Callie’s Last Dance

24.

“BRACE YOURSELF,” CALLIE says.

“Enough buildup,” I say. “Who’s Frankie’s drug contact?”

“Sophie Alexander.”

“What? No shit?”

“That’s what I said to Frankie!”

“Sal’s niece?” I say.

“The same.”

“Wow!”

“I said that too!” Callie says.

I visited Sophie’s home in Nashville last month while posing as an FBI agent. I was there to observe the agency’s interrogation of Dani for the murder of her husband. At the time, Dani didn’t know me, but Sophie and I spoke in private, which gave me the opportunity to walk through her home. It was modest on the outside, but the furniture and wall hangings suggested an income beyond what she earned from writing songs. At the time I thought she might be hooking, or selling some weed on the side. But the idea Sophie might be higher up the drug ladder than Frankie De Luca?

Astonishing.

“Hello? Did you fall asleep?” Callie asks.

“Why, you got a flight to catch?”

“I try to stay busy.”

“It’s after midnight.”

“We’re not all a hundred years old.”

“Sad, but true. Did Frankie give you details?”

“Sophie’s a mule. She meets a guy in a different hotel in a different city each month. Depends on where she’s performing. The guy brings her a suitcase full of H. At some point over the next few days she meets Frankie at a pre-determined spot. They exchange suitcases.”

“So Frankie gets next month’s heroin, Sophie gets last month’s cash.”

“That’s right.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone in the drug trade waiting a whole month for payment.”

“She must be dealing with someone at the very top.”

“I don’t suppose Frankie gave you a name?”

“He didn’t know any names.”

“You’re certain?”

“Quite.”

“You asked with extreme prejudice?”

“You know I did. So, are you going to tell Sal about his precious niece?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Did you kill Frankie?”

“Did you tell me to?”

“Yes.” He pauses. Then says, “And you did?”

Callie chuckles. “Yes, Donovan. I killed Frankie. He was in a lot of pain. It was a mercy killing.”

“Then yes, we need to tell Sal. Sooner, not later.”

“We?”

“What happened to the dog?”

“Digby’s alive and well. I set out some food and water, and moved the bodies so he won’t be too upset when he comes to. If he’s not found by ten tomorrow, I’ll place an anonymous call to the police.”

“That’s a lot of trouble to go to. Are you going soft on me?”

“I couldn’t bear to kill such an ugly dog.”

“No cameras? No surveillance equipment?”

“None.”

“You find that odd?”

“Not really. Sal’s pretty adamant that his lieutenants keep a low profile.”

“I agree. But speaking of Sal, we need to tell him.”

“That’s the second time you said ‘we.’ What am I missing?”

“Now that I’ve got this new job, I’m hoping you’ll decide to work with me.”

“I already work with you.”

“I mean together. You and me.”

“Sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”

“I want you to help me run Sensory. We’ll work out of the office together.”

“It’s a shit job.”

“Currently, yes. But it doesn’t have to be.”

“You’ve got plans?”

“Lots.”

“Does the committee know about your plans?”

I laugh out loud. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s hilarious. You’ve been on the job a few hours and you’re already fucking the system. I’m all for it. But you’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?”

“My penthouse in Vegas.”

“So? I’m opening a spa and surgery center in Vegas.”

“What I’m saying, I’m not moving to Virginia.”

“Me either. I’m moving Sensory to Vegas.”

“You can do that?”

“We’ll have two locations. One for geeks, one for freaks.”

“Freaks?”

“I was channeling my inner rap star.”

“What does that mean?”

“Geeks? Freaks? It’s a rhyme. See, what I was going for is-”

“Donovan?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep your day job.”

“Okay.”