“Kay, are you planning on being around for the weekend?” Kelly asked.
“Yup,” Kay said. “Harold has work to do. We’ll be here. Want me to feed your monsters?”
“I’m afraid it’s more than that,” Kelly said. “I have to go away and Delilah’s close to term. I’m afraid she’s about to have kittens any day.”
“She almost died the last time,” Kay said with concern.
“I know,” Kelly said. “I was going to have her spayed, but she beat me to it. I wouldn’t leave now but I haven’t any choice.”
“Will I be able to get in touch with you if something goes wrong?”
“Sure,” Kelly said. “I’ll be at the Charlotte Inn on Martha’s Vineyard.” Kelly gave her the number.
“You’re going to owe me for this one,” Kay said. “Plenty of cat food over there?”
“Absolutely,” Kelly said. “You’ll have to let Samson in. He’s out.”
“That I know,” Kay said. “He just had an argument with my Burmese. You have a good time. I’ll take care of the fort.”
“I really appreciate this,” Kelly said. She hung up the phone, thankful she had such a friend.
* * *
“Hello?” Frank said into the telephone, but he couldn’t hear a thing. His kids had the Saturday morning cartoons on, with the volume turned way up, and it was driving him crazy. “Hold on,” he said, setting the receiver down. He walked over to the family room’s threshold. “Hey, Donna, quiet those kids or that set’s going out the window.”
Frank pulled the sliding door closed. The volume was cut in half. Frank shuffled back to the phone. He was dressed in his blue velveteen robe and velour slippers.
“Who’s this?” he said into the phone when he’d picked it up from the counter.
“It’s Matt. I got the information you needed. It took me a little longer than I expected. I forgot today was Saturday.”
Frank got a pencil from the drawer. “All right,” he said, “give it to me.”
“The license number you gave me is registered to a Kelly C. Everson,” Matt said. “The address is 418 Willard Street in Brookline. Is that far from you?”
“Just around the corner,” Frank said. “That’s a big help.”
“The plane is still there,” Matt said. “I want that doctor.”
“You got him,” Frank said.
“It takes me awhile to get mad,” Devlin told Mosconi. “But let me warn you, I’m mad now. There’s something about this Dr. Jeffrey Rhodes case that you haven’t told me. Something that I should know.”
“I’ve told you everything,” Michael said. “I’ve told you more about this case than I’ve told you about any other that you’ve been involved with. Why would I hold back? Tell me that. I’m the one that’s being put out of business.”
“Then how come Frank Feranno and one of his goons showed up at the Hatch Shell?” Devlin asked. He winced as he changed positions in the hospital bed. He had a trapeze hanging down from a frame over the bed, which he used to lift himself up. “He’s never been in the bounty-hunting business as far as I know.”
“How the hell should I know?” Mosconi said. “Listen, I didn’t come down here to take abuse from you. I came down here to see if you were as bad as they suggested in the papers.”
“Bull crap,” Devlin said. “You came down here to see if I was too far out of commission to bring in the doc like I promised.”
“How bad is it?” Mosconi asked, glancing at the graze wound above Devlin’s right ear. They had shaved off most of the hair on that side of his head in order to suture the laceration. It was an ugly wound.
“Not as bad as you’ll be if you’re lying to me,” Devlin said.
“Did you really take three bullets?” Mosconi said. He looked at the elaborate bandage covering Devlin’s left shoulder.
“The one that grazed my head missed,” Devlin said. “Thank God. Otherwise, it would have been curtains. But it must have knocked me out. I got hit in the chest but my Kevlar vest stopped the bullet. All I got out of that one is a sore spot on my rib cage. The one that hit my shoulder went clean through. Frank had a goddamn assault rifle. Least he wasn’t using soft-nosed bullets.”
“It’s a little ironic that I can send you after serial killers and you come back without a scratch, but when I send you after a doctor who’s being sent up for having some kind of problem administering anesthesia, you almost get yourself killed.”
“Which is why I think there’s something else to this affair. Something that involved that kid who was wasted by Tony Marcello. When I first saw Frank, I thought maybe you’d talked to him.”
