Playing Dead (31 page)

The women were herded like sheep into the drawing room, which didn’t sit well with Annie. When the van arrived, she was crossing the hall, helping Rosa fetch hot drinks and towels from the kitchen, and she glimpsed Steve Taylor among the big bruisers who had come to deal with the corpse. He walked straight past her and past Max as if he didn’t even recognize either of them. Of course – Max would have told him what was going on with him and Annie; he would have had his orders.

She knew that the Carter firm was on a long-standing contract to provide security for most of the Mafia-owned clubs in the West End, and Steve had performed many cleanup operations in his years as a Carter foot soldier, so she really wasn’t surprised to see him here tonight.

‘Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you?’ Annie asked Cara now.

Cara just shook her head. She hadn’t cried since they’d hauled Rocco out of the pool. But then, grief took different people different ways.

Annie had a brief mental image of Cara and Fredo in the bedroom and pushed it swiftly from her mind.

‘Who would do a thing like that?’ she wondered aloud, looking at Lucco. Max was leaning against the door, towelling his hair dry. There was still movement out in the hall. Annie shuddered to think of Rocco, who had seemed a kind and pleasant young man, being bundled out of here like so much dead meat.

‘How the fuck should I know?’ snapped Lucco. He ran his hands through his hair and glared at her.

Alberto looked round at him. ‘Hey – steady,’ he said.

Annie stared at Lucco. Now was the moment for the Don to take the lead, calm everyone down. They were all shocked and alarmed by what they had witnessed tonight. What it looked like . . . Annie didn’t like to think about it, but what it
looked
like was a hit from one of the other Mafia families. Had Rocco been screwing around with the wife of another firm’s
capo
, something like that? This looked like a revenge killing.

‘The Mancini family aren’t going to like this,’ said Aunt Gina suddenly from the depths of one of the couches nearest the fire. ‘Rocco was with the Barollis, under Barolli protection. And this happens.’

‘Aunt, I
know
what’s happened,’ shouted Lucco, flinging his arms wide. ‘I
know.
You think I need you to tell me that this is a fucking disaster? Don’t bother.’

He’s losing it
, thought Annie.

She remembered her conversation with Alberto out by the pool. How he had said that there had been trouble on the streets, other families trying to muscle in after Constantine’s death, but that Lucco could handle it.

Actually, she didn’t think Lucco
could.
She didn’t think Lucco knew
what
to do. And she could see the uncertainty in him now, that cool smarminess of his slipping to reveal a chink of fear.

Aunt Gina was right. There was no way the Barollis could simply dispose of Rocco’s body like the Carter mob had disposed of Nico’s. The Mancinis were a family of power. There would be repercussions over this. They would want the body of their youngest son shipped back to the States; they would want an explanation, and they would want some-one’s
blood
.

‘Annie!’

It was an hour later and she was crossing the hall to go upstairs and get changed out of her wet things, grab a hot shower. The boys were gone now, the clean-up was done. Tomorrow morning, when she looked out on the terrace, she knew it would be as if Rocco’s mutilated body had never been floating in the pool, his blood seeping out to tint the turquoise water around him to a muddy purple. The pool would have been drained and refilled. All would be pristine. She knew this. She’d seen it happen before. And still it made her shudder, how easily the detritus of sudden, violent death could be disposed of by men experienced in the art of mayhem.

She turned. Daniella was coming out of the drawing room, hurrying after her.

‘I’ll come up with you,’ she said through chattering teeth.

They were all shocked. But Daniella, young and tender as she was, seemed to have taken it hardest of all.

Much harder than Rocco’s wife did
, thought Annie, but that was unkind. Just because Cara wasn’t wailing or screeching over her loss, that didn’t mean she didn’t feel it – even if she
had
been busy screwing the staff.

The two women climbed the stairs together, each feeling weary and wrung out.

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ said Daniella shakily.

‘Oh? What about?’
Please make this quick
, she thought.
I just want a shower and then bed, that’s all. I don’t want to think any more.

‘Rocco. I overheard him talking on the phone before we left this morning. He said he was going to meet someone here today.’

