Hot Fudge (A Loretta Kovacs thriller) Page 2

  “How do, Jul’?” she said to Monroe. “And Marvelli! Goodness gracious, it’s been a long time.” Marvelli extended his hand, but she ignored it and threw her arms around him, giving him a big hug.

  “How’s it going, Vissa?” he said.

  “Not bad, not bad at all,” she said. “Say, how’s that little girl of yours? Nina, right?”

  Marvelli nodded. “Nina’s not so little anymore. She’ll be fourteen in a couple of months.”

  “Good golly, Miss Molly! I remember her when she was just a little bitty thing.”

  Loretta couldn’t quite place the woman’s accent. She had the distinctive delivery of a Jersey girl, but her phrasing was down-home Southern.

  “And who might this be?” the woman said, peering at Loretta with her chin on Marvelli’s shoulder.

  “This is Loretta Kovacs,” Julius said. “She joined us about a year ago. Loretta, meet Vissa Mylowe.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Vissa said, reaching past Marvelli to shake Loretta’s hand. “Vissa is short for Elvissa. See, I was named after my daddy, sort of. His name was actually Dexter, but he worked most of his life as an Elvis impersonator. He was born and raised in Tupelo, Mississippi, just like the King, so he sounded just like him, singing and talking. My mom—Doris was her name—was a do-do girl in a girl-group sound-alike band called the Sha-la-las. They met in Atlantic City, fell in love at first sight, and never left. The two of them melded together like a great big hunk-a-hunk-a burning love.”

  “Really,” Loretta said. Vissa was still pumping her hand.

  “You may think I’m forward, Loretta, but I always tell people my whole story up front because I know they’re just dying to know how I got my unusual name.”

  “Of course.” Loretta nodded, her hand still getting pumped. She really wasn’t that curious about Vissa’s name.

  “Vissa’s a PO, too,” Marvelli explained. “She works down the shore, out of the Toms River office.”

  “Yeah, it’s teeny compared to this one,” Vissa said. She had a cute way of wrinkling her nose. It was hard to tell what she really looked like under all the mascara and eyeliner, but her style kind of reminded Loretta of Rene Marvelli.

  “So what brings you back to the mother ship?” Julius asked, as he eyed the tall, skinny jumper who was just standing there, showing attitude. The handcuffed man was in his early thirties, but he looked like hell. His complexion was sallow, and what hair he had left was dirty, greasy, and unkempt. He had too many teeth for his small mouth, and the pencil-thin mustache just highlighted that fact. He was wearing a stylish three-button black suit with an open-collar white shirt, but it looked like he’d slept in that outfit several nights running. Julius tried to look him in the eye, but the man had his head tilted straight back. He was staring at the ceiling, showing a very pointy Adam’s apple.

  “This is Freddy Maxwell,” Vissa said to Julius, “but he’s no big deal.”

  “Oh, really?” Freddy muttered under his breath, still looking at the ceiling.

  “Hasn’t reported to his regular PO in a year,” Vissa said. “I spotted him coming out of some no-tell motel in Seaside Heights. He got in his car before I could get to him, so I had to follow him all the way up here to East Orange. The guy’s a pimp.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Freddy mumbled. His voice was so nasal it sounded like he had cotton jammed up both nostrils.

  “I decided to bring him here ‘cause it was closer,” Vissa said.

  “Could’ve killed me in that friggin’ thing you call a car,” Freddy droned. He didn’t try to hide his contempt for her.

  Vissa stopped smiling and got in his face. “Your attitude leaves something to be desired, sonny boy. And unless you want me to hand you that pitiful little thing you got between your legs in a doggie bag, you’d better shut your mouth.”

  Loretta couldn’t hold back her grin. Vissa had as much attitude as Loretta had.

  Freddy mumbled something, but no one could understand what he was saying.

  Marvelli jerked his thumb at the pimp. “So if this isn’t the catch of the day, what’s your big news, Vissa?”

  “Brace yourselves.” Vissa extended all ten fingers, looking from Marvelli to Julius. “I think I’ve found him.” She waited for their explosive reaction, but when it didn’t come, she frowned, looking like an unhappy raccoon.