“Never,” Mosconi said. “That guy’s a criminal.”
Devlin gave Mosconi a “who’s kidding who” look. “I’ll let that pass,” he said. “But if Frank’s involved, something big time is going down. Frank Feranno’s never around unless it’s serious money or big players. Usually both.”
With a crash that surprised Mosconi, the side rail on the bed collapsed. Devlin had released it. Wincing, Devlin used his good arm to raise himself to a sitting position. Then he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had an IV attached to the back of his left hand, but he just grabbed the tube and pulled it out. The needle came away with its adhesive tape and began squirting onto the floor.
Mosconi was horrified. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, backing up.
“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” Devlin said as he stood up. “Get my clothes out of the closet.”
“You can’t leave.”
“Just watch me,” Devlin said. “Why stay around here? I got my tetanus shot. And like I said, I’m mad. Plus, I promised you the doctor in twenty-four hours. I still got a little time.”
Half an hour later, Devlin had signed himself out of the hospital, against medical advice. “You’re taking full responsibility,” a prim nurse had warned him.
“Just give me the antibiotics and the pain pills and save the lecture.”
Michael gave him a ride over to Beacon Hill so Devlin could get his car. It was still parked in the no-parking zone at the very foot of the hill.
“Keep that check-writing hand warmed up,” Devlin advised Mosconi as he got out of his car. “You’ll be hearing from me.”
“You still don’t think I should call in somebody else?”
“Be a waste of time,” Devlin said. “Plus, it might just get me mad at you as well as Frank Feranno.”
Devlin got in his car. His first destination was police headquarters on Berkeley Street. He wanted his gun and he knew it would be there. With that accomplished, he called the detective type he’d hired to watch Carol Rhodes back when he thought she’d lead him to Jeffrey. This time he asked the man to go out to Brookline to watch Kelly Everson’s house. “I want to know everything that happens there, understand?” Devlin told the man.
“I won’t be able to get out there until later this afternoon,” the man said.
“Make it as soon as you can,” Devlin said.
That taken care of, Devlin drove to the North End. After double parking on Hanover Street, he went into the Via Veneto Café.
As soon as Devlin entered, there was a shuffle of feet toward the back of the café, just beyond the mural depicting a section of the Roman Forum. A wire-backed chair fell to the floor. Devlin heard the strands of a beaded curtain tinkle against each other.
Wasting no time, Devlin sprinted from the café to the street. He wove his way around pedestrians to Bennet Street and took a left. Turning into a narrow alleyway, he plowed into a short, balding man with round features.
The man tried to elude Devlin, but Devlin grabbed his jacket before he had taken two steps. Still squirming, the man tried to slip out of the jacket, but Devlin pinned him against the wall.
“Not so happy to see me, are you, Dominic?” Devlin said. Dominic was a small part of Devlin’s network of informers. Devlin was now particularly interested in talking with him because of his lo
ngtime association with Frank Feranno.
“I had nothing to do with Frank’s shooting you,” Dominic said, visibly quaking. He and Devlin went back a long way as well.
“If I thought you had, I wouldn’t be talking with you,” Devlin said with a smile that Dominic immediately understood. “But I’m interested to know what Frank is up to these days. I figured you’d be the one to tell me.”
“I can’t tell you anything about Frank,” Dominic said. “Give me a break. You know what would happen to me.”
“That’s only if I say anything to anybody,” Devlin said. “Have I ever said anything about you to anybody, even the police?”
Dominic didn’t respond.
“Besides,” Devlin said, “for the moment, Frank is a hypothetical concern. Right this minute, I’m your worry. And I have to tell you, Dominic, I’m not a happy camper.” Devlin reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun. He knew it would make its intended impression.
“I don’t know much,” Dominic said nervously.
Devlin slipped the gun back into its holster. “What might not be much to you might mean a lot to me. Who is Frank working for? Who got him to waste that kid last night on the Esplanade?”
“I don’t know.”
