Dark hair fell at her feet, leaving a black halo all around her.  Bent over the sink, she wet her hair.  Oriana’s careful hands applied the chemicals and when it was done, a stranger stood looking back at her.  Blowing out her hair, she blinked in disbelief as Tara Mastrosimone died and Madam M truly came to life.

She felt bolder.  Brave.  Sexy.  It was strange how the curtains which had hung around her face felt so protective and this short bob left her feeling as though she was touching the real world for the first time.  M. shook her head and enjoyed the lightness of both color and weight.  It was as if she had shed away her old life and, in a New York minute, everything had changed.

The flight was done in a blink.  No more time than it took to cross town, they touched down in the Big Apple.  Here it was harder to not think about who she really was, this place that had been her home with her family.  Seeing the old hanger, the car under the tarp inside, odds and ends which reminded her of the people she’d never see again laying about inside - they all wanted her to remember a past that was so full of happiness.  Tara closed the door as she got into the driver’s seat.

“It could be Brigitte.”  She said breaking the long silence after turning over the ignition.  “I can’t imagine being here every day, seeing things that make you think of them, and not getting angry.  Maybe angry enough to do the things this killer is doing.”  She sighed and put the car into gear and pulled out of the hanger.

“I want it to be her,” She says pulling out onto the street.  “And yet, I think about her out there killing people and it doesn’t fit with the person I’ve known all my life.”

Tara sighed, “Anyway, I suppose we should find a place to set up.  A hotel?  Some hole in the wall.  Low key.  Then we can start searching.  What do you say?”  

“People change,” said Ori in a quiet voice before shifting to a more businesslike approach, “Remind me. Who are the victims again? What are the details? How were they killed? Where did it happen?”

“Louis Rossi.  He was an alderman.  Found dead in a Manhattan hotel but the paper didn’t say which one.  The details were that he was strangled to death with a garrote and allegedly a brunette was seen going into the hotel with him.  They think she was a prostitute but no follow up was published so, I don’t know if they found her or not.”

“The other guy, I knew him personally.  I did business with him while you were gone with mom.”  She drew a breath.  “Business.”  she sighed.  “He was a butcher.  Herbert Caruso.  I went to his shop with Brigitte’s mom and the bodyguard who let her stab my father.  Brigitte’s mom died in his basement.  The guard too.  Herbert handled money for dad.  Was very well informed on some of our goings-on if only because we used his place for things.  According to the paper he was bludgeoned to death with a meat tenderizer.”

“That doesn’t sound like her,” said Oriana. “I can see the first one, but… she doesn’t seem like a bludgeoner. Although with her fighting, who knows.”

“Caruso was a big guy.  Makes me wonder if it was her, maybe things went sideways from what she planned?  I don’t know. I just can’t imagine her beating a man to death with a tenderizer.”

“Anyone else?”

“That’s it, but the first death was about a week ago.  The second three days ago. So, it’s possible she’s hunting if it’s Brigitte.  Maybe she doesn’t have a list so much as she’s learning names as she goes? Or… just maybe killing folks is taking a lot out of her.  Again, I can’t imagine she’s just flipped a switch and become someone capable of doing this sort of work without something… snapping in her.”

“She beat the shit out of people for money. It’s not like she was a tulip. If she saw your parents get killed, I wouldn’t say it’s crazy.”

“Beating and kill though… you have to admit there is something different between the two.  I mean, maybe if she saw what happened to mom and dad. I guess… I can’t really know how that would change a person.”  Tara shook her head.

“What links those two guys? People moving in on your parents’ businesses?” asked Oriana.

“Well, the Alderman was publically going after Dad’s holdings.  That much was said in the paper.  Caruso worked for Dad so it’s possible the Alderman had gotten to him, I guess.  Though I don’t think the man would have done anything that ambitious on his own.  He was a business owner.  A simple guy.  Second-generation immigrant.  Not the sort of fellow who would go after a mob boss’ holdings all on his own.”

“It might not be Brigitte. Could be one of your father’s associates bumping off the competition, trying to consolidate.”

“Possibly.  I thought about that too.”  Tara admitted.  “Maybe someone wanting to gather up the scraps and make something of themselves.  I thought about the idea that we could possibly go talk to Caruso’s wife.  See if she knew her husband was up to something.  The Alderman I don’t know personally, so if he had anyone who would know his business dealings… well, that’s something we’d have to sniff around to find I suppose.”

“Caruso’s wife seems like a decent place to start. But I’d also wonder… is there someone out there… a powerful, important subordinate, especially one looking to take over some old rackets… who made it through? Two or three of them?”

Tara sat silent a moment and thought.  “When I came to bury my parents, there was someone who I talked to who knows a lot about what my parents were up to… the lawyer.  I can’t say he’d be the sort who’d go after my family’s holdings.  I mean, he’s been with the family a long time.  Dad met him in Detroit.  It’s a place to start maybe?”  Tara shook her head, “Michael Ricci.  We could go talk to him.”

