“Lisa told me she was not.”
“Well, then, she must have come later.”
“No,” Rosa said. “Something Karen herself told me—not purposely—makes me know she was not with you. It was that same night, during the confusion, before she talked to you. She told me she had gone shopping. She lost track of the time and afterward she hurried to your house because you would be angry. When she arrived, Trish was already gone.”
“She told you that?” Gus asked.
“Yes,” Rosa said. “Karen was not at Dominic’s house until after Trish ran home … until after Trish ran away from him.”
“Karen couldn’t have told you that.” Dominic was shouting now. “She was with me.”
That was Dominic’s big mistake, right there, although he was too slow to recognize it yet. Everyone in the room believed Rosa was telling the truth about what Karen told her. I believed, because Karen had told me the same thing. The rest believed because they knew Rosa wouldn’t lie. And we all knew that Karen had had no reason—on the spur of the moment, not knowing the significance of what she was saying—to make something up to tell Rosa.
Dominic should have admitted, right then, that Karen wasn’t with him, admitted he had Karen create the alibi because he was afraid someone might suspect him. Then he should have stuck to his denials and trusted that Trish wouldn’t identify him. But he didn’t, and that’s what turned the tide—certainly as far as Gus was concerned. Surprise, disbelief, disgust, anger—and who knows what else—passed over Gus’s face. For a moment even he was speechless. He was standing now, staring at Dominic the bodybuilder, who seemed to shrink in size before the old man.
Dominic understood, finally, that he’d lost Gus, and he panicked. He jumped up and ran toward Steve. “You gotta believe me, buddy. I didn’t do—”
Steve’s look stopped him. It was a look, not of anger or disgust, or even hatred—but of nothingness. A cold, deep vacant look. His hand was inside his sport coat and when it came out it held a dull black semiautomatic—my Beretta.
“No!” Rosa cried. She turned to Gus. “Dominic must be turned over to the authorities. Do you want him killed here? The police would only turn it around, would put it somehow upon your head.”
“She’s right,” Gus said. “I don’t need something stupid happening here.” He stopped for a few seconds, rubbing the tips of the fingers of his right hand back and forth across his chin. “Dominic,” he said, “have you brought a gun with you into my house?” When Dominic looked surprised, Gus added, “Do not lie to me.”
“No, Mr. A. I swear I would never—”
“Search the fucking sonovabitch, Gus,” Steve said. “If you don’t, you’re crazy.”
Gus turned on Steve, his face twisted in anger. “Who are you? Who are you to come into my house, in front of my own blood, and order me what to do?”
“I … I’m sorry,” Steve said, visibly shaken by Gus’s rage.
Watching Dominic, I saw a change then—very subtle, more a matter of posture than anything else. He may have begun to believe things were going to work out all right for him after all.
“Come here.” Gus was gesturing to Goldilocks. “Take this … take Dominic out of my sight. Take him to the kitchen and leave him with Raymond.”
Goldilocks pushed Dominic toward the door. I was as certain as Gus was that Dominic would never have brought a gun into that house. But still I’d have sworn Dominic was hiding something. Maybe it was that “one more thing” Karen said Anders was going to try. If it was what I thought it was, maybe Dominic’s belief was well-founded. Maybe things would work out right for him, after all.
But then everything changed. Just as Goldilocks and Dominic got to the door, Gus switched gears. “Wait,” he said. “Steve, you take Dominic. And do not harm him, you understand me? Leave him with Raymond and then come back here.”
Steve shook his head and started to say something, then apparently thought better of it. Goldilocks stepped aside and Steve, prodding Dominic in the small of the back with my Beretta, moved him out of the room.
When the door closed behind them, I spoke up for the first time since Steve had pushed Lammy and me into the library a lifetime ago. “That was a mistake, Gus,” I said, “if you really want Dominic turned over to the cops, I mean.”
“Shut up, Foley,” Gus said. He was sitting down again, and he looked very tired. “What makes you so smart about ev—”
One explosion. Unmistakably a gunshot, from not so far away. Then two more, exactly like the first one, in rapid succession. Then one more, not as loud. Then nothing.
