Moe stared out the window like a lord at his kingdom. He wasn’t a tall man. He wasn’t exactly a good-looking mug, either. His slightly oversized face resembled a bulldog more than anything else, but his tailoring made up for what he lacked in looks. He was clean-shaven and his white-capped coif was carefully cropped, severely combed back with every strand in place. He leaned back in his luxury armchair with his fingers steepled as his large, deep-set eyes stared into the void.
Ben the Bear was a hulking beast that stood behind Moe, civilized only by the suit he wore. Even that strained against his bulk. He had a wide head connected with a neck just as thick, so you didn’t know where his face started and his neck ended. The rest of his face kinda sank into that slab of tough meat, giving him a permanent squint and a complimentary sneer. His long jet-black hair was neatly pulled back from his face and he wore no tie, leaving his shirt unlaced enough to show off the silver chains that hung from his neck. Two fat rings glittered on his left hand. He glowered as if daring me to talk smack so that he could play piñata with my face.
No-Nose Nate leaned casually by the door, rubbing a finger alongside his gold-plated sniffer. He was a tall, whip-slender mug with a flair for style. Maybe it was to compensate for his face — a scarred, pock-marked mess only a mother could love. Even in funeral garb he couldn’t resist tipping his gleaming shoes with gold plate, matching the same gleam on his belt buckle and tie pin. He smiled lazily, but one hand was in his pocket. If he didn’t have a tight grip on a gold-plated snub-nose, I’m a flamingo dancer. We’d spoken on good terms a few times at the Gaiden but everyone knows that blood is thicker than water, especially when that blood has been spilled across the ground.
Then there was Electra Flacco, aka the Black Widow. Between her and her brother Nate it was obvious who got the looks in the family. Something about her sharp red hair color brought out an ethereal sheen to her skin tone, highlighting her delicate cheekbones and rosebud lips. Her long, slinky black dress was embroidered with ebony roses and decorative whorls. The clinging fabric covered her from neck to toe save for a diamond cut right above her modest bosom. She sat in one of the two leather-padded chairs, exposing a sinuous view of the shapely gam that slid from the long slit in her dress. The snakeskin patterns on the ebony hose gave her leg the appearance of an onyx serpent slithering up her gown.
She graced me with a demure smile, the type you have to worry about if you’re a step brighter than the average bulb. A smile like that can either pull you in between silk sheets or bury you six feet under. With Electra the outcome was more than likely both. Many a man would consider that a fair trade, given her drop-dead gorgeous looks.
I wasn’t one of them.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Mr. Trubble.” She peered through the shadowy veil of her elaborate fascinator. A long silver-trimmed cigarette holder dangled lazily from her fingers, casting spirals of smoke my direction. “But it saves us the nuisance of looking for you.”
“Came to pay my respects.” I tipped my Bogart. “Scarlett was a special kind of lady.”
“Scarlett was a name I hated.” Moe Flacco’s eyes smoldered as he slowly turned in his chair. “Sophia called herself a dancer, did you know that? Lifting her skirts in men’s faces for dibs. Scarlett was the name she chose for that…occupation.”
“I didn’t know that, Mr. Flacco. When I met her, she was a hotel clerk.”
“She had many professions.” Flacco studied me with a severe scowl on his face. “None of which matter now. She’s dead, as you well know. And you know that I know you were the last person seen with her.”
To be in a room full of Borgata top dogs glaring at you is an experience you don’t easily forget. The room seemed to increase in temperature and my parched throat was a desert crying out for a drop of rain. Or a glass of hard liquor, in my case.
I swallowed hard. “I might have been the last person seen with her, but I wasn’t the last person to see her. That would be the dropper that put her on ice. Or the dead man, as I like to call him. Because when I find whoever did the deed, I won’t be bringing him in to the clubhouse in bracelets. I’ll be too busy fitting him for a New Haven trench coat.”
Moe gestured. “Sit down, Mick.”
I sat next to Electra, who gently patted my hand with a comforting smile. I checked for poison needle stabs as soon as her head turned. I didn’t find any, but I was pretty shook up, regardless. The Black Widow had many rumored ways to take out her prey, and not a single one of them was pretty.
“Did you see what they did to her?” Moe’s voice was raw, his words choked. “What they did to my little girl?”
My eyes burned as the forensics photos resurfaced in my head. I nodded.
“They cut up her face. Like they were sending a message. Who would do something like that to one of mine?” He gritted his teeth and slammed a heavy fist against his chest. “To one of mine?”
No one said a word. We sat in our misery, giving Sophia her well-deserved moment of silence.
Moe finally lifted his head. “You could have laid low, but you showed up here. A lot of cowards in your position wouldn’t have bothered. I respect that.” He opened a mahogany box on his desk. “Cigar?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Since it was obvious I wasn’t about to feed the fishes, I figured I might as well enjoy the overpriced smoke. Nothing like the darb, full-bodied flavor of a Cuban when barbering with the Borgata.
After Ben the Bear lit our stogies, Moe continued. “Tell me about your relationship with Sophia, Mick. Leave out the sexual details.”
“Met her on the fly while scoping the zones on a gig. We connected, saw each other for a while until things went south.”
“Why?”
“I’m not the type that settles down. You stop moving, you kiss the concrete in my line of work.”
Moe nodded, blowing a casual stream of smoke across the room. “I understand the notion. And the other night, when you were seen with her…?”
“First time I clapped eyes on her since we split. She said she was looking for me. Wanted to thank me.”
“For what?”
I shifted in my seat. “Said I was the only honest man she’d known.”
No-Nose Nate snickered. “Honest man. Yeah, I bet you were.”
I resisted the urge to kick his teeth in. Fortunately Moe cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Enough, Nate. Show some respect.” As Nate looked properly chastened, Moe turned back to me. “Was there anything she said that might indicate she was in some sort of danger?”
I shook my head. “I’m pretty good at reading folks, but I didn’t get any telltale signs she was in any trouble. I’ve thought about that night long and hard—”
No-Nose disguised his snigger as a cough, smirking behind his hand.
I glared at him. “I’ve thought about that night a great deal, but I still can’t recall anything that might pinpoint her running from someone or involved in anything dangerous.” I winced as the memory of the crime scene photos resurfaced. “I wish I could tell you something, but the truth is I was just as shocked as anyone when I got the news.”
“Which was this morning, when you got your elbows checked on suspicion of murder.” Flacco raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look so surprised. I got crumbs in all corners of this city. The only reason why we’re having a civilized conversation is because the brass has nothing on you. Surveillance footage shows Sophia leaving the hotel. You were still in your room at the time. That means she was taken somewhere between there and wherever she hung her purse.”