Killer Headline. Debby Giusti

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СКАЧАТЬ yet again. The sound of the souped-up engine and pounding bass cut through the otherwise still night.

      A gang of rowdy troublemakers had moved into Missoula, prowling the streets and bringing a wave of crime that worried local residents, especially the older folks who lived in her neighborhood. Concerned though Violet was about the increased crime, her attention tonight was focused on her computer screen and the information she’d compiled over the last few weeks.

      Violet could smell a good story, and this one was as strong as Limburger cheese. She just had to keep digging until she uncovered all the bits and pieces that would turn a good beginning into a great front-page spread, sure to improve her current odd-man-out status at the Missoula Daily News.

      Even more important, the story would warn other women who might be in danger. Women who had somehow tangled with organized crime. Like Ruby Summers Maxwell and Carlie Donald, both murdered in Montana. Both young and attractive with the dubious distinction of having testified against the mob.

      Another interesting similarity, both women had green eyes. An important clue or coincidence? Violet wasn’t sure.

      She had little to go on concerning Ruby’s death, except a funeral announcement and an e-mail from a reporter friend who worked on the local rag in the town where Ruby had been killed. The full story never appeared in print. Women in Witness Protection didn’t make the headlines in the morning news.

      Luckily, Violet’s diligent search of area newspapers had paid off with a photo of Jade Summers—the very-much-alive twin sister of the murder victim—standing next to her beau, Deputy U.S. Marshal Micah McGraw. In the forefront of the picture sat swarms of preschoolers watching a clown at the library where Jade worked. The kids were cute, but Violet was only interested in the woman at the marshal’s side. Slender frame, expressive eyes and a crown of russet hair that swept over her shoulders. At least now, Violet knew what Jade’s murdered twin—Ruby Summers—had looked like.

      Inserting her flash drive into her home laptop, Violet pulled up the file containing Carlie Donald’s autopsy report—acquired through another contact.

      …remains of a slender female…cause of death strangulation…abrasions and contusions of the anterior neck…no foreign materials evident beneath the fingernails…graphite noted on the right hand…froth in the trachea and bronchi…

      Closing her eyes, Violet tried to block out the details playing through her mind. Her day had started early with a five-mile run before church. She had spent the afternoon working on the story, which had stretched the long day into an even longer night.

      Right now, she needed to go to bed and forget about the two Mafia hits in-state since the New Year. And it was only February. Most folks believed bad luck came in threes. So, who would be the next to die?

      Life was sacred, and those who preyed on the weak needed to be apprehended and brought to justice. If the police couldn’t handle the job, Violet would.

      Her cell rang. She glanced at her watch—twelve-fifteen—and reached for her phone, noting the caller’s Chicago area code. “Kramer.”

      “It’s Gwyn.”

      “I planned to check online in case you left a message,” Violet said. The informant had told her never to phone lest her boyfriend—a mobster who worked with the Martino family—answer the call.

      “Angelo’s away for the night. I bought one of those nontraceable cell phones. Wanted you to know the latest.”

      Violet’s stomach tightened, hearing the wariness in Gwyn’s voice. “You’re okay, aren’t you?”

      “Angelo’s acting strange. He said everyone’s on edge. Vincent Martino’s making changes. Angelo knew where he stood when the old don, Salvatore, was in charge. With Vincent, things aren’t so clear. Angelo said the new don has to prove himself to his father before Salvatore dies. Somehow it involves those women who were killed in Montana.”

      Just as long as Gwyn didn’t get hurt.

      Although Violet had never met her informant in person, she and Gwyn had connected online a little over a year ago when Violet had researched a possible story lead on the mob. She’d never completed the story, but the mobster’s girlfriend had kept in touch, providing more and more insider information. With Violet’s encouragement, Gwyn had recently admitted she wanted to make a new life for herself free from Angelo and the mob.

      “Some of the capos are upset,” Gwyn said. “Evidently, the hit men went after the wrong women.”

      “You mean, Ruby Summers Maxwell and Carlie Donald weren’t supposed to die?”

      “The target was someone else. A gal named Eloise Hill. At least that’s what Angelo heard. She testified against Salvatore years ago.”

      “And Vincent wants her dead to gain favor with his ailing father?”

      “Vincent lacks Salvatore’s charisma. Some say he’s more interested in women than in running the organization.”

      “Can you find out more about Eloise for me? And let me know if any other women are being targeted?”

      “I’ll see what I can do.” Pulling in a deep breath, Gwyn continued. “Remember Cameron Trimble, that sleazy pimp I told you about?”

      “The guy who’s in the hospital?”

      “That’s right. He’ll be laid up awhile thanks to the undercover cop you know.”

      A rush of warmth fluttered over Violet’s midsection. “You mean, Clay West? We met a couple times, that’s all.”

      “Whatever.” Gwyn paused for a moment. “You called him, didn’t you?”

      “Three nights ago. I thought he’d tell me something new about the shake-up in the Martino family.”

      “Did you…?” Gwyn’s voice hitched. “Did you mention my name?”

      “Of course not. I promised you the first time you contacted me that I’d never divulge your identity. I told Clay I’d heard his cover had been compromised, that’s all.”

      “No one’s upset about Cameron getting hurt. What they’re upset about is your cop friend infiltrating a portion of the mob operation. Evidently, Clay West was after the guy who runs prostitution in the city. The cops had a sting planned that would have exposed him.”

      “So because Clay went after Cameron, the cops lost their opportunity and had to back off?”

      “That’s right. Now the mob’s worried Cameron might talk. The family sent in one of their high-power lawyers who plans to have the pimp sue for damages. A concussion, three cracked ribs and a broken jaw constitute police brutality. At least that’s the argument the lawyer will use.”

      Violet hated hearing about any law-enforcement officer shoving his weight around, but Clay West didn’t seem the type to lose his cool. There had to be more to the story.

      “What about that feature you’re writing?” Gwyn asked. “You said it would be picked up by papers across the country. The mob would be forced to lay low for a while, which would give me a chance to make my break from Angelo.”

      “An СКАЧАТЬ