Devlin reached in to grasp his gun for the second time.
“Matt,” Dominic said. “That’s all I know. Tony told me before they went to the Esplanade. He’s working for some guy named Matt. From St. Louis.”
“What was the deal? Drugs, something like that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think it was drugs. They were supposed to kill the kid and send the doctor to St. Louis.”
“You’re not yanking my chain, are you, Dominic?” Devlin asked menacingly. This was a far cry from the scenario he’d imagined.
“I’m telling it to you straight,” Dominic said. “Why should I lie?”
“Did Frank send the doctor to St. Louis?” Devlin asked.
“No, they missed him. Frank took Nicky after Tony was shot. This time the doctor’s girlfriend clipped him with her car. Broke his arm.”
Devlin was impressed. At least he wasn’t the only pro having trouble with the doctor. “So Frank’s still involved?” Devlin asked.
“Yeah, as far as I know,” Dominic said. “I understand he’s talked to Vinnie D’Agostino. There’s supposed to be big money involved.”
“I want to know about this guy from St. Louis,” Devlin said. “And I want to know what Frank and Vinnie are up to. Use the usual phone numbers. And, Dominic, if you don’t call, my feelings will be hurt. I think you know how I get when I have hurt feelings. I don’t suppose I have to draw you any pictures.”
Devlin let Dominic go. He turned and left the alley without looking back. The guy had better deliver. Devlin was in no mood to dick around, and he was determined to find out what Frank Feranno was up to.
Frank’s euphoria evaporated when he caught sight of Kelly’s house. The place looked deserted, with all the curtains drawn. Frank sighed. That seventy-five grand was further away than he’d thought.
For about half an hour he just sat and watched the place. No one came in or out. There was no sign of life except for a Siamese cat lolling in the middle of the front lawn like he owned the place.
Finally Frank got out of the car. First he walked around the side of the house to see if there were any windows in the garage. There were. Cupping his hands, he peered in. No red Honda Accord like he’d hounded last night on Beacon Hill. Returning to the front of the house, Frank decided to ring the bell and see what happened. For reassurance, he felt his gun. Then he rang the bell.
When nothing happened, he put his ear to the door and pushed the button again. He could hear the chimes within, so at least the doorbell worked. Cupping his hands again, he looked through the sidelight of the door. He couldn’t see much because of a lacy curtain on the other side.
Damn, he thought as he turned to face the street. The Siamese was still crouched in the middle of the lawn.
Walking out onto the grass, Frank bent down and stroked the large cat. Samson eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t dart away.
“You like that, huh, pussy?” Frank said. Just then a woman came out of the house next door and walked toward him.
“Have you made a friend, Samson?” she asked.
“Your kitty, ma’am?” Frank asked in his most gracious voice.
“Hardly,” the woman said with a chuckle. “He’s the mortal enemy of my Burmese. But as neighbors, we have to learn to get along.”
“Nice big cat,” Frank said, standing up. He was about to ask the woman about Kelly Everson, when she started for Kelly’s front door.
“Come on, Samson,” she called to the Siamese. “Let’s go check Delilah.”
“Are you going into Kelly’s house?” Frank asked.
“Yes, I am,” she said.
“Wonderful,” Frank said. He walked over to her. “I’m Frank Carter, a cousin of Kelly’s. I took a chance on finding her home.”
“I’m Kay Buchanan,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Kelly’s neighbor and sometime cat-sitter. I’m afraid you’re going to have some wait. Kelly’s gone away for the weekend.”
“Darn,” Frank said, snapping his fingers. “My mother gave me her address so I could say hello. I’m from out of town. Here just for a couple of days on business. When will Kelly be coming back?”
“She didn’t say exactly,” Kay said. “What a pity.”
“Especially with my not having much to do today,” Frank said. “Any idea where she went?”
“Just out to Martha’s Vineyard. Edgartown, I think,” Kay said. “She said she had to go. I have a sneaking suspicion it was more of a romantic thing. But I didn’t complain. To tell the truth, I was glad for her. She needs to get out more. She’s been in mourning long enough, don’t you think?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Frank said, hoping not to get further into it than that.
