Torch Scene by Renee Pawlish

speaks to the dead.”
    “Huh?”
    “Vincent Gigante’s dead,” I said. I scanned through a Wikipedia article on him. “He was part of the Genovese crime family, but he ended up in prison, where he died in 2005.” I continued my search. “There’s Vinny ‘The Chin’ Ferraro, a comedian.”
    “I doubt Tony and Ray are hooked up with him.”
    “What a joke that would be,” I said. “Get it? He’s a comedian. It’s a joke.”
    “Courtesy laugh,” she said wryly.
    “Okay, I’ll stick to investigations.” I added ‘Denver’ to my search of the Chin. Nothing but websites devoted to cosmetic surgery and chin implants. I sighed.
    “Why don’t you call Cal?” the voice on the floor asked.
    I picked up the phone. “He doesn’t like dealing with gangsters,” I muttered. On my last case, Cal refused to research the mob because, as he said, “The mob will put me in the morgue.” I can’t say I blamed him for thinking that. I dialed his number and waited.
    “Huh. Voice mail,” I said.
    “He must be ignoring you.”
    “He’s busy on a deadline.” I left a message, asking him to call me in the morning.
    Willie stood up, stretched again, and groaned. Then she slinked over to me. “I think it’s time I made it up to you.”
    “Oh yeah?”
    She leaned down and kissed me. “Uh-huh.” She took my hand and led me into the bedroom. “I think you’ll be pleased.”
    And for the second time that day, I was.
    ***
    Willie didn’t have to go to work until three, and we were more tired than either of us realized, so we slept late. She offered to make lunch, so while she did that, I went to the office to call Cal.
    “No, I haven’t had time to research anything yet,” Cal said by way of greeting.
    “Really? That’s surprising.”
    “This job is a tough one. This company has some new software installed and it’s making my life a living hell.”
    “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
    He guffawed. “I never said I wouldn’t.”
    “Oh, pardon me,” I said. “Can you break away for one quick thing?”
    “What?”
    “I need to know if there’s a loan shark or mafia guy with the nickname ‘the Chin’. But not Vincent Gigante. He’s dead.”
    “I told you before, I don’t want anything to do with the mob.”
    “I know, but can you check law enforcement sites and see if they have profiles of anyone with that nickname?”
    “Oh,” he said. “That I can do.”
    I chuckled. Scared of the mafia, but not the government. Go figure.
    I heard clicking as he typed.
    “How much trouble have you gotten into?” he asked as he tapped into websites I didn’t even want to know about.
    I looked at my scraped hands and knees. “Not much.”
    “You always seem to find trouble, so why don’t I believe you?”
    “You sound like my mother.”
    “Oh, that’s cold,” he said. “I don’t worry like your mother does.”
    Cal loved my mother, and she loved him, almost as much as she loved me. She thought he was endearing, and he thought the same of her, but that was only because she didn’t pester him with questions like, “When are you going to get married?” and “Are you doing drugs?” Or, “What kind of trouble are you in now?” I got those questions.
    “Well,” he said. “I can’t find anything.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “I might find something if I had more time, and if I wanted to chase down mafia types, but I don’t.”
    “Thanks for trying.” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice.
    “Why don’t you ask your cop friend?”
    “I guess I could,” I said. “But since she thinks my girlfriend is a suspect, I didn’t think that was the best course of action. Then again, I could pick her brain and see what she’s found out.”
    “There you go. Glad I could help.” With that, he hung up.
    I dialed another number.
    “Spillman.”
    She was as abrupt as Cal.
    “It’s Reed Ferguson. I have a favor.”
    “And you think I’ll help?”
    “I thought I’d go to the