She went into the back room, with Pigeon Tony ahead of her. She glanced around and realized it had once been the dining room of the rowhouse. “Where was he when you came into the room?”she asked when they were inside.
“There.” Pigeon Tony pointed. “Near shelf.”
Judy looked where the bookshelves were leaning against the plywood wall and at the supplies and vitamin jugs scattered on the floor. She knew how they’d look in crime-lab photos and blown up as Exhibit B. “Okay, he was standing in front of the bookshelves?”
“Si, si.”
“You open the door and you see him. What happens next?”
“I kill him.”
Judy winced. “Slow down. Remember the fight you told me about. How exactly did it start? Who spoke first?”
“He.”
“How loud was his voice?”
“I say you, no loud. Whisper.”
Judy nodded. “Okay, what did he say, exactly?”
“He laugh. He say, in Italian, ‘Look who come in. A buffoon. A weakling. A coward.’”
“Why did he say that? What did he mean?”
“I no avenge Silvana. I run away, to America.”
Judy didn’t understand. “That was wrong?”
“Si, si.” Pigeon Tony’s face reddened, even under his fresh sunburn. “If I honor vendetta, my son be alive.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know. Coluzzi know.”
“But if you had killed Coluzzi, his son would have come after your son. Isn’t that how it works? An eye for an eye?”
Pigeon Tony paused. “No matter. I must honor vendetta, like man. Coluzzi come after my son alla way. He come after Frankie.”
Judy didn’t want to get into it. She had an idea. “Now tell me. He says this to you and what do you do? Besides hate him.”
“I hate him and I make a fight.”
“Show me.”
Pigeon Tony’s eyes widened. “You want me to make a fight with you? A woman?”
“Si, si,” she said, a close-to-perfect impression, and he smiled.
“Okay,” he began, his impression not as good as hers, to her ear. Suddenly his face darkened, as it had back at the oak grove. “I say to Coluzzi, ‘You are pig. You are scum. You are worse coward than me, for you kill defenseless woman.’”
Judy wondered how Silvana had died but said nothing. She didn’t want to interrupt his story.
“And he laugh, and he say to me, ‘You are a stupid fool, you are too dumb to know I destroy you. I kill your son, too, and his wife. I kill them in truck and soon I kill Frank and you will have nothing.’” Pigeon Tony trembled with pain, and though Judy’s heart went out to him, she had to keep him on track.
“Then what did you say?”
“I no say nothing. I no can believe. My heart, is full with odio. So much hate.”
“Did you do something?”
“Si, si.”
“Show me what you did.”
Pigeon Tony thought a minute. “I run and I push him.”
“Pretend I’m Coluzzi. Push me how you pushed him.”
Pigeon Tony hesitated, then took a step toward her slowly, then another. “I run at him, fast. I no think, I run.”
Judy nodded. “I understand.”
“And I come to him”—at this Pigeon Tony gripped her arms, reaching only to her elbow—“and I push him, I shove at him. I no can believe how hard!”
Judy’s idea took shape. “And then he fell back? Against the shelves?”
“Si, si. And shelf, is metal, is tin, it falls down. And I make noise, I no can believe it come, and alla people come in—Tony, Feet, alla club. I break his neck!”
“How do you know that?”
Pigeon Tony looked at her like she was crazy. “His neck”—he gestured to the floor—“all crazy, all crooked. Alla people say, ‘You broke neck.’”
Judy considered it. This could work. And it was consistent with what the coroner would say. “Then what did you do?”
“I no do nothing. I look at him. I no can believe Coluzzi dead. Tony, Feet, they take me out, they make me go home. Coluzzi’s friend in club, Jimmy, he shout at me. He make a fight to me. He call police. Tony, Feet, they get me, and I go to home. I feed birds and police come.”
“So the one push broke Coluzzi’s neck.” Judy remembered what Dr. Patel, the medical examiner, had said. Pigeon Tony’s story would be consistent with it. “His neck snapped?”
“Si, si.”
“You didn’t touch him again after that?”
“No.”
Judy’s heart lifted. She had a defense, and it was perfect. One last detail. “How long would you say you were in the room?”
“Che? How long?”
“I’m wondering about the time. How many minutes were you in the room before you pushed Coluzzi?”
Pigeon Tony snapped his fingers. “Two, three minute. No time.”
Judy tried out her theory. “So maybe you didn’t mean to kill him. Maybe you just meant to fight with him, or hurt him, and he fell back and broke his neck.”
Pigeon Tony frowned. “No, I want to kill him. I try to kill him.”
“Did you? Are you sure?”
“Si, si! I want to kill him. For Silvana. For Frank. For Frankie. You no capisce?”
Judy capisced just fine, but she was visualizing her opening argument. “But nobody will know that you wanted to kill him, from the way it happened. From the way it happened, from what everybody will say, even the prosecution witnesses, you went in the room and you were only in there a few minutes. All you did was you push him, and he fell back and broke his neck. That’s not murder.”
Pigeon Tony broke into a grin of recognition. “Bravissima, Judy! Is no murder! I say you, before. Is no murder! Coluzzi kill my wife. And my son!”
Judy shook her head. “No, it’s not murder because you didn’t mean to kill him.”
“No! No!” Pigeon Tony bristled. “I kill him! I want to!”
“The jury won’t know that.”
Pigeon Tony cocked his head. “What means jury?”
“Jury. It’s the people who sit at your trial and decide if you’re guilty of murder.”
“Si, si. I tell jury. I tell judge. I say I kill him but no è murder.”