‘No!’ Boogie said, feigning surprise.
‘Oh, yes,’ the old man assured him.
‘Tell me about the American girl. Is she happy to be left behind while her husband goes off with other women?’
Lorenzo chuckled. ‘She doesn’t know about it. He took her to the family hunting lodge in the country.’
‘Really? Where’s that?’
Lorenzo screwed up his eyes and peered at Boogie. ‘Why you so interested?’
‘Sometimes I dabble in real estate. I have a friend who might be interested in purchasing a property outside Rome.’
The old man wheezed with laughter. ‘Not this place. It’s run-down and deserted. The family has no money for upkeep. Maybe when the millions of dollars come they restore it.’
‘If it’s so run-down and deserted, why would Carlo take his wife there?’
‘I heard him telling his mama she would be happy there.’
‘Really?’ Boogie said, buying the old man yet another Cognac. ‘About my friend. Perhaps I should look at this hunting lodge. If you go to your boss with a big enough offer, you could score yourself a healthy commission.’
‘I could?’ Lorenzo said, his rheumy old eyes popping at the thought.
‘Yes,’ Boogie said casually. ‘Tell me where it is, and I’ll go take a look. If I run into the American woman, I’ll say I’m a potential buyer. I’m sure she won’t object.’
‘You’ll never find the place,’ Lorenzo said.
‘If I can find my way through the jungles of Vietnam,’ Boogie said, ‘I’m sure I can find my way to this house. Here,’ he added, pulling out a wad of money, ‘let me give you five hundred dollars as good-faith money. If I like the place, you’ll get more. If I don’t, nothing lost, and you’ll be a richer man.’
Lorenzo stared at the money, a greedy expression on his wrinkled old face. His salary had been the same for the last ten years, and he could certainly use something extra. His daughter wanted to go to Milan to be a teacher; his wife was desperate for a new winter coat; his son was married with two children and needed many things.
He grabbed the pile of notes, quickly stuffing them in his pocket. ‘Tomorrow I will draw you a map.’
‘Good,’ Boogie said, sensing it would not do to rush him. ‘We have a deal.’
Chapter Eighty
Duke reviewed his stash. He knew he’d done well at the Washington house, but he had not taken the time to ascertain exactly how well. Now he was checking out his spoils.
The safe, which he’d been able to crack – having been taught by a master safe-cracker in jail in Florida – had revealed plenty of treasures. A leather pouch containing twelve expensive Patek Philippe watches, bundles of cash totalling over fifty thousand dollars, some important-looking papers that he would read at a later date, and a leather box full of assorted gold and diamond rings and cufflinks.
He’d also packed a Vuitton suitcase with several custom-made suits, shirts and ties. Even though Price Washington was obviously a much bigger man than he was, Duke liked the idea of hanging these clothes in his closet. Nothing like a three-thousand-dollar suit to give a man a buzz – even if it was just to look at.
He’d also found the shoebox Maybelline had told him to collect. It was exactly where she’d said it would be, hidden in a cupboard above the fridge in the kitchen, unreachable except by step-ladder.
He stared at the shoebox. Maybelline had said not to open it. Fuck that shit. He opened it and discovered a handgun wrapped in a towel. He was smart enough not to get his prints on it.
Very interesting, he thought. Have to find out more.
He removed the watches from their pouch and laid them out, admiring them and the assorted jewellery. Then he recounted the money – just to make sure.
He wished he could speak to his sister right now, but she would not be allowed to make a collect call until morning.
Damn! He missed Maybelline. He was miserable without her. They had such a strong connection, and that connection suffered when they were apart.
Maybe he should think about getting her out . . .
* * *
Mila didn’t sleep well. She was disturbed by Maybelline’s couldn’t-give-a-damn attitude and Duke’s rape of the maid. How dare he! How fucking dare he!
Early in the morning she grabbed Maybelline by the arm and said, ‘You’d better talk to your brother. I need him to deliver my package today.’
