Murder Is Invisible

2. Someone’s Missing

Someone’s Missing

Angie sat at the table doing bills. Rosa walked in and pecked her cheek. “Hey, Mom. How’s it goin?’”

“Fine, dear. How was school?”

“About the same.” Rosa grabbed a pack of peanut butter crackers from the pantry, sat in a chair next to her mother, and said, “What time will Dad be home?”

“Five-thirty, as he always is. Why?”

“Just wanted to talk to him.”

“You’ve never ‘just wanted’ to talk to your father. Now, tell me what you want, and if it involves money, get a job.”

Rosa laughed. “It doesn’t involve money,” she said. “Besides, when I tried to get a job, you wouldn’t let me.”

“Young lady, working at a bar for cash does not constitute a real job. Not at your age.”

“What constitutes a real job, according to you and Dad?”

“One that pays above the table, and allows you to keep your clothes on.”

“I would have had clothes on with that job.”

“That outfit they wanted you to wear did not constitute clothes, not in my book. And it didn’t pay above the table. Remember, a real job has to meet all requirements. As far as I’m concerned, that job didn’t meet any of them.”

For the next two hours, Rosa did her homework and helped clean the house. When Nicky came home she greeted him with a glass of wine.

Nicky raised his eyebrows and stared. “Either you did something wrong, or you want something, or both,” he said, then he took a sip of wine.”

“How cynical, Dad. There is a third option, you know. I could be showing affection for my father.”

“Yes, you could be, but for the time being, let’s assume I’m right. Now, tell me what you want.”

Rosa sat on the sofa. “You remember Allison Parker, the girl I played basketball with last year? She’s been missing for several days.”

“No, I don’t remember her; you played basketball with a lot of girls. Regardless, why are you telling me about this?”

“She wouldn’t just go missing. Not without telling somebody. Something must have happened.”

“I’ll ask my question again. Why are you telling me about this? If no one’s done it already, they should report her being missing to the police.”

“I thought maybe you could look into it.”

“Despite what you may think, I’m not a detective.”

“You could have fooled me. The way you helped Uncle Frankie bust his case down here, and then you went to New York to help again.”

“Those were unusual circumstances,” Nicky said. “One involved a little boy, and the other was because Bugs was in trouble. Besides, neither one was something I wanted to do.”

“This is unusual, too,” Rosa said. “Allison would never do this. And she may not be a little boy, but she’s a young girl, or woman, or whatever. And besides, Jen said she was talking to her the night she disappeared and nothing was weird.”

“What do you mean by nothing was weird?”

“I mean she Jen said she was acting normal. She didn’t have a fight with her boyfriend. She wasn’t pissed at her dad. Nothing was weird. Like I said.”

“I hear you,” Nicky said, “and I’m glad to know nothing was weird, but you need to take my advice—for once—and report it to the cops. I’ll go with you if you want.”

“Like they’ll do anything,” Rosa said, and her tone reflected her attitude. “They’ll file it in a drawer and forget about it. When was the last time you heard of a missing person case being solved by the cops?”

“There’s always a first time,” Nicky said. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” He held up his glass, as if saluting. “But thanks for the wine.”

“Enjoy it,” Rosa said. “It will be the last glass you’ll get from me.” She stormed up the stairs.

“What was that about?” Angie asked, as she sat next to Nicky.

“Some friend of hers is missing,” Nicky said. “Somebody named Allison Parker. Rosa said she played basketball with her last year. Anyway, she’s pissed off at me because I wouldn’t help her.”

“Allison Parker? I remember the name,” Angie said, “but that’s about all. She probably ran away. That’s the problem with kids nowadays.”

“Probably,” Nicky said, but he didn’t even convince himself. Rosa had seemed too confident of the unlikelihood of a runaway scenario.

“You can’t tell about kids these days. They’re unpredictable,” Angela said.

“You can’t tell about kids any day,” Nicky said. “Back in my day…”

“Don’t start that ‘back in my day’ s**t. Back in your day, you were hangin’ on the corner, stealing cigarettes, and working poker games. And that’s when you were six! I don’t even want to talk about sixteen.”

“Point accepted,” Nicky said with a laugh. “But don’t forget that later on I was also dating some foxy young thing with long, brown hair and a sweet ass.”

Angie looked around quickly. “Hush up! Rosa may have heard you.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t want her to know you had long, brown hair. She’s not old enough.”

Angie smacked him. “Smart ass.”

“And I wouldn’t dare want anyone to know you used to have a sweet ass.”

“All right, mister. That comment just earned you a night in the guest room.”

“That would have more impact if we actually had a guest room. Dante’s in there now, in case you forgot. By the way, is that little s**t still napping? Shouldn’t he be up to play with his father?”

“I’m just about to wake him. I’m sure he’s tired, because he’s been playing all afternoon with Daniella’s boy. They were hilarious.”

“All right. Go get him, but don’t forget to whisper, or I’ll tell him about your butt, too.”

Angie tried smacking Nicky again, but he laughed and dodged.

Angie got Dante up for a feeding, then she and Nicky talked for a while before settling into the routine of watching a TV show, followed by a night of reading. About midnight they went to bed.

The light was still on in Rosa’s room, so Angie went in. Rosa was on the bed, watching an old movie, a habit she picked up from Nicky.

“What are you watching?” Angela asked.

Rosa turned, flashed a quick smile, then said, “The George Raft Story. This guy who plays him is good. And a darn good dancer.”

Angie wondered what the hell the George Raft Story was, and who George Raft was, then she smiled and said, “Who plays him?”