  Marvelli looked at Loretta as he stuck out his lower lip and shrugged.

  Julius was still waiting for the punch line. “Who, dear Vissa? Who did you find?”

  Vissa shook her fists. “Who the hell have I been looking for the past eight years, for God’s sake? Ira Krupnick! Who else?”

  Marvelli’s eyes rolled toward his boss, who simultaneously rolled his eyes back at Marvelli. They wanted to be impressed, but it was clear that they were both skeptical.

  “Are you two deaf or what?” Vissa said, raising her voice. “Didn’t you hear me? I think I found Ira Krupnick. Ira Krupnick!”

  When the two men didn’t say anything, Loretta jumped in. “Excuse my ignorance, Vissa, but who’s Ira Krupnick!”

  Vissa threw up her hands, totally annoyed. “You mean these guys never told you about him? Ira Krupnick is only the worst case this office has ever seen. He is the most recidivist criminal this state has ever incarcerated. And the most low-down. And the most dangerous. And the slipperiest. When it comes to bad characters, Krupnick is the king.” After a moment Vissa blinked, surprised by her own unwitting reference to the King. It was obvious from the sour look on her face that the misguided allusion had left a bad taste in her mouth.

  Julius rubbed his chin. “Well, yes, Krupnick is a bad cat, but I don’t know if I’d exactly put it that strongly.”

  “I would.” Vissa turned to Marvelli. “Don’t you think so?”

  Marvelli pressed his lips together as if he were thinking about it. “Well, yeah, he is bad, but, you know, it’s not like he’s the only one like that in the world.”

  Loretta noticed Marvelli’s gaze wandering back toward the old refrigerator in the hallway. He was thinking about food. He was always thinking about food. Especially fudge-whirl ice cream. It was amazing he wasn’t a blimp.

  Freddy the pimp mumbled something.

  “What?” Vissa snapped at him impatiently. “Speak up. No one can understand you.”

  “I said, what’d this Krupnick guy do? Why’s he so bad?”

  “It’s none of your g.d. business,” she said.

  “Well, actually I’m kind of curious myself,” Loretta said. “What did he do?”

  Vissa sighed loudly and tossed her head. Her big hair didn’t move. She was clearly exasperated with the men, so she addressed her remarks to Loretta. “My friends here seem to have forgotten. Ira Krupnick was convicted of selling guns and silencers in quantity. He was also connected with the kidnapping of an executive in Philadelphia, but he was never charged with anything in that case. He’s what the shrinks call a criminal opportunist, which means he’ll get into anything he thinks he can get away with—you name it—theft, drugs, burglary, extortion, anything. But what makes Krupnick different is that he’s also very smart. Except for the guns, he’s never gotten caught on any of the other things he’s been involved with. He always seems to slip away, leaving someone else holding the bag.”

  “Tell me to shut up if I’m out of line,” Loretta said, “but it sounds like there’s something personal here.”

  Marvelli, Julius, and Freddy all nodded simultaneously.

  Vissa glowered through her mascara at the three of them. “Yes, of course, it’s personal,” she said. “Eight years ago, back when Krupnick had first violated his parole, I was the one who caught him. All by myself. He was sleeping off a bender at one of his girlfriends’ houses. He had quite a few girlfriends at the time. This was down in Cape May. I cuffed him, got him in leg shackles, and paid a couple of truck drivers to help me get him into my car. I filled up the tank and brought him straight to this office. I didn’t want to fool around h
anding him over to the hicks downstate. I figured Krupnick was too important.” As she said this, she was staring accusingly at Marvelli.

  “Now wait a minute,” Marvelli said. “That was not my fault.”

  “I’m not saying it was. Krupnick is a superior intellect. I’m not surprised he tricked you.”

  Loretta glared at Vissa. What the hell did she mean by that? Loretta thought. That Marvelli was an inferior intellect?

  Marvelli raised one finger. “No, no, no, no, Vissa. It was your fault. Superior intellect had nothing to do with it.”

  “For cryin’ out loud, Marvelli, I had been driving for three hours straight. I had to pee. I asked you to watch him for one minute.”

