Big Daddy Sinatra 3: The Best of My Love (The Sinatras of Jericho County) (4 page)

“You
see that?”

“I
see it.
 
I’m not blind.”

“Who
is she?”

“How
should I know who she is?
 
She just drove
up.”

Talk
about curves, they thought, as they stood there watching her.
 
Very tall, very busty, very much what they
assumed was meant by a full-figured gal.
 
Their wives were skinny, their friends’ wives were skinny.
 
They were used to small women.
 
There was nothing small, they felt, about
this woman.
 

She
grabbed her briefcase off the seat of her car, slung her long hair back, and
began heading up the steps toward the entrance.
 
“Good morning,” she said jovially as she looked over at the officers.

“Ma’am,”
said one, smiling too.

“Good
morning,” said the other one with a nod of his head.

Then
just as she was about to pull open the building’s entrance door, Clem and Jo
came hurrying out and forced her, by their quick movement alone, to step aside.

Clem
became angrier than he already was.
 
“You
better watch where you’re going!” he admonished her.

“You’d
better watch where
you’re
going!” she
admonished him right back.

Clem
sneered at her, what was with all of these black people in his face all of a
sudden?
 
But he had too many problems
already.
 
He and Jo kept walking.
 

The woman
regained her composure, smoothed down her skirt and her hair, and headed on in.

Brent,
in his office, had his chair leaned back on its hind legs and his head leaned
back too.
 
He hadn’t been the chief of
police a good two months and already he had to fire one of his detectives.
 
He hated that he had to go there, but Clem
and his insubordination left him no choice.
 
He was appointed chief because of his toughness, and he had every
intention of doing his job and doing it right.
 
Nobody was running over him, or disrespecting anybody in his chain of
command, he didn’t care who they were.
 
And although he was considered a relatively young chief at thirty-two,
when it came to his job, no man alive could be more serious.
 

Eddie
Rivers, a tall, handsome black man, his second in command, came into the
office.
 
“Knock, knock,” he said as he
entered.
 
“Busy?”

“Come
on,” Brent said, and leaned back down in his chair.
 

Eddie
walked up to the front of his desk.
 
“So
what’s the verdict?” he asked.

“Fired.”

“Sorry
about that.”

“What’s
to be sorry about?
 
His ass deserved
it.
 
He had the nerve to call you a
token. You’re the token, a man with nearly twenty years of experience as a
police officer, when his ass got hired in the first place only because his
Granddaddy had connections.
 
What a
joke!”

Eddie
smiled.
 
“As he was leaving, he was
bragging about how he decided to quit rather than work under me.
 
But everybody knew he was lying.”

“He
was.”

“He
was also out there telling the guys that you called his wife a whore.
 
That’s a lie too.
 
Right?”

Brent
didn’t respond.

Eddie
frowned.
 
“Brent, you didn’t.”

“We’re
talking about Jo okay?
 
Jo the ho?
 
Was I lying?”

Eddie
laughed. “Hell no.
 
But you can’t go
around calling a man’s wife a whore and expect no retribution, boss.
 
That’s a fact.”

“And
that man shouldn’t put that whore up as a paragon of virtue and expect no
blowback, Eddie.
 
That’s a fact too.
 
She’s not qualified to sweep the floors in
this department, let alone dispatch.
 
And
she was his wife too?
 
I’ve been known to
do some crazy things in my day, but hiring the wife of Clem Michaels was not
going to be one of them.”

“We’ve
got more like Clem in this department, you know that?
 
They’re more undercover with it, but they’re
here.”

Brent
nodded.
 
“I know.
 
They’ll show themselves just like Clem showed
himself today.” Knocks were heard on the door.
 
“And I’ll get rid of them too.
 
On
that you have my word.
 
They either shape
up or ship out.
 
Chief Joffee condoned
their behavior.
 
I don’t.
 
Enter!” Brent yelled.

A rookie
police officer opened the door.
 
“Sorry
to disturb you, Chief, but there’s a Makayla Ross here to see you, sir.”