“Who’d be quicker?” asked Ori.

“I could get Ricci to meet with us anywhere on a phone call.  He still works for me technically. He knows we do some questionable shit.  He’d do the meeting off books and anywhere we wanted. Of course, if he’s up to some shit I don’t know that he’d give anything away.  I mean, he did had over the will and everything to me, if he was trying to steal from us I can’t imagine he’d do all that… right?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he does what he’s legally obligated so he doesn’t lose his reputation, then makes a play of his own.” Ori frowned. “But if there is Brigitte, I don’t care how many randos she kills. I don’t want to tip people off about a possible future attack, or she could get hurt.” Ori paused. “I don’t suppose anyone knows where Rossi got his prostitute. It’d be nice to trace them back, see if Caruso might have been in the same place. I mean, it’s been a little while since I’ve gone undercover as a hooker- but if we do it indiscriminately we’re going to catch a lot of random dicks without any clues.”

“That’s a really good thought.  I mean, if it is Brigitte she had to work with them or through them.  Surely he didn’t just grab a girl on the street corner. If it was Brigitte she had to make sure he’d pick her… less chance of that standing on a street corner.”  Tara paused. “There might be another person we could ask for help. I don’t know how good of an idea it is though. I mean, we’d get answers about the current investigation for sure, but the price might be tipping our hand to someone who down the line could be a pain in our asses.  Maybe not in this instance, but back home in Philly.”

Tara’s grip tightened on the wheel.  “My family has someone in the FBN.” She finally admitted nodding to herself.  “There’s a fellow who used to watch my mother. When Brigitte was little she was kidnapped by her birth father.  The FBN agents involved with our family sort of… made peace with Dad and Mom to a degree. Sometimes they work with us.  It’s not a perfect relationship but they look the other way when the cause is a good one.”

“Seems more like a break-glass-in-case-of-emergency thing. They made their peace with your parents- but have you ever personally worked with them?”

“Not directly.  I’ve been present for a meeting.  That’s it. The guy is… it’s complicated.  His name is Garrett and he has a long history with our family.  Goes back to Nona Bella. Anyway… it’s another option if we need information about the investigation.  I know he’s handed over evidence and information to Mom and Dad before.”  

“He must be getting close to retiring now, huh?”

“He’s a little younger than my mom, but not by a lot,” said Tara. “  I’d say he’s gotta be nearing retirement age.  You see, he’s the son of a man Nona Bella killed.  A bad agent.  The son, I gather, had it out for the family to start with… but, like I said, he made peace with mom and dad.  I guess both sides admitted their parents had some issues and when it counts Mom and Dad knew they could tap Garrett.  Likewise though - and this is why I said he’d be a pain in our asses later - he came to mom and dad for information too.  This wasn’t a man on a leash… but a mutual working relationship.”

“Ah. Gotcha. I thought he’d been involved with Bella directly.” Ori took a deep breath. “I think I’d want an actual favor to ask if you went to the FBN. Right now, we don’t even know what we’re looking for. Let’s go talk to Caruso’s wife. Seems she’s the person least likely to result in a shitshow.”

“Agreed.  If nothing else the woman understands Omerta and she’s smart enough not to cross my family.  Especially in the wake of her husband’s murder, I’m sure.”

“Once we’re done with her… I dunno, maybe we try to talk to someone looking into the Rossi thing. Either a cop or a reporter. See what info didn’t make the papers.”

“That’s another idea.”  Tara reached a hand over into her purse and rummaged around to find the newspaper clipping.  She glanced at it.

“Ricci and the FBN, if we’re desperate.”

“Alan Wood.  The reporter.  He’s handled both cases.  Maybe he’s just a monkey with a typewriter but maybe he’s not.  Some of those fellows at the papers are persistent buggers, as good as a cop - better sometimes.  Maybe the reporter knows something he wasn’t allowed to put into the papers.  The cops make them keep shit quiet sometimes.”

“Hopefully he likes blondes… or money.”

***

Tara drove the car to a small run down part of Queens.  It was the sort of place that anyone not Italian would have stood out like a sore thumb.  Wall to wall immigrants seemed to be the order of the day. Tara had been here a few times before, on her own and with Billy.  Her mother came here for meat to cook for Sunday dinners. It was strange pulling up in front of the old brick building with Ori in the car beside her, knowing she wasn’t coming here for a cutlet or to drop off or pick up a package.

The shop, of course, had a sign which read closed.  Flowers were laid outside in the doorway. To the left of the entrance was an alley, to the right was a door that lead to a stairwell that went straight up to the second floor residence of Mr. and Mrs. Caruso.  Tara turned off the engine and smiled at Oriana.

Ori was wearing dark jeans, a black blouse, and a long black coat that covered the gun on her belt and the knife at the small of her back. On her right ankle she had a new pocket pistol, and both her right and left calves had a knife strapped to hem. 

