Murder Takes Time (45 page)

He spat at me. “You pitiful fuck. You’ve lived your whole life in my shadow. Raised by my mother. Relied on
me
to get good grades. Got a job with
my
boss. Then, when a tough decision has to be made, you get your ass in an uproar and fall for the girl. Well fuck you, Rat. This is the real world, not like when you played make-believe with Angela.” He turned his head to one side, then looked back at me again. “And you know the saddest thing? You’re still in love with Angie. I see it in your face every time somebody mentions her name.”

Shooting was too good for Tony; I was going to beat him to death. I laid the gun on the counter and went for him, punching his face again and again. He fell, grabbed my legs, pulled them out from under me. We crashed to the floor. Tony grabbed an ashtray from the table and pummeled me with it. I managed to cover my head, but my arm took a bad beating. I tried everything to move him off me, but couldn’t. Finally, I jammed my foot against the counter and, using all my weight, rolled him over. Then I jumped up and got the gun. “Don’t move.”

My hands were shaking. Shit, I think my whole body was shaking. Everything in me wanted to blow his kneecaps off, or his balls—anything to make him suffer. But when I thought of it, Mamma Rosa came to mind. I saw her smile, heard her laughter, and remembered how she used to hum those old Italian songs. No matter what Tony had done, I couldn’t bring myself to kill him. I lowered the gun. “Tony, you’re—”

As soon as I lowered my hand, he came at me. Instinct took over. I fired, hitting him in the gut.

Tony went down, clutching his stomach. “Guess I’m going out the way I want, Rat. Had to make it easier for you. I knew you’d do it anyway.”

I grabbed a towel and knelt next to him, putting pressure on it. “Hold this. I’ll get an ambulance.” As he applied pressure, I called 9-1-1 and reported it, then got on the floor with him.

Tony pushed himself backwards, bracing his back against the wall. “Get out of here, Rat. Can’t let them find you.”

I got another towel, tried to stop the bleeding. As much as I hated Tony, I couldn’t let him die alone. “I’m staying.”

He shook his head. “Go. I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, well…”

He gasped. “We had some good times together.”

“Damn good times.” I held him. Wished more than anything else that I could take that shot back.

“Nobody fucked with us, did they?”

I shook my head. “Why, Tony?”

“Too many things done wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’d have killed me anyway.” He grabbed my shirt. “Bugs didn’t have anything to do with you in Cleveland. It was all me.” Tears formed in his eyes. “Sorry, Rat. You know I didn’t want it to go like this.”

I wanted to believe him, but…

“Can’t trust you after what you did. How am I to know Bugs didn’t do it? He was the only one who knew.”

“I swear. He was just…trying to give me a heads-up in case something affected me.”

That sounded right, but still. “I’ll know it when I look into Bugs’ eyes and hold a gun to his head.”

He squeezed my shirt, pulling me closer. “Nicky, I swear on my mother’s eyes.”

That stopped me cold. I got within inches of his face. “On Mamma Rosa’s eyes? You swear it?”

Tony gulped and spit blood. “I swear. He didn’t know.”

“You want a priest?”

He laughed, coughing blood. “Even if I believed in that shit, I wouldn’t do it. I don’t want Mamma seeing me.” He cried then, hard. “Shame on me, Nicky, for what I’ve become.”

Tears now flowed from my eyes too. I held him tight. “Shame on both of us, Tony.”

I felt sure the ambulance would be there any minute, but I couldn’t leave. I stayed with Tony until he died, and I cried. A
lot.
After I closed his eyes, I blessed myself, repeated the words of the Trinitarian formula. “
Mi dispiace,
Mamma Rosa. I’m
so
sorry.”

CHAPTER 70

A NEW SHOPPING LIST

Current Day

T
he phone rang and Frankie reached for it—it was Mazzetti. “What’s up, Lou?”

“Where are you?”

“On my way back to the station. Why?” Something sounded funny in his voice. There was a long pause, so I pushed. “Lou?”

“Tony Sannullo is dead.”

It hit Frankie like a hammer to the head. “Where?”

“Ambulance picked him up at Paulie Perlano’s house.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” I tried to figure that one out. Then, “Where are you, Lou?”

“On my way.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Frankie drove in silence, thinking about all the good times. Wondering why it had to end this way.
Jesus Christ, Nicky. What have you done?

It seemed to take forever to get to Paulie’s, and the closer he got the more his gut wrenched. He didn’t want to see Tony like this. That brought another thing to mind.

Where the hell is Paulie? Did Nicky kill him, too?

Sick as it sounded, Frankie wanted nothing more than to wake up and find out some other sick fuck was doing all this killing. But then, he wanted to win the lottery, too.

When Frankie arrived, Mazzetti was already waiting on the sidewalk in front of the house. “Any news on Paulie?” Frankie asked.

“No sign of him or the family,” Lou said, “and I got people looking everywhere.”

“Good.”

“‘Good’? What the hell does that mean?”

“If his family’s missing, it might mean Paulie took them somewhere. Nicky’s not killing his family.”

“I don’t know if Nicky did this,” Lou said.

Bugs perked up, hope still burning in him. “Tell me about it.”

“Looks like there could have been a fight, and Sannullo was shot just once. Punctured the lung, though.” As they walked in together, Mazzetti continued. “No torture, and no shots to the head or heart.”

“Then maybe it isn’t him,” Frankie said, and took the front steps two at a time.

“There’s something else, Donovan.”

Frankie paused and turned around. “What?”

