Holly picked up the phone, dialed nine for an outside line, then Grant’s number.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi, it’s Holly,” she said brightly. “Listen, instead of our going out tonight, how about we have dinner at Blood Orchid? Ed Shine has invited us to join him and a friend, Willard Smith.” She hoped he’d pick up on the name.
“Yeah, that sounds great.”
“Good. Pick me up at the guest cottage at seven-thirty?”
“Okay, see you then.”
Holly hung up. “All set,” she said to Ed. “Can I get you guys a drink?”
Ed stood up. “No, thanks. We’ll see you at eight, then?”
“You bet.”
“I’ll let the gate know Grant is coming.” The two men left. Holly went out to the back patio and called Grant on her cellphone, which was still chiming its low-battery news.
“Hi, it’s Grant,” the recording said. “Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”
“It’s Holly. Will you bring the battery charger for my cellphone with you tonight? It’s on the bedside table. I have a lot to tell you; I couldn’t talk freely before.” She punched off and went back inside, suddenly tired. She fed Daisy and stretched out on the sofa for a nap.
Holly was awakened by a knock on the door, then Grant’s voice: “Hello? Anybody home?”
“Grant?” she said, sitting up. “Come in. My God, I’ve been asleep all this time. I’ve got to get dressed. Fix yourself a drink.” She went into the bedroom and quickly changed her clothes and freshened up, then returned to the living room.
Grant handed her a drink, but she refused it. “I don’t think we have time,” she said. “Let’s get going.”
As soon as they were in the car, Holly began talking, rapid-fire. “It’s money,” she said. “They’re bringing in money, just like I thought. I even stole some of it.”
“Holly…”
“Don’t talk, listen,” she said.
“Holly…”
“Grant, will you shut up? I have things to tell you.”
“No,you shut up. You’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”
“Oh, all right, say it.”
“My people in Washington have been working like beavers. They got a make on the prints on the glass.”
“Whose are they?”
“They belong to two people; one is Ed Shine.”
“Yes, go on.”
“The other is Gaetano Costello,” Grant said.
“Who the hell is Gaetano Costello?”
“He was in the files-he’s a second cousin to Frank Costello.”
“Who?”
“Frank Costello was the number-one man in the mob after Charlie Luciano got deported in the late thirties. You may remember that he starred in some congressional hearings many years ago.”
“So, tell me about Gaetano.”
“He emigrated from Italy in July of 1938, at the age of thirteen, quite legally; that’s when he got printed. Pretty soon, he had acquired the mob sobriquet of Eddie Numbers, because of his facility with math and money.”
“Go on.”
“Then, two years later, we have the appearance of Edward G. Shine on the scene. Little Eddie Shine entered a New York City public high school in September of 1940, giving his age as thirteen. His parents were listed in the school records as Mr. and Mrs. Alvin Shine, and here’s the good part. Mr. and Mrs. Shine lived in the same apartment building as Mr. and Mrs. Meyer Lansky.”
“Holy shit!”
“My very words when I heard about it. It appears that the mob recognized talent when they saw it, and they went to some trouble to hide little Gaetano’s light under a bushel. He graduates as Edward Shine, with honors, in June of ’forty-five, just in time to get drafted. Not surprisingly, little Eddie turns up at his physical with a perforated eardrum, making him ineligible. He applied for and was issued a passport the following year.”
“He was already a citizen?”
“Somehow, a birth certificate in his name appeared in the public records, stating that he was born in 1927 to Mr. and Mrs. Shine. I think we can attribute that to the fine Italian hand of Frank Costello, who owned many politicians. Little Eddie studies in Italy for a year, it’s not certain where, then returns to the U.S. and enters NYU, graduating in 1951 with a degree in accounting and business management. The following year, he builds his first office building.”
“What a precocious boy,” Holly said.
“From then on, he’s in the New York commercial real estate business big time, and he never seems to have any trouble getting financing.”
“Because his mob friends are laundering their cash through his projects?”
“Exactly.” Grant pulled into the parking lot of the Blood Orchid Club and parked. “And guess who he’s doing most of his business with.”
“Who?”
Then somebody opened the car door.
60
Ed Shine stood at the car door. “There you are,” he said, beaming. “Come inside, there are people I want you to meet.”
Holly and Grant got out of the car and followed Ed into the club. “Are you armed?” she whispered to him.
Grant shook his head.
There was one large, round table set for eight by the windows overlooking the golf course.
“I believe we’re all here,” Ed said, waving at some people at the bar. “Let’s be seated,” he called to them.
From the shadows of the bar, two men and two women approached. Holly knew two of them.
“Holly, I believe you’ve met Pio Pellegrino at his restaurant in Miami.”
“Of course,” Holly said.
“I believe you had a different name that evening,” Pio said smoothly.
“Forgive me; a single woman alone in Miami, I was being careful.”
“Of course.”
“And this is Pio’s father,” Ed said, “Ignacio. We call him Iggy.”
The old man bowed his head slightly, unsmiling.
“And this is Iggy’s daughter, Allegra, and Pio’s wife, Barbara; we call her Babs.” Babs was thin and elaborately coiffed, with big eyes and a wide mouth. Allegra Pellegrino was a tall, solidly built woman with black hair and blacker eyes. “Everybody, this is Holly’s friend, Mr. Grant Early, who may yet be a resident at Blood Orchid. Grant, I don’t believe you’ve met Willard Smith.”
Grant shook hands all around.
“Please be seated,” Ed said, waving a hand at the table. “There are place cards for everyone.”
Holly found herself seated between Ed and Pio. “What a beautiful table, Ed,” she said. “The flowers are lovely.” She glanced over at Grant, who was seated between Barbara and Allegra Pellegrino. He was chatting amiably, as if this were the most normal of dinner parties.
Holly couldn’t figure out why she was here, and she didn’t like it. Nearly everybody in the world she wanted to arrest was in this room.
“We’re starting with beluga caviar and a Veuve Clicquot Grande Dame champagne,” Ed announced to the group, as plates were set before them.
Holly figured there were at least four ounces of the black roe on her plate. Blinis, sour cream, and chopped onion were passed around. Holly ignored them, picked up a small spoon, and began to eat the caviar unaccompanied. The champagne was a perfect accompaniment.
Grant seemed to be enjoying it, too.
Holly found the atmosphere more and more oppressive. “Will you excuse me, Ed?” she said. “And could you point me to the ladies’ room?”
“Of course, Holly,” Ed replied. “Allegra, why don’t you show Holly where the ladies’ room is?”
Holly rose and walked toward the bar area. Allegra silently fell into step with her. Holly felt as if she were under armed guard, and maybe she was: Allegra was carrying a very large handbag.
Holly went into the farthest stall, while Allegra washed her hands. Holly was grateful for the noise of running water, since it covered the sound of her dialing Harry Crisp’s home number on her cellphone.
“Hi, we’re out,” Harry’s voice said. “Leave a number at the beep, and we’ll call you back.” As Holly started to speak, her phone bleeped and went dead. The battery was flat. She left the stall and washed her hands. Allegra was messing with her makeup.