Goldilocks and I got to the library door together, but Steve was already coming our way. We backed up as he came into the room. He closed the door, walked over to Gus, and laid the Beretta on the table. Then he sat down in the nearest chair.
Running footsteps could be heard, and Raymond came in. “It’s Dominic,” he said. “He’s dead. Somebody—”
“He turned on me.” Steve spoke in a monotone. “He had a piece, a little revolver. I think he wanted me to kill him. He … he admitted he went after Trish. He came at me and I had to kill him.”
I had to admire Steve. He was a quick thinker, all right. And he’d just pulled off an award-winning performance. I wasn’t sure that I could do as well—even though, unlike Steve, I’d be dealing with the truth.
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RAYMOND, A PRETTY QUICK study himself, had made sure the door to the housekeeper’s room was locked before he ran to where the shots came from. Gus had him give Rosa the key, and sent her to check on Trish and Karen and to assure Trish everything was all right.
Once Rosa was out of the room, Gus turned to Steve. “Jesus Christ, you really fucked up.” Gus had abandoned the language code he’d been enforcing in front of Rosa. “We got a goddamn dead body to account for now, thanks to you.”
“I told you. He went for me with his backup. I couldn’t help it.”
“Right. That’s why the little popgun was fired last, huh, asshole?” Gus was no dummy.
“I … I don’t know what you mean,” Steve said. He’d apparently used up all of his quick thinking for the day.
“Bullshit,” Gus said. “Dominic wouldn’t have brought a gun into my place in a million fucking years. That second piece hadda be yours. Dominic tried to rape your daughter and you killed him. Simple as that. I can understand that. I don’t like it, but I understand it. It’s the fucking cops gonna have the real problem with it.”
“Forget the cops and leave it to me,” Steve said. “I’ll put that fucking freak where nobody finds him. Permanently. Nobody’s gonna care if he’s dead or alive, anyway.”
“Don’t worry,” Gus said, “I’m gonna leave it to you, all right. And you’re gonna see to it his goddamn body doesn’t bloat up and rise to the top of some lagoon somewhere next spring.” He paused. “Damn. Dominic was loyal, even if he had shit for brains. But a kid fucker, my God. Lisa’s better off living with Rosa—or even you—than with him. Besides, you’re right. Nobody’s gonna care if he’s dead or alive.”
“You’re wrong,” I said.
“You stay out of this,” Steve said.
“You’re wrong, Gus,” I repeated. “Somebody cares. Somebody cares a lot. And if my guess is right, those somebodies are probably already on their way here.”
“Who cares a lot?” Gus demanded. “And what the fuck guess are you talking about?”
I turned and started for the door.
“Hold on.” That was Raymond, stepping in front of me, showing Gus he was on the job.
I spun back toward Gus. “Listen to me. That person you wanted me to check out? I did, and she’s not what you thought she might be.”
“What’s he talking about?” Steve asked.
“Shut up,” Gus said. “Go on, Foley.”
“She’s not who you’re looking for, but I know who is—or was. On top of that, you’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before the Feds send an armored tru
ck through your gate if I’m right. The way we’ll find out is by checking Dominic.” I paused. “And I suggest nobody talk while we’re at it.”
“Shit,” Steve said, “this guy’s—”
“Shut up,” Gus said. “I know what he’s talking about. The rest of you stay here with the door closed. Foley and me are gonna go take Dominic’s clothes off.”
So we did. Or at least we tore open his shirt. That was enough. We found the expensive little transmitter taped to his smooth bronze skin, a few inches above his right nipple. We found two bullet wounds in his chest, too, but those were on the left side. There was also a little chrome-plated revolver lying on the floor beside his body—the gun Steve fired the fourth and final shot from and dropped there—after he’d blown a hole in the back of Dominic’s skull and then put two more slugs into his chest. The tiny device Dominic was wearing appeared undamaged, and was probably still sending whatever it could pick up to some ear-rattled technician in headphones sitting in some distant dismal room—if we were lucky—or maybe in the back of a panel truck somewhere closer by.
