The Love Killers

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s over.’ She left the room, hardly listening as he burst into a stream of angry Italian.

  As she walked down the corridor she felt completely blank. Nothing mattered, nothing at all. She was very tired, and the only thought that appealed to her was to climb into bed, bury herself beneath the covers, and sleep. Maybe for days.

  She wished the impossible. She wished she had Margaret to talk things over with.

  Outside she climbed into her chauffeured car and closed her eyes. ‘My apartment,’ she instructed the driver.

  ‘The city’s goin’ mad,’ he informed her. ‘There’s hoodlums runnin’ wild blowin’ each other up. It ain’t safe drivin’ no more.’

  Lara wasn’t really listening. She was already drifting into sleep.

  * * *

  There was no body to identify. No body to bury. Frank Bassalino had been blown into a thousand little pieces. Two people innocently standing near the car were killed; many more were injured as the blast blew out all the windows in nearby office buildings and shards of glass came showering down. Nick didn’t hang around. He took it all in at a glance and knew Frank had no chance. Thinking quickly, he hauled Angelo out of their own car and, holding him tightly by the arm, marched him away from the wreckage.

  Angelo was too shaken to talk. Nick moved fast; they were three blocks away when several police cars zoomed past.

  When Nick was sure they weren’t being followed he hailed a cab and told the driver to get them to the airport as speedily as possible.

  ‘Somebody’s going to get his balls sledge hammered for this,’ he said at last. ‘And I am gonna do it. I’m gonna cut his fuckin’ balls off and string them up for salami.’

  Angelo was a nervous wreck. ‘Who did it?’ he asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

  ‘We’ll find out,’ Nick replied grimly. ‘We always find out. Nobody gets away with killing a Bassalino.’

  ‘You’re beginning to sound like Enzio.’

  ‘I hope so, little brother. I really hope so.’

  * * *

  Rio Java flew into New York and saw the headlines.

  She went straight to Cass’s apartment. Dukey was already there. ‘Did you arrange it?’ she asked.

  He made a vague gesture. ‘Maybe I did, an’ maybe I didn’t. We’re not the only ones who want to see the Bassalinos go down.’

  ‘Well, don’t touch Angelo—he’s mine. Understand, brother?’

  ‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘If you get to him first.’

  ‘I don’t have to get to him. I just want to destroy him. Isn’t that supposed to be the plan?’

  Dukey nodded. ‘That was before. Things are different now.’

  ‘What do you mean, things are different now?’

  ‘Let’s just call it a little racial problem and leave it at that.’

  ‘Racial problem my ass!’ she exploded.

  ‘Listen,’ he said angrily. ‘You had your chance, an’ you blew it. Now it’s my turn.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said coldly, ‘you mean I’m supposed to drop everything on account of what you say.’

  ‘Clever girl.’

  ‘Don’t call me girl, asshole.’

  ‘Beth and Lara are already out,’ Cass interrupted quickly, looking to avoid a fight. ‘I think Dukey’s right, Rio.’

  Rio turned on her. ‘Oh, do you? Well, fuck you, too.’

  Dukey’s eyes were hard and cold. ‘Shame you’re not black.’

  ‘I’m multicolored,’ she said acidly. ‘It’s more fun.’

  ‘You’re just pissed you can’t play any more of your mind games.’

  ‘I can do what I like, Dukey. And don’t you forget it.’

  He nodded in agreement. ‘Sure, babe. Only don’t do it near the Bassalinos, ’cos your long, skinny, multicolored ass gonna get blown all the way to hell an’ back. Okay, babe?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Mary Ann August smiled at Claire, and Claire said, ‘Honey, you’ve really surprised me. Things are working out fine. Mr. Forbes was very pleased today, and for Mr. Forbes to be pleased—well, that’s really a compliment.’

  ‘He promised he’ll be back soon,’ Mary Ann said, stretching her arms above her head so the short, white nightgown she wore pulled up, exposing a fine matting of pale-coffee-colored pubic hair.

  Claire’s eyes wandered down to take a peek. No trouble with this one. Some girls were born to be whores.