‘He’s not a delivery boy,’ Maybelline snapped, confirming Mila’s suspicions that all was not right.
‘I didn’t say he was,’ Mila said, trying to stay calm, ‘but my information got him into the house. Now he has to get that package to my lawyer today. I’ll give you the address.’
‘I’m not sure I like your attitude,’ Maybelline said. ‘It’s a shitty attitude, like we work for you or something.’
‘And I’m not sure I like yours,’ Mila retaliated.
The two girls glared at each other.
‘Your brother was supposed to hit Lennie Golden yesterday,’ Mila said, in a fierce whisper. ‘I’d like to know why he didn’t.’
‘Fuck you,’ Maybelline responded. ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’
‘I thought we were friends,’ Mila said, realizing her precarious position, because now Maybelline’s obviously unstable brother had the gun with Teddy’s prints on it, and that was a valuable piece of property.
‘Don’t be so sure of that,’ Maybelline said.
‘Listen to me,’ Mila said, her pinched face darkening with fury. ‘If your brother doesn’t do what I say, I’ll go to the authorities and tell them it was him who broke into the house and raped the maid.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Maybelline said, her baby face turning bright red. ‘I’ll bash your head in before you do that.’
‘Let’s not fight about it,’ Mila said, backing off because all she really wanted was for things to go smoothly. ‘We’re supposed to be partners in this. The news story said he got a million dollars’ worth of stuff. I’m happy for you. All I want is what you promised. He’s got to deliver the gun and hit Lennie Golden today. If he does, then everything’ll be cool.’
Maybelline didn’t say a word.
Mila went off to court still furious. As soon as she saw her lawyer she filled him in about the gun.
‘You mean you have a gun with Teddy Washington’s prints on it and you’re only telling me about it now?’ Willard Hocksmith asked incredulously.
She took a step backwards: his foul breath was making her sick. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I thought it was smart to save it for later in the trial, when we really needed it.’
‘What makes you think there’d even be a trial if I had evidence like that?’ Willard said, frowning at her stupidity.
‘Well, anyway,’ she said, ‘it’s being delivered to your office today.’
‘By whom?’
‘By this . . . person.’
‘What person?’
‘Just someone,’ she said irritably. ‘Don’t question me.’
‘I have to question you, I’m your lawyer. Can’t you understand what’s going on here? They’ve got a witness, Lennie Golden, who swears it was you shot the girl. You, not Teddy Washington. Now you’re telling me you’ve got a gun with his prints on it? How did you get it?’
‘It doesn’t matter how I got it,’ she said sullenly. ‘He shot her. I told you that at the beginning. You should’ve believed me.’
‘And when am I supposed to get this gun?’
‘Sometime today. You’d better tell them in your office that nobody should open it. It’ll be in a shoebox wrapped in a towel.’
‘You’re a very strange girl,’ Willard said.
‘Like you’re normal,’ she muttered.
Chapter Eighty-One
Day two of the trial and the media interest was stronger than ever. Especially with the added attraction of the rape and robbery at Price Washington’s house.
Price himself was in s
hock. He’d known this was going to be an ordeal, but he’d had no idea it would be anything like this. Headline news day after day, the intrusion into his house, the rape, the robbery, the loss of his precious collection of watches and other jewellery. Even worse was the way everybody was talking and writing about him as though they could say whatever they liked, however untrue. He felt used and abused.
And poor Consuella. She’d worked for him for several years and was a nice woman. The fact that the rape had happened to her in his house was devastating.
‘You’d better watch out,’ Howard said. ‘She’ll probably sue you.’
‘What’re you talking about?’ Price said. ‘I had nothing to do with it.’
‘It happened on your premises,’ Howard said. ‘Some smart shyster will get hold of her and sue you for everything you’ve got. I hope your personal liability policy is up to date.’
Price was so furious that Teddy had brought all this attention on their family that he could hardly bring himself to speak to him. They’d spent the previous evening in silence – eating dinner, then going to their respective rooms – barely bidding each other good night.
