The Love Killers

  What with the poppers, the sex, the couple of joints they’d smoked, and the heavy rum drink, he felt pretty tired. Pleasantly so. Christ, she couldn’t object to his falling asleep now. There would be no more name-calling; he’d proved himself at last.

  He closed his eyes, feeling strange, almost suspended. More than being stoned, it was as if his mind was leaving his body and drifting over to the corner to watch him.

  That was funny. That was really funny, and he started to laugh. Soon he realized his laugh wasn’t coming out of his mouth, it was coming out from all over, his nose, ears, even his ass. The thought only made him laugh more, and the more he laughed the more peculiar sensations overcame him.

  He noticed a lot of people crowding into the room. Nice smiling faces that appreciated his laughter.

  They all began to take off their clothes, and as they did so the clothes floated around the room in slow motion. Angelo was too exhausted to sit up. He was enjoying himself. He was having such a great time.

  ‘Hey, baby.’ Rio’s face swam into focus very close to his. ‘You remember Hernando and Peaches, don’t you babe? They both think you’re reaal special. They both want to meet you.’

  Her voice saying ‘meet you’ echoed and echoed around the room until it sounded like an Indian mantra.

  He nodded. Immediately his head seemed to leave the rest of his body and ricochet up to the ceiling.

  Hernando began laying strong hands on him, caressing his sex, taking it in his mouth.

  Angelo groaned with pleasure. His penis felt bigger than his body. His body was nothing.

  Peaches was exquisite, a fine-boned Slavic face and thick blond hair. She was pushing Hernando away and taking over.

  Somewhere Rio’s laughter hung heavy in the air.

  They turned him over, and Hernando mounted him, and he knew it was a man forcing his way inside, but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter at all. In fact, it was fantastic. Peaches was taking him in her mouth at the same time, and he thought he was reaching a pinnacle of eternity, and the actual coming was an explosion that rivaled the atomic bomb.

  Pow!! Great mushroom clouds. And he drifted off into the deep sleep he had been waiting for.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Nick argued impatiently with April Crawford’s maid on the telephone. He was lying on Lara’s bed. ‘Now come on, Hattie, I know she’s there. Tell her again, I have to talk to her, it’s very important.’

  Hattie lowered her voice. ‘Mr. Bassalino, it’s just no good. She is locked in her room and won’t speak to anyone.’

  ‘You’re sure you told her it’s me?’

  ‘Especially you she won’t talk to.’

  ‘Oh, shit, Hattie, you know what she’s like. I’ll try and get a plane back today. How many bottles has she got in there with her?’

  ‘Mr. Bassalino?’ Hattie exclaimed in shocked tones. She had been with April nineteen years and still refused to admit her employer drank.

  ‘Keep an eye on her, Hattie, explain things to her, tell her not to believe everything she reads in the papers. I’ll see you tonight.’

  Lara, hovering outside, marched briskly into the room. ‘Well,’ she said, forcing a smile, ‘that’s it, then, is it?’

  ‘What?’ he said shortly.

  ‘Running back to Momma’s arms, huh? I do hope she’ll forgive you for being bad.’

  He shook his head sadly. ‘Lara—Lara. I’m surprised at you.’

  He’s surprised at me! she thought angrily. Jesus, she’d really been acting like a naïve idiot. Blinded by a great-looking guy with a fantastic body and one night of wild sex. She’d expected he might want to stay, but the only thing on his mind was running back to April.

  ‘When are you leaving?’ she asked flatly.

  ‘I don’t know. I have to call my father.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Can’t go unless Daddy gives the word. Well, if he says you have to stay another night, shall we enjoy a repeat performance? After all, we’re both here, it would be foolish not to take advantage.’

  ‘Listen,’ he said, getting off the bed, still naked. ‘Don’t talk like a cunt, it doesn’t suit you. You knew what this was going to be. I never lied to you about me and April. I love April Crawford. I’m going to marry her.’

  ‘You insulting bastard!’ She was close to tears. ‘Just get dressed and get the hell out.’

