Don of the Dead

by Casey Daniels

  "Only she gave Tommy to you."

  Linda propped another cigarette between her lips. It took her six flicks of her lighter to get it fired up. "We met at that home. That's what they called it. A home for unwed mothers. Guess we needed to be locked away where nobody could see us and get embarrassed."

  "And your own baby?"

  Linda looked at the blacktop. "Died. No sooner than he was born. That's what gave us the idea. She told everybody her baby was adopted and that the whole thing was over and done, but really, I took Tommy. Hell, my own family, they already kicked me out on account of I was pregnant and they said I was a slut. I figured I might as well end up with a baby. I was already with Lester by that time and she asked us to move to Cleveland so she could be close to the baby and visit. She even bought us our house. Believe it or not, back then, this was a real nice neighborhood. Didn't need no bars on the windows then."

  It was getting dark and when Linda took another drag on her cigarette, the tip of it flared red. "That boy was hell on wheels." Even so, she smiled. "Nothin' but trouble, but I suppose that was to be expected with where he came from and all. Lester, he never did want nothing to do with him. He would have dumped Tommy in a minute if the money didn't keep coming in. She paid for Tommy's school and his doctor visits. She gave us money for food and clothes."

  "And Lester spent that, too, right?"

  She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

  I stepped closer to Linda without getting too close to the garbage can. "Tommy had a tough life," I said. "Maybe this is your chance to make it up to him. You know, to put an end to the secrets and the lies."

  "We promised we'd never say nothin' to nobody about who Tommy was or where he came from."

  "Sure. But that was a long time ago," I reminded her. "And it doesn't matter to anyone anymore. Except me. No one will care if you tell me. And Linda, you'll be doing me a huge favor. I'm being followed by the FBI. I'm being shot at by hit men. I need to figure out what's going on and right now, you're the only one who can help."

  Linda's scrawny shoulders rose and fell. She took another look out toward the street.

  I tried again. "I know you cared about him, Linda. He took the place of your own little boy and you raised him just like you would have raised your own baby. Even though Tommy was a bad boy, I know you wish things could have been different. Otherwise you wouldn't have listed yourself in his obituary as his loving mother. You did that for yourself. To help ease the hurt. And you did it for Tommy. You did it because even though you didn't give birth to him, he was your son and you loved him."

  She looked away from me and when a streetlight flickered on at the curb, I saw that her eyes were misty. "Lester, he never reads the paper. He didn't know nothing about that obituary."

  I could have kicked myself for mentioning it back at the house. "I'm sorry, I—"

  She brushed off my apology. "Don't matter no more. Besides, Lester, he was drunker than a skunk when you came to the door. If he says anything about it, I'll tell him he heard wrong."

  I knew that for her, lying to Lester would be a major accomplishment. It might be dangerous, too. "Look, Linda, if you need anything—"

  She laughed. At least I thought it was a laugh. It was kind of hard to tell since she coughed and gagged at the same time. When I moved forward to help, she put up one hand to stop me. "Too late to help me," she said. "But I got to tell you, I do appreciate you asking. Nobody has cared about me. Not for a very long time. I suppose… "

  Her scraggy shoulders went back and she lifted her chin. "I suppose the least I can do in return is tell you what you want to know."

  And with that, Linda leaned closer and whispered a name in my ear.

  When I talked to him, he sounded tired and weak. Still, Anthony came through for me. I'd never been a religious person, but I promised myself I'd make a donation to Blessed Rosary soon. It was the least I could do to thank Anthony for his help. I never would have gotten as far as the front door without a call from him on my behalf.

  Of course, now that I was there, I wondered if I was doing the right thing. If I was, maybe I could find some hint that would lead me to the answers Gus needed to finally rest in peace.

  And if I wasn't?

  Well, if I wasn't, I knew word would go around to all the wrong people. And very soon, another hit man would be headed my way.

  Like it or not, there was only one way to find out.

  I gulped down a breath for courage and knocked on the door.

  When it opened, the last person I expected to see was Johnny the Rat Vitale.