Because of the interest in his household affairs, the media had now discovered that Irena was Mila’s mother. Boy, were they getting off on that one. And Irena was freaked, hiding in her room like a wanted criminal.
Price felt under siege. Every time he attempted to leave the house, he was deluged with press. He’d hired four bodyguards, two for him, and two for Teddy. This fucking case was going to cost him a fortune. He’d already had to postpone several lucrative gigs to deal with it.
The whole thing was bad news. He’d been thinking that after it was over, maybe he’d take Teddy away somewhere – the Virgin Islands or the Bahamas. Somewhere they could chill out and get to know each other better.
He had a bad feeling about the house now. His house that he’d loved for all those years. The house where Teddy was born and Mila, and look what had happened to the two of them. Bad karma.
He couldn’t get the image of a terrified Consuella, bound and gagged, out of his mind. Her image was haunting him.
He needed a break, and as soon as this was over he was taking one.
‘You know, Teddy,’ he said to his son before they left for court on the second day, ‘I hope this has taught you a real tough lesson. Because I am so fuckin’ pissed about this I can’t even see straight. You did somethin’ really bad. You’ve brought shame on this family.’
What family? Teddy wanted to say. We’re not a family. There’s you, and there’s my mom – and she’s not family. She’s just some fat old publicity-crazy cow.
Teddy was crushed by his mother’s behaviour. He’d hoped she’d be there for him. And she wasn’t.
‘Sorry, Dad,’ he mumbled. But he knew being sorry would never be enough.
* * *
Steven awoke with Lina cuddled in his arms, still asleep. ‘Hey,’ he said gently, trying to extract himself. ‘I’ve gotta get up. You can sleep a little longer.’
‘I wanna make you breakfast,’ she murmured sleepily, clinging to him.
‘Oh, no,’ he said, laughing. ‘I’m not eating fried chicken for breakfast.’
‘Don’t be mean,’ she said, her hand snaking down between his legs. ‘I wanna learn to cook for you, Steven. I wanna do all the things I’ve never done before. You’re makin’ me into a changed woman.’
‘I am?’ he said, removing her hand, because much as he was tempted, now was not the time.
‘You am,’ she said, stretching her long arms above her head. ‘Oh, boy,’ she sighed. ‘Never thought I’d feel like this about anyone, but you’re like . . . so solid, you know. I feel safe with you.’ As soon as the words escaped her lips, she knew she’d said the wrong thing.
‘Mary Lou felt safe with me,’ he muttered grimly, ‘and look where it got her.’ He jumped out of bed and went into his bathroom.
Lina, who found any kind of rejection hard to take, followed him. She was gloriously naked and determined to make him feel good. ‘Sorry, sweetie,’ she said. ‘Didn’t mean anything by that . . .’
He attempted to ignore her spectacular body – so sleek and black and perfect.
She rubbed up against him, and suddenly he was lost, hard as the proverbial rock and way past the point of no return. Lina had that immediate effect on him.
‘Got five minutes to spare?’ she asked provocatively.
‘What makes you think I only need five minutes?’ he joked.
Lina was something else.
* * *
In view of all the publicity about the case, Lucky decided the children should go to Palm Springs earlier than planned. Thank God that Gino loved having them.
She saw them all safely into the station wagon with CeeCee, stood outside and waved them goodbye.
Once they were gone she almost picked up the phone to call Lennie again. But she didn’t. If she had to listen to Claudia’s lilting voice saying, ‘Hello,’ one more time, she’d throw up.
You’re jealous, a little voice whispered in her head.
Sure I am. Why shouldn’t I be? My husband slept with another woman, and that other woman gave birth to his child. I’m not only jealous, I’m furious!
She was still angry, although she’d decided that she did want to see him. Alex was right, she could never start another relationship until she had closure with Lennie. Their love affair was too passionate to end on a sour note.
Decisively she grabbed the phone and called him. Once more, Claudia answered.