  He shrugged. ‘If it means anything to you, last night was Wonderland.’

  ‘And I was Alice, a naïve little girl. Thank you, Nick. You sure made me grow up in a hurry.’

  He tried to take her in his arms, but she pushed him away.

  ‘When are you coming back to Los Angeles?’ he asked.

  ‘Never. Does that make you feel more secure?’

  ‘If we’re careful, we can still see each other.’

  She laughed bitterly. ‘God, Nick, I don’t believe you! In one breath it’s how you love April Crawford and you’re going to marry her. And in the next it’s when will you see me again. Well, let me tell you, Nick Bassalino. You won’t—not ever.’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t count on it, baby. Just don’t count on it.’

  * * *

  Golli and Segal arrived at the hospital and escorted Frank home. ‘Whatever you do, don’t leave him,’ Enzio warned. ‘Stay with him, keep watchin’ him.’

  Enzio made all the arrangements for the funeral. He had spoken to Anna Maria’s family in Sicily. Her mother and sister said they would fly in for the funeral.

  Enzio was sick to his stomach. Frank was a bitter disappointment. Beating a pregnant woman was a terrible thing to do. A sin. But thank God it had happened while Enzio himself was in New York and able to deal with matters so there would be no disgrace brought upon the family.

  Still, he’d never expected anything like this from Frank, his oldest—and, he’d thought, most dependable—son. God would surely punish him for such a violent and sickening act. Enzio firmly believed in the power of the Almighty for certain things.

  What a morning. News of the bombings at Manny’s and Barbarellis had reached him. He was sure Bosco Sam was behind it. A show of strength was needed. Christ, what strength could you show to a bunch of crazy maniacs who walked around in broad daylight blowing up places?

  Enzio knew there had to be an answer. There had to be, or the whole Bassalino organization’s reputation would be at risk. Who was going to pay protection for no protection?

  All morning he’d been trying to reach Angelo in London. It was yet another worry he didn’t need. Angelo hadn’t shown up at the casino, and somehow he’d managed to disappear without his bodyguard. Out getting laid, of course.

  Once more the overseas operator told him there was no reply from Angelo’s number. He knew what he would do when he got hold of him. Bring the horny little bastard home for Anna Maria’s funeral and keep him home. No more screwing around in London. Angelo’s place was with his family, where they could watch him. Maybe he’d put him to work for Frank again.

  Finally Nick arrived at the hotel.

  ‘What took you so long?’ Enzio snapped. ‘You shoulda come to the hospital.’

  Nick was distressed. ‘I only just heard,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

  Enzio grimaced sadly. ‘An accident. She fell down the stairs.’

  Nick looked incredulous. ‘Fell down the stairs? How? Where was Frank?’

  ‘He was sleeping. She was pregnant, clumsy on her feet. It was a tragic accident.’

  ‘God! I can hardly believe it. Anna Maria was such a sweet kid…’

  ‘And you?’ Enzio bellowed. ‘Where the fuck were you all night? When I need you, no one can find you.’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t you have no sense, Nick? These are dangerous times.’

  ‘I called the hotel soon as I got up,’ Nick said defensively. ‘Then I broke my balls rushing over here.’

  ‘You broke your balls last night,’ Enzio commented dryly. ‘At least it’s good you can forget about the broad you screw in
Hollywood. But hey—no time for talk now. You go to your brother’s house and stay with him.’

  ‘I gotta be getting back to the Coast. Without me things can start—’

  ‘Enough!’ Enzio shouted. ‘I don’t understand my children. Your brother loses his wife—your sister-in-law. There should be grief, respect. But no, you mumble about getting back to the Coast. What kind of brother are you? Get over to Frank’s house an’ sit with him. You can plan on stayin’ here until after the funeral.’

  ‘When’s that?’

  ‘Don’t question me!’ Enzio screamed. ‘Get out of here.’ His heart was bouncing around, a sign of overexertion, no doubt.