  Mary Ann flopped back on the bed, parting her thighs. ‘Gee, Claire, I wish I could take a walk,’ she said innocently. I’m really cheesed about being shut in all the time. I need fresh air.’

  ‘Next week,’ Claire promised.

  Mary Ann pouted. ‘You can trust me, I’m not going to run off. I like it here. I like you…’ She threw her captor a long, lingering look.

  Claire moved nearer the bed. ‘You’re a smart girl. No trouble. A girl like you can make a lot of money if you want to. Now that we’ve fixed your hair you look so pretty.’

  Mary Ann smiled. ‘Enzio wouldn’t like it this way.’

  Claire sat down on the bed and casually ran her fingers up Mary Ann’s leg, heading toward the fuzz. ‘Enzio’s not going to have to like it, is he?’

  Mary Ann giggled, spreading her legs apart. ‘Are you a dyke, Claire?’ she asked, licking her lips.

  The pressure of Claire’s fingers hardened. ‘I’ve seen too many potbellies and limp hard-ons to be anything else.’ A pause. ‘Have you ever tried it?’

  Mary Ann giggled again. ‘Mr. Forbes couldn’t make me come. I told him a little head would do the trick, but Mr. Forbes said that was my job.’

  Claire bent down slowly, her eyes bright. ‘Mr. Forbes must be screwy in the mind.’

  Mary Ann sighed and lay back, ready to enjoy the ministrations of Claire.

  Five minutes passed. Soon Claire was thoroughly engrossed in the task at hand.

  Carefully Mary Ann reached under the bed and got a firm grip on the chair leg she’d hidden there earlier. She then raised her upper body until she could see the top of Claire’s close-cropped head. She moaned, causing Claire to increase her efforts. Then slowly, so as not to disturb anything, she raised the chair leg and smashed it down heavily on Claire’s head. Once, twice, three times.

  There was blood as Claire slumped to the floor, and Mary Ann was sorry about that. But she certainly had no intention of being locked up and forced into the life of a prostitute. Oh, no. Oh, dear me, no. Not Mary Ann August. Not after she had worked hard and put up with Enzio Bassalino for all those months. She had jewelry, clothes, and two fur coats. She had possessions worth money—enough money that, if she sold them, she could go back to the small town in Texas she hailed from and buy herself a nice little business. A boutique, perhaps, or maybe a beauty parlor. She had known her time with Enzio was not a permanent thing and had planned accordingly.

  Dressing hurriedly, she took money and keys from Claire’s pocketbook.

  Mary Ann August had possessions—and son of a bitch, she was going to get them.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  By the next day the house in Miami was buzzing with activity. There was a meeting in progress.

  Enzio sat behind his desk, his eyes red-rimmed, shoulders slumping heavily. Beside him stood Nick, doing most of the talking, words coming hard and fast.

  Enzio appeared to have aged ten years as he listened to his middle son, occasionally nodding to let the room crowded with men know he was in agreement with everything Nick said.

  Angelo hunched in a chair nearby. He was scared, and it showed. His face was white, and his hand was unsteady as he gulped mouthfuls of Scotch from a large tumbler. What he really needed was to get good and truly stoned. A few joints would calm him down and stop the shaking. Only he couldn’t turn on in front of Enzio. His father didn’t approve of drugs.

  Nick was surprisingly cool as he issued instructions. He wanted information, and he wanted it fast. He offered a ten-thousand-dollar rew
ard for the right information.

  When the meeting was over the men dispersed.

  ‘Rose,’ Enzio mumbled. ‘For Christ’s sake, somebody’s got to tell her.’

  Angelo buried himself in his drink. His mother scared the shit out of him. She always had. Frank was her favorite, and Nick seemed to make out okay, but to Angelo she’d always been crazy Rose.

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ said Nick, saving Angelo any excuses. He could communicate with his mother if she was in a good mood. Sometimes he was even able to get her to summon up a faint smile from her otherwise dead face. ‘I’ll go see her now.’

  * * *

  Rose sat in her usual chair by the window, gazing out.