She refused to give the girl the satisfaction of asking to speak to her own husband, so she hung up again.
Boogie phoned from Europe just as she was leaving the house. ‘I’ve located Brigette,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping to see her tomorrow.’
‘That’s good news.’
‘It’s good and it’s bad. Carlo has taken her to a deserted hunting lodge in the country and left her there alone.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I understand he’s in Sardinia with a girl.’
‘Oh, great.’ Lucky sighed. ‘Brigette is pregnant, could be doing drugs, and Carlo’s running around with another woman. What a winner she found this time. I wish I could get on a plane and come over. I’d like to kick his balls from here to China.’
‘Hey, hey, Lucky, tell me how you really feel.’
‘What’s your next move?’
‘It’s evening here, I’ll find the house first thing in the morning.’
‘And then?’
‘I plan to check on Brigette, make sure she’s okay. If she’s doing drugs, I’ll know.’
‘Let’s hope Carlo’s not around, then maybe she’ll tell you. I have a hunch she’ll feel more comfortable confiding in you.’
‘As soon as I have news I’ll call you.’
‘Boog, remember this. If she’s in any kind of trouble, you’ve got to bring her back.’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘I trust you, Boog.’
‘I know you do, Lucky. We’ve been through a lot together, and I don’t come out of retirement easily. But for you – any time.’
‘Retirement! Listen to you, you sound like some old man.’
‘There are times I feel old.’
‘You know, Boog, you’re talking far too much. I can remember when you used to be the strong silent type.’
‘I’ll report in to you later.’
‘That’s fine. I’ll be in court all day, but I’ll have my cellphone on.’
‘Then I’ll keep you informed.’
‘Thanks, Boog.’
Chapter Eighty-Two
‘You didn’t happen to mention there was a toy in the box,’ Duke said, on the phone to his sister.
Maybelline was allowed to make an occasional collect call. Duke was the only person she spoke to. They were both aware that their calls were sometimes taped, and that they had to be careful what they said. Because of this they’d developed a way of sp
eaking in code.
‘I didn’t tell you ’cause I knew you’d look,’ she said. ‘I hope you didn’t play with it.’
‘Why?’
‘’Cause it’s got patterns on it. Teddy Bear patterns.’
‘Interesting.’
‘Isn’t it? Auntie wants you to deliver it to the charity people – the ones she’s working with. I think we should keep it. But, in the meantime, take care of that other thing ’cause Auntie’s throwing a fit. And you know how close she is to the board.’
‘Got it.’
‘When?’
‘I’ll drive by later.’
‘Love you, brother.’
‘See you Saturday.’
Duke hung up, thinking about Maybelline’s hidden messages. She was telling him the gun had Teddy Washington’s prints on it, and that he shouldn’t deliver it to Mila’s lawyer. She was also telling him to go ahead and whack Lennie Golden, otherwise Mila might cause trouble.
Fine with him. He had nothing else to do today. And it wouldn’t be the first time he’d sent someone to swim with the fishes. In fact, he had quite a history. Funny that the cops would lock him away for a few lousy rapes, when they could’ve had him for so much more . . . But, then, nobody had ever said that cops were smart. He was smart. Maybelline was smart. The rest of the world were merely stumbling through the day.
He locked all his spoils in a special steel-lined closet he’d had installed in his apartment. It wouldn’t do to get robbed.
Then he checked his gun and decided exactly how and when he’d take Mr Golden.
Killing someone was such an easy thing to do.
And as long as one didn’t get caught, extremely satisfying.
Chapter Eighty-Three
How to navigate her way through the crush of press without hitting one of them, that was Lucky’s problem. ‘Get that fucking microphone out of my face,’ she snapped at a vacuous blonde reporter, who jumped back in surprise.
‘She used the F-word,’ the blonde said to her cameraman, her pretty face shocked.
‘She’s in the mob,’ the man muttered. ‘Read it in Truth and Fact this week.’