‘What?’ They’d reached the landing. Annie stopped in her tracks. ‘Well . . . that’s odd. Here? I thought he told Lucco he had a business meeting at the bank.’

‘That is what he was saying,’ said Daniella earnestly. ‘He was . . . upset. Unhappy. You know? You understand me? He said it was a nuisance and he seemed angry. But this person was saying yes, they were coming here, I think, and he put the phone down, like
that
.’ Daniella made a quick movement, mimicking Rocco slamming the phone down.

But did you get that right?
wondered Annie. Daniella’s understanding of English wasn’t perfect by a long shot. Had she misunderstood, or misread the signals?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But if Daniella was right and Rocco was meeting someone here, someone he was unhappy about, then who was that person? And could he or she be the one who had killed him?

‘Maybe I should not have said . . .’ said Daniella, seeing Annie’s expression change.

Annie looked at the girl, standing there with her rain-soaked hair and clothes, and her tear-streaked face. What a day the poor little bitch had had. She’d gone to the races for a happy day out, wearing a new necklace and a brand-new dress to impress her husband, and he had repaid her by flaunting his mistress under her nose. And
then
they had found this new horror waiting for them.

‘No, it’s okay, you’ve done the right thing,’ Annie assured her.

Daniella saw Annie’s eyes on the coral necklace.

‘
This
thing,’ she said, her lips clenching in sudden anger. She reached up and ripped it from her neck, breaking the clasp. Then she flung it to the floor. Chips of coral scattered, bouncing down the stairs. ‘I hate it. I hate
him
.’

Annie knew Daniella was hurting. But there was nothing she could say that would help that. ‘Look – Daniella – you must tell Lucco about the call when he comes up to bed, okay? And . . . if you need anything, I’m right here.’

Chapter 62

The Mancini household got the call in New Jersey at seven o’clock in the evening. Enrico was sitting on his lit back porch drinking beer and reading the day’s papers. He needed glasses for that, thick glasses. Jeez, he was getting old. But not too old to see and be glad that the Vietnam thing was over now, the troops were coming out of Da Nang. He heard the phone start ringing. Then it stopped. He turned the page for the next item, and then he heard the low hurried words – and then his wife started shrieking.

He sprang from his seat, spilling his beer, throwing the glass aside. He hurried inside. His wife was screaming in a monotonous high-pitched wail. He grabbed her and demanded to know what was wrong.

She kept on screaming. He slapped her.

‘Hey! What’s going on?’

Had anything happened to his oldest son, Jonathan? He couldn’t take that. That would kill him for sure. He had a bad heart and this would be too much for it, he knew it. Night and day the doc was after him with pills and blood-pressure checks: this would be too much.

With the shock of the slap, his wife’s face crumpled up and she started to cry hysterically.

‘Rocco! It’s Rocco!’ she shouted.

‘What about him?’ Rocco? That little squirt? What had he been up to now?’

‘Alberto Barolli just called. He’s dead, Enrico. Our son’s dead.’

Enrico was stunned into silence.

His youngest son, dead?

He called for the maid and she came and led his wife away upstairs. Better call out the doc and get her something to calm her down. Better call Alberto back and find out what the
fuck
was going on here. He hurried through the room to his study, his head whirling, his heart thudding away like crazy . . . all right, there was no love lost there. None at all. But this was his
son
, for Chrissakes.

Suddenly Enrico slumped down in his desk chair, feeling winded, breathless. A spasm clutched his chest and he put a hand there, thinking
no. Not now, not yet . . .

And then he convulsed, and died.

Chapter 63

Annie woke up to shouting. She sat up in bed, groggy from sleep. When she had crawled, exhausted, into bed, she didn’t think she would sleep at all, but somehow she had, and now . . . Daniella was shouting and crying, and she could hear Lucco shouting too.

She leaned over and flicked on the bedside light. ‘What the hell . . .?’ she muttered, and was just wrapping her robe around her when the connecting door opened and Max came in wearing his robe.

‘What the . . .?’ Annie stared at him in surprise. ‘That door was
locked
.’

‘I took the key and put it on my side.’

She hadn’t checked it before she’d got into bed. He could have burst in here at any time.