  Nick crept up behind her and squeezed her shoulders ‘Ciao, Mama.’ He was shocked at how thin she seemed.

  Rose looked up at him without a flicker of surprise, nodding slightly, even though it was over a year since she’d seen him.

  “I’m sorry it’s been so long, Mama,’ he said. ‘You know how it is. I’ve been busy out on the Coast. You look great, you really do.’

  Nick could remember his mother before she had locked herself away. He recalled her startling beauty, vivacious personality, and the way she used to make friends so easily.

  He also remembered the night it all happened. He was sixteen and out on a date. When he’d returned home Alio met him at the door and told him his mother was sick. ‘You’re to stay at my place tonight,’ Alio had said. ‘Angelo and the nanny are already there.’ Alio hadn’t even let him into the house to get his toothbrush.

  For two weeks he wasn’t allowed home, and when he finally was, he found his mother had locked herself away, refusing to speak to any of them. She kept up her silence for several years, until Enzio moved them all to the Miami mansion. There she staked out her room overlooking the pool and never emerged, although she did deign to speak to her sons occasionally.

  ‘Frank’s dead,’ Nick blurted out. ‘It was an… accident.’

  Rose spun around and stared at him. She still had the most magnificent eyes he’d ever seen. They could burn a hole in you, they were so deep and bright. Her eyes spoke for her; they begged him to tell her more.

  ‘Uh… I don’t know much. He was in a limo. There was an explosion…’ He put his arms around his mother. What more could he say?

  ‘Enzio,’ she muttered accusingly. ‘Basta!’

  And then there was silence.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  ‘Strike before they strike back.’ Those were the orders Leroy Jesus Bauls received from Dukey K. Williams. Which was why he was now on the road to Miami. It was a long drive, but it would have been too dangerous to fly with the equipment he needed. All the security at airports today, luggage being searched and people being frisked. He wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near a plane.

  His black Mercedes roared down the highway at a steady pace. Leroy was completely at ease, his mind clear and able to deal with the job ahead.

  He’d thoroughly inspected Enzio Bassalino’s mansion a few days previously, before the family had arrived. Enzio was in New York, so the grounds had not been as closely guarded. With no family present it had been a relatively simple matter to gain access to the house posing as a telephone engineer. The oldest trick in the world, but once the telephone went dead it always worked. Cut the lines, wait twenty minutes, then appear. ‘Telephone engineer, fault reported on your line.’ Guards check the phone, check his phony credentials, and nod agreement that he can come in. At first someone follows him everywhere, but then they got bored and he’s on his own. Ready to do whatever he wants.

  He’d set the house up exactly as he wanted it. Only the finishing touches were needed. He was well aware of the guards at the gates, the alarm systems, the dogs.

  It was an exciting job, a challenge, and Leroy looked forward to challenges.

  * * *

  Mary Ann August purchased a long black wig. It covered her blondness nicely. Next she bought jeans, a T-shirt, a man’s shirt, and tinted glasses. Hurrying to the ladies’ room, she washed off her makeup and put on the new clothes. When she emerged she looked like a different girl.

  A cab took her to the airport, where she got herself a ticket for Miami.

  She was extremely jumpy. There had been a lot of money in Claire’s purse, and she was sure that someone would come after her if just for that. But they wouldn’t find her—she didn’t even recognize herself in the mirror.

  After buying a selection of magazines she boarded the plane.

  * * *

  Nick was in charge. The old man had gone to pieces, his age suddenly and surprisingly catching up with him.

  Angelo sat around, restless and manic, until Nick finally got one of the boys to fix him up with a couple of joints to calm him down.

  After the meeting Nick phoned Los Angeles to check on business. Everything seemed okay. He had good people working in L.A. Men he could trust.

  He kept on thinking about Lara. April was a distant memory. So he wasn’t going to be Mr. April Crawford. Big deal. So what?

  The old man was resting, and Angelo was playing cards out by the pool.

  Nick called the gate. No problems. He’d put an extra man out there. Now there were three of them on constant alert, and no one was allowed through unless they got his personal okay.

