Ria
It was a small place and the proprietor, a Sikh gentleman with his bright blue turban, looked up at them questioningly over the top of his spectacles, as they approached the counter.
Only a handful of customers were around and Ria saw that there were just two assistants, probably, the owner’s family, she thought as she noticed the striking similarities between them.
Philippe had stepped up to the counter, his cold expression making the older man freeze. The Capo was already speaking to him, authority resounding in his voice when Ria moved to stand beside him, feeling dwarfed by the big, muscular man beside her.
‘We are looking for Erin Dorsey. I was told he works here,’ stated Philippe without a preamble. The man behind the counter looked alarmed his eyes taking in Philippe’s dominating presence and dark jacket and well-dressed looks.
“Erin? Is he in some trouble? Who are you? Are you from the police?’ The man was flustered and he kept wringing his hands as he gabbled.
With a sigh, Ria stepped forward.
Philippe would make the man pee in his pants with that interrogative manner, she thought crossly, pushing the Capo aside with her small hand. He glared at her; how dare she thrust herself in front? he fumed.
Ria shook her head at him slightly and stepped forward smiling reassuringly as she said in her sot voice,
“No, no, Sir.’
The man turned to her, his gaze widening as he took in the blonde curls framing her beautiful face. He smiled back hesitantly, mollified.
“We just wanted to talk to him. It’s about a friend of his, about my brother actually.’
She followed up this soft appeal with a sad, dimpled smile, at once disarming and inquiring.
Philippe groaned inwardly. If someone else came looking for Erin Dorsey, it would not be difficult to trace the people who had come in search of him first. The beautiful blonde bombshell with the curvy figure and dimples, who his men were also having a hard time keeping their eyes off and as for the proprietor’s sons, they were staring at her as if it was already Christmas and their biggest wet dream had walked in through the door.
He shot them icy looks and the young boys behind the counter hastily fell back, scrabbling to pretend to be working.
*
The old man at the counter was smiling uncertainly at Ria, taken in by her charm but still wary of the large, dark man looming behind her. He seemed to make up his mind as Ria kept looking at him, beseechingly.
The girl could charm the pants off a man, thought the Capo angrily and he moved to stand behind her protectively, the feel of his gun in his waistband reassuringly close. Unbidden, his eyes trailed over her tight jeans that seemed to be stitched onto her firm, round bottom and he felt his balls tighten painfully. He scowled fiercely at the boy behind the counter.
‘Actually, I have not seen Erin either,’ the owner in his large turban confided thoughtfully, feeling emboldened and by now, his sons had also approached the counter, curiously. The Capo noticed how they avoided looking in his direction.
Philippe looked around. His man had come in behind them, two of them; Jackson and Evans. They were walking about, dressed in their casual attire, trying hard to look non-threatening. It was late evening and outside the late evening, sunlight was glowing, warm and gentle as an autumn dusk set in. The streets had a few trees beside the pavement and the colourful leaves, a handful of them, lay scattered on the ground.
There had not been many customers in the store and the old lady with a trolley who had been wandering about down the aisle, looked at them inquisitively and then left the store, slowly. Evans reached out to pick up a bottle of jam, keeping up the facade of a customer interested in the wares but he was not fooling anyone, thought Philippe drily. Once a Mafioso…
*
‘Not since Wednesday.’ the old man was saying.
At his words, the Capo stiffened as the full import of what the old man was saying hit him.
“What do you mean, you have not seen him since Wednesday?’ he snapped. Ria reached for his hand and stroked him gently, saying, almost apologetically.,
‘ My boyfriend is a little upset, he wanted so badly, to meet Erin.’
Boyfriend? thought Philippe in astonishment and felt his manhood harden as she went on stroking his arm, gentle swirling movements, absently enough but making his blood pound and rush straight to his large, thick c*ck which strove to be erect.
The man looked unnerved at the grim expression on the large, swarthy Capo’s face but he went on, his anxiety quelled by Ria’s soft voice and calming words.
“Actually, he has not been in since Wednesday and today being Saturday…,’ began the older man, looking frightened .
Philippe looked as though he was going to grab the man’s shirt in his urgent impatience. Sensing his intention, Ria stopped him, placing a small hand on his large arm and squeezing lightly, although a well of fear was forming in her stomach too.
‘Where does he live?’ growled Philippe.
The little turbaned man looked terrified. Evans strolled up to the counter.
‘Boss, cameras.’ he said in a low voice.’ they got security cameras in this store.’
Spinning around, Ria immediately asked,
‘Do you have security cameras?’
The owner, now pale and trembling, stuttered,
‘Is everything alight? Did Erin do something…wrong? ‘
‘Just give me the address, tell me where he lives,’ snapped the Capo. One of the man’s sons moved forward with the information while the second helpfully told them about the cameras mounted in the corners of the little store.
‘Is he in trouble?’ squeaked the owner again for no one had responded to his earlier query. He was shaking like a leaf now, petrified by Philippe who was glowering at him, but he drew himself up and went on bravely, mopping his shining brow with a large white handkerchief in the face of the Capo’s glare,
‘Erin Dorsey was a good employee. ‘
And he stopped as he realised he had used the past tense to describe his favourite employee.