Page 75 of Shakedown in Savannah

Despite the nagging feeling something was going to go terribly wrong, Carlita mustered up a brave face. “I’m counting on it.”

“We’ll be right here watching it go down,” Vinnie said. “Stay near the front window so we can keep an eye on you.”

“Will do.” Carlita gave them a snappy salute and hurried out of the building. With a quick check for traffic, she crossed the street and entered Barnie Ziffra’s business.

Light filtered in through the grimy windows. The smell of stale cigarettes lingered in the air. Near the front window was a set of brown plastic chairs. In between was a small coffee table with an array of magazines spread out across the top. A large cactus plant sat next to them.

No more than ten steps ahead was a long, low laminate counter. Behind it stood a man, in his sixties, if Carlita had to guess. Bald on top with long sideburns and a moustache.

He wasn’t tall, wasn’t short, but was what she would consider average. Slightly overweight with a paunchy gut, the material of his plaid short-sleeve, button-down shirt stretched taut to cover his bulge.

From where she stood, Carlita noticed a gold loop earring dangling from his left ear.

“Hello. Welcome to EZ Check Cashing.”

“Hello.”

“How can I help you today?”

“I’m looking for Barnie Ziffra.”

“And you are?”

“Carlita Garlucci-Taylor.”

A flicker of something, not necessarily fear. Maybe it was surprise, flitted across his face. “I’m Barnie Ziffra.”

“My deceased husband, Vincent Garlucci, owned the property across the street. He died several years ago, and I recently found out about it. While I was doing some research, I discovered your business and remembered your name. Vinnie had mentioned it to me,” she fibbed.

“I don’t remember your husband.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. No clue,” Ziffra said.

“Interesting.” She tightened her grip on her purse. “I met with a Mr. Enzo and Mr. Costanza about the property. Do either of those names ring a bell?”

“The cops were here asking about them. One of the guys was found dead in your building.” Ziffra’s eyes narrowed. “You working with the police?”

“No, and for you, it’s a good thing,” Carlita said. “Do you have a minute? I would like to show you something.”

“Show me what?”

“It’s over at my property.”

“I’m not going over there.” Ziffra began shaking his head.

“I think you should,” Carlita said. “I have proof you killed Mr. Enzo.”

She watched the color drain from his face. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” She arched a brow. “As I said, I’ve done my research. You run a very successful business.”

“A business that took me a long time to build.”

“I’m sure it did. It would be a shame for you to end up behind bars and lose it all.” Carlita was expecting, was anticipating Ziffra coming after her.

“What the…” Ziffra growled.

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