“Well, here we are,” said Tara.  “The scene of my first kill… not quite the way I expected you to ever see the place, but … yeah.”  she said, her voice a bit tense. Being back here was always strange. More so now.

Inside the front window, Tara could see evidence of the police’s presence just days ago.  The shop was a mess. She wondered if it would ever reopen. Most likely not, she supposed.  Tara pushed her hands into the pockets of her long jacket and knocked the car door shut with her hip.

“Head upstairs?”

“Yeah.”  Tara made her way to the door, opened it and began up the long narrow set of stairs.  It was dark, the light had gone out. Tara looked up at it to find that it hadn’t burnt out but appeared to have been shattered.  The remains of the bulb were still in the socket.  

Pausing at the top landing she listened.  The radio was on inside. Tara knocked and waited.  A moment later footsteps approached and the door came open, the chain still in place as an eye peeked out.  A feminine face, dark circles under her eye.  

“Hello?”  The woman’s voice was tired, nervous sounding.

“Eva?”  Tara smiled.  

It took the woman only a moment to shut the door and unlock it before pulling it open and throwing her arms wide to grab Tara into an embrace that looked outwardly more like a tackle.  The woman began weeping uncontrollably and babbling in Italian about ‘what they did to my Herbert.’

Tara hugged the woman, petting her hair gently and casting a glance to Oriana before talking to the woman in Italian, urging her to ‘go inside, we’ll talk.’

The house smelled of all sorts of food and immediately Oriana and Tara could see casserole dishes and plates laid about as if a good number of people had only just left.  There was enough food to feed an army still, and the woman was clearly attempting to put it into some sort of storage.

“I’m sorry for the mess.”  Eva began in English, trying to dry her eyes.

“Not at all.” Tara said.  “You don’t have to worry about us.  We’re friends, we know you’ve been through a lot lately.”

“God Bless you, Tara Mastrosimone.  They tell me that your father and mother, may God rest their souls, were laid to rest only a few weeks ago.  I am so sorry for your loss… what with that little baby, so tiny when she was born!  Your father loved her so much!  All of you kids.  Especially his girls.  Is your brother taking care of you?  Such a good boy, that Gavin.”

Tara smiled, “Gavin is.  You know him well Eva.  He wouldn’t let our father down.”

“And you?  Have you found yourself a nice boy then?  Getting married soon I hope?  You’re so pretty.  I can not believe that you have not gotten married yet.”

Ori smirked, hanging back and letting Tara handle the talking here; after all, she knew Mrs. Caruso.

“Well, I still haven’t finished my schooling.”  Tara said sitting down onto the couch where Eva directed she should sit.

“So smart, but do not wait too long.  You are getting older.  Boys they have eyes for the younger girls.  Boys like your brother can afford to wait, girls, not so much.”

Tara nodded, “You know that I’ve helped with my family’s business.”

Eva nodded.  “I would normally have come to your father for help, but now there is no one.  They murdered my Herbert. They left him on the floor like the discarded meat! He was there all night!  I found him…”  

Tara put a hand on the woman’s leg as she began to tremble and reach for a pack of cigarettes.  

“May I have one?” asked Ori. The older woman nodded and handed one to Ori, who struck a match against the table and lit both her and Mrs. Caruso’s cigarettes.

“What monster does such a thing?” asked Mrs. Caruso as she smoked.  “We are no one. Simple butcher’s family. We had nothing for them to steal.  We were loyal to your father, yes? So… is this the act of one of his enemies?  The people who killed your father and blessed mother, did they come for my Herbert?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”  Tara said gently. “Can you think of anything, any reason someone would come for your husband?  My father was dead, there was no reason to come for associates like Herbert. He wasn’t a made man, so… if it was our enemies there had to be some reason.”  

“We had nothing.  We were broke. You father’s help was all that kept our shop open.  We barely sold enough to even call ourselves a shop. Ever since that big grocer opened on the end of 125th we haven’t seen even a tenth of the business.  Without your father’s protection… we have nothing. I know, I heard my Herbert talking about these things with Davide.”

Tara narrowed her eyes, “Davide Lorenzo?”

Eva nodded.  

“I didn’t know that he knew Lorenzo.”

Eva smiled, “They were boys together.  Not far from here. When Lorenzo went into his business, it was from Herbert that he got the money.  Before your father came back to New York, Lorenzo looked out for Herbert. I thought perhaps it would go back to that way.  I even called his wife yesterday, I ask her if Davide would come to the wake and she says Davide is busy.” She scoffed. “Too busy for his friend?  Too busy for the man who gave him the money to start? No. He is too busy for a widow now. I have nothing, Ms. Mastrosimone. I will be put out and die alone.”

Tara took hold of Eva’s hands, “That’s not going to happen.  We’ll figure something out.”

