Roya Fetova
A Crowdsourced Novel
Read it here – Say what comes next.
Desi climbed into his car and smiled before he pulled out his phone to report. The city made it so easy. Force a police Sergeant to be a desk jockey. The boredom. The lousy pay. Expect him to be satisfied with that. Expect it to bother his conscience when he shares intel and crime reports with his good friends. No way. The organization paid a guy real cash for that kind of work and no income tax ever entered the picture. After all, that’s how things worked in Chi-Town.
He dialed Uncle Uomo’s direct line.
Three rings, then the answer, “Speak.” The inflection of that one word like snapping a trap.
“It’s me, Desi.” The old man never checked his caller ID.
“Ah, my most incompetent nephew. You have news for me?”
Desi cleared his throat. “One of our informants saw surveillance video from a stabbing down at Union Station. Our guy thinks it might be Tony. He offed a cop in broad daylight. Right before it happened a blond chick was there. Might be the same girl with him at the hotel in Joliet.”
Uomo grunted, “Very well. Make sure your friend gets an anonymous gift for his trouble. Find Mr. Ferragamo—and his new playmate. Do not let me down.”
The line went dead and Desi’s hand shook as he speed-dialed the number of the man he used in Joliet—the man with no life in his eyes. Nice not to have to look him in the face this time. He’d get those same two heavies to stake out Tony’s sister. The guy was bound to show up there sooner or later. Desi pulled out his keys, fired up the big block engine and headed for his place in Oak Park.
* * *
As he got ready for bed, Agent Stan Harris caught a TV news story about the killing of a Chicago Policeman. It featured a photograph of the suspect, one Anthony Ferragamo, already wanted for two other killings. Another photo of an unknown woman. Harris had no trouble recognizing Roya Fetova and knew the man would probably check out as Frank Smith. Why did the Chicago PD have to be so slow reporting to the FBI? He picked up the phone and ordered a copy of the police report and all the video by 6 am.
* * *
Frank and Roya found the address and drove by several times in Tatiana’s SUV. Ferragamo’s sister lived in a bungalow, the same as any other Berwyn bungalow. They tried the alley and Frank caught a dim light from a basement window but no life. Roya pulled around front again and stopped at the curb, shaded from the streetlight by a tree. “Now we wait.”
Frank grunted and looked around at the other parked cars. Was that the shadow of a head in the car across the street? Unlikely. He squinted at the car but couldn’t tell and finally settled back in his seat.
What happens next? TAKE YOUR TURN [click here]
HOW TO PLAY–This is an interactive story based on Nate’s game in my novel. You get to say what comes next:
1.) KEEP IT SHORT – It’s easy to play Nate’s game. Just enter your idea as a comment like, “their jeep drives off a cliff.” Don’t worry about form—just suggest the next step in the story. I’ll pick one, write it, and post it as a scene in serial form.
2.) KEEP IT CLEAN – I hold the veto pen. In general, if it wouldn’t fly in an old 60’s Bond movie, then it’s out. Since this is an experiment, I get to add rules as we go along.
3.) SHARE – Your posts are a precious gift to me. Maybe you’ll help write my next novel. If so, I’ll list your name prominently as a contributor. If not, then we’ll just have a great time. I take you at your word that all ideas are your original thoughts. No criticism. No arguments. No lawsuits allowed. Let’s have some fun.
The Gamemaker's Father 
Cop killed at Ogilvie station not Union station.
Did you mean to misspell Berwyn?
Lee, I’ve fixed the mispelling. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ve gone back several chapters and checked and re-checked about the station killing. It had to happen at Union Station.
Ever once in awhile Tony’s bravado paused long enough for him to use his brain instead of his muscle. Even with violent deaths a common occurance in the Windy City, the cops took it personal when the victim was one of their own. Tony knew he needed to lay low afree days and put together a plan.
Tony’s friend, Mario, from high school was shackin’ up with a Mexican girl. Although the latin gangs controlled a different turf, they didn’t much like Italians. However, Elsa’s brothers had accepted Mario into the ‘hood and let him in on a few of the scams they were working. Tony thought Mario would take him in for a few days. And Mario was always generous with his weed, and Tony thought getting high might be a good way to relax. He made his way back to Union Station for a train ride out to Aurora.
Roya’s surveillance training alerted her quickly to the fact they were not alone in watching the house of Tony Ferragamo’s sister. She pulled Frank close and pretended to kiss his neck. I am certain we are being watched from that car over there—please play along and act like you can’t keep your hands off me. It was a bit awkward —but Tony soon remembered his skills of intimacy—and Roya responded willingly.
A cheesy electronic version of Ave Maria told Desi he had a cell call. It was one of the thugs he had sent to look for Tony at his sister’s house. Talk to me. Yeah, boss, it seems pretty quiet here—except for a couple necking in a car across the street. You should want us to break in and look around? If the sister is home we could persuade her to cooperate. Desi could tell the offer to interrogate Tony’s sister was a bit too eager. Desi did not like to use violence unless needed. You guys watch for a few more hours. I will put a wiretap on her phone and see if Tony calls. Let me know if anything changes.
Next
Lee, your creativity amazes me.
Mario was surprised when he found Tony at his door. He had not heard from him in several years. In fact after the high profile mob case it seemed Tony vanished into thin air. Tony simply told his high school buddy he had been layin’ low out west and just now got back in town.
Mario told Tony he could sleep on the couch—but only for a few days. Elsa was pregnant and was a bit fussy about things lately. In fact, he had to sneak a joint out back of the garage because she didn’t want the smoke to hurt the baby.
Elsa gave Tony a pillow and blanket and retreated to the bedroom. Tony and Mario drank a few beers and talked about raising hell as high school kids. Finally, Mario left Tony and went to bed. Tony was tired and the alcohol helped him drift off quickly.
The next morning Elsa left early to catch the bus to her job. Mario told Tony he had an errand to run and would be back in an hour or so.
Mario walked a few blocks to a three-flat and climbed the stairs to the third floor. He knocked on the door and waited. Else’s brother, Renaldo, let him in and asked what’s up? He told him about Tony staying over, and then explained that word on the street was Don Grassi was offering a nice finder’s fee for Tony.
Mario suggested that Renaldo help him deliver Tony to Uomo and make some quick cash. Elsa would be pleased with extra income with the baby on the way. Mario suggested they get Tony wasted later that day and when he passed out they would drive him into the city to collect their bounty.
Roya and Frank knew things were getting a bit too passionate and finally pulled away from each other. Roya did not like the fact that the other car was still parked with its occupants watching for the same prey. She found a napkin in the glove box to clear the steam from the inside of the windshield. She started the engine and put the SUV in gear and headed back to the suburbs.
next
Good stuff! I’m just about to post Chapter 15 after a long delay. Maybe this segment will work for Chapter 16.