Extracurricular Activities by Maggie Barbieri Read Free Book Online

Trans Am and that I always declined. Even then, when I should have been throwing caution to the wind and living the life of a carefree coed, my common sense ruled. I had been right about him all along but it still didn’t explain to me why this seemingly bright, attractive woman had ended up with him. It only explained why I hadn’t.
    I remember Gianna pouring her heart out to me and Max one night at Maloney’s, our favorite bar back in the day. Sal Paccione was her boyfriend and the bartender at Maloney’s. His reputation was one of a nice guy who was basically a gigolo; although Gianna seemed to overlook his wandering ways, they were obvious to any girl who had ever bought a beer from him at the bar. Except for me, of course; I thought he was just an inordinately friendly guy. A lingering glance, an extra hand squeeze when change was returned, a wink in your direction—I always thought it was his way of drumming up more tips, but Max assured me that he was a cad, plain and simple. The night that Max and Gianna and I had spent at the bar, it was clear to us that she had had enough but she wasn’t prepared to do anything about it. Until she caught him kissing one of the other bartenders in the alley behind the bar.
    Then, all hell broke loose.
    Gianna, unbeknownst to me and Max, was a woman with a temper. A tiny, hundred-and-ten-pound spitfire, who turned that bar into the eye of a hurricane in about ten seconds flat. Rumor had it that her father had paid for all of the damage and then some so that Billy Maloney wouldn’t press charges, something that I’m sure wasn’t really on his mind, given her father’s alleged occupation of whacking people.
    Sal didn’t fare as well as Billy Maloney. He was gone the next week and never seen again.
    I hugged her again. “I have to go,” I said, knowing that this was probably the last time I would ever see her. I turned to walk away.
    â€œPeter sends his regards,” she called after me, something in her tone causing me to stop.
    I turned slowly. “What?” A chill crawled slowly from the base of my spine to my neck.
    â€œPeter sends his regards,” she repeated, a small, cruel smile playing on her lips.
    Her husband was a gangster, a murderer, and involved in more illicit activities than I could keep track of. I had more than a sneaking suspicion that he was responsible for Ray’s death, too. He had kidnapped me a few months earlier, threatening to kill Max and Ray if I didn’t provide him the details of Kathy’s murder investigation. He had lost interest in me once the murder had been solved but had professed to “owe” me for treating Kathy with kindness when she was alive. I hated and feared him and to hear Gianna speak of him in relation to me was frightening and a little nauseating. I continued looking at her, unable to fashion a reply.
    â€œJust wanted to let you know,” she said coldly. She started to walk away and I resisted the urge to scream at her to tell Peter to leave me alone but I stood in the growing darkness in silence.
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    Fred Wyatt was the perfect partner in every way. He was the first guy in and the last guy out. He was the one Crawford wanted beside him when shots were fired. But his singing drove Crawford to the edge of insanity. He sang love songs, Motown songs, heavy metal songs, show tunes…anything to hear the sound of his own voice. And, Crawford expected, to drive him completely insane.
    Fred’s MO was simple: if he sang to Crawford, he wouldn’t have to talk to him about anything more complicated or intense than what they were having for lunch. At that moment, he was in the middle of his homage to Def Leppard with a rendition of “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
    Crawford and Wyatt had been pulled out of Homicide temporarily and put in the Robbery Division to track a mugger who was preying on wealthy women in the Riverdale section of the Bronx. The