  "Oh!" Not exactly the coolest opening statement, especially considering that the last time I saw Johnny, I'd been pretending a bravado that I hadn't had a chance to resurrect. "Mr. Vitale. I'm here to see—"

  "Yeah. I know. I told Anthony it wasn't a good idea but he wouldn't listen. And me?" He laughed but not like it was funny. More like he was disgusted by his own failings. "Even I'm not tough enough to argue with a priest. That's not the way I was raised." He stepped back to allow me inside a pleasant room painted green and white and accented with touches of pink. "Father Anthony didn't say what you wanted but I'll tell you one thing, it won't do you no good to try and talk to her. She's a little out of it today."

  "A little out of it" was a kind way to describe it. The woman I'd been searching for was seated at a table tucked into the sunny bow of a bay window. There was a bird feeder outside and she was staring at the cardinals and chickadees diving in for seed. She didn't blink or move or smile. She didn't look at me or acknowledge me. Not even when I sat down in the chair opposite hers.

  What on earth had made me think that this might actually work?

  I glanced at Johnny, who was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his broad chest and an I-told-you-so look on his craggy face.

  And decided I'd be damned if I was going to admit I was beat that early in the game.

  I slapped a cheery smile on my face, added the little lilt to my voice that the tourists at the cemetery loved, and slid my chair over so that I was in her line of vision. "Hi, Marie. Remember me? My name is Pepper. I stopped by a few weeks ago to see your nephew, Rudy."

  Like the last time I saw her, Gus's sister was impeccably dressed, this time in white slacks and a lacy sweater of the same, icy color. This time just like last time, she wore a string of pearls and this time—just like last time—when she looked my way, her expression was deadpan and her eyes were blank.

  "Did he come with you?" she asked. Just like last time.

  Only this time, I knew who she was talking about.

  A spark of hope flared. I might actually be able to get through to her. I leaned closer. "You mean Tommy."

  No sooner did I speak the name than Johnny abandoned his post near the door. He hurried over and stood behind Marie, his hands protectively on her shoulders.

  I ignored him. I could afford to. I knew the secret. The magic name that just might unlock Marie's psyche. I used it for all it was worth.

  "No, Tommy couldn't come today," I told her. "But I saw the flowers you sent him. The white carnations. And the irises and tulips. They were red and purple. Really beautiful."

  "He likes tulips." A tentative smile played around Marie's lips and over her shoulder, she reached for one of Johnny's hands. "He always liked tulips. Just like you did." She turned and smiled up at Johnny. "He was so much like you in so many ways."

  It took a second for what she was saying to sink in and when it did, my mouth fell open. I hadn't seen Gus since the night before when Linda told me who Tommy's mother was. I hadn't had a chance to tell him about Marie or to ask him to speculate about who the boy's father might have been. But, knowing that it was Johnny…

  My stomach swooped and a ball of emotion clogged my throat. The expression on Johnny's, face told me to back off and shut up, but I couldn't. The words were out of me before I could stop them. "Gus had you do the hit. He didn't know he was ordering his nephew's murder. He had no
idea he was asking you to kill your own son."

  Johnny's eyes sparked lightning. There was another empty chair at the table and he scraped it over next to mine and dropped into it. He leaned too close for comfort and glared at me. "How the hell do you know about that? No one knew about the hit. No one but me and Don Scarpetti." He looked at Marie, who had returned to her own world, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her.

  "It was business. And business… " Johnny shrugged.

  He suddenly looked old and far more vulnerable than the poker-playing tough guy I'd met back at The Family Place. Call me an opportunist but I knew that at least for the moment, I had the upper hand. I went for the jugular.

  "Revenge is a pretty good motive for murder," I said.

  Johnny's voice was as steady as the hand he slashed through the air. "I was loyal to the don. More loyal than to my son. More loyal than to anyone. Even her." He didn't have to look at Marie for me to know that's who he was talking about. He passed a hand over his eyes.