Eva picked up Tara’s hands and kissed them emphatically, “Your family is good.  You are kind. I knew when I saw your face that God had sent me the answer to my prayers.”

“You said you heard Herbert and Davide speaking?”  Tara gently pressed on.  “What did they talk about?”

“I try not to put my nose in the business.  It is a man’s thing, I mean you no offense, Miss.” 

Tara smiled to reassure the woman into continuing.

“As a good wife, you learn to look the other way, but you always have a finger on the pulse of things in your house.  It is your job.  My Herbert was worried about money.  Worried how we would survive without your father’s protection and what man would come after him.  But Davide says we do not need to worry.  The ways of the old country are not the ways of America.  He says here there is no need of Cosa Nostra.  He tells my Herbert things are changing and soon American Government will crush the men of honor.  My husband, he does not believe this.  His grandfather once put trust in government, the police, it did not end well for him.”  She shook her head.

“Davide urged my Herbert to just meet with with Alderman Rossi, to hear his ideas.” She shrugged.  “We have so little… my Herbert, he agreed.  I know he would never have turned his back on your father or the men of honor… but we are simple people.  We do not have what your family has and we were afraid.”

“Did your husband tell you what he and the Alderman talked about?”  Tara asked gently.

She shook her head, “I know that he was not happy, but he does not tell me his business.  If he had plans with the Alderman and Davide, I do not know them.  I swear to you Ms. Mastrosimone.  I swear it on all I hold dear.  You must believe me!”

“I do.”  Tara said with a sigh.

“Does Davide has any other close friends in town?” asked Ori. 

“Luca Amato.”  

Tara stiffened.

Eva continued, “And an Irishman, Paul.  I don’t know him well, but I know he spends time with Luca.”

Tara forced a smile and patted Eva’s leg, “Has he been friends with Luca for a long time?”

“Luca is the younger brother of another childhood friend of his.  Luca and he have gotten closer in the last year. My Herbert would go visit him at his home upstate.”

Tara nodded and swallowed.  “Yeah that makes sense.”

“You think you know who did this to my Herbert?”

Tara shrugged, “Maybe.  I need to talk to some more people, but I promise, Eva.  I will find out who did this. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Eva smiled at Tara and then at Oriana.  “I appreciate you both coming to see me.  I know you must have so much else on your mind.  Your father must be so proud of you.”

Tara hesitated, thinking, processing trying to decide if she’d asked everything this woman might actually have to share with them.  Seeming to decide she had what she was looking for, Tara stood up.

“I’ll come by and see you again soon.”  Tara said giving Eva a hug and kiss on both of her cheeks.  “And please, it would be very good if you do not mention my presence here to anyone - even close friends and family.” Ori nodded.

“Of course.  I never saw you.”  Eva said with a smile.  “Either of you.”

Tara walked quickly down the stairs and to the car, hopping into the driver’s seat and turning over the ignition.  As soon as Ori had the door shut she threw out, “Amato is the owner of the fight club upstate that Brigitte fights in.  Lorenzo is a bookie that used to do shit for Dad. Amato has prostitutes… Rosalyn, you remember her? High dollar gals. The sort who might work with and for politicians.”  

“Oh, I remember Rosalynn,” Ori teased.

Tara gave Ori a playful glare, “Well, I think we might have found a reason to talk to her again.  It just became very possible that this is Brigitte. God help her. She’s… I can’t. I just can’t think about it.”  She shook her head. “What’s the point of this, if she hasn’t bothered to reach out to Gavin and tell him she’s alive.  Even if she’s taking out people who were ready to or had betrayed mom and dad.”  

Tara went quiet, and a little pale.  She glanced at Oriana then back at the road. “Unless she doesn’t think she’s coming back to us.”  Tara sighed remembering what her father had said about his talk with Brigitte after he’d found out about the fight club.  

“We have to find her.”  

“Yea,” agreed Ori. “We do.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “I agree with you, that’s something happening here in New York. Maybe Brigitte getting some revenge. Maybe someone else making a move on your dad’s holdings. But… could be both. Rossi seemed like he was making some noise, moving in on your dad’s businesses. But Caruso? Seemed loyal. I’m fine to go talk to this reporter, if you’d like. Or try to track down Amato. But I’m wondering now if we’re not watching a single wave of revenge- but the initial moves of a civil war between people scrambling for your parents’ holdings. Say, hypothetically, Brigitte wacks Rossi for trying to move in. Then whoever was working with Rossi hits Caruso as retaliation.”  Ori shrugged. “Anyways, what do you think? Reporter? Or right to Amato?”
“Your theory seems sound.  It might be that Caruso was a victim because he’s one of the last known associates of Dad’s that was still out and about.”  She shrugged.  “I prefer that thought to the idea that he was involved in some shit with Rossi or that Brigitte was capable of something that brutal.  You know, we could also swing by Brigitte’s apartment… and the house.  I don’t think she’d be staying in either place but maybe we see something there?”

