Detective Lopez, I won’t have it interfering with this bust. Is that clear?”

“I don’t have a ‘thing’ with him,” I said, swamped with anger and humiliation. “There is nothing between us. Nothing.”

Lopez looked sharply up at me. “What?”

I glanced down at him and saw his startled expression. “What do you mean, ‘What?’”

Napoli said to Lopez, “Get her over there with the rest of the staff and get her details.”

Lopez said to me, “What do you mean?”

Napoli said, “Or have you already got her details?”

He got a lot more than my details.

“Did I miss something?” Lopez asked me.

“Oh, my God.” Realization dawned as I stared down at my ex-almost- boyfriend.

Since I still didn’t want Lopez touching me, I leaned down to put my hand on Napoli’s shoulder—ignoring the way the detective flinched and tried to move away from me—and used him for balance as I hopped off the table.

I stood in front of Lopez, eye to eye. (Well, nearly. He’s almost six inches taller than I am.) I gaped at him for a long moment before I spoke. “You thought I’d sleep with you again?”

“Well . . .” He looked bemused. “Yeah.”

Ronnie Romano started chuckling. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

The redheaded cop said, “Shut up, Ronnie.”

I was incredulous. “You thought I’d sleep with you again?”

Now Lopez was annoyed. “Yes.”

“As in, maybe some day in the distant future, if we’re the last two people left on the whole planet after a global disaster?”

“No, I was thinking it would be sooner than that,” he said in exasperation.

“We don’t have time for this,” said Napoli.

“How could you possibly think I’d ever let you near me again?” I shouted.

“I really did miss something, didn’t I?” said Lopez.

“Oh, my God! I can’t believe what a jerk you are!”

“Er, detectives?” called another cop. “I hate to interrupt, but we’re sort of in the middle of a big bust over here and could use some help.”