  "I was married, see. And Marie, she was eighteen and as pretty as any woman I'd ever seen. When she found out she was pregnant… well, her parents reacted like any parents would. They sent her away to have the baby and when she came back, we all pretended like nothing ever happened. Eventually she married and had daughters. Raised them herself, too, when her husband was killed in a traffic accident. And when she came to me years later and told me this punk named Cavolo needed a job… honest to God, I never questioned it. I never thought… "

  "But eventually you knew. You knew before you killed Tommy."

  "Yeah. I knew. And it didn't make no difference. The don got what the don wanted."

  "And then he got what he deserved."

  Johnny didn't respond. Did I really expect him to? He might cop to a forty-year-old murder of a nobody like Tommy Two Toes but if I thought he was going to admit to having Gus whacked, I was as loony as Marie.

  I looked her way. "Did she know?" I asked. "About Gus. About how he ordered—"

  "You leave her out of this!" Johnny moved pretty quick for an old guy. He was on his feet in an instant, glaring down at me, his hands curled into fists at his side. "Don't you ever accuse her of anything. If you do—"

  His anger choked him, and it was just as well. I was pretty sure I knew what he was going to say. I didn't need him to spell it out.

  I also didn't need to see the writing on the wall. This writing said Albert in twelve-foot-high flashing neon letters.

  I jumped to my feet, too, and though I was no match for Johnny, I stood toe-to-toe with him. "You're the one who's been after me all this time! You didn't want me to find out about Tommy. You don't give a damn what people say about you, but you didn't want anyone to ever know that Marie was his mother. You've been protecting her all this time. You still are."

  He didn't confirm or deny my suspicions. "You shouldn't stick your nose where it doesn't belong," he said. "If you're smart, you won't forget it."

  "But why?" Frustrated, I threw my hands in the air, whirled around, and paced to the other side of the room. I came back the other way, my mind working furiously. "What difference does it make if the whole world knows that Marie was Tommy's mother? Tommy's been dead for forty years and in case you haven't noticed, out-of-wedlock babies are a big ho-hum these days. Why do you care that much about Marie's reputation, especially since Marie is too far gone to even know what's happening? Unless—"

  As if he was watching the wheels turn inside my head, Johnny stepped toward me just as the truth of the thing hit me like a ton of bricks.

  "It was Marie." I looked at the smartly dressed old woman with the porcelain skin and the empty eyes and tried to picture the way she'd looked thirty years earlier. She'd been young and vital then and I knew from looking at her that Johnny's memory was spot-on; she had been beautiful. She was also a woman grieving for the child she'd never had a chance to raise. A mother who had to stand by and watch as her lover took her son's life.

  "Marie's the one who ordered Gus's hit."

  That'll teach me for thinking out loud.

  Johnny came at me, his hands reaching for my throat, curled and ready to squeeze the life out of me.

  He would have done it, too.

  If Marie didn't stop him. "Johnny, you quit that! Right now." The old woman rose to her feet and pounded the table with one fist. "It's not her fault."

  "But she knows!" Johnny spun to face Marie. "She knows and she's gonna—"

  "No. She isn't." When Marie looked at me, her eyes were as clear as if a switch had been turned inside her head. She smiled. "That's not why she's doing this, Johnny. She's doing this to give Augustino peace."

  Johnny wasn't buying it and frankly, I wasn't, either. How could Marie possibly know about Gus and his search for the eternal happily ever after?

  "Don Scarpetti is dead." Johnny's voice was heavy with disbelief. "How can you—"

  She reached for him and I guess even hit men with murder in their hearts have a soft spot for the women they love. It wasn't easy for him to turn away from me but Johnny did. He went to stand at Marie's side.

  "Someday when you're like me, then you'll understand," she told Johnny. "For now… promise me, Johnny. Promise me you won't hurt this girl. If it wasn't for her… " Her smile was as soft as twilight and when her gaze moved up, somewhere over my right shoulder, I figured we'd lost her again.

  Until I looked that way, too, and saw a wisp of white behind me. It looked like a cloud but it got bigger and bigger and the center of it glowed. Like there was a light on inside there somewhere. When Gus stepped out of the cloud, Marie smiled.

