House of Blues (43 page)

"Tell him he has to wait until I can get free."
She held her breath. Cappello would be perfectly within her rights to
say, "I give the orders."

Instead she managed a tired half smile. "Are you
saying a woman's got to do what a woman's got to do?"

Skip knew she had won.

She went back to her desk and called Agent Shellmire.

"Ah," he said. "The lady of the hour.
Hear you got Anna Garibaldi. "

"I hear you've got her now."

"Int'restin' lady."

"Fine hostess, anyhow. I had a lovely rest in
her stately home."

He chuckled. "So we heard. Listen, I got a
bigger case on her than this piddly airport shit, but I don't think I
can make it now—and you folks still got to handle the arson and
false imprisonment and all that—so I thought I might as well give
you what I have. It's somethin' I think you'll be pretty interested
in."

There is a God.

She said: "We'd be delighted. But as you know,
it's not my case anymore."

"
Yeah, you bein' a victim—shame about that.
But I knew your name, so I thought I'd call. Also I wanted to
congratulate you—that was pretty impressive, what you did at the
airport."

"
Thanks." Her cheeks burned.

"Listen, I'm over at the parish prison—why
don't you come on over with whoever's got the case and I'll play you
a kind of int'restin' tape. Then maybe we can question the lady."

She rounded up Cappello and Joe Tarantino.

Shellmire was a tall man with a fruit-and-vegetable
look—potato face, seaweed hair, pear-shaped body. When they had
shaken hands, he said, "Let's wait a minute on that tape. I do
b'lieve Ms. Garibaldi's lawyer just turned up. Y'all want to meet
him?"

"By all means."

Anna's lawyer was waiting for Shellmire, huffing and
puffing, dressed in a suit that had probably cost more than the
combined furnishings of Skip's apartment. He was furious.

"I thought you were ready to question Mrs.
Garibaldi. I hope you don't think I have time just to sit around
inhaling institutional odors." He curled his lip.

"Hey, Mr. Delmonico. Haven't seen you in a
while." Bobby Delmonico's presence confirmed things Skip already
thought. He represented biggish drug dealers; people involved in
video poker; random thugs up for assault and sometimes murder. A lot
of them had Italian names.

Whoever the Dragon was, she was connected.

"Don't think I know you," Delmonico said.

"Shellmire. Agent Turner Shellmire. This is
Detective Langdon, Lieutenant Tarantino, and Sergeant Cappello,
NOPD."

He kept his face impassive. Though Shellmire held out
a hand, he didn't shake.

"Have you talked to your client yet?"

"Yes. She's a little upset."

"
I don't blame her. She's in big-league
trouble."

"
I think she might have a medical problem."

"I beg your pardon?"

He spread his hands, just a well-dressed dummy trying
to comprehend a vast and confusing universe. "She seems to think
she doesn't need a lawyer."

"
That's her prerogative." Skip thought,
There has to be a catch: we couldn't be that lucky.

"I've known her family all my life. Anna's
always . . . well, always been unstable."

"Mr. Delmonico, do you see a jury in here? Don't
you think it's a little early for this kind of thing?"

"
Look, she needs legal representation and she
won't listen right now—how about letting her have a good night's
sleep? We can do this tomorrow."

"A good night's sleep? Sure. We'll break out the
satin sheets."

"I just thought . . . Apparently, he couldn't
finish the sentence. Skip realized he was desperate, and she liked
that.

"Look," said Shellmire, "I'm going to
question the prisoner. Are you coming?"

He shrugged and followed them to the room where Anna
had been taken. She was sitting, head in her left hand, back bent,
looking forlorn and a little bit old. She raised her head, marshaled
her fury, and aimed it at her lawyer.

"
I told you to get out of here."

There was fire enough in her voice to fuel a whole
herd of dragons.

Delmonico looked beseechingly at Shellmire, who only
stared at him, probably trying to figure out why he was still hanging
around. Finally, the agent shrugged. "Sounds like you're fired."

When he had gone, Anna said, "I called someone
to get me another lawyer. But so far no one's turned up."

Shellmire led the others away. "Got a real treat
for y'all."

The tape began with a male voice.

"Hello?"

Another answered.

"
Eddie, it's Gus. Lemme speak to Anna."

There was a pause and Anna's voice said, "Gustavo?"

"
Anna, are you all right?"

"
Why wouldn't I be all right? Why haven't I
heard from you?"

Skip thought the words sounded fuzzy, as if Anna had
just awakened from a deep sleep.

"
Anna, something bad happened. You know what
these people are like."

"These people, these people." She was
slurring her words. "You were the one—"

"Don't start, Anna. I haven't got much time."

"Where are you, Gustavo?"

"I'm in another country, do you understand? I
can't come back to America."

Anna gasped.

"Anna, listen. They think I cheated them. If
they find me, they kill me."

Another gasp.

"
You need to join me."

"What are you saying?"

"I want you to come to New York, and stay with
our friend. You know who I mean?"

"Yes."

"He'll have a ticket for you. You'll love it
here; it's beautiful."

"Gustavo, what do you mean? What are you talking
about?"

"I mean, Anna, that we both have to leave the
country. They're trying to kill me, do you understand that?"

"They won't kill me."

"First of all, they'll take everything you own.
Because you don't really own it, you remember that? When they've done
that, they'll try to get to me through you."

"Pfah. They'd have done it already."

