If Wishing Made It So (21 page)

Corrine studied her sister. ‘‘You are looking exceptionally pretty, except that the tip of your nose is all red. Your hair looks terrific. I didn’t know that stylist in the mall gave you such a great haircut. Very flattering.’’

‘‘Right. Only the mall stylist didn’t give it to me. It was the genie who created it. He threw gold dust into the air and it happened. And wait, wait, look at this.’’ Hildy hurried over to the large closet next to the bathroom and flung the door open. ‘‘Donna Karan originals. Now where would I have gotten them? How could I have afforded them? The genie conjured them up for me. He thought seeing me all dressed up would impress Mike. Maybe it did. I think it might have.’’

Hildy threw herself into one of the white wicker chairs. ‘‘That’s what I really need to talk with you about. The whole thing with Mike is all screwed up. He didn’t even try to call me today. Maybe he’s not going to.’’

Corrine went over to the closet and inspected the two dresses Hildy had shown her. They appeared to be genuine couture clothes, but they could be knockoffs. They didn’t resemble anything Hildy had ever worn though.

With one ear, she listened to Hildy rattling on about Mike Amante. In her mind, the problem of getting back with an old boyfriend paled beside the fact that her sister was being pursued by the Mafia. That wasn’t her imagination. The two of them had nearly been kidnapped. Lord knows what could have happened. It was terrifying. She decided to speak her mind.

‘‘Hildy, look, I don’t want to be insensitive or anything about Mike and you, but I’m concerned about what happened back at the casino. You’re in danger. I don’t know why those men are after you, but I’m scared for you.’’

Hildy sighed. She had been as clear as she possibly could be about the situation. ‘‘Oh, Corrine, don’t you understand? Those men are after you too!’’

Chapter 20

Surveillance work is ninety percent boredom. The other ten percent covers the gamut of feelings from the exhilaration of nailing a target in the act to the sick-making stress that accompanies
Oh shit, I lost him.

With the needle stuck firmly in the ninety percent column, Mike had a severe case of buttock paresthesia, more commonly known as tingling tush. He had been sitting in the rental car for three hours with nothing to do but listen to the radio.

Then a blue van pulled up in front of Marty’s. A rush of adrenaline spiked through Mike’s veins. He grabbed the cell phone. His partner answered on the first ring. ‘‘Hey, Jake.’’

‘‘Yeah? What’s cooking?’’

‘‘A contractor showed up at Marty’s. His truck says he’s from Fast Builders in Delaware.’’

‘‘The guy’s probably putting in an order for equipment. Let’s hope he’s a repeat customer. Some of the other stolen machines may be sitting on his lot. I’ve got a list of serial numbers.’’

‘‘You want me to follow him back to his place?’’

‘‘No, just read me the address off the side of the van.’’ Mike did.

Jake decided he’d drive down to the guy’s operationin Delaware and snoop around. They would need to watch Fast Builders and be ready to follow when the contractor went out with a flatbed to pick up the stolen machines.

Mike got the picture quickly. ‘‘Right. We don’t know where Marty’s going to grab the machines or who’s going to steal them, but we can be there when they make the delivery. Then we can follow the thieves who are making the drop-off back to the boss.’’

‘‘Yeah. Hopefully their boss is Jimmy the Bug and not Marty. We have to wait and watch. Our best-case scenario is to identify some of Marty’s other customers if we’re going to make any money by recovering the stolen equipment.’’

Mike couldn’t see how they were going to get the names of the other customers except to keep watching for contractors’ vans to show up at Marty’s. ‘‘I think we’re going to need more manpower than the two of us. You and I can’t keep sitting around in Camden.’’

‘‘No problem. I’ll call in some of the guys I use for security. We’ll figure out how to pay them later.’’

‘‘Agreed. Look, I need a favor. See if you can send one of those guys down here to watch Marty now. I’ve got some business to take care of later today.’’

‘‘Yeah, monkey business. Well, do what you have to do.’’

One of the things Hildy loved about Ship Bottom was the proximity of everything she needed. Today, it turned out she needed ice. She walked a block up to the boulevard and she bought a large plastic bag of it from the big square machine. Then she used some to make a batch of homemade lemonade.She added a sprig of fresh mint and dropped a plump ripe strawberry in each of the two glasses she poured.

She had put some of the remaining cubes in a dish towel. Right now, the dish towel lay across Corrine’s forehead. Corrine was stretched out on the chaise lounge in the sunporch.

