Heart's Desire (37 page)

Chapter Seventy-six

“WHAT DID I DO?” I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT OFFICER Rich is talking about.

“Valueland is being charged with tax evasion and has been forced to shut its doors, and I mean
permanently,
” he answers. “It turns out that Kunckle’s crew has been bringing in goods from Canada that were originally manufactured in the Far East and sticking MADE IN AMERICA labels onto them. The shipping documents were then altered for US Customs.

“Another step toward ending child labor!” cries a delighted Olivia. “But how does this involve potholes?”

“Hallie noticed the delivery trucks when she and Bernard were out late one night—or rather, early one morning,” says Officer Rich. “So I staked out Valueland for a few weeks and it turned out to be a nightly occurrence.”

I can see my mother’s eyebrows shooting skyward and Bernard looking worried, so I quickly jump in. “When we left early for that antiques show in Pittsburgh, I mean, Philadelphia. It must have been about 3 A.M.”

“Oh, of course,” Bernard energetically agrees. “The
antiques
show.
”

“Anyway,” continues Officer Rich, “the day before I’d been telling Hallie how the back roads between here and Valueland were constantly getting ripped up. When she next ran into me at our weekly poker game and said how she’d seen some large trucks, the kind intended for highway travel, she figured that they must be causing the potholes.”

Now it’s Mr. and Mrs. Larkin’s turn to look intrigued when they hear my name mentioned in conjunction with a poker game.

“So the trucks were pulling into Valueland to unload,” explains Officer Rich. “And five in the morning is an unusual time to be unpacking a truck around here.”

“Yeah, but I only told you I thought I knew where the potholes were coming from,” I remind him. “You went off and figured out the tax evasion stuff.”

“Actually, the state revenue officer took care of that when I told him about the shipments in the middle of the night. Valueland isn’t the first store to attempt this sort of label switcheroo,” says Officer Rich. “Though I’m surprised that Edwin Kunckle would be involved in such a sleazy operation.”

Mr. Larkin harrumphs in a way that indicates he’s not
at all
surprised that Edwin Kunckle would be involved in something like this. “There’s a good example of a man who’d rather reign in hell than serve in heaven.”

“Milton!” exclaims Olivia, obviously thrilled to have another person at the table with a stanza to suit every occasion.

“Will he go to jail?” I’m hoping yes; after almost putting Herb out of business he deserves it. What a creep. I’d love to see how those stupid blue silk ascots look with an orange jumpsuit.

Officer Rich shakes his head. “Sorry, but he’s already out on bail. And of course he’s employed the most expensive lawyers in Cleveland to work on the case round the clock. But the
big
news,” he turns to me, “is that you’re going to get a five-thousand-dollar reward!”

“No kidding?” I must be dreaming. First I have the best night of my life with Craig and now, after losing the design contest and throwing the poker game, I’m still getting some money. That will pay for the tuition gap second semester and so I won’t have to quit for a year and work full-time! It’s as if the odds have suddenly and mysteriously shifted in my favor. And a good thing too, since I’d been starting to think that perhaps my luck was finally running out.

“That’s wonderful,” says my mother, who attended the Every-Bit-Helps School of Finance.

And as much as I can really use the money, it crosses my mind that I’m not really entitled to it, at least all of it. “But
you’re
the one who figured out the tax evasion!” I say to Officer Rich.

“The money is for tips that help crack a case, and you were the one who provided the tip, Hallie.” Officer Rich is firm. “Besides, I can’t take any of the money. I’m in law enforcement. It’s specifically for good citizenship.”

“Cool!” I say. And who would have imagined that the words
good citizenship
would ever be used in conjunction with
my
name!

Craig raises “our” orange juice glass in toast fashion and gives me a proud smile.

His parents appear impressed too, as if you shouldn’t judge a person just because they wear torn jeans with a Mr. Bubble T-shirt and play poker.

“Maybe you can use the money to go on a trip,” suggests Bernard. “To historic Williamsburg,
Virginia.
Or better yet, the
Virgin
Islands.”

“Just be sure and go to the
British
Virgin Islands.” Olivia is back on message. “They have a social welfare system and take care of the people who work hard their entire lives. Unlike America, which more often than not heartlessly casts aside her human resources.”

There’s
another
knock at the door and Gil goes to answer it. Who’s left, I wonder? Maybe it’s Dr. Just Call Me Dick from the high school coming to tell me that there’s been a mistake and I never graduated after all.

Chapter Seventy-seven

GIL RETURNS TO THE TABLE WITH CAPPY, SMARTLY TURNED OUT in neatly pressed white pants, plaid shirt, maroon linen sport jacket, and wearing his good-luck boating cap at a jaunty angle. He politely removes his cap upon entering the dining room and holds it in front of his chest as if “The Star-Spangled Banner” is about to begin playing.

Until now I’ve managed to keep my old gambling life and my new life with the Stocktons separate. Bernard has heard about Cappy, but he’s never met him. However, as soon as I introduce my old track crony, Bernard graciously offers him coffee and breakfast.

It’s obvious that Officer Rich and also Mr. Larkin
do
know Cappy, and hold a negative opinion regarding his line of business. And though they don’t say anything, I can tell that they’d rather he didn’t stay. Cappy doesn’t make any trouble around town and so the Morality Police tend to leave him alone, because the truth is that a lot of local doctors and lawyers and businessmen use his services all the time. However, it’s understood that Cappy’s supposed to stay on his own turf, meaning the track and his office down at Bob’s, or else Officer Rich might be interested in offering him some free lodging.

