us. She collected money, it was her passion. She kept bank deposit boxes filled with cash all over town.”
“Then why?”
“With Serenity there’s always a man involved,” Inga said mysteriously.
“Maybe her husband came back and whisked her off.”
“Do you know her husband?”
“No, I’ve never met him. He’s Russian, and quite a brute. But apparently a very sexy brute.”
“She must’ve talked about him.”
“Serenity doesn’t talk much.”
“Who did she go on a date with?”
“Some guy. I think he deejays at your club.”
“Was it Frankie?”
“Wow!” Inga exclaimed. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m concerned. Aren’t you?”
“The only thing I’m concerned about is that Serenity pays her share of the rent. Believe me, that girl can look after herself.”
Later, when Frankie breezed into the club, Bobby was ready with questions.
“Where was Serenity going when she left your apartment?” he asked.
Frankie gave him a puzzled look. “Huh?”
“She hasn’t been seen since,” Bobby said, determined to find out more.
“So?” Frankie said, heading for the deejay booth. “That ain’t my problem.”
“She never went home,” Bobby said, following him. “Did you put her in a cab?”
“Do I look like a babysitter?” Frankie said sarcastically. “I gave her twenty bucks and said good-bye.”
“Nice.”
“What’s your deal?” Frankie said, seemingly unconcerned. “You know she was a lunatic. Trouble with a capital T. An’ hey—not that great in bed either.”
“That’s your opinion,” Bobby said, somewhat pissed that Frankie was putting her down.
“I tell it like it is, man,” Frankie said. “Now can we get off the subject and forget about her?”
Sometimes Frankie acted like a real asshole, but after a while, Bobby figured he was probably right, it was time to stop thinking about a girl who obviously didn’t give a rat’s ass about him.
Then two days later, the New York Post’ s headline screamed GIRL’S NAKED BODY FOUND IN DUMPSTER. Bobby read the accompanying story and his stomach tightened.
It was Serenity.
He was sure of it.
Christ! Did Frankie have anything to do with it? That was the big question.
A Bonus Santangelo Story: Part II
by
Jackie Collins
It turned out that the naked body discovered in the Dumpster was not Serenity. The naked girl was an eighteen-year-old college student who’d had too much to drink and ended up getting raped, beaten, and strangled.
She was definitely not Serenity.
Bobby was filled with mixed emotions. On one hand, he was relieved, and on the other, he felt guilty as hell that he’d suspected Frankie of committing such a heinous crime.
He confessed to Frankie what he’d been thinking, and they both had a good laugh about it.
“You got a real big imagination, man,” Frankie had said, shaking his head in wonderment that Bobby could think such a thing. “ Me a freakin’ murderer! That’s some fucked-up shit.”
Soon after that, they began hanging out, which surprised both of them. The experience with Serenity seemed to have created a natural camaraderie between them. They actually liked each other, even though they hailed from totally different backgrounds. Frankie was the son of a tough Italian union boss. And Bobby came from money, money, money.
Still… Bobby could not completely forget about Serenity. Every so often, he checked in with Inga to find out if she’d heard anything. The answer was always no.
Frankie never wanted to talk about her. Every time Bobby brought her name up, he dismissed the conversation as if it was totally unimportant.
“Maybe we should report her disappearance to the police,” Bobby suggested after a month had passed and Serenity had still not reappeared.
“You fuckin’ crazy, man?” Frankie said, finally exhibiting a modicum of interest. “She’s a nutso model we both had a one-night stand with, then she took off. She’s probably lying on a beach in Brazil.
Brian Keene, J.F. Gonzalez