“Yes. That. No.” Ori squinted. “Maybe. Give me a minute to think.” She pursed her lips and was silent for a while. “House might be watched. Could be dangerous.”

She nodded.  “Yeah, I didn’t think about that.”

“Let’s try the apartment first? Less chance it’s watched, I think. No offense to the people working for them, but I’d bash 12 of them with meat grinders if it meant we could get Brigitte back. Maybe her apartment could show whether she’s been back recently. Do you know if she had any other places she’d hide out or check in?”

Tara paused.  “There might be a place.”  She narrowed her eyes.  “Seems like a long shot though.  I mean.  She has a suite at the Aurora.  Almost always has it checked out to party in.  She used to take some of her Broadway friends there.  But it’s mom’s Casino, I mean, presents the same problems as the house and the apartment.  Far from low key.  Of course, Brigitte hasn’t ever been known as low key before so… this is a whole new world with regard to my sister.”

“Apartment, then.”

***

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Tara had a key to Brigitte’s apartment.  This allowed the girls very quick access to the once lavish den of the eldest Mastrosimone.  Of course, things here aren’t what they used to be - not by a long shot.

“Christ.”  Tara said looking around the mess that her sister’s apartment had become.  Laundry laid about unwashed, her dishes unclean, empty alcohol bottles were littered on the counter, across her desk, and by the couch where a crash pad was still laying disheveled.  The blankets crumpled up atop a lone pillow. A picture of Billy and Aurora lay on the floor across from the couch, the glass in the frame shattered. The room smelled of hopps gun oil. Ori raised an eyebrow. 

“Gun oil.” 

“Well, at least she’s cleaning something.”  Tara said looking at the filth in disgust. “God knows she’s not touched anything around here.  By the look of this take out… maybe a few days since her most recent visit?” She sighed looking at the ashtray full of cigarette butts.  “See she hasn’t cut back on the drinking or smoking, Dad is rolling in his grave.”

“She’s alive, though.” Ori moved around, checking usual hiding spots: under mattresses, tops of closets, behind pictures, loose floorboards.

Oriana hit paydirt with a loose floorboard near one of the heating registers.  Lifting it up she found several items inside. First off was Brigitte’s briefcase of cash.  Clearly down quite a bit. Then there was a gun case. Opening it up revealed the two pearl handled M1911s bearing the Luciano family crest.  A small box, seemingly insignificant in appearance, held a very old looking wedding band and engagement ring. Perhaps because it was so understated it was immediately recognizable as Aurora Mastrosimone’s.  Finally, a small notepad. Inside a few details including some names, phone numbers, and addresses.

Ori looked over Tara’s shoulder as she read the notepad. “Who are these names?”

Louis Rossi

Michael Ricci

David Lorenzo

Paul Murphy

Alessandro Romano

Clarence Bradshaw

“Well, Rossi was the Alderman.  Ricci is the lawyer I told you about.  Lorenzo is the bookie.. Paul Murphy… gonna guess he’s our mysterious Irishman.  I don’t know him. Alessandro Romano… that name rings a bell. I don’t think I met him though.  I’d probably have to look at Dad’s books. Bradshaw? What the fuck… he’s the Harbormaster. He gave Gavin a job.”

“Let’s get to Ricci. He’s based in the city, I assume?”

Tara nodded, “Has an office in Manhattan.  I saw him when I flew in, came to NYC before I went on to Detroit to go visit the kids.”

“Okay. My operating theory right now is that Brigitte has started taking out the trash- and then the trash hit back and killed Caruso. It’s not impossible to kill someone during the day in their office, but it’s unlikely. If she’s going in order, Ricci is next. I’d say we should watch him. Maybe Brigitte makes a move on him- but even if she doesn’t she’s probably watching him. I can get close to him- never met him before, whereas you just did.”

“You just going to walk in and hire a lawyer?  Or you mean to run into him in his off the clock time?”  Tara smirked closing the notebook and looking at her mother’s guns.

“Off the clock.  How good looking is this guy?”

Tara sighed.  She picked up one of the guns and sniffed it.  “I can’t believe you picked up on the scent of that gun oil.  I can barely smell it.”  Tara opened the gun and looked at it.  “Spotless.  She’s not carrying the guns mom gave her.  What the hell is using.  I mean the garotte obviously but … why not bring mom’s guns?”

“Well I’m sure if it was moose dung or something you would have been right on that.”

She rolled her eyes, “Ricci is young.  Good looking. The sort of guy who knows it too.  ”

“Good. That’ll make it easier.”

“I think Dad paid for his law school.  I thought he was hitting on me the whole first meeting I had with him.  Kinda gives me the creeps really.”  Tara put the gun back into its place with reverence.  “These guns were made to protect the Luciano family.  Maybe it’s a matter of principle.” A rather dark look passed over Tara’s face but it was gone after only a moment.

