Murder Takes Time (49 page)

How could I explain? “I…”

Tears came again. “I thought you didn’t care. I thought you hated me.”

“How could I ever hate you?”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t think it was right…you being married and all.”

She stared at me, tears still in her eyes. “Nicky, I haven’t been married for a long time. After we got divorced, I bought your old house.”

I wanted to grab her, rip her clothes off and carry her to the bedroom. This was better than I dreamed of. But there were still issues to deal with, and I had no idea how she felt about them. I didn’t know how
I
felt about them, and I’d had years to think about it.

“What about your child?”

“You know about her?”

“You were pregnant at the funeral.”

She got that angry look in her eyes. “And
that’s
what kept you away—the thought that I’d been with someone else?”

I wanted to turn and run, but I’d done enough of that. “Angie, I loved you so much that I couldn’t take it. I figured you left me for someone else. I…”

She smacked me across the face. Hard. Then she smacked me again and broke into tears. “All of this time we could have been together…” She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God, Nicky. How could you do this?”

“If it’s any comfort to you, I—never mind. I’m stupid. A goddamn idiot. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I just thought…” I headed for the door before I embarrassed myself more than I already had.

“Niccolo Fusco. Get your ass back here.”

I turned, but the tears were in my own eyes now. “I’m leaving. Pretend I never showed up.”

“What? Going to walk out on me?”

In all of the emotion I had forgotten about the baby. Hell, not a baby anymore. “Your daughter. Is she…is her name Rosa?”

She got a surprised look on her face. “How did you know?”

“I met her at the park today.”

She nodded. “I should have known it was you. Rosa told me about a mysterious stranger who protected her from her stepfather.” Angie smiled. “She called you handsome.”

“Her father is an asshole.”

“Yes, he is,” she said. “And I already called the police. He’s been warned before, so I’m sure they’ll do something this time.”

I didn’t say anything, but I knew I could convince him to leave her alone.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Nicky. No sense in delaying. First, it’s her stepfather, not father. Actually he’s not even her stepfather anymore. And yes, he
is
an asshole, which is why I divorced him years ago.” She came closer. “And no, Nicky, there is no one else. There has
never
been anyone else. I kept praying you’d come back.”

I felt as if I could fly. I sat on the sofa, and just stared. “I’m the stupidest man alive.”

She wiped her tears with the corner of her apron. “I’ll agree with you on that.”

I jumped up, charged with new energy. “I’m going to find a place to stay and freshen up. Then I’ll be back.”

She grabbed hold of me, pulled me to her. “Wait. There’s something I need to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

That stopped me dead. “I don’t already. What?”

“You aren’t her father.”

My heart sank to new lows. “Go on.”

“Remember that day I came to see you in prison, the last time?”

I nodded, dreading what I was hearing. “I remember.”

She started crying. “Tony drove me, and when he picked me up, he was high—really high. On the way home, he…” She lost all control then and the tears flowed. “He…” Between fits of sobbing she managed to get out, “Rosa is
his
child, Nicky.”

I fought for control. I wanted to hit something, to kill someone, but Tony was already dead. Now I wished he wasn’t, so I could do him right.

“I didn’t let him, Nicky. I fought him, but he was too strong.” She cried more. “That’s why I stopped coming to see you in prison. If you had seen me pregnant, it would have destroyed you.”

I started walking out, thinking of all the reasons why I should leave—Rosa wasn’t my kid, not my problem. But my hand stuck to the knob, unable to turn it. Something from deep in my mind screamed at me—it wasn’t her fault, Angie needs me, Rosa needs me…

I blocked out the noise in my head, twisted the knob and opened the door, but I couldn’t leave. If I tossed everything aside, I was left with the undeniable truth—I loved her. I loved her more than my pride, or my hurt. Even more than my hate. I pushed the door closed and went back to her.

What I wanted to tell her was
bullshit.
That every excuse she offered for not coming back was shit, but I knew she was right. If I
had
found out, I would have done anything to get to Tony. I looked at her. I hoped love was still in my eyes. I said the only thing I could think of that might comfort her, not trusting myself to be loving yet.

“Tony’s dead, Angie. You can be thankful for that.”

She sat up straight. “Dead? How?”

“I shot him.”

Her eyes went wide. “What? Why? Did you know about it?”

I shook my head. “No, I didn’t know anything about it, or I’d have made it worse. But he betrayed me, and now I know why. He was afraid I’d find out.”

She gave me a hug. I recognized it immediately as an
Angie hug
, the kind she always gave when she knew I needed it. Here she was in all of her grief, and worried about me.

Good old Angie.

I made up my mind right then that we had to be together. If I had issues, I’d have to find a way around them. I pushed her back a little, just far enough to look into her eyes. “You must have lived with hell. I’m so sorry for not being here to help you.”

She held me tight, wouldn’t let go. “It’s okay. I’ll never forget it, but I’m over it. I was over it long ago. Kids do that to you.”

We hugged in silence for a few seconds, then she said, “Sometimes, though, she does something that reminds me of Tony. And then when she does…” Angie tensed, clenching her fists. “Then I want to scream.”

I pulled her back to me. “If it ever happens again, pretend it’s Mamma Rosa instead.” I kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose. “I’ll be here to help you through it.”

And I knew it was true. My mind was made up. I was finally going to get the life I’d dreamed of. I thought about Gina and having to tell Angie about her. “There’s obviously a lot we need to talk about. More than most people would have in a lifetime, but before that, I need to know if you want to be with me. Because if you do, if you meant what you said in that letter all those years ago, then nothing else matters.”

“Before I answer, I need to tell you that Rosa thinks you are her father. That’s what I’ve always told her.”

“Why?”

