Murder Takes Time (38 page)

YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER

8 Months Ago

I
t was Friday, and I was up early again. For some reason, I never slept on Fridays. I always seemed to pop up by six, and for no good reason. I planned on going to Chicago today to mail the gun off to Bugs, but Gina had me running errands—and when a woman is planning a wedding, a man better go along with it. I did.

Ever since the fiasco with Angie’s letter, we had enjoyed ourselves, falling right back into old ways of laughing and having fun. Once or twice, Gina even mentioned kids. I told her I’d love to have some, but I worried about her; mid-thirties was tough for a first-time mother. I wanted her to do what was right for
her
, but secretly I prayed she would decide to have at least one child. We even got to the point of discussing names. The wedding was two weeks away, and we had a lot left to do.

“I
have
to get to Chicago,” I said. “Bugs expected that package last week.”

“Why not mail it from here and be done with it?”

“No. I trust Bugs, but I want to be careful. Mailing it from Chicago means it really could have come from anywhere. We’ll do it at the airport Fed-Ex so anyone is a suspect, even people with connecting flights.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Of course. We’ll make a day of it.”

“Then what do we do with what’s left of this magnificent day?” She danced across the living room as if she were waltzing.

“I’ll make a deal. You pick up some shrimp and pasta, and I’ll get fresh bread. If you’re a good girl, and promise me favors tonight, I’ll get you cannoli.”

She undid a button or two on her blouse, looked at me with sultry eyes. “The favors I’ll promise, but don’t act like this is for me. You’re only going to get the sfogliatelle. Sometimes I think you like eating that more than other things.”

“Goddamn. That hurt.”

“Because I might be right?”

I hesitated long enough to draw a kick from her beautiful bare foot, which I grabbed and kissed. “I guess it’s you, but the sfogliatelle comes in a close second.”

“I’ll remember that tonight, sweet Nicky,” she said, as she slipped on her shoes. “I’ll be back before you. You know where to find me.”

I laughed as I left the house. “Now you’re going to make me run.”

She threw a kiss to me. “Bye.”

I walked, didn’t run, the few blocks to the bakery. Once inside, I savored the aromas that took me back to childhood. There wasn’t much in life as good as this. I ordered the loaf of bread, two cannoli, and two sfogliatelle. I could have eaten four, but if I kept that up, I’d end up looking like Patsy the Whale. They bagged the bread, put the others in a box, and stuffed both inside a nice bag with handles.

“See you next week, Richie.”

I almost didn’t respond. It was tough to remember my fake name. “Okay, see you then,” I said, and headed out the door. It was a beautiful day, and I had a beautiful life. I whistled and sang songs all the way home, while thoughts of Mamma Rosa’s humming kept a smile on my face.

N
INO
T
ORTELLA SAT IN
the back seat of a car across the street, halfway down the block from the bakery. He stared, then did a double take, then leaned forward and tapped Tommy Devin on the shoulder. “Hey, Tommy, what’s your take? Is that him?”

Tommy looked at the picture on the seat beside him, then back at the man walking down the sidewalk with a bag from the bakery. “No doubt. It’s him.”

Nino punched some numbers on his phone and waited for an answer.

“Yeah?”

“Bingo.”

“Where?”

“Bakery, just like you said. We’re following him now.”

“Don’t let him spot you.”

“Don’t worry, he—”

“And don’t try
anything
with this guy. If he suspects something, he could kill you ten times before you even think of what to do. And believe me, you don’t want him on your ass. He once told me what he’d do to anyone who betrayed him.”

“Okay. We’ll just follow.”

“That’s right. Follow. I want to know where he lives. And I need to find that girl.”

CHAPTER 59

CAUGHT

8 Months Ago

J
ohnny Muck sat in the back seat of the car, checking his gun while Tommy Devin drove. Muck wore thin leather gloves lined with Cashmere, and his favorite fedora sat on his head, cocked slightly to the left. “Park around the corner. And keep the car out of sight.”

They got out of the car and went in the side door of a laundromat about a block and a half from Nicky and Gina’s house. Tony Sannullo had issued orders to watch them and wait until they could get them both. Johnny had other orders, though, and Tito had sent him to make sure those orders got carried out: The girl goes no matter what.

Besides Johnny, there was Tommy Devin, Renzo Ciccarelli, Nino Tortella and Donnie Amato. Johnny looked at each of them, held them fixed with his hard-eyed glare. “Tito’s holding me responsible, so I’m holding each of you responsible. Got it?”

They nodded.

“Okay, now we wait till he comes out, then we follow. Two cars. Very carefully.”

“
T
IME TO SEE THE
priest,” Gina said as she cooked breakfast. “I can’t believe it’s that close. Can you?”

I put the paper down and laughed. “Never did like going to see a priest, but this time, it’s okay. Confession is going to be hell, though.”

Gina flipped the eggs over and splashed them with a little grease from the bacon. “You might still be saying penance on our honeymoon.”

I got up, walked over and rubbed her shoulders. “It’ll be worth it, no matter how much penance he gives me.” I leaned down and kissed her neck.

“Don’t start that now.”

“When we get back then.”

“Hmm. That just might do.”

We ate breakfast between talk of hotels, honeymoons, and houses, and then I looked at my watch and grabbed the briefcase. “Time we got going.”

Gina went to the restroom, checked her make-up, then headed out the front door. In a minute, we were on the way to the church.