“Or maybe she’s in a scenario where wearing a gun would be too conspicuous.”

“That’s more likely.”  she said sounding relieved.  “Should we just put this stuff back, do you think?  Leave her a note, let her know we’re here or … I don’t know.  I mean she clearly doesn’t want us around or she’d have reached out, right?”

“Let’s write down the names in the same order, so we have them. Copy the information quickly so we have what she’s working with. Then leave everything here as is. Just leave her something to let her know you were here.”

Tara began putting everything back after taking down the information they needed, pausing only a moment at her mother’s rings.  “She was with them.  There’s no way she has this… if she wasn’t.  Mom wouldn’t have left these home.  She never took them off.”  Tara sighed and put the box back.  “It looks like your theory is becoming more likely by the moment.”
 

For the strength of the pack is the wolf,
and the strength of the wolf is the pack.

“Alright, Angel.”  Tara said.  “Let’s hope you can fucking take a damn hint and not just bolt when you see something smart.”

“How close was she to Amato?” asked Ori

“There’s a chance he’s helping her.”  Tara explained. “She liked him. She might be there, it could be why the food on the counter looks a few days old.  If they retaliated and killed Caruso like you said, she might have fallen in with friends to avoid being discovered. We could pay Amato’s fight club a visit, see if she’s been around.”

“Maybe. How public did her fighting career get? Like, how many people knew who Valkyrie really was?”

“According to Dad it wasn’t common knowledge.  He paid the club a visit, sat with Amato. Amato didn’t act like he knew Brigitte was Dad’s kid.  He certainly wasn’t sweating over any hits to the face Brigitte took during the bout even with Dad right there.  I’m guessing there’s a chance even he doesn’t know who the hell she is in relationship to Dad. But… no. Surely Rosalyn told him by now.  And if he’s friends with Caruso… well, that seems to tie it all together. I mean, he’s got to know, but if that’s the case why then didn’t he bend over backwards to kiss my father’s ass when he came to watch Brigitte fight?  Maybe he thought Dad was cool with it? Gah. I wish I had dug into all that a little more than I did. Dad was sure that he’d put an end to it all. He didn’t like Amato. Didn’t trust him. Said he didn’t shut it down only because the kid was smart enough to NOT try to do business inside the city.”

“I don’t have any sort of read there.” She frowned. “I think Ricci is our best read.”

Tara nodded and put the floorboard back in its place.  “Ricci it is then. I think you’re probably right about being able to keep an eye on him easiest.  The others are a gamble and at least one of these guys I don’t know at all.”

“I’m operating under the assumption that this is the kill list. A bunch of rats and vultures that either sold out your parents or are trying to take over their businesses. I’ll watch him from up close tonight. You keep an eye out for Brigitte- if you’re both trying to watch us, try to anticipate her vantage point. I’m hoping Brigitte will see me and realize we’re helping- and not assume that I’m working with these guys… but I think we might need to take that risk.” She paused. “How confident are you that Ricci is a traitor?”

“If I had a sniff of a problem I would have shot him myself.  Honestly, he gave everything over to me - helped get my parents bodies out of the morgue and released to priests for last rites and burial in Philly.  I can’t… I mean, it’s possible he betrayed us but he did all the right things by my best estimates. If he is dirty, he’s the very sneakiest sort of dirty, the one who robs you while you shake his hand and thank him for being a friend.”

“Alright. I’ll try not to kill him. Maybe get him somewhere quiet where you can talk to him?”

“If you like, I could call his office and ask his secretary where I can find him tonight.  I mean, I’m a client.  They might just tell me.” said Tara.

“I don’t want to tip him off. And if he is dirty, I don’t want him to know you’re in town. I think we can handle following him.”

“Well, we could go to his office and wait for him to leave then.  A traditional stakeout of sorts.”  She smiled.

“That- except I’ve got to go shopping first. Need an outfit ready for wherever he winds up tonight.”

“Well, at least that will be one small glimmer of good in this mess today… I mean beyond the fact that up until a day or three ago she was alive.  You.  Dressing up for me to watch.”  She winked at Oriana.  “Let’s take you shopping.”

***

An hour and a half later, as the business day was drawing to a close, Tara and Ori sat in the car they’d rented. Figuring it was easier to quickly dress down than dress up- and assuming that a rich lawyer would be more likely to visit expensive places, Oriana had gone with a fancier look. She was wearing a rich, purple dress that left one shoulder bare, as well as heels that were at least semi-functional. She also had a knife strapped to each thigh and her Beretta in her purse.

“You know, I may kill this guy myself if he gets too handsy with you in that outfit.  You look…” She shook her head, smiling ear to ear. “Well, it’s a damn shame that you’re wasting this look on my fucking lawyer.  Purple is a good one you and that shoulder…” She sighed. “Yeah. Eyes forward. Looking for Brigitte, not checking you out. Sorry.”  She said softly. “There.” Tara nodded towards a man exiting the building they’d been watching. “Michael Ricci.” She nodded towards the handsome Italian lawyer in his early thirties.

