Mixed Up with the Mob. Ginny Aiken
you and your brother grow up in this home?”
“Not at all. Ric bought this place when his wife was pregnant.”
“So he’s had it for about four, maybe five years.”
“Just over five now. Mark turned five six weeks ago.”
“And you were willing to give up your work to care for your nephew.”
“Any day, Mr. Latham. I love Mark as if he were my own.”
“I could see that last night, Miss DiStefano. You saved him some serious injuries there. The car just glanced off you, but if it had clipped him, as young as he is, the impact would have done damage.”
She shuddered. “That was the worst part of it.”
“And how do you feel today?”
“I won’t lie to you. I’m sore. Every bit of me aches.”
“I was pretty sure you weren’t anywhere near as all right as you insisted last night.”
“I am all right. I just fell. Feeling sore is one thing, an injury that requires an ambulance and EMTs is another.”
“I’ll give you that.” He felt she’d eased up some, so he went in with another of his questions. “So your brother was quite successful. What kind of work did he do?”
“I don’t really know. Something to do with funding and stocks—money matters. I never bothered to ask.”
So what did she do? Just suck up the bucks the brother brought in?
He tried again. “I imagine he left you well provided, seeing you’ll be raising his son.”
“I wish. It appears what he did leave is a mountain of debt. I have to meet with the bank and…” She gave a vague wave. “I don’t know what you call them. Financial planners? Advisors? Money men, okay?”
“There must be insurance, though.”
“Yes, there is, and it’s a large sum, but if the debts are as serious as the money men say, then it might not stretch far enough for me to keep the house.”
“Then what will you do with your nephew? I mean, I imagine you’ll have to get a job again.”
“Probably. But Mark is in preschool these days. I hope to find a teaching position at his school or another one nearby.”
“That would be nice.”
They fell silent for a few moments, and David tried to come up with an effective way to ask what he needed to know. But in the end, he had no luck. He leaned forward and blurted it out.
“So how about you tell me what really happened last night? And don’t give me that ghost stuff. Where is your brother? Did he die? Or did he pretend he did? Did he try to run you over? And if he did hit you with that car, why? What does he have against you? Why would your brother want to kill you?”
She gasped.
“No!” the little boy yelled from the parlor door. “My daddy dinn’nt do that to Aunt Lauren. I don’t like you. Go ’way! Leave my aunt alone, you ugly…um…nasty…ah…monster!”
And right then, David did feel like an ugly monster. Especially when he saw the pain in Lauren DiStefano’s tear-filled green eyes.
There were times he really hated his job.
FIVE
Lauren ran to Mark’s side. “Hush, honey. It’s okay. It’s Mr. Latham’s job to ask questions, even—” she shot David a poisonous glare “—nasty ones.”
By then, David did feel as nasty as dog slobber and even less welcome. He went to defend himself, but Mark proved quicker to the draw.
“You gotta go do time-out in the corner, mister.” He pointed toward the back of the room. “That’s what Miss Green does at school.”
David took the chance to lighten the moment. “So Miss Green spends lots of time standing in the corner. Wow, Mark. She must sure be a greeny-meany.”
For a heartbeat, the boy seemed to weigh the sincerity of David’s joke. But David saw victory at the quirking of Mark’s mouth. Then he burst into a full-blown grin.
“Hey, Aunt Lauren! He made a good funny.”
“Yes, Mark. He did.”
The look she sent David this time made him feel too many things, too many to identify at once. Yes, she saw the humor in his dopey comment, which made him ridiculously proud of himself. But she didn’t trust him any more than she would an angry rattler, which for some reason made him want to prove himself—to the subject of an investigation. Go figure.
And she hadn’t forgiven his blunt and hurtful questions. Questions he still needed answered.
He sighed. He couldn’t very well badger her with the boy in the room. He’d lost his opportunity, and he’d have to bide his time. Because the opportunity would arise again. He’d make sure of it.
He rose. “I see I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
“Hey!” Mark cried. “Aren’t you gonna stand in the corner?”
The boy’s frown broadcast what he thought of David shirking punishment.
“Ah…sure,” he backpedaled. “I’ll check out the corner of my office. And I will think about all those nasty questions I asked.”
Two pairs of green eyes studied him, very different messages in them.
“You gonna ask ’em again?” The boy’s wisdom caught David by surprise.
Lauren smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “Oh, I’m sure he won’t, Mark. He’s going to come up with new, nastier ones, I’m afraid.”
The boy planted his fists on his slim hips. “You’re gonna spend lots a time in time-out then, mister. You better like your corner a whole bunch.”
David’s cheeks tingled again. “From the mouths of babes…”
“Let me show you out, Mr. Latham.” Lauren’s otherwise polite voice had that nip back again. “Mark and I are busy this afternoon, and we must get ready.”
The boy’s eyes grew big and round. “We are?”
“Of course, we are.” A touch of pink brightened her creamy cheeks. “We’re going to the library.”
“Sudden need for a good book, huh?”
Her chin tipped up, and she strode to the front door. “Always. Reading is an absolute necessity, Mr. Latham. You’d be surprised by how many take the ability to read for granted and don’t even make use of it.”
A blast of frigid air rushed in the open doorway—it matched the temperature of her voice as she added, “It’s by far the best road to true wisdom.”
“Hmm…and here I thought that road ran through God’s Word.”
“And how does one access the Father’s Word, Mr. Latham?”
“Touché!” He stepped past her and into the cold. “But there is one thing you really, really have to do—or stop doing.”
He didn’t let her ask. “It’s that Mr. Latham thing, okay? I keep looking over my shoulder to see if my dad’s standing somewhere behind me. My name’s David, okay?”
She shrugged. “I’m hoping not to have to use either one again.”
“Ouch!” He struck a theatrical pose with a hand over his heart. “You wound me so, Miss DiStefano. And me, a poor wandering soldier on a mission.”
Her snort caught him off guard. “Someone’s called you charming much too often, but you won’t charm