Hildy’s older sister had not reacted well to the news that she was implicated in Hildy’s problems with the mob. Corrine had faithfully watched every one of the eighty-six episodes in all six seasons of
The Sopranos.
She had a vivid imagination. She envisioned her and Hildy, each tied to a chair, their eyes staring sightlessly, a dark round hole from a deadly bullet in their foreheads. The image horrified her. Her knees weakened. She began to sway. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

The Caldwell girls were what their relatives called fainters. Corrine hit the floor with a crash.

Corrine’s loss of consciousness had happened some time before Hildy served the lemonade. At present Corrine remained in a semiprone position on the chaise and sipped the cool beverage. She had had time to calm down and collect her thoughts. ‘‘Look, the way I see it, the guy wants the bottle, give it to him. It’s not worth dying for.’’

Hildy dragged a wicker chair next to the chaise so they could both put their lemonade glasses on a little round wicker table. ‘‘I told you why I couldn’t do that. It would be unethical to hand the means to build an empire to this remorseless criminal. Besides, I promised Tony I would help him escape from Jimmy the Bug. He doesn’t want to go back to a life of crime.’’

Corrine moaned. ‘‘Hildy Hildy Hildy. If this were the 1970s I’d think someone dropped a tab of acid in your drink. But it’s not. I don’t know why you keep insisting that there’s a genie in the bottle, except that you’ve become . . . you’ve become . . . eccentric. You’re just like Elwood and the giant rabbit in that old movie
Harvey.
I suppose it’s something I can learn to live with. But you need to make your peace with Mr. Big.’’

‘‘He’s not Mr.
Big
. It’s Bug, and his real name is Torelli. I can’t make my peace with him. He’s a stone killer. I need to get him taken off the streets, arrested, thrown in the slammer. That’s what I need to do.’’ Hildy’s eyes were on fire. She felt as if she were on the edge of an epiphany. ‘‘Yes! That’s it. That’s the answer.’’

Corrine shook her head under the bandana of towel-wrapped ice. She held the compress in place with one graceful hand. She kept her eyes closed. ‘‘Don’t you watch any television at all? These Mafia guys keep running the Family from prison. John Gotti did. So did Johnny ‘Sack.’ You have this guy arrested and put away, and he’ll get you for it.’’

Corrine reached out with her free hand and fumbled around blindly until she found Hildy’s arm. She squeezed it. ‘‘Hildy, listen. Just give Bugs the bottle. The genie is a figment of your imagination.’’

‘‘No, he’s not.’’

‘‘Yes, he is.’’

‘‘No, he’s not.’’

‘‘Yes! Yes, he is!’’

‘‘No, he is not,’’ a deep voice boomed.

Corrine bolted upright, her eyes wide open. A big man wearing a red and yellow Hawaiian shirt and walking shorts stood in the doorway. Her cold compress hit the floor. Ice cubes skated across the tile. ‘‘Don’t kill us. She’ll give you the bottle!’’ she screamed.

Tony G.’s eyes sought Hildy’s. ‘‘Now I know who you take after. Your sister doesn’t listen either.’’

‘‘Corrine,’’ Hildy said, quickly standing next to her sister and putting her hand on her shoulder. ‘‘Relax. It’s okay. This is Antonius Eugenius. The genie I told you about. He likes to be called Tony G.’’

Corrine turned on Hildy. ‘‘Are you crazy! Are you out of your mind! He’s just some guy off the beach. Those clothes are straight from Ron Jon’s.’’ Her expression changed. She looked at her sister with pity. ‘‘Hildy, what load of garbage did he feed you, you poor gullible child? Did you give him money?’’

Then, bristling with outrage, she twisted her head toward Tony G. ‘‘Did you tell her you were a genie, you . . . you scam artist! I should call the cops, that’s what I should do. Hildy, give me your cell phone!’’

Tony G. smiled. He extended his camera phone toward Corrine. ‘‘Lady, here, you can borrow mine, but why don’t you wait a minute.’’ With that he tossed a handful of glittering particles outward. They formed a golden rainbow that turned into a shining arch above Corrine and Hildy and the chaise as well. The temperature in the room plummeted. The air around the genie became as liquid as mercury. It swirled and dipped in undulating waves. Then it disappeared. A warm breeze returned. Tony G. stood in the middle of the room with a laurel wreath on his dark curls, his sword at his side, a staff in his hand, and a toga on his magnificent body.

Corrine’s eyes rolled back in her head again and she sank unconscious to the floor.

