By the time I got out of the bathroom and got dressed, Megan informed me that Miss Belmonte had split, telling Megan to tell me she was sorry, but she was on her way to the jail to visit a friend. Of course, I knew who the friend was. “She left this for you, though.” Megan handed me a manila envelope, adding, “She is very beautiful.” I nodded, as I was more interested in the manila envelope when the phone rang.
I stared at the phone while contemplating if I should ignore it. It was Emma. “Are you coming in today?!!!” She sounded frantic and pissed. “The phone has been ringing off the hook!” Her voice then dropped to a whisper. “There are some very scary-looking characters waiting here for you. What should I tell them?” Oh, fuck! “Tell them I’m not coming in today. I’ll call you in about an hour, and you can tell me if the coast is clear.” “OK,” she said. “Oh, and thanks, baby, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said.
I looked around for Megan before I continued with Emma. “What are you wearing, baby?” I said in my most lecherous-sounding voice. She chuckled. “Listen, Emma, I’m going to take you to Scoma’s for dinner tonight to show my appreciation for all you do. Why don’t you call the Fairmont and book us a room what d'ya say, baby?” “Sounds like a plan,” she said, sounding a bit cheerier. “OK, call you later, sweetheart. Oh, and tell any and all who call that you have no idea where I’m at. “Before you hang up, Sam, Nikki Santos sounds really desperate to talk to you. What should I tell her?” “Tell her you haven’t heard from me.”
I knew Nikki suspected I must have some shit I’m not sharing with her. She would be right. I’m not sharing a damn thing with her unless it was some bullshit I made up. Maybe a few crumbs to keep her off my ass. I wondered who those scary-looking dudes were - waiting for me at my office. Probably part of Battaglia’s crew looking to apply some pressure on me to help out their underboss, Mr. Rocco Anzini. “Mr. Grit! Detective Santos is here for you!” hollered Megan.
Fuck me! I was standing in my bedroom with the manila envelope in my hand, which now felt like a lump of burning coal. I had gone into my bedroom to have some privacy and had just lifted the flap of the manila envelope. Shit! I quickly opened a drawer of my dresser and jammed the envelope in it, and turned to find Nikki Santos standing in the bedroom doorway. “You are one fucking difficult man to get a hold of, you know that?” She was wearing a knee-length, cotton-floral summer dress, showing off those magnificent, tanned gams of hers. Her blond hair: which was usually in a ponytail, was falling over her shoulders and around that exquisite face of hers.
I thought. ‘what the fuck ever possessed her to become a cop and a homicide cop at that?’ I asked her that before. I told her she could be a model, an actress, anything but a cop. She told me modeling was how she paid her way through college. “What an unbelievably superfine piece of ass you are, Nikki,” I said, smiling. “Well, thank you, Sam, that’s the nicest compliment I’ve had all day,” she said, smiling back. “I mean, for a cop, that is,” I added. We both laughed at that, and then I pulled her into my bedroom and then into my arms while shouting to Megan to take the girls for a walk. “Sure thing, Mr. G!” “Mr. G?” said a smiling Nikki while unzipping my slacks.
To be continued…