I
PARKED IN FRONT
of the fire hydrant so no one could slip in behind me, checked both side mirrors, the rearview, then got out, stepping onto a light dusting of snow. For Cleveland, a dusting was good. Could have just as easily been a blizzard. My shoes left prints as I made my way to the sidewalk, eyes darting left and right, seeking anything out of place. I learned long ago to be aware of my surroundings. I reached my hand out as Gina climbed out of the car.

“Ready, sinner?”

Gina smiled. “Sinner? It’s a good thing I’m going first. That way I’ll be done if Father Amelio dies when you tell him your sins.”

We walked into the church together, said our prayers, then met Father Amelio, who had agreed to meet us early and hear our confessions before reviewing plans for the wedding. I smiled at him, then said to Gina, “I’ll wait outside.”

Gina looked at me suspiciously. “You’re not chickening out, are you?”

“I feel like it, but I won’t. Come get me when you’re done.”

I walked out the door and paced the sidewalk, kicking up a few tufts of snow now and then, and wishing more than anything that I had a cigarette. I pulled my collar up to buffer the wind, then blew on my hands to keep them warm. Life sure had changed. And all for the better. I was going to confession, and soon to be married properly.

Thanks, God. You’re as good as Sister Thomas said you were.

A few minutes later the doors opened and Gina came out. She went by
Mary
now, but I would always think of her as Gina. A warm smile replaced my wary look. I rushed to greet her. She looked precious, standing there twirling that damn necklace of hers, even in this cold weather. One of these days I was going to hide that thing. As I moved toward her a sudden and wonderful smile popped onto my face. I felt it. I realized that this was the first time I had thought of that necklace without thinking of Angela.

“Feel better?” I hugged her and buried my head in her hair. “Get all those sins absolved?”

She laughed along with me and Father Amelio, who had come out to join us, then she leaned in close and whispered. “Now that I’m all clean of sin, maybe we should do something nasty to taint our souls.” She tapped me on the arm. “We could make a habit of this.”

“In order for that to work, I still have to confess, so…here I go.” I grabbed her hand and headed toward the church.

“Not so fast,” Gina said, pulling her hand away. “I’m staying out here to smoke. I have a feeling you’ll be a while.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Father. Let’s get this over with.”

The few steps to the big wooden doors seemed like a walk down death row. A thousand thoughts ran through my head.
What the hell would this guy think when I told him what I’d done?
The least of my worries was the penance, which would be a lot more than a few prayers. He’d probably make me hold up the world for a month like Atlas. I wondered then if Atlas had been a shooter. I shook my head to clear it. Now I was mixing up mythology and religion, not something a priest would appreciate.

Father Amelio held the door for me. We walked through the inner doors. I touched my fingers to the holy water, half expecting it to feel like acid. I hesitated, then blessed myself, wondering if God minded such a foul sinner tainting his bowl.

I followed the priest past one confessional then he entered the door of the one closest to the front. The red curtain of death awaited me. If that walk into the church felt like the walk to death row, this was putting the noose around my neck.

Help me out, God.
I parted the curtain and stepped into the darkness, kneeling on the padded cushion. Father Amelio sat on the other side of the screened window, his image looming like a shadow of a dark angel. I made the sign of the cross and repeated the words I dreaded for a long time.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…fourteen years since my last confession.”

G
INA LIT HER SECOND
cigarette, drawing lightly on the filter and blowing out the smoke in a long thin stream. Her head was tilted back, enjoying the crisp cold air. She wondered how long it would take them. It made her feel bad for Nicky. She could tell how worried he was on the way over. Big, tough Nicky, afraid to tell his sins to a priest. She realized that it wasn’t so much that he was afraid to tell them to a priest, as it was he was afraid to admit them to himself.

This would be the final hurdle for them, the one thing she’d been waiting for to put their relationship into that perfect state. Not that they wouldn’t fight—there’d always be some of that, but make-up sex could take care of the little stuff. It was even good for it. This would let Nicky finally be himself. She saw how he suffered, and though she had doubts when they first met, she knew he was a good man. A caring man who loved her.

A car door opened, then closed, drawing her attention to the street. Two men in overcoats walked toward the church. One of them wore a white scarf. The other was a tall gentleman sporting a hat like her father used to wear. She nodded, smiling. The tall one nodded in return, his smile warm.

“Good morning,” he said, and tipped his hat.

They walked past her, slow and purposeful. She wondered if they were going to rid themselves of sin as well.

Might have a long wait,
she wanted to tell them, then realized that regular confession wouldn’t start for hours.
What are they doing here?
She turned to look at them, but the sound of another car door closing alerted her. Something stirred in her stomach—fear. She’d lived with the feeling for so long, she’d almost forgotten how intense
real
fear could be. It came back like a sharp jab with a needle.

Two more men approached from the street: overcoats, gloves, and the same purposeful stride. Gina glanced back toward the church. The two men who passed her were now facing her, hands reaching into their pockets.

I’m going to die!
She knew then that she would die, and her body would be found on the sidewalk outside a church in Cleveland, shot full of holes. She threw her purse at the man closest to her then ran to the left, hoping to distract them. The snow made her slip, but she quickly got her footing, running fast toward a row of houses with trees in the front yards.

If she could make it into the trees—

The first bullet struck her just above the right kidney. Pain tore through her body. Her head reared back. She reached a hand toward the wound, stumbling as the pain increased. She kept running, not as fast now, but she still held hope. More rounds of gunfire sounded from behind her and, as she prayed, thinking they missed, she felt searing pain in her left leg, not far from her knee. She collapsed and rolled on the ground, staring up at the gray sky.

Thank you, God, for letting me finish confession.
With that thought came images of Nicky.
If he hears shots, he’ll come out after them
. She hoped he got away, but if not, she prayed he finished confession before they got him.