"No. I bought you some protection. Pray God only
the FBI's listening, because you're dead and so's somebody else if
they find out. I bought you some protection, Anna. Do you understand
that? Do you know what I had to pay for it? You don't want to.
Believe me you don't."

Anna emitted some sort of sound—whether another
gasp or a sob, Skip couldn't tell.

"But its running out. Its only good for a few
days. Its information that won't be passed, do you understand? And
then when it is, everything's over."

"I don't follow."

"You don't need to follow. What you need to know
is that you need to get out of there today. You need to get to New
York and talk to our friend"

"I can never come back, can I? Thats what you're
saying."

"
I'm sorry, Anna."

"I have to leave everything—" She was
shouting so loud Shellmire had to turn the volume down.

The caller interrupted, shouting louder: "Shut
up, Anna! This isn't for Eddie and Mike to hear."

"Omigod! Are they going to be all right?"

"Don't worry about them. Worry about yourself."
Shellmire turned up the volume. You've been drinking, haven't you?"

"
I've been out of my mind. You disappear for
days, I don't hear from you, you leave everything for me, and I don't
know how to do anything—"

"Anna, shut up and listen, will you? I'm telling
you what to do now. Are you listening? Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Pack a suitcase, and call the bank—have your
money transferred to New York. You know where I mean?"

"Yes."

"The moneys all you'll need. That and a few
clothes."

"You're telling me to leave everything I have?"

"For Christs sake, bring the family pictures.
Nothing else is yours, can't you understand that? Its theirs. Its
always been theirs. You had it on loan."

"
The fish company's mine."

"
They let you run it for 'em because you look
respectable. And because you're my sister. You were their front,
that's it. Face it. It's over now."

The silence of loss filled the room, of a life
slipping away.

The caller said, "Send Mike and Eddie home. Then
go into the safe in the closet, take out all the records and burn
them. After that, go to the airport and if there isn't a plane to New
York within the hour, take the next plane to anywhere and go from
there to New York."

"It has to be done that fast?"

"Yes. It does."

"I can't just leave like that."

"
You can and you will."

"You don't understand, Gustavo. I've been
holding things together for you. Everything fell apart when you left
like that, and I had to do what I could. I've been waiting for you to
call and tell me what to do. I've been out of my depth here."

"What are you talking about?"

"
I'm holding four prisoners, one of them a cop.
And one's a baby."

"You what?" This time Shellmire didn't
bother to turn the thing down. He watched the others jump and seemed
to enjoy it.

"
I had to, Gus, I—"

"You crazy bitch. I can't fucking believe you
could be so fucking incompetent. I swear to fucking God I can't—"

"
Everything fell apart, Gustavo. What was I
supposed to do?" The question was a wail.

"
Okay, okay, keep quiet. Eddie and Mike, okay?
Look. Let me talk to Eddie. I'll send 'em home now—tell 'em their
checks are in the mail."

Shellmire said, "I'm going to fast—forward to
the place where Anna picks up again."

He didn't judge it quite right, and Skip heard the
end of what the caller said to Eddie, speaking in a perfectly
reasonable, well-modulated voice. He asked for Anna again, and when
she was on, he continued his tirade as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"
I don't care what the fuck happened. Who the
fuck authorized you to lock people up, for God's sake? When the fuck
have we ever done anything so crazy? And a cop. A cop! You are the
craziest goddamn broad in the entire benighted state of Louisiana."

"If you'll let me talk, I'll tell you what
happened."

"I don't care what happened. Why would I want to
know what happened? I'm out of the fucking country and out of the
fucking game. You want to live, Anna, you better get here too."

"Gustavo, what am I supposed to do with these
people?"

"I don't care if you burn the whole fucking
place down with all of them in it."

"What did you say?" The words were spoken
more in incredulity than inquiry.

"I said fry 'em, I don't care. What the hell
else are you going to do? Let 'em go? Then the cop arrests you. You
can't let 'em go.

"Leave 'em tied up? If one of 'em gets loose,
it's your ass. You're dead, do you understand? You want to get out
alive? Kill 'em. I swear to God it's your only chance."

"But Gustavo, you can't just—"

"I can't what? I been dodging bullets all week,
and now this. You don't know what my stomach feels like. You just
don't know."

"
I can't do what you say."

"So die, Anna. That's your alternative. Just
burn the records before you do, okay?"

He hung up.

Shellmire turned the machine off. "What do you
think?"

Cappello said, "Was that who I think it was?"

He nodded. "Gus Lozano. Who we'll now never
touch. He's gone back to the fatherland or some place. But we might
get some of his pals if we work together on this."

Cappello and Tarantino murmured assent. Skip said, "I
need to know something"

"You mean, are we going to let you sit in when
we interview her?"

"How'd you guess?"

The others laughed.

* * *

Anna's new lawyer was a young woman named Dina Roth.
She had shiny shoulder-length hair and the clear eyes of a
teetotaler, something you didn't see that much in New Orleans. She
wore jeans and a blazer, and she was smiling.

"My client," she said, "has something
to tell you before you begin. I advise you to hear her out. It could
save you a lot of time and trouble."

"
Sure," said Shellmire. "Just let me
remind Ms. Garibaldi of her rights." Anna scowled as he spoke,
and when he had finished, she nodded impatiently.

"I want to tell you why I changed lawyers,"
she said. "I never called Bobby Delmonico. Someone called him
for me. I was so arrogant, I didn't call a lawyer at all—just
phoned a few of my influential 'friends' to get me out of this.