Cappy is no doubt aware that his presence may not be desired all around and politely refuses the offer of breakfast and also Bernard’s chair at the table. “Thanks, but I just need to talk to Hallie for a minute and I’ll be on my way.” He looks around the table and nods to everyone and shoots a horse trader’s glance into the kitchen. “Where’s Ray Ray?” he asks me.

“Gone Gone,” I tell him. “We sort of broke up.”

“Who’s Ray Ray?” asks Officer Rich, apparently interested in anyone who might also be of interest to the local bookie.

“Raymond Vincent Bolliteri Junior.” Cappy’s tone is heavy with disapproval, suggesting that he and Officer Rich aren’t in such different businesses after all.

The name Raymond Bolliteri certainly gets the attention of Craig’s dad, who sits straight up in his chair. “Raymond Bolliteri
Senior
is the head of the most powerful crime family in the Midwest,” he explains for the benefit of assembled company, including me.

Holy shit, I almost slept with a mafioso-in-training. He certainly didn’t
talk
or
act
like any of those hoods on TV. How was I supposed to know? Oh my gosh, if Ray had stayed over last night I might have had to start wearing makeup and big hair and maybe even high heels!

“They have huge money-laundering operations all over the state,” continues Mr. Larkin. “In fact, well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Valueland was one of their laundries. Ed Kunckle is only the front man.”

“Oh good heavens!” says my mother. Women in their childbearing years are often the first to connect a financial windfall for offspring with potential harm to offspring.

“Don’t worry,” says Mr. Larkin. “That’s why they use people like Ed Kunckle. The store disappears, he gets paid off, cuts a deal to stay out of prison, spreads some money around for a new library and a day-care center, and the local paper prints that Kunckle was embezzled by his accountants.”

“You almost slept with a mobster!” blurts out Craig, echoing my own thoughts. But out
loud
!

My mother’s jaw drops an inch at the words
slept with
and then another inch for
mobster.
And for a split second it’s hard to tell whether engaging in premarital sex trumps being on a Mafia hit list in her parental playbook.

“Hallie would have of course reformed him,” interjects Bernard. “The way Sarah Brown converted Sky Masterson in
Guys and
Dolls.
”

Craig’s announcement about my dating history appears to pique Mrs. Larkin’s curiosity as well, if one can judge a person’s interest in something by the way their palms fly up to their cheeks and stare at the party in question.

Meantime Cappy lets out a low but satisfied chuckle, the way he does when the favorite starts out too strong and the experts know it’s going to drop back to last place in the final furlong but the gullible bettors are cheering their hearts out.

Fortunately I’m saved by the bells of Our Lady of Perpetual Sanctity, which start clanging out an earsplitting “What a Friend You Have in Jesus” to call the faithful to worship. Rocky comes bounding through the dining room dressed in his suit and tie.

Craig’s parents have never seen Rocky before. In fact, by the looks on their faces it’s safe to say they’ve never seen
any
chimpanzee wearing a three-piece suit.

“He certainly looks excited about going to church today,” exclaims Gil.

“I should think so,” says Olivia. “Rocky’s converted Lulu to Catholicism. Now that they’ve settled on being friends they attend Mass together every Sunday.”

The news of a chimp taking a dog to church doesn’t surprise Gil, because he’s lived with the Stocktons long enough to know that this could be considered one of the more boring things to happen around here. The Stocktons live in capital letters, is the way Gil likes to explain it. However, it’s probably a good thing that Craig’s parents don’t know that the “Lulu” being spoken of is a Great Dane.

“They’re off to pray to the
Virgin
Mary,” adds Bernard, no doubt for my benefit.

But I no longer mind his teasing. This particular ending has been lost in a crowd of wonderful new beginnings.

Rocky heads out the front door, and Cappy, after politely saying his good-byes, follows him. There’s no doubt in my mind that Cappy is already working on ways to make a couple bucks off the chimp, like betting some of his pals down at the pool hall a C-note that there’s a monkey attending Mass over at Our Lady right this very minute.

Just as Cappy exits, Herb from the drugstore enters with a pleased look on his face and a big cardboard box under his arm. He stands at the head of the table and announces, “Hallie, I can’t thank you enough for helping to close down Valueland. I was planning to call it quits after Labor Day and close the store.”

“Then next time deal me some cards that I can use,” I say.

“I’m being serious, for once,” insists Herb. “They’ve only been shut for two days and I’m busier than a lesbian in a hardware store at closing time.”

“
What
did you just say?” I can’t believe my ears. Herb is not exactly known for being the most gay-friendly of all my friends.

But Herb only laughs. “Bernard taught me that one. I just love it. And my kids think I’m really cool when I surprise them with these bonbons.”

My mother and the Larkins appear puzzled.

However, Olivia politely clears up the confusion without embarrassing Herb. “Ah yes, perhaps someday Hallie can write a book containing all of Bernard’s
bon mots.
”

Herb places the large box down on the floor. “There’s enough toothpaste and shampoo and stuff in here to last you through the holidays.”

I glance over at the open carton to make sure there aren’t boxes of condoms or pregnancy tests on top.

“And if you give me your address at school, I’ll ship you paper products and microwave food,” promises a joyous Herb.

“Now that’s an offer I’m not going to refuse,” I say. Between the reward money and the Herb pipeline I may not even have to take out much more in loans this year. At least assuming that I can win a few games of hearts every now and then.