  What had he done to deserve three idiot sons?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Dukey K. Williams accepted the news of the bombings calmly. He congratulated Leroy.

  Later he visited Cass. ‘I’m leaving the apartment soon,’ he told her.

  The apartment he’d shared with Margaret held too many memories. He had to forget about the past. Remembrances of Margaret were making every day painful. When her death was avenged, he wanted to be ready to move on.

  Cass told him about Anna Maria Bassalino and Beth’s sudden return to the commune.

  ‘Pull the other two out,’ he warned harshly, ‘I’m takin’ over now. I’m doin’ it my way, and I don’t want them around, screwin’ things up.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Cass asked, alarmed.

  ‘It’s better you don’t know,’ he replied.

  Back home he called his manager. ‘Let’s get the show on the road again. I’m gonna be ready to work sooner than you think.’

  His manager was delighted.

  Next he called Leroy. ‘Why don’t we cut the overture an’ get down to business? I want this finished. Start with Frank at the funeral for his wife, an’ then take care of the house in Miami. No more waiting. Put your plan into action. The money will be ready when you are.’

  ‘It’s as good as done,’ Leroy replied. He didn’t make idle promises.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Angelo had trouble forcing his eyes open. With a supreme effort he managed it and blinked several times. His eyes felt crusty and bloodshot. Serious hangover eyes.

  For a moment he was completely disoriented, and then he remembered where he was. He was alone on Rio’s bed in her apartment. The drapes were closed, and he had no idea if it was night or day.

  His body ached, and there was an uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling about his backside.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ He sat up slowly, gingerly. What the hell had happened to him?

  He clearly remembered coming to her apartment, and Rio greeting him. He remembered the fantastic sex scene they’d had, and the ammis, the pot, the drinks. Then everything went blank. One long—how long?—great big blank.

  It must have been the drinks. Those thick creamy rum concoctions Rio had dipped her fingers in and fed him with. They’d knocked him out.

  Where was she, anyway?

  Unsteadily he got up, aware of the difference in his body, beginning to be much more aware of how it must have happened.

  He had to take a piss, and he groped his way into the bathroom.

  Scotch-taped to the mirror were six color Polaroids, leaving him in no doubt as to what had happened. In case he was not convinced, Rio had written across the mirror in bright red lipstick: RIGHT ON BABY! I ALWAYS KNEW YOU WERE A FAG.

  With mounting horror he stared at the Polaroids. They showed him with a plumpish, dark man and a beautiful blond girl. Only she wasn’t a girl, she couldn’t be a girl, because in spite of her breasts she also featured a formidable penis.

  Angelo had always feared men getting close to him. He hated being touched by them. Even a friendly back pat irritated him. All his life he’d scrupulously avoided any male contact. And now this.

  In the pictures he was smiling, laughing. He actually looked like he was enjoying it.

  Panic overcame him. God Almighty! If anyone saw these pictures. If his father should see them. Holy shit! It didn’t bear thinking about.

  Hurriedly he ripped the offending Polaroids off the mirror and tore them into small pieces, flushing the bits down the toilet.

  He took a deep breath. With the evidence gone he felt calmer.

  What was he worried about anyway? He wasn’t gay; half of the women in London could testify to that.

  It was that bitch Rio’s fault. She’d spiked his drink and had her fun. Where was the cow?

  He searched the apartment. It was empty. She must have planned the whole sick scene.

  Well, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. He would think of some form of retaliation to blow her away.

  * * *

  With Nick gone, Lara was keyed up and agitated. Things had worked out as she’d planned, but what if April took Nick back? It wasn’t a likely prospect, but what if she did? Then all her scheming and planning would count for nothing—a useless waste of time.

  Maybe. Maybe not. Was it useless she’d finally met a man who could make her feel emotions other than how big his bank balance was, or what kind of title he held?

  Was it useless she’d fallen in love for the first time ever?

  None of it mattered. Whatever the outcome, she didn’t care to be involved anymore. And she certainly never wanted to set eyes on Nick Bassalino again.