Eddie
looked at Brent.
 
“Makayla Ross?
 
Who’s that?”

“Damn
if I know,” Brent replied.
 
“What does
she want?” Brent asked his rookie.

“Wouldn’t
say what she wanted.
 
But she did say
she’s from the State Attorney General’s office, sir.”

Brent
was surprised.
 
“Send her in,” he said,
the officer left, and then Brent and Eddie exchanged a glance.

“Attorney
General’s office?” Eddie asked.
 
“Whoa.
 
What could that be about?”

Since
Brent didn’t know, he didn’t respond.
 

And
tall, curvaceous Makayla Ross entered his life.

Brent’s
big green eyes grew bigger as soon as he saw her.
 
It was hard not to have a reaction to
her.
 
She looked to be in her mid-twenties,
but had a sophistication about her that defied her age.
 
She walked with purpose, with a gracefulness
that demanded respect.
 
And her
remarkably curvaceous body on an equally impressive pretty face created a look
so enticing Brent found himself staring at her.
 
A woman among girls was his first thought.
 
Nothing fat about her, but man was she
stacked.
 
And although he was not accustomed
to a woman with the kind of hips and ass she possessed, and her body type
wouldn’t be the type he would think about when he thought about a beautiful
woman, she was redefining his thoughts before his very eyes.
 
He would love a little taste of her.

But
he was also certain, given that stern look on her pretty face, that she was not
here for any tastings.
 
She was here to
handle her business.
 
And it had to be
serious business.
 
People didn’t just pop
up in little Jericho from the state attorney general’s office unless something
major was afoot.
 
He rose to his feet as
she began walking, literally marching, toward his desk.

“Good
morning,” she said jovially as she marched, her hand already extended.
 
“I’m Makayla Ross.
 
Chief Joffee I presume?”

“Not
any longer, no, ma’am,” Brent said, smiling too.
 
“I’m his replacement.”
 
They shook hands.
 
“Brent Sinatra.”

She
continued to shake his hand, but he could feel a hesitation.
 
Her big gray eyes stared at him.
 
“Sinatra?” she asked.

“That’s
right.”

“Would
you happen to be related to Charles Sinatra?”

Eddie
looked at Brent.
 
What was going on here?

Brent
had that very same thought.
 
“He’s my
father,” Brent said.

Makayla
stared at him.
 
And then released his
hand.
 
“Oh,” she said.
 
“Now that’s interesting.”
 
Then she looked at Eddie, who was staring at
her.
 
“Hi,” she said.
 
And extended her hand.
 
“Makayla Ross.”

“Eddie
Rivers,” Eddie said, smiling and shaking her hand.
 
He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Captain
Rivers is my second-in-command,” Brent said, as he noticed also how smitten his
number two appeared.

“Nice
to meet you, Captain,” Makayla said.

“Delighted
to meet you,” Eddie responded.
 
“Very
delighted.”

“I
hate to break up the fun,” Makayla said with a smile that didn’t reach her
eyes, as if her smile was more a tool than an emotion, “but could I possibly
have a few moments alone with your boss?
 
If you don’t mind?”

“Don’t
mind at all,” Eddie said, gave Brent a sly wink, and then he left, closing the
door behind him.

But
Brent was still digesting what she had asked him.
 
“What about my father?” he asked her.

She
motioned toward the chair in front of his desk.
 
“May I?”

“Please,”
he responded.
 

But
instead of sitting back behind his desk, he walked around and sat down in the
chair beside hers.
 
He was a big man,
with an overwhelming presence.
 
She
suddenly felt small beside him.
 
An
unusual feeling, for a big girl like her.

She
sat her briefcase beside her chair.
 
“How
long have you been chief?” she asked him.

“A
couple months now.”

“No
wonder we still had wrong information. It could take upwards to a year before
we update our county records, especially records within our smaller counties.”

“You
mentioned my father,” Brent said again.
 
He was not interested in any small talk.
 
Not right now.
 