  “No, you said stay with him for one minute. You had taken his leg irons off—”

  “I had to. It was a long walk from where I’d parked.”

  Marvelli continued, “He wasn’t wearing leg irons or handcuffs—”

  “He must’ve picked the lock on the cuffs in the car when I wasn’t looking. He must’ve pretended that they were locked, then took them off when I handed him to you.”

  “You did not hand him to me. You said stay with him. The guy was dressed pretty nice. He sounded intelligent. He didn’t look like the kind of mutts we haul in here every day—”

  “Hey, I resent that.” Freddy said, raising his voice.

  “You shut up,” Vissa snarled.

  Marvelli ignored the pimp. “From the way Ira Krupnick looked that day, I thought he was a friend of yours, maybe another PO. How was I supposed to know he was a jumper? You never actually told me.”

  Vissa pointed down at the floor by the entrance to the holding cells. “He was standing right there—right there!—and you just let him walk out the door. Poof! He was gone!” She looked at Loretta, eyes wide. “And I only went out to pee. Can you believe it? Men!”

  Loretta didn’t say anything, but she didn’t appreciate Vissa running down Marvelli like this. Maybe there was a reason she worked out of the field office down the shore. Maybe nobody here could stand to work with her.

  “Calm down, Vissa,” Julius said. “You’re messing up the energy in here. Now tell me. Where’s Krupnick, and why didn’t you apprehend him?”

  “It was a fluke,” she said. “I was down in Atlantic City in one of the casinos, looking for another jumper, when I spotted this guy playing blackjack. He looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure because he has a full beard and he’s a lot heavier than Krupnick was eight years ago. He was with a bunch of other guys, a few of them bruisers, so I kept my distance. But the more I watched him, the more I was convinced it was him. Luckily he has an account at that casino, so I was able to get an address. He’s living in South-port, Connecticut, using the name Arnie Farber. I think Marvelli and I should go up there and check him out.”

  Marvelli stuck out his hands, palm up. “What do you need me for?”

  Vissa gave him a withering look. “For a second opinion, Marvelli. You’re the only other PO we’ve got who’s ever seen Krupnick up close.”

  “Gimme a break, will ya, Vissa? I’ve got my own cases to take care of.”

  Vissa looked pleadingly at Loretta. “You can stand to be without him for a day, can’t you?”

  Loretta’s face turned red. “What do you mean?” she said defensively. How the hell does this woman know about us? she thought.

  “Well, you two work as a team, don’t you? I mean, that’s what I heard?”

  Loretta was embarrassed for having jumped to conclusions. Sneaking around with Marvelli was making her paranoid. “It’s up to him,” she said quickly, trying to cover her tracks.

  “C’mon, Marvelli,” Vissa pleaded. “Southport’s not that far. We can do it today. Soon as I get Freddy here squared away.”

  Freddy gave her a drop-dead look.

  “I’ve got a lot to do today,” Marvelli protested. “I can’t just take off.”

  Vissa let loose like a steam whistle. “This is Ira Krupnick we’re talking about, for chrissake! He was on the state’s most wanted list at one time. What do you have to do that’s more important than this?”

  Vissa looked to Loretta with pleading eyes. Loretta stiffened. I’m not his keeper, she thought. He can do what he wants. “I told you,” Marvelli said. “I’m too busy.”

  “Don’t be a jerk, Marvelli,” Vissa said. “This is important. Tell him, Julius. He has to help me with this.”

  But Marvelli’s back was up now. “I don’t have to do anything, Vissa.”

  She raised her index finger and stuck a frosty pink fingernail in his face. “Don’t take that tone with me, pal.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?”

  She smirked at him. “Don’t make me embarrass you, Marvelli. You know I can.”

  Loretta furrowed her brows. What the hell did that mean? she wanted to know.

  Julius stepped between Marvelli and Vissa. “Cease and desist, you two. You’re destroying my good-morning aura. Let’s take this into my office. Now.”

  “Fine,” Vissa said.

  Marvelli just scowled.

  “Loretta,” Julius said, “will you process Mr. Freddy here while I play Solomon and cut these two brats in half?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Loretta said.