“Well, nice meeting you,” Kay said. “I’ve got to see to these cats. It’s the other one who’s the big worry. You think Samson’s big, you should see Delilah. She gives new meaning to the term ‘fat cat.’ Due any day. Say, maybe you should stop back on Monday if you’re still in town. I imagine Kelly will be back by then. She better be. I’m not playing nursemaid to a whole litter!”
“Maybe I could give her a call,” Frank said. He liked the idea of her trip being romantic. That probably meant the doctor had probably gone along as well. “Any idea where she’s staying?”
“She told me the Charlotte Inn,” Kay said. “Come on, Samson, let’s go.”
Frank flashed Kay one of his most sincere smiles as she went to the front porch and fished the key from the carriage lamp. Frank went back to his car.
Once he had the car started, he made a quick U-turn. One thing he’d decided about the seventy-five grand was that he wasn’t going to tell Donna about it. He’d stash it someplace. Maybe take a trip down to the Caymans.
The idea of a little side trip to Martha’s Vineyard also appealed. And he had a bright idea. Since he had to put the doctor on Matt’s plane, why not take the plane to the island? That was called using your noodle, he told himself.
As he drove back into town, Frank started to think about whom he should take with him if he couldn’t find Vinnie D’Agostino. There was no doubt he would miss Tony. It was a shame what had happened. Frank also wondered about Devlin and whether he should go visit him in the hospital to tell him there were no hard feelings. But he decided against it. There just wasn’t time.
Driving down Hanover Street, Frank pulled up and triple-parked in front of the Via Veneto Café. He leaned on his horn. Before long, someone ran out of the café and moved his car, allowing Frank to pull in. The traffic that had backed up on Hanover Street funneled past. Several of the cars honked at him for delaying them. “Hey, screw you!” Frank called out his window. It was amazing how inconsiderate some people were, he thought.
Frank walked into the café
and shook hands with the owner, who’d rushed out from behind his register to greet him. Frank took a table near the front which had a little reserved sign on it. He ordered a double espresso and lit a cigarette.
When his eyes had adjusted to the dim light in the café, Frank twisted around and scanned the room. He didn’t see Vinnie, but he did see Dominic. Frank motioned for the owner. He told him to ask Dominic to come and talk to him.
A nervous Dominic approached Frank’s table.
“What’s the matter with you?” Frank asked, looking at Dominic.
“Nothing,” Dominic said. “Maybe I’ve had too much coffee.”
“Know where Vinnie is?” Frank asked.
“He’s at home,” Dominic said. “He was in here half an hour ago.”
“Go ask him to come over. Tell him it’s important,” Frank said.
Dominic nodded and went out the front door.
“How about a sandwich?” Frank said to the owner. While Frank ate, he tried to remember where the Charlotte Inn was in Edgartown. He’d only been there a couple of times. It wasn’t that big a town, the way he remembered it. In fact, the biggest thing was the cemetery.
Vinnie came in with Dominic. Vinnie was a young, muscle-bound guy who thought that all women were after him. Frank had always been a little afraid to use him because he seemed a little reckless, like he was always trying to prove himself. But with Tony gone and Nicky out of commission, Frank was getting down to the bottom of the barrel. He knew he couldn’t use Dominic. Dominic was an ass. He’d always been too nervous. He was a liability, especially if anything went wrong. Frank had found that out the hard way.
“Sit down, Vinnie,” Frank said. “How’d you like a free trip to the Charlotte Inn in Edgartown?”
Vinnie took a chair and sat on it backwards, hunching forward over the back so that his muscles bulged. Frank thought he had a lot to learn.
“Dominic,” Frank said, “how about you take a powder?”
Dominic slipped out of the back of the café and ran over to the candy store on Salem Street. There was a pay phone in the back of the magazines. He took out Devlin’s numbers and dialed the first of the two. When Devlin came on the line, he cupped the receiver with his hand before he started speaking. He didn’t want anyone to hear.