“This dress isn’t even in my top ten that I’d wear for you. Eyes on the prize…” said Ori, studying Ricci. 

Tara started the car once Michael got into his.  “I suppose we’re going to keep close but not too close?”  She chuckled. “I’ve never tailed someone before. This is new.  With how slow traffic moves here though, we could be half the night getting across town.”

“Just… drive casual. Does he know what Brigitte looks like? Could she be doing the same thing I am?”

“Are you kidding?  My father had pictures of all of us in his office.  Michael has seen more than his fair share of us I’m sure.  Brigitte more than anyone. She’s a ham and in more than half the photos we ever took.”

“Just making sure.”

“Of course they said a brunette was last seen with Ricci so maybe she dyed her hair too.”  She shrugged. “Might not stop him from knowing who she is though.”

Michael made his way through the streets of Midtown Manhattan, past Hell’s Kitchen towards Central Park.  As the sun finished it’s descent, Michael’s car rolled up to a place both Oriana and Tara knew well if only by reputation, The Stork Club.  

Tara whistled as she saw him pulling up and rolled past looking for a better place to park that wouldn’t draw that kind of attention.  “I knew he made bank working for my dad, but that place?  Wow.  Must pay incredibly well to be a lawyer.”

“Especially if he’s ripping you off. Potentially.”

Tara nodded.  The buildings around Stork Club loomed large.  There was a lot of people around and Tara was sure it would be impossible to pick Brigitte out of the crowd.  Of course, as the night went on she was sure things would simmer a bit.  Dinner time, as it was, this place was alive with life.  The Salisbury Hotel across the street had people coming and going, and just down the road was Carnegie Hall.  The park was mere blocks away.  It was as high profile a location as anyone could have dropped themselves into.

“So, I guess you’re going to have a nice dinner at a fancy club.  I should… what?  Stay outside and watch to see if she shows up too?”

“He knows your face. This is why I only have… four friends. Makes things easier…” Ori was staring at the club. “I think it’s risky for you to go in. I also don’t love the idea of leaving you alone out here. I wish we’d called Jo this afternoon- she’s still in the city, right?”

“Yeah she’s here.  I could call her.  I mean, it’s not like finding a phone around here would be hard.  I could go into the hotel and find one I’m sure.”

Ori felt unsettled. Butterflies. She was used to being on missions with… tools. Chess pieces. Not people she cared about. 

Tara reached a hand over to the passenger seat and touched Ori’s hand.

“Go make the call. I’ll wait here until you’re back, then I’ll head in. Couple minutes won’t change anything, and if I know Jo she’ll be here fast. Hopefully she’s not already out somewhere- at least it’s still early.”

Tara went into The Salisbury and right up to the front desk.  After a short conversation (and tip) to the man working there, she was allowed to use the phone and she placed her call to Jo who was all too eager to have an excuse to come out to a place like Stork Club.  Tara didn’t clarify that she might not be going inside, instead allowed Jo her moment of excitement resolving she’d make a point to take her here when they weren’t in the middle of a job.

Tara exited the building and got back inside the car, “She’s on her way.  Shouldn’t be terribly long.”

Ori leaned over and started to kiss Tara before she remembered she’d just reapplied her lipstick. Instead, she offered her cheek.  Tara kissed the air beside both of Ori’s cheeks. “That’s how it’s done, yes?” she chuckled. 

“Perfecto. Don’t die. If you see Brigitte, try to figure out whether approaching her or following her is less dangerous for the two of you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.  We’re in the middle of everything New York is known for, people everywhere.  Nothing is going to happen here.” She shook her head, “Except some guy getting to enjoy you in that dress while I sit outside with Jo.”  she sighed. “Enjoy dinner.”

Ori nodded, then exited the car. As she walked, she tried to change her body language. Less tense. More fun. Rich young woman, out to spend some of her daddy’s money and have a good time. Ori checked her hair. Marie? Lucy? No. Annabella. Annabella was going to cut loose tonight. Hmm. How well would Ricci know Tara’s family? Maybe the “Bella” was a bad idea. And the “Anna” was a little too close to her own name, if he drew up the will. Maybe… Sophie. 

Sophie walked into the club with the wide grin of someone who’s been there, done that, but was still in the mood for more. Scoping out the place, she sauntered over to the bar.

The room was filled to the brim with a who’s who of New York elite as well as more than a few faces that the average person would never rub elbows with.  While ‘Sophie’ had gotten a look upon entering, she must have fit whatever guidelines the man at the door was told to look for in pretty young women coming to the bar.  

