Blood Wine by John Moss

Author:John Moss
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2014-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

14

The Safe House

After an interminable drive, the car slowed and wound its way through a series of gentle curves. They must be in suburbia, Miranda thought. Expensive suburbia, with streets laid out in sweeping geometric patterns. She had not heard a sound from Elke since before the hoods were put on.

“Elke?” she said.

There was no response.

“Elke, do you really think there’s a gay cabal to subvert femininity?”

“What a bizarre question, given our present condition,” said Elke.

“Well, do you?”

“No, I was just playing the devil.”

“Meaning what?” said Miranda, who was incredibly relieved her companion was responsive.

“If you two are talking in code, it won’t help,” said Carlo Sebastiani. “As the saying goes, ‘resistance is futile.’”

“That’s not a saying,” said Tony from the front seat as they pulled into a driveway. “That’s the motto of the Borg.”

“The Borg?” said Carlo Sebastiani. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Star Trek,” said Miranda.

“Shit,” said the Mafia boss. “Seven of Nine. Yeah, great tits, I’ve seen her, what, you think I’m culturally illiterate?”

“Too sophisticated, Carlo. You’ve got more on your mind,” Tony responded with companionable grace. “That’s why you’re the boss.”

“Fucking right,” said Carlo.

“What on earth are you people talking about?” said Elke impatiently. “What’s a seven-of-nine?”

Miranda heard automatic garage doors roll open, the car shunted forward, then the decisive rumble as they closed. This is it, she thought.

By the time Tony had climbed into the back and removed Miranda’s cuffs and hood, Elke’s were already off. Carlo Sebastiani held them in his hands as if they were lingerie. He waited for the women to get out first, admiring them as they squirmed out of the confined space.

Stepping from the garage into the house, Miranda was surprised. Far from being a place of confinement, it was an opulently appointed suburban house with gleaming hard furniture and plush soft furniture, all in earth tones with a few strategic accents of brilliant colour. Waiting for them in the living room was an attractive woman in her early fifties who rose to her feet, kissed Carlo in a familiar embrace, greeted Tony as a friend and smiled at the two women, waiting for an introduction.

“This is my wife,” said Carlo, with an awkward gesture to the woman whose imperial demeanour left no doubt about her status.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Linda. You’re going to be staying with me for a while.”

“I’m Miranda, this is Elke. I’m a Toronto police detective.”

“I’m a stay-at-home empty-nest New Jersey housewife,” said Linda Sebastiani. “Sit down, make yourselves comfortable. Tony, will you find Carmen, have her get us some drinks. So, Detective, how do you like New Jersey so far?”

There was more menace in the woman’s charm than anything Miranda perceived in her husband’s obvious expressions of power. Miranda looked around. There were no bars on the windows, no guards posted at the doors, no attempt to stop her from taking in the details of their surroundings.

But, of course, she thought. There is a front garden and hedges. I could never identify this place from the street in a million years.

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