“Why would the
attorney general’s office be concerned with my father?”

Abrasive,
she thought.
 
Brash.
 
No pushover, and she liked that.
 
“Actually, I’m not here about your
father.
 
I’m here about your father’s
father.
 
Your grandfather, Salvatore
Luciano Sinatra.
 
Better known as Luke?”

Brent
was confused.
 
“But he’s in prison.
 
He’s been in prison since before I was born.”

“Life
without the possibility of parole.
 
I
know,” she said.
 
“Except there’s been a
ruling.”

“What
kind of ruling?”

“The
prosecutor that handled this case when he worked in this jurisdiction has been indicted
on corruption charges in a different jurisdiction.
 
My office was task with reviewing his prior
cases to see if there were irregularities in any of his previous
convictions.
 
This was one of the cases
in this county that my staff red-flagged.”

“My
grandfather’s case?” Brent asked.

“That’s
right.
 
The governor has ordered a
hearing to determine if Mr. Sinatra should be granted a new trial, or, if the
prosecutorial misconduct is determined to be injurious enough, be released
immediately.”

Brent’s
heart pounded.
 
“Released?”

“Without
delay is the exact wording,” Makayla said.
 
And then she stared at him.
 
“Are
you all right, Chief?” she asked.

“I’m
fine.”
 

And
he was.
 

It
was his father he was worried about.

Peter
Jason, the young cop on scene, hurried over to Charles’s Jaguar as soon as he
drove up.
 

“Good
morning, Big Daddy,” he said to his boss’s father as Charles opened his car
door and stepped out.

“Why
did you call me, Peter?” Charles asked.
 
“Don’t you have the vacate order?”

“Yes,
sir, I have it.”

“Then
what’s the problem? What are you wasting my time for?”

“I
know I’m supposed to force her out today, sir, but . . . Well, sir, she’s
having an awfully tough time right now.”

Charles
looked at the policeman with an
are you
kidding me
expression.
 
“She’s what?”

“She’s
having a hard time, sir.
 
Her boyfriend
left her high and dry with the kids.
 
She
lost her job at the laundromat so no money’s coming in.
 
It’s been really difficult for her.”

“And
what do you expect me to do about it?”

Peter
swallowed hard.
 
“Well, sir, I thought
maybe you could let her slide a little.”

Charles
couldn’t believe his ears.
 
“Let her
slide?”

“Yes,
sir.
 
Until she can get back on her
feet.”

“And
who’s supposed to pay the rent while she slides?
 
While she gets back on her feet?
 
You?”

Peter
didn’t see that question coming.
 
“Me?”
he asked, astonished.

But
Charles was dead serious.
 
“Yeah, you,”
he said.

“Well
. . . no, sir.
 
I can’t pay her rent.”

“Then
get the fuck out of my face!
 
If you
aren’t willing to do what you’re asking me to do, then stop asking.
 
She’s been evicted.
 
She has not paid her rent for several
months.
 
She’s gotten all the breaks and
slides she’s ever going to get from me.”

“But
she’s in an awful state, sir.
 
She could
harm her kids if you don’t help her.”

“And
if you would have done your job two weeks ago and evicted her when the order
first came down, we wouldn’t be here today talking about harming kids and how
can we help her live for free.
 
You rent
or own your home, son?”

Peter
didn’t understand the question.
 
“Sir?”

“Why
do I need to repeat myself?
 
You heard
me.”

“I’m
buying it, sir.”

“If
you don’t pay your mortgage,” Charles asked, “will your bank let you slide, or
will they kick your ass out?”

“Your
bank owns my mortgage, sir,” Peter said with a twinge of bitterness in his
voice.
 
“You own my mortgage.”

“Then
it’s for damn sure, if you don’t pay, your ass will be out of there.
 
Just like she’s about to be out of here
today.”

Charles
reached back into his car, grabbed the pistol he kept in his glove compartment,
and began heading for the home’s entrance.
 
Peter nervously followed behind him.
 