“Ray Danton. I don’t know what other movies he’s been in, but he should have been in more. I like him.”

She hated to change the subject while she had Rosa talking, but she needed to. “You should apologize to your father.”

“Why?”

“For talking to him the way you did. You were wrong, and I think you know it.”

"I don't see him beating a path to my door,” Rosa said. “Why isn’t he apologizing to me?”

“Because he’s your father, and besides, he’s not a detective. And it's not his job to find a missing girl, even if she is your friend.” Angie cast a quick glance down the hall. “And didn’t he offer to go to the cops with you? That’s what you should do.”

“He didn’t say ‘I’m not a detective’ when Uncle Frankie asked for help. Suppose the situation were reversed? Think what you would be like if I were missing. Wouldn’t you want somebody to help? If one of my friends’ father could help, wouldn’t you want him to?”

Angela frowned, but then nodded. “I guess I would. Well, no guessing about it,” she said. “I know I would.”

Rosa twisted her body and sat on the edge of the bed. “I know Allison. She wouldn’t do this. She’s not the kind of girl who would run away, and she doesn’t hang out with bad people. And Jen said she was talking to her the night she—”

“I know,” Angela said, and nodded. “I’ll talk to your father. Maybe there’s something he can do.”

The first smile of the night lit Rosa’s face. “Thanks, Mom. I know he’ll find her. He may say he’s not a detective, but he’s good.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Angela said, “and don’t tell anyone about this. Nothing. Do you hear me?” Then she got up and left the room.

Nicky was getting out of the shower when Angie walked into the bedroom.

“You’ve got one of those looks on your face,” Nicky said. “What’s up?”

“Rosa asked me about her friend Allison again. I have to agree that it doesn’t sound like a typical runaway situation. Maybe you could ask a few questions,” Angie said. “Nothing much. Just check with a couple of the guys.”

“Nothing much?” Nicky said. “You don’t know these guys. If they even remotely think they provided information that helped me, then I’d owe them one. And trust me, the last thing I want is to owe them anything.” Nicky slipped on underwear and a T-shirt. “I told her I’d go with her to the cops, but that’s all I’m doing.”

“Rosa seemed convinced that the police wouldn’t be able to do anything. There’s gotta be something you can do. Maybe ask Frankie to look into it. He’s coming down next week, isn’t he?”

Nicky sat on the bed. “Bugs is a good choice, being a detective and all, but next week will be too late; the girl will either be long gone, or back home. If I’m gonna do this, it has to be now. The trouble is that I don’t want to do anything.”

Nicky grabbed a pair of pants from the drawer and slipped them on.

“Where are you going?” Angie asked. “It’s past midnight.”

“Easy, babe. I’m just talking to Rosa.” He finished dressing, then went to Rosa’s room.

Rosa was sitting on the edge of the bed when Nicky walked in. “Tell me everything you know,” he said. “Don’t leave anything out, and that includes any drugs she takes and anybody she screwed around with, and yes, I do mean screwed in the biblical sense. I have no time for niceties.”

“Dad!” Rosa said, but it was accompanied by laughter. “That’s a terrible outfit.”

“I’m not going dancing,” Nicky said. “Now tell me what you know.”

For the next hour, Rosa told him everything, including who Allison dated, hung out with, and slept with. “She doesn’t do drugs,” Rosa said. “And I’m not just saying that. She really doesn’t.”

“Maybe she’s staying with her boyfriend,” Nicky said.

“There are two things wrong with that—first, she doesn’t have a boyfriend she’d stay with. She’s seeing a guy named Nate, but she recently started going out with him. It’s not serious. And second, her father wouldn’t let her.” Rosa laughed. “You haven’t met her father. He thinks it’s still 1982.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t think it’s 1982. He may act like it is, but he doesn’t think it is. Either way, your point is taken,” Nicky said. He then got up to leave the room. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Rosa jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it. Oh, and one more thing. Allison is Monroe’s cousin, in case that makes a difference.”

Nicky sighed and c****d his head. “You know damn right well it does,” he said. “It changes everything; somebody may have taken her to get back at Monroe for something he did. After all, he is the city’s most well-known criminal.”

Nicky looked at Rosa, shook his head, then turned off the light. “You have any pictures? Or should I just ask about a young black girl who happens to be Monroe's cousin?”

Rosa reached for her phone. “There’s a pic on my phone of me with Allison and Jane.”

“That’ll help,” Nicky said. “Text it to me.”

Nicky went back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Angela asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know, and I think that’s the problem. For the first time in my life I don’t know what to do.”

“About what? Rosa’s friend?”

“Yeah. After hearing her describe things, I tend to agree with her. I don’t think the girl ran away. And the girl is Monroe’s cousin, which I just found out, so I should tell him. I’ve known Monroe since we were in prison together. He doesn’t get along well with that side of the family. Still, he’d want to know.”

“So tell Monroe and tell your detective friend. That’s about all you can do.”

Nicky nodded. “I guess so. I’ll call Monroe and go see Mrozinski. At least that’ll be something.”

Angela sat next to him and rubbed his shoulders. “You’re too hard on yourself, Nicky. This isn’t your problem. It’s a sin what happened, but it’s not your problem. You can’t fix the world.”

He took hold of her hand and held her. “I guess so. It’s just that I’ve never felt like this before, never wondered what to do. In the past, I’ve always just done it.”

“And look what that got you—ten years of your life in prison.”

Nicky laughed. “I guess you’re right again, Angela.”

She stood and smacked the back of his head playfully. “I usually am.”