  The Bassalino family was under fire, and Nick was taking no risks.

  Picking up the phone, he dialed Lara in New York. He couldn’t help himself.

  She took her time answering.

  ‘Listen, lady. You’re lucky I didn’t kill the sonofabitch,’ he said threateningly. She didn’t answer, so he added, ‘If I catch anybody in bed with you again their number is up. Do you understand what I’m sayin’?’

  ‘You broke his nose,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Yeah? That’s a shame.’

  ‘It’s not a joke. He’ll probably sue you.’

  ‘I’m shakin’ in my boots.’

  ‘Why are you calling me?’

  ‘I wanted to.’

  She was ridiculously pleased to hear from him, and yet she couldn’t just give in and fall into his arms because April had married Sammy and Nick was now on the loose.

  ‘I’m in Miami,’ he said. ‘I want you to go straight to the airport an’ catch the next plane here. We have a lot of talking to do.’

  Breathlessly she said, ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m crazy,’ he replied recklessly. ‘Crazy about you. I need you here, Lara. It’s got nothing to do with April and Sammy. I want you. Don’t let me down, baby.’

  ‘I can’t, Nick, I—’

  ‘Don’t fight it, sweetheart. We belong together, and you know it. I’ll have a man at the airport to meet you—he’ll bring you straight to the house.’

  She felt lightheaded. He needed her. He wanted her. ‘Okay,’ she whispered. What the hell, she’d never made a spontaneous decision in her life. Now was the time to take a risk and do something just for Lara.

  Before she changed her mind she began throwing things into a suitcase, humming softly to herself until suddenly Cass’s words hit her. Words she hadn’t really listened to before were now very clear in her head.

  ‘Let Dukey do it his way. I’m not sure what he has planned, but whatever it is, I don’t think ifs safe to be around the Bassalinos.’

  She experienced a moment of panic. Quickly she phoned Cass. ‘What did you mean when you said it’s not safe to be around the Bassalinos?’ she asked urgently. ‘What does Dukey plan to do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Cass replied. ‘I guess he’s going to finish off—’

  ‘Finish off what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Slamming the phone down, she tried to reach Dukey. There was no reply at his apartment.

  Oh, God! She had to get to Nick, tell him the truth, and warn him.

  Finishing her packing, she called down to the doorman to find her a cab.

  Miami was her next stop. And as quickl
y as possible. There was no other way of warning him.

  * * *

  Sitting in her room, Rose Bassalino brooded. She had no tears left to cry for her oldest son. Her tears had all been shed many years before.

  It was Enzio’s fault, of course. Everything was always Enzio’s fault. Basta! Bastard! Big man with a big cock.

  He had taken Frank away because he knew Frank was her favorite.

  If she closed her eyes, she could picture in vivid detail that night so many years ago when Enzio and his men had sliced Charles Cardwell to death in front of her. Like a piece of beef they had sliced and carved and hacked.

  Animals!

  And all the while Enzio had held her, his hands on her breasts, his body stiffening with excitement.

  Rose stifled a scream as the memories came crowding back. She stared out of her window. The pool was still there, the grass, the trees. She had trained her mind to go blank, shut out everything, concentrate on the scenery. Over the years she had even managed to ignore Enzio’s succession of whores.

  Today it didn’t work. Today the sun-drenched garden and bountiful greenery did nothing to calm her.

  Rose Bassalino was not crazy. She was as sane as anyone. But to hang on to her sanity she had shut herself away, and now she could feel the fury building in her body, a fury giving her new strength.

  For her children’s sake she had remained in her room for years. It spared them the agony of what she might do if she ever returned to the real world.

  Now it didn’t matter. Frank was gone. And it was Enzio’s fault.

  Rose stood up and stepped away from the window.

  She knew what she had to do. Her mind was clear for the first time in seventeen years.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  ‘Angelo—it’s the telephone for you.’ Alio strolled out to the pool to tell him.

  ‘For me?’

  ‘Yeah—a woman.’ Alio was not interested.

  Angelo put down his cards. Nobody knew where he was. He picked up the phone beside the pool.