“This was called in from the house, like the shooter made the call.”

Frankie took a step back. “If the shooter called it in, and Tony was still alive, it must have been an accident.”

“That’s how I see it.”

“Paulie,” Frankie said.

“What?”

“It must have been Paulie. Something happened. Maybe they fought and the gun went off.”

Mazzetti raised his eyebrows. “Maybe so. Let’s go look.”

I
SAT IN THE
corner of the room, hands cupped over my face, hiding tears. From who?

Whom?

How sick was this, to be correcting my own grammar after I just killed my best friend? I lit another smoke, punishing myself. It had been years since I quit, but I’d stopped on the way home and bought some. It felt like the thing to do. They tasted like shit, but I popped them in, one after the other.

“Goddamnit.” I punched the wall beside me for probably the fifteenth time. My knuckles bled, more than when the nuns used to beat me, but not as much as they should have bled. It should be me dead, not Tony. I was the one who broke the contract; he was just trying to do his job. Isn’t that how we lived our lives—give your word and stick to it?

I didn’t. I took a contract and reneged on it.

Of course, I reneged. It was Gina. When I thought of her, the tears really flowed. How can a man fuck up so much? All I ever wanted was to grow old with Angela, have kids, love her forever. First Angie was taken away from me, then Tito took Gina.

Yes, it was Tito who took her. He’s the one who should be lying there in a pool of blood.

I mustered the strength to stand. I threw the rest of the cigarettes in the trash, got a pen and paper and sat down to write a shopping list.

Drill, with 1/16 and 1/8th bits.

4” screws

Rope

Duct tape (it worked well last time)

55-gallon drum (x2)

Chain to support drum

What else?
Ah, yes,
I thought, and wrote it at the end of the list.

Railroad spike.

That, though, would have to be gathered.

M
AZZETTI SAT ACROSS THE
diner booth from Frankie, sipping his third cup of coffee. He set the cup down. “Donovan, I know you’re upset—probably pissed off, too—but we’ve got to get to work. Besides, if I drink any more coffee, I’ll piss my pants.”

“If this was Nicky, why did he call 9-1-1?”

“Christ, you’re a dumb dago. I told you—they fight. He shoots Tony, then feels sorry for his old buddy when he sees him dying, so he calls the bus.”

Frankie downed his cup, pulled out a ten and left it on the table. “Wouldn’t want to take that theory to court.”

“I got news for you. If we don’t get some evidence, we ain’t taking nothing to court.”

They climbed in Frankie’s car and headed toward the station. “You got everybody going to Tito’s?”

“All of them,” Mazzetti said. “Harding called too. Said he’d have eight guys all day and six tonight.”

Frankie nodded. “We’ll get him this time.”

They drove halfway to the surveillance site without talking, and then Mazzetti started up a story. “I ever tell you about the rat in my apartment? Three years I tried getting rid of that bastard, but he outsmarted me every time.”

“You trying to cheer me up?”

“You’re supposed to ask what happened.”

“Okay.”

“Nothing happened. That rat proved to be smarter than me, so he’s still there. But he doesn’t eat much, and the mess he makes is small.”

“Are you telling me you got a rat in your house?”

Mazzetti shook his head. “Dumb dago. You got a rat in
your
house, and we might never catch him. Get used to it.”

“I’d rather ride in quiet.”

It took about fifteen minutes to get to Tito’s. Frankie parked on the next block. He and Mazzetti walked to the spot above the deli, manned by Maddox.

“Anything?” Frankie asked when he saw him.

“Nothing, Detective. Quiet as any other day.”

“So was yesterday, and then Tony was taken.”

“Yes, sir. I know.”

Frankie looked around, too nervous to contribute much. “Tito gone yet?”

“Left about an hour ago. I think he shifts his departures so he doesn’t have a routine.”

“Good. That helps.” Frankie checked the street, then headed for the door. “I’m going for a walk, Lou. Make sure we have coverage front and back, will you?”

“Bet your ass.”

“You can be assured, sir,” Maddox chimed in.

“Thanks, Maddox. I appreciate it.”

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about Mr. Sannullo. I know he was a friend.”

Frankie patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks again. See you later.”

CHAPTER 71

A LONG WAIT

Current Day

I
decided to go for Tito quickly, though I still had some things to get ready. The shopping was done, had even gotten the railroad spike—a good, old rusty one I found loose by the tracks. And the house was ready too. All I needed was my accomplice. Anyone would do, even a homeless person. Someone like that would be even better; the less chance of recognition, the better I liked it.

By about ten that night, I had the details worked out. Within two hours, I found someone willing to do what I wanted for a couple of hundred bucks and return cab fare. I waited until 1:00 AM, then hailed a cab. I gave Tito’s address. As we drove, I explained to my accomplice what would happen, and then I paid him in advance. I ducked as we got to Tito’s street, reminding him to stop near the end of the block,
after
he passed Tito’s house.

“Are there cars parked at the curb?” I asked the cabbie.

“All the way up and down,” he said.

“Stop just before the end of the street,” I said, then waited.

When the cab came to a stop, my decoy opened the door and stepped out. I slipped out with him and rolled under the car by the curb, keeping close to the sidewalk so they couldn’t see me from the surveillance windows. Besides, they would be focused on the cab and the guy getting out. I lay still, watching as he walked down the street and turned the corner to the right. The plan was for him to walk two blocks. The cab would circle around and pick him up. I don’t know what activity this spurred in the rooms where they were stationed, but I’m certain it generated a lot of conversation and concern.