He crossed the room and sat beside her, leaving a couple of feet between them. She was dressed in a skirt and a white button-down blouse, but as utterly sensual as that had made her appear downstairs, it now enhanced her seeming innocence.
Joe reached out and squeezed her hand briefly. “We’re not here to hurt you, Peggy, but I also don’t want to lie to you.”
She wiped a tear from her eye. “I’ve never loved anybody so much.”
“It happens a lot,” he said philosophically. “People are rarely all bad or all good, and they rarely reveal themselves entirely to the ones who love them. I guess maybe sometimes they’re being self-protective, but it can be the other way around, too-they just don’t want to hurt who they care about the most. But whichever way it is with Gino,” he added, looking directly into her eyes, “the fact remains that he’s broken the law and brought some real heartbreak to others. I’m not here to judge him, Peggy, and I’m sure not here to wag my finger at the two of you. But make no mistake about it-I will do everything I can to hold him accountable.”
She was crying openly by now, making him feel at once guilty and hopeful.
“Do you have those postcards?” he asked gently.
Without a word, she reached into her night table drawer and withdrew a small bundle of glossy cards. She was still holding them when the phone rang.
As she leaned over to answer it, he relieved her of the cards.
“Hello?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
Joe could hear a man’s voice on the other end, although not what he was saying. He began nonchalantly leafing through the cards, a collection of unremarkable nature shots, for the most part-mountains, animals, a few with historic buildings. They were from all over the eastern seacoast.
“The police are here,” she said. “They say you’ve done something bad… I don’t know. They haven’t told me… Yes, they’re still here… No, no… Gino, I haven’t told them anything. I don’t have anything to tell them. I don’t even know what they’re talking about… I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’ll do it right now… Can you come over? Please. I’m really upset… Okay, okay.”
She covered the phone with her hand and looked apologetically at Joe. “I’m really sorry, but you all have to leave.”
Joe put the postcards down on the bed and stood up. “Can I ask you one favor?”
She was clearly unhappy with that, but he spoke anyway. “It’s only to be careful. People in love do things they sometimes regret. Please, next time you two are together, ask him what’s going on.”
The voice on the phone squawked again, and now looking confused, she turned toward it and answered, “I did, Gino. They’re leaving now. I told them.”
She looked up at Joe. “He wants me to see you out-make sure you’re gone.”
Joe nodded. “Fine with me.”
She put the phone down on the bed and escorted him back downstairs to the entranceway, where he stuck his head into the living room and announced, “Gino’s on the phone upstairs. We’ve been officially thrown out.”
The other two silently got up and filed out the front door. Joe hesitated on the threshold and looked back at Peggy. “Think about what I said, okay? You’ve got a full life ahead of you.”
She smiled sadly, as if she was already beyond believing such things. “Thank you. You’re a nice man,” she said, and closed the door on them.
Willy leered at him. “Ooh. Got lucky?”
Joe ignored his most obvious meaning. “Yeah. One of Gino’s postcards was mailed from Vermont.”
The cell phone clipped to Lil’s belt went off. She answered it, exchanged a few sentences, and hung up.
“That was Silva. He thought we’d like to know: Santo Massi was just picked up in a Dumpster with a bullet in his head.”
“Gee,” Willy reacted. “That didn’t take ’em long.”
“Gino?” Lil asked Joe.
Joe pushed his lower lip out thoughtfully. “Could be. Santo broke the cardinal rule, talking to us. Could be it was just an example.”
“Still,” she suggested, “we could roust him and play Twenty Questions, just to keep him off balance.”
Joe gazed up the street for a moment. “If you’re talking about getting under his skin, we might as well stick with the plan: Let’s have a chat with his wife next.”
Chapter 19
Gino was angrier than either Dante Lagasso or Tito had ever seen him. He was pacing back and forth in the now-closed social club from where Tito had taken Santo for the last ride of his life.
“Who the fuck is this Joe Gunther? You told me Vermont was hayseed country-bunch of Deputy Dawgs-in and out with no problem. Now the son of a bitch is fucking up my life.”
Lagasso was stirring a small cup of coffee. “I’m not the one who killed someone.”
Gino stared at him. “How the hell was I supposed to know the kid would get horny for some goddamn cow in the middle of the night?”
Lagasso shrugged. “Shit happens.”
Gino returned to pacing. “Shit happens. That’s the best you can do? Quote a bumper sticker? You’re supposed to check these deals out, Dante.”
“They looked solid,” Lagasso said placidly.
“Solid?” Gino exploded. “Is that why you had Santo whacked? You steered me into swampland, Dante.”
“Santo’s different. He was overdue for a correction. I’ll give you that. The Vermont cop figuring him out so fast just means he’s good at his job. Look, you’re not the only one with problems. Santo screwed me up, too, connecting Johnny to me. We’re all just gonna have to weather this out. Shouldn’t be a big deal, now he’s dead. Once they finish buzzing around, they’ll figure out they got nothin’.”
“Right,” Gino said bitterly. “And in the meantime, my life is a fuckin’ nightmare.” He pointed at Lagasso. “And you’re carrying some of the freight for that.”
Lagasso ran out of patience. He glanced at Tito, who slowly rose from the seat he’d been occupying in the room’s far corner.
Gino instantly read the body language. He held up his hand apologetically. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I know I fucked up. I didn’t mean it, all right? I’m just a little upset.”
Lagasso moved his finger ever so slightly, and Tito sat back down, his expression unchanged.
“It’s not the first time the cops have come sniffing around,” Lagasso said.
“It’s the first time they’ve visited my girlfriend and then gone yapping to my wife, for Chrissake. I’ve been shut out of my own house. She changed the fucking lock.”
“The girlfriend didn’t take you in?”
“That’s not the point. It’s my house.”
“You got caught fooling around. Bad luck.”
Gino ran his hands through his hair, staring at the ceiling. “I could kill that cop.”
“Not a great idea. Why not just settle down with the girl? You never liked the wife anyhow. Times are different. People won’t care.”
Gino stabbed himself in the chest several times. “I care. It’s a matter of pride. I do good work-clean work. I’m known for it. I worked hard for that reputation. It means something to me that people know I been thrown out of my house and forced to live someplace else, all because of some screwup.”
“You’re making too much of it,” Lagasso said, sounding bored. “You’re crazy about the girlfriend, the wife is crazy about your money. Everything’ll work out. Enjoy playing house while you can.”
Gino stared at the wall for a while, breathing hard, trying to control his anger. “Goddamn John Fucking Samuel Gregory,” he finally said. “He started all this. It’s always the rich guys that’ll cause you a world of shit. Be nice to repay the favor for once.”
Lagasso was done for the night. He admired Gino for his abilities and didn’t mind the finder’s fees he generated. But the guy could be a pain-thin-skinned and quick to blame everyone else for his problems.
“Go home and get laid, Gino. Things’ll look better in the morning.”
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” Gail responded, her voice tinny and distant over the telephone line. “How’re things in Sin City?”