Page 37 of Shakedown in Savannah

She had no way of contacting them. No phone number. No idea about where the men were staying. Something told her this was a bad sign…a very bad sign.

Mother and son waited for another forty-five minutes until ten o’clock and then decided to call it quits. She ran back to the kitchen and told the manager on duty two men might come by looking for her and to call her immediately if they showed up.

She caught up with Vinnie on the front sidewalk, and they strolled to the end of the block. Entering through the pawn shop’s front door, they waited for Tony to finish helping a customer before motioning him off to the side.

“Well?” he asked. “How did it go?”

“They didn’t show,” Vinnie said in a low voice.

“This might not be a good sign.”

“Not good at all,” Carlita said. “I told the Ravello’s manager to call me if they came by.”

“What’s next?”

“I was thinkin’ I wouldn’t mind taking a look at the property myself,” Vinnie said.

“We can go together,” Carlita offered.

“We were there yesterday. There’s not much to see.” Tony promised to keep an eye out for Costanza and Enzo and let them know if they surfaced.

After leaving, mother and son trekked the few blocks to the apartment to get her car and drop her pup off. Taking the back roads, they arrived at Morton Street within minutes.

Carlita climbed out of the driver’s side and met her son on the sidewalk. “I’m sure this goes without asking, but I’m guessing you have a gun.”

“Of course, Ma. I don’t go anywhere without it. It’s like putting clean clothes on every morning. Shirt, slacks, socks, shoes and Sig Sauer, all in this exact order. The only time I didn’t have it was when I had to put it in my checked bag.”

They reached the front entrance, and Carlita hesitated when she noticed the door was ajar. “I know for a fact Tony shut the door when we left.”

“Could be someone looking for a place to sleep.” Vinnie motioned for his mother to step away. He removed his gun from his jacket pocket. Holding it in one hand, he cautiously eased the door the rest of the way open.

Carlita sucked in a breath, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she watched him make his way into the building.

She braced herself, expecting noises…maybe even loud voices, but there was only silence. Not a peep from Vinnie. Not an echo or a rattle. Not a single solitary sound. She inched forward, cautiously peeking around the corner.

Vinnie stood in the center of the room, gun still in hand. “There’s no one here.”

Carlita followed her son inside. “Not much to see, huh?”

“This has all the markings of the family.” Vinnie showed her how they had damaged the doorframe when they kicked it open and tossed the bomb inside. “Kaboom. Place blows up. What doesn’t explode catches on fire. It’s an efficient way of gutting a building.”

“A little too efficient,” Carlita muttered. “So, your father bought this as an investment and only made a few payments.”

“And this happened not long before Pops’ death?”

“From what we can figure out. He bought it. It got damaged. He tried to collect on the insurance and then he died, leaving me with this.”

“No wonder Lombardo is trying to squeeze every dime he can out of you.” Vinnie let out a low whistle. “What about the neighbors?”

“June Cleary’s Spiffy Clean Dry-Cleaning and Laundromat is somewhere nearby. An old news story mentioned vandals in the area around the time the building was damaged,” Carlita said. “If we have a few extra minutes, we should try to track her down.”

“It wouldn’t hurt. We’re already here.” Vinnie tightened his grip on the gun and crept forward.

Carlita followed behind, certain at any moment someone would spring from the shadows and attack them.

The floorboards creaked loudly with every step they took. A few feet away from what had once been a kitchenette stood a rusty, single side fridge. A thick layer of soot covered the Formica counters.

On the far end was a gas stove with a grimy stainless-steel sink wedged in between the wall and stove. Dingy white cabinets hung haphazardly from their hinges.

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