He tried to speak up on her behalf just as he promised her, but she had
to know how Big Daddy was.
 
It was a
fool’s try to begin with.

When
Charles entered the home, however, the woman, EllieMae Fusha, grabbed a
butcher’s knife off of the kitchen table, grabbed her four-year-old daughter
who was by her side, and put the knife to her throat.
 
“Stay back, Big Daddy,” she warned.
 
“I’ll take her away from here, I declare I
will!”

Charles
pointed his gun at her.
 
“And I’ll take
you away from here,” he said.
 
I declare
I will.” If he had a dollar for the number of tenants who threatened to do him
or somebody else bodily harm if he evicted them, he’d be Bill Gates.
 
“Put it down.”

Outside,
Brent drove up in his big Ford F-150 4x4 pickup truck.
 
He had gotten the call from Peter when it
seemed like Charles was not coming and EllieMae could harm her child.
 
But when Brent saw his father’s Jaguar,
instead of feeling relieved, he became more anxious.
 
His father had the kind of temper that was
notorious for escalating an already tense situation.
 
Nobody was dying today over some house
dispute, not on Brent’s watch.
 
He got
out of his truck and ran across the driveway, up onto the porch, and hurried
into the house.

When
he saw his father pointing a gun at EllieMae, and he saw EllieMae, a woman with
whom he attended the same high school, with a knife at her daughter’s throat,
he froze.
 
“Good Lord,” he said.

And
EllieMae immediately appealed to Brent.
 
“Tell your daddy to get out of here, Brent,” she begged.
 
“Tell him to get out of here and leave me the
hell alone!”

“I’ll
be happy to leave you alone,” Charles said.
 
“But you’re getting out of my house.”

“Wanna
bet?” EllieMae taunted.

Charles
immediately fired his gun within an inch of her feet.
 
“I don’t bet,” he said.

Brent,
Peter, and EllieMae were stunned that Big Daddy would discharge his weapon
right in front of that little girl.
 
Ellie,
especially, was so thrown that she lost her balance, fell backwards, and the
knife flew from her hand.
 
Brent then
grabbed the now crying little girl, and Peter grabbed the knife.
 
EllieMae remained on the floor, crying too.

Brent
looked at Peter, who was just standing there.
 
“Well?” he asked.

“Sir?”

“Cuff
her.”

“Cuff
her, sir?”

“Yes,
Peter, cuff her!
 
Arrest her.
 
She had a knife to her own child’s
throat.
 
What the hell is wrong with
you?”

“I
didn’t figure she did anything wrong,” Peter said, and Charles looked at him
then.
 
“She only used this knife to stop
Big Daddy from kicking her out.”

“So
that makes it all right?” Charles asked the young officer.
 
“Is that what you’re telling him?”

“You
shot at her. That’s wrong too.”

“She
had a knife to a child’s throat,” Charles reminded the officer.
 
“What did you expect me to do?
 
Hope for the best and wait and see if she was
serious or not the way your ass was doing?”

“Let
me handle this, Big Daddy,” Brent said.
 

Charles
was surprised that his oldest child, a son he had when he was only seventeen,
would use that derogatory term that he knew his father hated.
 

And
Brent knew he hated it.
 
That was why he
used it.
 
He turned to his officer.
 
“Cuff her, frisk her, and haul her downtown,”
he ordered.

But
when Peter hesitated again, Brent exhaled.
 
“Here,” he said, handing over the little girl and taking the knife from
Peter.
 
“Take her over to CPS.”

“No!”
EllieMae yelled.
 
“They’ll take my baby
away from me.
 
You take my baby to my
mama house!”

Brent
knew her “mama house” was a worse situation than her house.
 
“Take the baby to Child Welfare,” Brent
ordered.
 
“Let them decided what’s best.”

Peter
nodded.
 
“Yes, sir,” he said.
 
It was instructive to Charles that the little
girl looked at her mother, but did not ask to stay with her.
 
She looked relieved to be leaving there.
 
She gladly left with Peter.