And done what?
she wondered bitterly. He’d already made it plain that he didn’t want her any more. He might have crept in here and choked the life out of her, though; but so far he’d managed to resist that temptation.

‘What
is
that? I thought it was you having the fucking nightmares again, but it’s in the next room,’ said Max.

‘That’s Daniella and Lucco’s room,’ said Annie.

They were silent for a moment, listening. There was a shout from Daniella, and then the sound of someone or something falling, all the while overlaid by Lucco ranting like a madman. Then Daniella started to cry loudly.

‘Fuck
this
,’ said Max, and went out onto the landing.

Annie dashed after him and caught his arm. ‘You can’t interfere,’ she warned. If Max did step between them, who knew what Lucco might do in retaliation?

‘Like hell I can’t,’ said Max, and flung open the door.

All the lights were blazing in the room. Daniella was half kneeling and half lying on the floor by the bed wearing a thin pink nightgown, sobbing her heart out and screaming with pain as she clutched at her cheek, and Lucco in his dressing gown had hold of her by the hair and was trying to pull her back to her feet, all the while swearing at her, telling her she was a stupid
cunt
, she should come to him first, she should tell him
anything
first, what did she think he was, some normal, everyday man?

‘I’m the
Don
,’ he roared at her. ‘You come to me. You answer to
me.
You understand?’

Annie stood in the doorway, aghast. Obviously, Daniella had told Lucco about Rocco’s phone call, and let slip that she had told Annie first. But for God’s sake, was he nuts? Was that really something to fly into a rage about?

No
, she thought.
It ain’t. He’s just taking out his panic and frustration on her because she can’t fight back.

Max shot across the room, grabbed Lucco and threw him back against the wall. Then he pinned him there, lifting him clean off his feet, and hissed out: ‘Come on then, you little tit. You want the rough stuff? Try it on someone who can take it.’

For a moment, Lucco looked too shocked by Max’s intervention to speak. But then he started to smile. And then he started to laugh.

‘Good God, are you serious?’ he managed to wheeze out, but his eyes weren’t laughing. They spat venom. ‘You don’t know what you’re taking on.’

Max gave him a shake that wiped the smile clean off his face.

‘Oh, I think I do,’ he said. ‘A chicken-livered piece of scum who thinks he can use his wife as a punchbag. Well, not in my hearing you don’t.’

Annie was helping the sobbing Daniella back to her feet.

‘Ma . . . Mark, leave it,’ she said urgently.

‘What’s going on in here?’ asked Alberto from the doorway. He came in, his blond hair mussed up from sleep. ‘I heard noises.’ He looked at Max holding Lucco against the wall. He dashed into the room and grabbed Max’s arm. ‘Come on, enough! Haven’t we all had enough trouble for one day?’

Alberto glanced at Annie and then at Daniella. Annie saw him looking at the bruises on Daniella’s wrists and then at the red mark on her cheek where it was obvious that Lucco had struck her. She saw his mouth form a thin, angry line.

‘What’s been going on here?’ he said sharply.

‘Nothing,’ said Daniella. She straightened, pulled away from Annie, wiped at her eyes. ‘Nothing. Really. Just a . . .’ She faltered to a halt.

‘A misunderstanding?’ offered Annie. Fuck’s sake,
someone
had to calm this situation down, and thank God, Daniella had the sense to do it.

‘
Sì
,’ she said gratefully.

Max was staring into Lucco’s taunting eyes, still holding him pinned there, immobile.

‘Come on,’ said Alberto. ‘Enough now.’

Max let Lucco go. He dropped to the floor, angrily straightening the creased front of his robe.

‘Thank you,’ he said stonily. ‘And now perhaps you will all just
fuck off out
of my bedroom and let my wife and me get back to bed?’

Annie exchanged an anxious glance with Daniella.

‘You going to be all right in here?’ she asked, not caring that Lucco could hear.
Fuck
Lucco. ‘You can come in with me, if you want.’

‘I’m fine. Really,’ said the girl with a trembling smile.

‘Yes, let’s all get some sleep, shall we?’ said Alberto, going back to the door. His face was thunderous. ‘Goodnight, everyone,’ he said, and was gone.