Ricci was an easy one to spot.  He was boisterous, unafraid, in the prime of his life and seemingly abashed or cowed by the men around him.  This made him appealing to the women in the room too. Ricci was at the far end of the bar, accepting a cigar from another man, older and more distinguished looking.  Italian, though by his speech he’d been in New York long enough for it to be more American than native Italian. Maybe a second or third generation, if she were to hazard a guess.

A woman hung on the arm of the distinguished Italian.  That woman was clearly a working girl. Not because she gave off some sign of being lesser, certainly she’d done well to fit into the room, but Oriana was a professional at spotting certain tells.  There wasn’t any sort of love lost between her and her John, and yet she had her hands on him in all the right ways to keep his attention. He, on the other hand, seemed possessive of her - as if she were property.  In truth, the girl looked to Ricci more times than was polite, as if she was considering tomorrow night’s client… or maybe later tonight if she was that sort. Ricci, however, was alone for the moment. Making conversation with the man which seemed more like trying to woo a potential client or socializing with someone who was already tied to him.  

As the men lit their cigars, Oriana’s attention to detail again seemed to pay off.  The cigars were made by a company owned by Billy.  They bore a very distinctive stylized M, and were a sort that Billy often passed around to friends and business associates.  His prized brand from a factory he owned in Michigan.

When she was done scoping out her target, Ori leaned against the bar with her bare shoulder pointed at him. She didn’t spare a second glance in Ricci’s direction, considering her drink as she trusted that any man would notice her if she was within five feet- especially in this dress. She ordered a martini and immediately regretted it. Remembering how Cat insisted on calling her Oreo Martini was a distraction she didn’t need.

Oriana hadn’t heard much of the conversation between the older man who Ricci had called Les.  They seemed mostly to be laughing about a card game they had taken part in a few nights earlier as well as some quiet locker room talk about the waitresses at the Cotton Club.  Harmless really, if somewhat distasteful.  Certainly no smoking guns, yet.  

It took longer than she expected, more than five minutes passed before she got that feeling of eyes on her.  It took nearly ten before she felt his presence, near her, very near.  “Vodka tonic.”  His voice rumbled to the bartender. 

Ori smiled over her shoulder. “Not in the mood for something more exciting tonight?”

Ricci’s eyes couldn’t help but wander.  “I like to pace myself.”  He smiled offering his hand.  “Michael Ricci.  I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“Sophie Mancini. Because I’ve never been here. I’m a… tropical creature. But I heard this was the one decent place in this town, so here I am.” 

“What brings a tropical beauty such as yourself all the way north to the frigid autumn here in New York?”  He accepted the vodka tonic with a smile.

“A wedding. Not mine- thank God. I don’t know how you people stand it.”

“We find ways to keep warm.  The cold encourages it.”  He smirked.   “You’re not here alone are you?”

“I am, thankfully. I managed to ditch my father’s… what’s the word? Watchman?”

He chuckled.  “Chaperone?”  

“Ah, but that makes me sound too young. I’m old enough to know what I like.”

“Well, in that case, why don’t you join me?  I might not be what you enjoy, but it’s got to be better than drinking alone.  I could introduce you to some friends.  After we eat, we’re going to head out to a private party.  I promise it will be much more exciting than anything you’ll find here at the Stork.”

Sophie studied the man carefully, looking him up and down with a smirk. “No promises… but with an offer like that, you’re well on your way to being what I enjoy.”

He offered his arm.  “Well, I do enjoy a good challenge.  Miss Sophie, if you please, I would love to take you to my table and put something good into you.”  He hesitated before adding, “The chef here is French. I hear he’s one of the best in the world.”

“Just Sophie is fine, Michael. And that sounds... enticing.”

Michael lead ‘Sophie’ into the dining room where Les and his girl had already settled into a booth with another couple.  

“Gentleman, I hope you don’t mind that I am bringing along a guest to our little dinner bull session?”  Michael announced. “This is Sophie Mancini, a tropical delight out of her element and looking for the warmth of good company.  I assured her that you would all make her feel welcome.”

The gentlemen stood and the ladies smiled at ‘Sophie’ - who offered a small smile of greeting and a brief wave.

“Sophie allow me to make a few introductions,”  He motioned to the distinguished gentleman he was talking to earlier.  “This is Alessandro Romano, a businessman and client of mine. This is his date the lovely Rosalyn.  This is Mr. Paul Murphy and his date… I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, Miss?”

“Just Alice.  That’ll be fine.”  the girl’s accent was thick, Brooklyn through and through.

“Lovely to make the acquaintance of each of you.”

Michael offered his companion a seat and then once she was comfortable he and the other men sat back down. Ori looked around the table normally, studying Rosalyn without attracting attention. Working with Brigitte to get info? Or sleeping with the enemy?   

“So, where are you from, Sophie?”  Alessandro spoke first. The group looked with interest to their newest addition. “Most recently? The French Riviera. I spent the last several months there ‘looking for a husband.’” She smirked.

There was a scattering of chuckles around the table.