Charles
shook his head.
 
“You’re hiring social
workers or cops, Brent?”

“He’s
a good kid, Pop.
 
He just needs a little
more training.”

“Oh,
yeah?” Charles asked, unconvinced.
 
“Is
that what he needs?
 
But that’s not my
problem, you’re right about that.
 
I’ll
send a cleaning crew in here once she’s gone.
 
I’m late for a meeting.”

“You
still want her things put out, or can your people put her stuff in storage?”

 
Charles didn’t feel the tenant deserved that
consideration, but
 
he nodded.
 
“I’ll order it,” he said.

“Thanks,
Dad,” Brent responded and Charles squeezed his son’s arm and began to
leave.
 
Then Brent thought about his
visit with Makayla Ross this morning.
 
“Oh,
and Dad,” he said.

Charles
looked back, but kept walking.
 
“Yeah?”

“We
need to talk.”

“I
told you I was late for a meeting.
 
Talk
to me tonight at the family dinner.
 
Can
it wait until tonight?”

Brent
nodded.
 
“It can wait,” he said.

But
Charles sensed he wanted to say more.
 
He
stopped walking and looked at his son.
 
“You sure?” he asked him.

In
truth, Brent didn’t want to broach the subject at all.
 
But he nodded.
 
“I’m sure,” he said. “Go to your
meeting.
 
It can wait.”

Matt
Dellum looked at his watch again and then twirled another forkful of
spaghetti.
 
“Not very punctual people,
are they?” He ate vigorously.

“She’s
usually on time, from what I’ve heard about her around town,” Steve Greene, his
property manager, responded.
 
He was not
eating at all.
 
“These townspeople,
however, doesn’t view her husband the same.
 
He was probably late for his own Baptism, is the way they put it.”

“But
she’s the one who owns the Inn, right?” Matt twirled another forkful of pasta.
“She’s the one we have to convince?”

“Her
husband actually owns it,” Steve said.
 
“He acquired it just before they got married, so it’s rightfully
his.
 
But she runs it.
 
She’s the force behind it.
 
From what I’m hearing he turned the whole
shebang over to her.”

They
were in the Marymount Restaurant on Jericho’s south side, at a booth near the
window, and were waiting for Charles and Jenay Sinatra to finally arrive.
 
Both Sinatras were very late.
 
“So tell me everything I need to know about
this woman,” Matt said.
 
“About this . .
.”
 
He looked down at a sheet of paper
beside his plate.
 
“This Jenay Sinatra.”

Steve
opened his folder.
 
“She got her start a
little later in life than most,” he said.
 
“She was like thirty before she decided to go to some vocational school
in Boston.
 
She ended up with a
certificate in hotel management.
 
Sinatra
met her when she was at that school, found her attractive, and asked her to run
his newly acquired Bed and Breakfast.”

“The
Jericho Inn?”

“The
Jericho Inn.
 
Although everybody around
here just calls it the Inn.
 
And she’s
run it well.
 
According to everybody I
talked to, she exceeded their expectations.”

“What
about her race?” Matt asked.
 
“Is that a
factor around here?”

“It
used to be when Charles first brought her to town.
 
Mainly because she supplanted other local
women who were a part of his life, and they didn’t like that.
 
Why couldn’t he find a good white girl, that
was how they felt about it when she first came to town.
 
But now?
 
No.
 
Her race doesn’t appear to be
a factor at all.
 
She’s one of them now.”

Matt
didn’t like to hear that.
 
“That could be
problematic,” he said, “if she and her husband turn down our offer.”

Steve
didn’t follow that logic.
 
“What do you
mean?”

“We’re
going to need local government to agree to our plans.”

“Hell
that’s practically done,” Steve said.
 
“We’ve paid off almost every councilperson in town.”

“But
they can only vote in committee to bring the measure up for a citywide
vote.
 
If this Jenay is against what
we’re trying to do, then she and her husband may be able to turn the town
against those plans too, and the citywide vote will fail.”