Gus and I crouched beside the body, and neither one of us said a word. Finally, Gus stood and looked down, shaking his head slowly, as though in disbelief. I stood, too, and watched as Gus leaned forward, mouthed a few silent words, and spat—three times—into the dead man’s face. He turned abruptly and walked back toward the library. I lagged behind a moment, then followed him.
Back in the library, Gus called everybody up around his desk—except for Raymond. Gus sent him to get Rosa and bring her back to the library. Meanwhile, the four of us—Gus, Steve, Lammy, and I—sat down. Lammy’s face was shiny with sweat and far whiter than I’d ever seen it, even when he showed up in my dreams, but there hadn’t been a peep out of him since Steve pushed us into the room. Raymond’s twin and Goldilocks, who apparently didn’t get paid to sit, stood by the window and the door, respectively.
Gus picked up the phone, punched out two numbers, and waited. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said to whoever answered. “Get to the gate and stay out of sight and call me if anybody shows up.” He hung up.
Raymond came back with Rosa, then left again to keep an eye on Trish and Karen.
“So,” Gus said, “we got a problem. We can’t ditch the body. We’re—”
“Why the fuck not?” Steve said.
“Watch your tongue! My sister’s here.”
“Yeah, but—”
“We can’t ditch the body because Dominic’s wired, you fool. The FBI or some God … some other agency’s been—”
“Then we gotta get outta here,” Steve said. “They’re gonna find out I shot Dominic.”
“We don’t gotta do anything except stay put,” Gus said. “Whoever it is already knows you shot Dominic. You’re gonna have to tough it out. Self-defense. And if that doesn’t work, maybe manslaughter or something. This was the man who tried to rape your little girl. You lost control, didn’t know what you were doing. So we sit and wait, and cooperate.” He paused. “Maybe we even call nine-one-one.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. No one had mentioned my name in the presence of Dominic’s listening device, and I didn’t want cops running all over the place before I got out of there. Anders would have my license—or worse—if he thought I had a role in blowing his game. “There are some things you need to know. Important things.”
“Oh?” Gus said.
“Yes. First, Gus, you were wrong about Karen. She’s not the one you had to worry about. Dominic was.”
“Yeah. Dominic. But maybe the broad, too.”
“We’ll come back to that. But there’s something more important.” I turned to my left. “Rosa,” I said, “Gus was wrong about Karen. But you were wrong, too.” Rosa opened her mouth, then clamped it shut without saying anything. “You were wrong about Dominic.”
You could see in her eyes that Rosa thought I was crazy. She knew she was right about Dominic. She knew it deep down in her soul, the same soul where she’d long ago convinced herself she’d forgiven Dominic, convinced herself she hadn’t hated him with every breath she took since the first time Tina told her Dominic used her as a punching bag. She knew her judgment wasn’t warped about who had attacked Trish.
She was a strong and honest woman, Rosa was. Maybe even a holy woman, although that’s hardly my area of expertise. But she couldn’t live with the idea that evil might be hiding deep inside her, couldn’t abide the thought that she could harbor such hatred as she did for the man who used to pummel her daughter in retaliation for his own inadequacies. What she’d refused to look at in herself for so long—the hate that festered below the surface—finally blinded her.
Rosa wouldn’t lie. But, having convinced herself it must have been Dominic who was Trish’s attacker, she couldn’t see the truth. She’d easily convinced Karen, who already despised Dominic. She’d convinced me, as well, at least for a while. Then, when Rosa stood in Gus’s library and extended the finger of guilt, Dominic hadn’t known how to defend himself.
“Rosa was mistaken, Gus,” I said. “Dominic knew that. And I know it.”
And one other person in that room knew it, too, better than anyone else.
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“I SAW THIS GOING down differently, Gus,” I said. “I thought you’d follow Rosa’s advice, let the cops handle Dominic. You caught me off-guard when you switched, and had Steve take Dominic out of the room.”
