"It sure is." Pointing her manacled hands at a potted cactus by the front door, Nola said, "The key's under there, Lieutenant."
Longo lifted the plant and retrieved it.
"You have a security system?" he asked, slipping the key into the front door.
"No," she said, "and I don't own a dog."
"Thanks." Longo opened the front door and went inside. A blast of cold air hit the front lawn, momentarily cooling everyone down. Valentine took a direct hit, the sudden drop in temperature making him shiver. He watched Wily stroll to the curb and pull out his wallet.
"Here," the pit boss said, tossing each kid a dollar. "Do everybody a favor and get lost."
Pocketing the money, the boys sauntered down the street, stopping at the corner to resume watching.
Longo appeared in the doorway. "House is clean."
Nola marched inside with her attorney and Bill Higgins on her heels. Nick and Valentine followed. As Sammy Mann and Wily tried to follow them, Longo filled the doorway.
"Six is a crowd," the lieutenant said. "You boys wait out here."
"Why?" Wily asked petulantly. "We're part of this, too."
"I know," Longo said. "You fingered her. That's why you're staying."
Then the lieutenant slammed the door in their faces.
Back in Nick's Caddy, Wily said, "What do we do now?"
Sammy turned on the engine and flipped on the AC. More hot air blew in their faces. Nick's Caddies never worked right, yet he was more loyal to them than he was to his women.
"Hut eeduck be thesuck ou shoufut," Sammy said.
"What the hell you saying?"
"It's Arabic," Sammy explained. "It was my father's favorite expression."
"I didn't know you were A-rab," Wily said.
"Well, now you know."
"So what does it mean?"
"It means 'Put your finger up your butt and whistle.'"
"Same to you," Wily said.
At first, Valentine thought Nick was having a stroke.
On stepping foot inside Nola's tiny house, the little Greek had started to babble, the drab interior dredging up long-forgotten memories. Clutching Valentine's arm, he said, "Jesus Christ, I remember this place."
"You do?"
Nick nodded, pointing at the floor. "Same cheap orange shag carpet. Has to be the ugliest carpet ever, next to the stuff in my casino." He laughed timidly, eyes sweeping the barren living room.
"Maybe she couldn't afford to replace it," Valentine suggested.
"The house is the same, Tony. She hasn't changed a thing in ten years. Not since that night."
Valentine got Nick a glass of water from the kitchen. "What night was that?"
"We were fighting," Nick said, standing by the sliding glass door and staring at the rock garden in the backyard. "God, I can see it like it was yesterday. Me standing here, Nola where you are, screeching at the top of her lungs."
"Why was she yelling?"
Nick put his hand to his forehead. "I don't know. I must have said something. You know how women get. A few wrong words and pow!-you're dealing with a demon." He stared into space, struggling to remember. "She threw a flowerpot at me-nearly took my head off. Then she says, 'I'll castrate you, you fucking son of a bitch.'"
Nick stopped, looking confused.
"What's wrong," Valentine said.
"Did Nola really say that," he questioned himself aloud, "or was it another crazy babe?" Scratching his belly, he said, "I've had so much pussy over the years I sometimes forget where one relationship ended and a new one began, the sex and booze and crazy things I did to impress them all flowing together. Know what I mean?"
Valentine didn't know what Nick meant at all-because he was one of those strange birds who'd slept with the same woman his entire adult life.
"Any regrets?" Valentine asked.
"Yeah," Nick said. "I should have written it all down."
Nola's pitiful cries carried from the back of the house. Valentine went down a hallway with Nick on his heels. He found the others standing in Nola's bedroom. The space was small and dark, the blinds tightly drawn. No longer handcuffed, Nola knelt on the floor, a slender cardboard box she'd pulled from beneath the bed lying open before her.
"Sonny's e-mail letters were here," she insisted tearfully. "I kept them in an envelope with the marriage certificate." She looked up into their faces. "I swear to God I'm telling the truth."
"Anyplace else you might have put them?" Higgins said, giving her the benefit of the doubt. "Think hard."
"No!" she said, rummaging through the box one more time. "They were here. He must have come and taken them."
"Who?" Higgins said.
Nola dropped her chin on her chest and began to weep.
"Sonny set me up," she sobbed, her chest heaving with each word. "I let him into my life, and look what the fucker did to me."
She was racked by sobs, unwilling to accept this latest setback. Even Valentine felt his heartstrings take a little tug. Nick dug out a silk hankie, suddenly feeling bad about the whole thing.
"Don't," Longo cautioned him.
Nick ignored the lieutenant and knelt beside her.
"Here," he said.
"Thanks, Nick," she said, wiping her eyes.
"Tell me something," the little Greek said. "I remember being here a long time ago. You and I had a fight."
"It was more like World War III."
"I really pissed you off, huh?"
"You sure did."
Nick glanced at Underman, wondering if he should be having this conversation in his presence. He asked anyway. "What did I do?"
"You don't remember?"
Nick shook his head. "Was it a whopper?"
"Maybe this will spark your memory."
With Longo's permission, Nola crossed the hall and entered the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, she removed a can of hair spray and tossed it to the lieutenant.
"I couldn't afford a safe," she explained.
Longo turned the can upside down. It wasn't a can of hair spray at all but a fake with a removable bottom. A ring box fell into the lieutenant's hand. He opened it and whistled. Then he handed it to Nick. "Look familiar?"
Nick stared at the diamond engagement ring that had been hidden in Nola's bathroom for ten years. Judging by its clarity, he guessed it had come from Mordechai's, the finest jeweler in town.
"I bought this for you?" he asked in astonishment.
"You got down on your knees in that living room and asked me to marry you," Nola blurted out, her face flushed, the years of pent-up rage spilling over. "Asked me to be your bride, your honey, your sweetheart. Only there was a stipulation."
Nick closed the box, finally remembering. The ring had cost him twenty grand. He'd paid cash. Nola was the best lay he'd ever had. At the time, it seemed like a bargain.
"You wanted me to get my tits done before the wedding," she went on. "I said no, I'd do it after. You said no, before-you wanted me to come down the aisle with big tits, and I said, 'What are you marrying, me or my tits?' and you said, 'I want the whole package.' And I said, 'Aren't I good enough for you the way I am?' And you just shook your head and said, 'That's not the point. I want big tits.' And we fought, and finally I threw you out."
Nick tried to give the ring back. When Nola refused to take it, his face grew pink with embarrassment. It was Higgins who spoke next.
"Wait a minute," the GCB chief said. "Back at the station, you said Nick never asked you to have your breasts done."
"That's right," Nola said.
Higgins burned her with a glare.
"I lied," Nola explained.
Her defense attorney groaned. Longo and Higgins stared at him, then at each other. Valentine looked at everyone in the room. Only Nick wasn't getting it. Nola had set them up.
Which was why it didn't come as a complete surprise when Valentine heard the bedroom window shatter. The blinds came down, and something round and heavy rolled across the floor and came to rest at Longo's feet. It was a police-issue smoke bomb, normally used to quell riots. Within seconds, a black mushroom cloud enveloped the bedroom.