  For insurance she decided to call Prince Alfredo in Rome, or wherever he was, and summon him to fetch her. And then she would phone Cass and tell her it was over.

  Decision made, she felt better. Or did she? Nick Bassalino was on her mind, and he wasn’t going to be that easy to forget.

  * * *

  Nick went to Frank’s house. The children were whiny and noisy.

  ‘Where’s the nanny?’ he asked.

  ‘Gone,’ Frank mumbled. He was drinking neat whiskey, hunched in a chair, his eyes bloodshot, his appearance unkempt.

  ‘Jesus, Frank, I’m sorry about everything…’ Nick trailed off. He’d never been very close to his older brother. When they were kids Frank used to beat the shit out of him. Frank had always been the biggest and the strongest, and he’d never let Nick forget it.

  Nick wandered into the room where Golli and Segal were watching television. It was such a depressing house. Old and worn. It was a house that must have looked the same twenty, even thirty years previously. He thought with longing of his own place in Los Angeles. Big and spacious. White and modern. Then he thought of April’s rambling mansion, with the lake in the garden and the swimming pool in the living room. California was the only place for him. He enjoyed the climate, the people, the whole relaxed way of living. You could shove New York. Dirty pavements and uptight people. Everyone white-faced and hustling, scurrying around like guests at a rat-fuck.

  He went upstairs and placed another call to April. It was the same story. She refused to speak to him. He told Hattie he was delayed, and why. ‘Be sure to tell her why,’ he emphasized. April was liable to think he was hanging around to be with Lara.

  Thinking of Lara, it had been nice, she was a very lovely lady. But beautiful girls were a plague in Los Angeles. You fell over them everywhere you went. April Crawford was an original, and Nick was confident she would forgive him once he explained there was nothing to it. Lara just happened to be on the same plane—coincidence—it could happen to anyone. And April understood what went on in the gossip columns—pure hokum—nobody ever believed the garbage they printed.

  Yes, Nick was sure everything was going to work out fine.

  Restlessly he wondered what Lara was doing. Would she hang up if he called her?

  He wasn’t about to risk finding out. Nope. Best to forget her.

  He’d wanted her. He’d had her. End of story.

  Christ, it was going to be boring, hanging around the house with Frank.

  ‘Hey, Segal,’ he yelled downstairs. ‘How about a game of poker? Any cards around this mausoleum?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

&
nbsp; Mary Ann August woke up in Los Angeles. She couldn’t remember much about getting there. After Alio Marcusi had slobbered all over her there had been another visitor, a woman named Claire.

  Mary Ann could remember being frightened and telling Claire that when Enzio found out what had happened there would be plenty of trouble. Claire had laughed and called her honey. ‘Don’t worry, honey, Enzio knows all about it. He wants you to come on a little journey with me.’

  Then Claire had stuck a needle into her arm, making her groggy and docile, and she had dressed and left the hotel with Claire, and there had been a car journey, then an airplane, another car trip, and after that a house, a room, and sleep. Now she was awake.

  She got up and took stock of her surroundings. She was in a bedroom, a plain room with olive-green walls and shuttered windows. The shutters wouldn’t open, nor would the door.

  She peered at herself in a mirror. Her teased hair was sad and straggly, her makeup streaked and faded.

  Nothing annoyed Mary Ann more than not looking her best. Searching for her purse, she found it on the floor. Painstakingly she applied fresh makeup and redid her hair. When the two jobs were finished she finally allowed herself to wonder where she was and what was going on.

  During her six months with Enzio, Mary Ann had acquired quite a few possessions. Jewelry, clothes, a mink coat—and, of course, her latest acquisition, the full-length chinchilla.

  She was thinking of those things now. They were her protection when Enzio finally got tired of her. They would buy her a decent future so she wouldn’t have to go back to dancing around naked on a stage for a living. She would kill rather than lose her possessions.

  The woman Claire came into the room. She was fortyish and slim, slightly masculine-looking.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Mary Ann said in her best baby-girl voice. ‘Where’s Enzio? Why does he want me here?’