  "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

  Johnny thought Marie was talking to thin air. But I knew better. I watched Gus walk up to his sister and fold her into a hug.

  Why she didn't turn into a popsicle, I couldn't say. I only knew that when Johnny saw Marie's arms go around nothing, he turned to me.

  "I told you. I told you not to listen to anything she says. Her mind is gone. She's talking nonsense."

  "Shut up, Johnny." I moved closer to the table, and when Gus and Marie sat down, I did, too. I wanted to hear what they were going to say to each other.

  "Augustino!" When Marie saw her brother looking well, she smiled. "I can't tell you how many times I've tried to talk to you. You never answered."

  "It wasn't time then." Gus didn't look mad and I can only guess that Anthony had something to do with that. Anthony and all the years he'd spent praying on his father's behalf. "I didn't know it was you," he told her. "I never imagined. I suspected LaGanza. I even thought it might be the cops. But my little sister… "

  "I gave the order. You should know that. Johnny… " She looked toward her lover, who was watching the scene, slack jawed and confused. Regret, searing and painful, simmered in Marie's eyes. "Johnny tried to talk me out of it. But I wouldn't listen. Tommy was my son, Augustino. My only son. And I was crazy with grief. I wanted you to pay for what you did to him."

  Gus shook his head. "I never knew. You should have said—"

  "What?" Marie's laugh was high-pitched and sad. "What difference would it have made? Business is business. Isn't that what you always said? Tommy was bad for business. He had to die."

  "Just like Benny." I figured I might as well join in the conversation. So what if Johnny thought I was crazy, too? I turned to him.

  "You knew Benny had a tendency to run off at the mouth. You were afraid that one of these days, he was going to say too much. He knew about Tommy, and you knew that Tommy would lead me to Marie. You couldn't risk anyone finding out that she was the mastermind behind the hit."

  "And the shooter?" Gus asked his sister.

  She brushed aside the question. "Some mope from Chicago. I imported him for the job and I paid him well. Even had him use Tommy's old car. You know, like poetic justice. You can't hold it against the man who killed you. But me… " A sigh wracked her fragile body.

  "I was angry and hurt, Augustino. I couldn'
t think straight. Now, I'm a prisoner in this body and all I can do is think. Augustino… " She took Gus's hand. "Forgive me," she said. "Please."

  He didn't answer. He didn't have to. When he smiled at his sister, she had the only answer she needed.

  And after all those years, Anthony had the answer to his prayers.

  Chapter 19

  Marie saw Gus and I knew that could mean only one thing: she would be dead soon. But even I didn't think it would be as soon as Gus and I returned to the cemetery.

  Gus asked me to drop him off at his mausoleum, and just as we got out of the car, a light as bright as two suns and as white as snow lit the sky to the east of us. I didn't have to ask what it meant. I'd heard about enough near-death experiences to know.

  It took me a moment, though, to realize that the light was close. Too close to be hovering over the Scarpetti compound out in the suburbs.

  As a matter of fact, it was right over Blessed Rosary church.

  I guess I should have been sad and in a way, I was. I hardly knew Anthony Scarpetti, but one thing was for certain, he was a good person. When he walked into that light, he was sure to go a happy man.

  I smiled and when I looked at Gus, I realized he was smiling, too. He raised a hand as if he was going to pat me on the shoulder, then decided it wasn't such a good idea. He kept his distance and tipped his head back to let the light shine on his face, and I looked up, too.

  "Thanks, kid." His voice sounded like the rustle of a breeze.

  "Sure. I—" I turned and Gus was gone.

  "Gus?" I looked around, but there was no sign of him. And didn't it just figure that he'd decide to get cute on me now? I stalked over to his mausoleum and pressed my nose to the glass.

  "Hey!" I tapped on the door. "Come on, Gus. Don't disappear on me while we're wrapping up the case. I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. I really earned that nine thousand bucks. The least you can do is sit here and listen to me rehash the whole thing, just to prove what a genius I am!"