“That was the only way I could make it—pretend she was yours. At first it was the only way I could love her. After that, it was easy.”

I hugged her again. “Don’t worry. We have a lot of time to figure out things like that.”

“Do we, Nicky? What about Rosa?”

“What about her?”

“I don’t expect you to love her, but—”

I put my finger to her lips, then kissed her. “She’s half you and part Mamma Rosa. How could I
not
love her?” And when I said those words, I knew I meant them. I couldn’t laugh right then, and probably wouldn’t for a while, but I felt good. It was only a matter of time before Angie, Rosa and I began enjoying life the way it was meant to be. As Mamma Rosa used to say, all the ingredients were there for happiness. Who knew better than Mamma Rosa?

Angie wiped a stray tear and hugged me again. “Nicky Fusco, I want to be with you forever. And even if you want to leave, you’re not going anywhere. I’ve waited all this time. You’re not leaving me now. Besides, you still have a cute ass, and I like looking at it.”

“And you still have no tits. But I like that.”

We both laughed, and when we did, we fell into each other’s arms, hugging. For the longest time, I held her. I cried a few silent tears, but mostly I thanked God for the chance to start over. I figured He must be the good God that Sister Thomas taught us about if He’d allow a man like me to be happy after what I’d done. I decided then and there that I’d go to confession that weekend. First thing. Finish what I started in Cleveland.

When we broke the embrace, I kissed her softly, savored the kiss. I closed my eyes and smelled her, tasted her. Remembered her.
Oh my God.

She took my hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“What about your daughter?”

She half-frowned, half-smiled. “
Our
daughter, remember? She won’t be home for hours.”

“I intend to make up for lost time. It might take that long.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She kissed me quick. “I know you will.” As we climbed the stairs, she turned to me. “The best thing for you is that I taught her to cook just like Mamma Rosa. Now you’ll have two chefs in the house.”

When we got to the bedroom, we fell into a rhythm that was unexplainable. It had been thirteen years. We should have been ripping clothes off each other in some sort of lustful rage; instead, we moved slowly, passionately. Every movement stimulated a sensual response. We fell to the bed, naked, embracing each other and rolling over and over. Nothing touched but our lips and our bodies. After what seemed like forever, I kissed her everywhere, leaving no part of her untouched. Afterwards we made love. It was the best I’d ever felt.

Old memories, especially wonderful ones, die hard. We must have both remembered that, because the scene that played out was exactly like that one so long ago, when we first made love.

After we finished, she rolled over on top of me. We kissed. Laughed. And when we were all done playing, she lay her head on my shoulder, arm draped across my neck. “I love you, Niccolo Fusco.”

I kissed her forehead, then her nose. And said the same thing I said that first night. “And I love you, Angela Catrino.”

As we lay there in each other’s arms, I stared at the ceiling, letting my mind wander. I thanked God for giving me the chance to make things right. For giving me a chance to live again. I’d be with Angie forever now. Nothing would get in the way. Then I thought about Rosa, and how beautiful she was. How lucky I was to not only have Angie, but a daughter too. As I dreamt of her, I thought of the mark on her face where Marty had slapped her. And I thought of the scar I saw above her left eye. My blood boiled. Fists clenched.

I promise, Rosa. He will pay for this.

Angie reached over, must have felt my heart racing. “Are you okay, Nicky? You seem upset.”

I breathed deep. Forced myself to relax. “Nothing to be upset about. Not anymore.” I laughed. “I just can’t believe I’m here and that we’re together again. Everything will be fine now.”

I thought of Rule Number Six—murder is immaculate. As I stroked Angie’s hair, kissing it, a list formed in my mind.

Rope

Tape

Four-inch, no, five-inch screws

Acid—yes, acid

A funnel

I snapped out of it, shaking my head. No way was I going back to that life. I was through with it for good, and no asshole like him was going to drag me to the gutter again.

Angie must have sensed something. She turned on the light next to the bed, then rolled over to face me, with those eyes I couldn’t resist. “Nicky Fusco, promise me that you’re through with the past.”

I leaned up to kiss her, but she pulled back. “Promise me.”

I looked into her eyes for a long time, felt them burn through me. There had only been three people in my whole life I couldn’t refuse—Mamma Rosa, Sister Mary Thomas, and Angie. “All right, but if—”

She stopped me with a kiss as sweet as any I’ve ever tasted. “Promise.”

I hesitated for only a second or two, then hugged her. “I promise, Angie. And you know I always keep my promises.”

EPILOGUE

‘D
etective First Class Frankie Donovan—Hero’

That’s what the headlines said two days later. No one really believed all that shit, but the FBI wrapped it up nicely. Tito Martelli had killed those people, including a lady from Ohio and an accountant years ago in Queens. They found the gun in Tito’s pocket—with ballistics matches—and the gun even had Tito’s prints on it. They also had Tito’s DNA at all of the crime scenes except for the Queens accountant and the girl in Cleveland. The papers never mentioned the other DNA.

The FBI had wiretaps that showed Tito meeting with the people he’d supposedly killed, with the exception again of the girl and the accountant, but there were a few phone calls from Tito’s house to a hotel in Cleveland just before she died. The FBI confirmed that Tony Sannullo had been wearing a wire to get evidence on Tito, which was probably why Tony was also killed. The only mystery was who killed Tito. The media put the blame on Tony’s friend Paulie “The Suit” Perlano, who was missing.

Frankie tried to discourage that speculation, but they ran with it. Anything for a story. The FBI wanted to know about the mysterious Nicky Fusco, who had been the main suspect right up to the end, but Frankie convinced them that it would look bad for the Bureau if people found out they had spent so much time and money chasing a suspect only to have to let him go. Frankie also let them have the glory for solving the case, taking only the residuals for himself and Lou.