After a few minutes Corrine had regained her senses and her pugnaciousness. She insisted on pinching Tony G.’s arm to see if he was real. She examined the iron sword he carried. She queried the purpose of the staff. (Tony explained that it was called a
vitis,
a symbol of authority that some centurions wielded like a policeman’s nightstick). She peppered him with questions. She demanded to see the bottle, which Hildy had been keeping in the refrigerator.

While Tony G. patiently bore Corrine’s relentless questioning, Hildy left to get the bottle for Corrine to inspect. She had just walked back into the enclosed sunporch when she saw a bronze Ford Fusion parked next to her red VW Beetle in front of the cottage. Had the thugs come for her again? Her heart raced as she got ready to sound the alarm. Then she saw Mike emerge from the driver’s seat.

She thrust the bottle toward Tony G. ‘‘Get in here, quick!’’ He complied in a flash, leaving a luminescent trail of silver that hovered in the air. The bell rang. Hildy handed the bottle to a dumbfounded Corrine and went to answer the door.

‘‘You didn’t call me,’’ Hildy said in lieu of hello.

‘‘You weren’t answering my calls,’’ Mike countered.

‘‘Should I have?’’ she said, as icy as the cubes in the lemonade.

Mike couldn’t understand why Hildy had to make this so damned difficult. He didn’t understand women at all. ‘‘Yes, you should,’’ he said. ‘‘Will you answer if I call you?’’

‘‘Okay, I will.’’ She started to shut the door.

‘‘Wait!’’

‘‘What? I thought we were done.’’

‘‘Hildy, come on. I drove all the way up here from Atlantic City to talk to you. I really need to talk to you.’’

‘‘Well, I have company.’’

Mike’s face darkened. ‘‘Is that count fellow in there? What’s he doing here?’’

Hildy flung the door open so Mike could see inside. ‘‘No, Corrine is here. Mike, you remember my sister, don’t you?’’

Mike sheepishly nodded his head. ‘‘Hi, Corrine. It’s been a long time.’’

‘‘Come on in here, Michael Amante,’’ Corrine ordered. ‘‘I would like to say something to you.’’

Mike stepped into the room. The air smelled like ozone after a lightning strike. ‘‘You visiting for a while?’’ he asked.

‘‘Just the afternoon. But sit down, will you? Do you know that you are killing your mother?’’

‘‘Corrine!’’ Hildy gasped.

Mike’s face paled. ‘‘Killing my mother? Is she sick? I haven’t been back to see her in months. Maybe I should call home.’’ He grabbed his cell phone from the holder on his belt.

‘‘Hold it!’’ Corrine ordered. ‘‘Let me ask you something. Why haven’t you been to see your mother in months? You can drive there in a couple of hours. She raised you alone after your dad died. She sacrificed plenty to get you through school. So what? You are too big and important to go home now that your name gets in the papers?’’

Guilt kept Mike from meeting Corrine’s eyes. ‘‘No, it’s nothing like that. I’ve been busy, that’s all.’’

‘‘Too busy to see your mother? She’s not getting any younger, you know. One of these days she may not be there for you to see her. Michael Amante, I’m really disappointed in you.’’

Mike felt terrible. He had missed Thanksgiving, Christmas, and his mother’s birthday. He had sent her a present, but he knew in his heart that wasn’t right. He stared at his hands. ‘‘My mother and Kiki don’t get along very well, and Kiki doesn’t like to go up to Wilkes-Barre. She gets bored. She says there’s nothing to do. She says that my mother can come to us if she wants to see me.’’

‘‘That’s what Kiki says. Is that what you think?’’

‘‘No, I guess not.’’ He finally looked at Corrine. ‘‘I didn’t realize how deeply I was hurting Mom. I’ll call her later and I’ll get up to see her as soon as I can.’’

‘‘Michael, I’m not one to mince words—’’

‘‘You can say that again,’’ Hildy muttered under her breath. Corrine shot her a dirty look.

‘‘But the next time you call your mother should be when you tell her you’ve broken off your engagement to this Kiki person. Any woman who tries to drive a wedge between a son and his mother is selfish to the core. It shows her true colors. And another thing—’’

Oh-oh,
Hildy thought,
here it comes.

‘‘If you think you’re going to hurt my sister by playing with her emotions, you’ve got another think coming. Why, never in my life did I expect you, of all people, to—’’

‘‘Corrine!’’ Hildy interrupted. ‘‘It’s between Mike and me.’’

Corrine shut her mouth, pressed her lips firmly together, and crossed her arms over her chest.