“Get to the point,” Gus said.
“I guess you figured why bother the police and the court system. Why not let the victim’s father take justice into his own hands? It’s faster, cleaner. Especially when the executioner can be persuaded to dispose of the remains.” I paused. “You surprised me, and you knew what you were doing. You knew it was unlikely Steve could resist the opportunity.”
“What I know, and what you know,” Gus said, “is that the so-called system doesn’t always bring justice.”
“Right,” I said, “we all know that. But using the system did get Lammy off. That was justice, because he’s innocent. And you know what? Using the system would have gotten Dominic off, too.”
“What are—”
“He’s full of shit,” Steve said. “What are you listening to him for?”
Gus didn’t answer him, so I continued. “No sensible person would use the word innocent in the same sentence with Dominic, so I won’t either. But the system would have gotten him off anyway, at least about attacking Trish.”
“Sure. His newfound friends would have taken care of him,” Gus said.
“Maybe. But even if they abandoned him—which they might have—Dominic would have gotten off. I guarantee it. Because Dominic didn’t go after Trish, not any more than Lammy did. What—”
“But he did,” Rosa said, “we all know he did.”
“What you know is what you told yourself,” I said. “People believe you, Rosa. You accused Dominic … so he must have done it. Just like everyone on the block thought Lammy did it, because Trish accused him. Would Trish lie? Then Lammy must have done it. Would Rosa lie? Then Dominic must have done it.”
“But Trish did lie, out of fear,” Rosa said. “I did not lie.”
“No, you didn’t lie. But you were mistaken. And I’m telling you Dominic would have gotten off, even without the Feds, if Steve hadn’t gunned him down from behind.” I turned back to Gus. “Steve did that, not because he’s an aggrieved father. Uh-uh. Steve did that because he didn’t want anyone bringing out the truth.”
Gus did nothing but stare at me, but tension radiated from him and spread through the room. Both Raymond’s twin and Goldilocks moved closer.
“What you are saying,” Rosa whispered, “it cannot be. Not the child’s father.”
Steve started to stand up. “You can’t—”
“Sit down,” Gus said. “I wanna hear the man out.”
“Fine,” Steve said, regaining his composure. “Fine. But is he saying I tried to rape my own daughter? The one thing
I have left in this life that means anything to me? Because if he is…” He paused, then turned and leaned toward me and spoke in a strangely calm, low voice. “Because if you are, whatever happens, whether anyone ever believes you or not, I swear to you, I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life coming after you—you, and this lard-assed pervert friend of yours, and the priest, and anyone else who’s important to you. And you haven’t learned the meaning of the word pain, my friend, until you get what’s in store for all of you.”
I stared back at him. He was a liar, through and through, but a fierce coldness grew in my chest because I knew he wasn’t lying now. This threat was his last chance to stop me from destroying what little hope of a life he might ever have. But it was more than a threat. It was a promise—a promise as real and dark as the menacing emptiness in his eyes. And I was afraid. Afraid for Lammy, for Casey, for everyone. Afraid for myself.
Maybe there was another way. Maybe Rosa could take Trish away and make a new life somehow and the truth wouldn’t have to come out. Maybe fear would back me down.
“So,” Steve said, “are you saying I tried to rape my own little girl?”
I took one deep breath, in and out, before I answered. “I’m saying whatever it was—attempted rape, or the stupid, brutal fondling of a child by an abusive, alcoholic father—whatever it was, it was you. And I’m saying…” I paused, hating what was coming next, but not knowing any better way. I stared into his eyes. “And I’m saying I invite you, Mr. Connolly, to spend your days coming after me, or anyone I’m close to. Because when you do … I’ll see you won’t have many days left to spend.”
There was a long silence then. In reality, probably just a few seconds, but still a long, long silence.
Finally Gus spoke. “What is your evidence?”
“You’ll find,” I said, “if you read her statements, that the one thing Trish was most afraid of saying was that what happened to her happened in a garage. To anyone who wanted to listen, she might as well have announced that it did happen in a garage.”
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