Way Off Plan (Firsts and Forever 1)

“Including the murder of Vince Pasteretti,” I said.

Dmitri and my father both looked at me in surprise. “That’s right,” my dad told me. “How do you remember that case? You were just a kid when he was murdered. It must have been ten, twelve years ago.”

“It was headline news at the time,” I said. “But I had almost forgotten about it, until Catherine reminded me.”

“Catherine?” my mother asked.

“Catherine Sokolov, Dmitri’s cousin. Gregor’s daughter.”

“Christ,” my father muttered, “you have gotten deeply involved with the family, if you and Sokolov’s daughter are chatting about unsolved murders.”

“She went to her father’s office today, by the way,” I told Dmitri.

“Yeah, I figured as much when you said she was going out with Joe.”

“She told me to ask you something,” I said, struggling for a moment to remember what it was. “She said…she said ‘Ask Dmitri about the Packard.’ Do you have any idea what she was talking about?”

He sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Yeah, I do. What about it, though?’

“She said she saw something at her father’s office. A key. Does that make any sense?”

Dmitri pushed his chair back from the table. “I’m not sure. Please excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Nolan. I need to call my cousin.” He patted his pockets, then said, “The boys have my cell phone.” I handed him mine, and he thanked me and went to the far side of the kitchen, looking out the patio door at my parents’ backyard as he dialed and waited for the call to connect.

“What’s this about?” my mother asked.

“I have no idea,” I told her. “Catherine was going to look around when she was at her father’s office, see if she could spot anything incriminating that would help Dmitri and me.”

“You mean to tell me Sokolov’s daughter is working with you?” my father wanted to know.

“Yeah. She’s good people, and totally on our side.”

My father didn’t quite know what to make of that.

Dmitri said softly into the phone, “Hey Cat, it’s Dmitri. Is Joe within earshot?” He was quiet for a moment, then said, again very softly, “In five minutes, make an excuse and go to the ladies’ room and call me at this number.” He listened for a beat, then disconnected the call.

A couple minutes later my phone rang, and Dmitri answered it by saying, “That wasn’t five minutes.”

As he and Catherine had a quick conversation, I reached for a couple chocolate chip cookies and ate them in two big bites each. I was reaching for a couple more as Dmitri crossed the room to me and handed me my phone. He saw what I was doing and said with concern, “Baby, you must be so hungry. You never had dinner.” And then, realizing he’d just called me baby in front of my dad, he looked mortified.

That was like lighting a firecracker under my mother. “You haven’t eaten? Why didn’t you say something!” She bustled to the refrigerator and started pulling out plastic containers as she asked, “What about you, Dmitri? Have you had dinner?”

“No, ma’am, but please don’t go through any trouble,” Dmitri told her.

“This isn’t trouble,” she said with a big smile. She was in full Mom mode now.

“At least let me help you,” he said.

But I stood up and told him, “I’ll help while you tell us what Catherine said.” I crossed the kitchen and picked up a container of macaroni and cheese, cracking the lid and sticking it in the microwave.

Dmitri leaned against the kitchen counter and said, “Well, it’s probably nothing. Catherine just told me that when she was at her father’s office, his key ring was sitting out. It’s a big huge thing, so he often takes it out of his pocket when he’s sitting at his desk. Anyway, she noticed that he still had a key on the ring that really shouldn’t be there anymore.”

“I’m going to hazard a guess and say, a key to a Packard?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“And why is this notable?” I asked, pulling the lid off a container, seeing it was full of green beans and putting the lid back on again. My mother sighed and took the container from my hands.

“Because my uncle doesn’t have the Packard any more. Or at least he says he doesn’t. He told us it was stolen.” He looked at me and said, “Twelve years ago.”

“Around the time Vince Pasteretti was killed?” I asked.

“Exactly around that time.”

“Ok, so tell me about this car.”

“It was a black 1929 Packard, a real gem. It was my uncle’s pride and joy. Catherine used to joke that he loved that car more than her – only, she wasn’t really joking. The story was that it used to belong to Lucky Luciano. I don’t know if that’s true or not. But I do know that whoever owned that car before my uncle was one bad motherf–” Dmitri cut himself off and cleared his throat. Then he continued, “One bad person.”