  Vissa pulled the handcuff keys out of her pocket and started to toss them to Loretta. The two women exchanged wary glances just before the keys flew through the air between them.

  As Vissa followed Julius to his office, Marvelli dashed back down the hallway to the refrigerator out back. “I’ll be right with you,” he said.

  Julius rolled his eyes and glanced at Loretta. “Again?” he said.

  A few minutes later Marvelli returned with a Styrofoam coffee cup filled with ice cream and a white plastic spoon.

  Vissa started to laugh. “Ice cream for breakfast? I always knew you were a garbage truck, Marvelli, but now you’ve reached a new low.”

  “Have you tried this Elmer Fudge Whirl stuff?” he asked her. “Man, it’s out of this world.” He dug into his cup.

  Vissa reached for his midsection and pinched his stomach through his shirt. “You better lay off the sweets, Marvelli,” she said in a breathy whisper. “I don’t want you getting fat on me now.” Her lips went from a shimmery pout to a flirty grin, her eyes holding his.

  Loretta couldn’t believe this. Just a minute ago they’d been fighting like cats and dogs, and now Vissa was flirting with him. What was with this woman?

  “Come, come, children,” Julius said, as he corralled Vissa and Marvelli.

  Loretta watched them file into Julius’s office, not sure what to make of all this.

  Freddy the pimp was staring at her, his eyes mopey, his lower lip hanging open. “So, can I go now?”

  She just looked at him. “Sit down.” She pointed to the wooden straight-back chair next to her desk. “We’re gonna be here for a while.”

  “Then I can go home?”

  “Eventually,” she said, clearing paper off her desk.

  Maybe in a few years, she thought.

  3

  Loretta pulled out a Violator Reentry form from the bottom drawer of her desk and slammed it shut with a loud boom. She found a pen in the middle drawer and wrote down the date at the top of the sheet: April 16.

  “Did you file your taxes?” Freddy the pimp asked, an unlit cigarette bobbing between his lips. He was sitting next to Loretta’s desk, his long gangly legs crossed as he tried to get to the lighter in his side pocket despite the handcuffs.

  Loretta cocked an eyebrow at him. “Did you file your taxes?” she asked.

  “Just trying to make conversation,” he said. He flicked the lighter a few times until he got a flame and held it to his cigarette. She glared at him before he exhaled any smoke, and he picked up on the hint, blowing it out the side of his mouth and away from her.

  “Got an ashtray?” he asked.

  She looked around and spotted an empty Arnie and Barry’s pint on Marvel
li’s desk. She reached over and grabbed it, plunking it down next to Freddy’s elbow. “Use this.”

  Freddy tapped his ash into the empty container. “Your friend ought to lay off this stuff,” he said. “It’s really addictive.”

  Loretta ignored him and continued filling out the form.

  “For real,” he said. “I had one girl I had to let go because of this stuff. She couldn’t stop eating it. I mean, fat girls aren’t really a problem in my business. A lot of guys go for that. But there’s fat and then there’s fat.”

  She gave him a dead-eyed stare. “Are you trying to piss me off?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m just saying there’s something about this particular ice cream that’s hazardous to your health.” He sucked on his cigarette, tipped his head back, and sent a geyser of smoke toward the ceiling.

  Neither of them said anything. The only sound in the room was the soft scratch of her pen as she filled out the form.

  “I’ll bet he only eats this flavor,” Freddy suddenly said. “The fudge whirl. That was the one that got my girl Linda into trouble. She always said the other flavors weren’t nearly as good.” He shook his head with regret. “She used to be so pretty. It’s a shame.”

  Such a pretty face, Loretta thought bitterly. She must’ve heard that about a billion times.

  “A damn shame,” Freddy mumbled to himself.

  Loretta kept her eyes on her work. “You’re getting on my nerves, Freddy.”

  “Sorry.” He drew on his cigarette and made his lips pop.

  Loretta continued to work on the form, checking off boxes and filling in lines. She was stumped, though, when the form asked for the arresting officer’s name. She couldn’t remember Vissa’s last name.

  “Mylowe,” Freddy said, reading over her shoulder. He spelled it for her.