chapter thirty four

chapter 34
word count: 587

Ren hung up after talking to Vic, shaking his head. Would that be enough to satisfy his people? Well, he'd find out soon enough.

Later, he entered the restaurant. The usual rush bulleted through his veins in hefty pumps. It always felt that way as soon as he entered the premises. Even when he was a kid and had no idea of the "business" in the back, there was something about Malleo's Ristorante, perhaps the eerie lighting or its Old World flair. It was like walking into a new era.

"Back again so soon?" the waitress asked.

"Is he in?"

"Yeah, go on back."

Uncle Frank was hunched over his desk as usual. He nodded when Ren walked in. "I hope you have good news for me," he said without looking up.

"Your guys got him."

The red bulbous face broke into an evil smile. "Bring him here. Let me see the sonofabitch who killed my Ruben."

"I'll tell Ricco, but Uncle Frank, there's something else."

"Eh?" His attention had already returned to his work.

"There's a woman, too. He had kidnapped this girl and we got her in the process."

The older man looked back, now interested. "Who the hell is she?"

"Bud Kramer's wife."

"Kramer's wife! What the hell?"

"Uncle Frank, here's the deal. A guard at the prison who knew all about our guy. He's the one who tipped us off. I owe him. He says we can keep the killer, but he doesn't want us to have the woman."

"Has he got some beef with Kramer?"

"I dunno."

Uncle Frank paused, rubbing his chin, thinking. Finally, he spoke. "We'll keep her, too. She must be worth something. I'm sure we can use her to our own advantage...a little leverage against Kramer. He's always been a pain in the ass getting underfoot."

"Vic's not gonna like this."

"So what? What do I care what a two-bit security guard thinks. Bring them both here and forget about it."


Across town, Bud Kramer sat in his favorite chair in their living room. Sitting rigid, straight up, not moving. What was there to move for anyway? He was waiting. Just waiting for the phone to ring. He needed to know where to go, to go and bring his wife home. They were late. They should have called last night. Now it was the middle of the next day and still no word. Where the hell was she? Where was Jane?

It gave him time to think, to ponder the initial call, to wonder with whom he was dealing. The caller had said he knew who took her. He offered to chase that guy down and bring her back. The more Bud thought about it, the more convinced he was the caller was, in fact, the man who took Jane and not a bystander. But why? When the caller made his list of demands, there was nothing in the list to offer any clues.

Perhaps it was someone Bud had brought to justice, maybe sent to jail, and this was simply of matter of revenge. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. His heart stopped. If it was revenge, Jane would never come home. The animal was simply taunting him, making him suffer, before the kill.

Surely, the lab had finished with samples he sent in...he'd hardly completed the thought when the phone rang. It was his assistant, Red.

"Bud, the prints have been identified. A guard at the prison, Stan White."