Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
There had only been a few times in his life when Hudson had genuinely thought he might pass out.
The day he’d heard the news about Connie.
One afternoon when he’d followed Angelo Messina, the Morelli legend, around the back of a church into a waiting gang of Clemenza Family soldiers.
And right then, when Finch raised his eyes from the empty cashbox and stared straight at him.
“Hudson,” Finch said. “Did anyone enter this office while we were away?”
No, Hudson tried to say, only no sound came out. He shook his head.
Finch’s gaze moved on. “Ziggy. Brady. You put the money in the box in the first place?”
“Sure did,” Ziggy said at once.
“We did, Mr. D,” Brady said with a vigorous nod.
Finch looked back at Hudson.
This was bad. This was really, really bad.
Finch was one hundred percent definitely the scarier D’Amato.
“Gio,” Finch said, still looking at Hudson, “go lock the fucking door.”
Gio swiveled towards Hudson, walked over, and took the door key from his hand with an apologetic glance.
“I didn’t…” Hudson whispered, but everyone in the room was staring at him. It was like one of his nightmares had come to life.
He heard the key turn in the lock and then felt the warmth of another human being right behind him.
Gio.
Gio putting his hand in the small of Hudson’s back.
For a second, Hudson thought Gio was going to start rubbing little circles, there there, it’s okay, but then Gio gave him a little push, and Hudson had to take one stumbling step forward or fall face-first in front of everyone.
They were all still staring at him. Including Finch, whose eyes were a hard, flat green in this light, unflinching.
“Go on,” Gio murmured behind him, giving him another little push. But Hudson’s feet just wouldn’t keep going of their own accord. Gio took his arm and led him, quite gently, to where Finch was still sitting at the desk.
“I’ll ask you again, Hudson,” Finch said. “Did you let anyone into this room while we were gone?”
“No,” Hudson said, his voice small.
“Okay. Did you take the money?”
“No!” Thank God he’d found his volume again. That, at least, sounded more convincing.
“You’re the only one who was left alone with it,” Finch pointed out, although his eyes had softened. “Did you maybe take the cash out for—for safekeeping?”
“I swear to God, I didn’t,” Hudson said hoarsely. “I swear, Mr. D, I don’t know where the money is. But I wasn’t the only one alone with it,” he added. “Ziggy and Brady were alone when they counted it out.”
Finch gave him a sharp look. “They weren’t alone. They were together. Watching each other.”
“Plus they were arguing the whole time,” Dino said, with a glance at Hudson. “So we know they didn’t sneak out or nothing.”
“You weren’t paying attention the whole time,” Hudson said, stung. “When that guy came in—”
Finch’s Gorgon gaze turned to Dino, who said quickly, “I heard them at the start, Mr. D. But that dead guy—he was screaming that he left his coat behind. I had to go sort him out—right?” He looked to Ziggy and Brady to confirm his story. They glanced at each other. “Right?” Dino insisted.
“Yeah,” Brady said hesitantly. “I mean, yeah, that’s what I heard.”
“Yeah,” Ziggy said.
“But you two were the only ones who could have—” Hudson tried again, and Brady turned on him.
“You accusing us of something, you little shit?”
“Shut up, Brady,” Finch said. “All that’s happening right now is that we’re trying to figure things out.” But the way he kept looking at Hudson suggested he might already have made up his mind.
“I swear,” Hudson said again, a sense of dread settling on him. “On Connie’s grave, Mr. D, I swear I did not touch that money.”
That gave Finch pause. “There’s no need to be dramatic, Hudson,” he said after a moment, but he said it more kindly than anything he’d said so far. “I’m sure there must be some expla—”
Next to Finch’s hand on the desk, close to his abandoned flute of sparkling water, his cell phone started to ring. Even upside down, Hudson could read the name of the caller.
Luca.
Luca D’Amato, the Morelli Don, had already been to Kismet briefly tonight, to see in the new year with Finch. But he’d left about thirty minutes later to finish up what he called “a work project,” and had promised to be back to pick up his husband at closing.
Now Finch held up a finger. “No one talk,” he said, and answered the call. “Hi, baby, where are... Oh, seriously? Shit. Yeah… No, I understand. Mm, we’re still finishing up here… No, no, you stay there in the warmth, it’s fine. I have Gio. Okay… Love you, too.”
He ended the call and placed the phone down on the desk again carefully.
“Luca’s caught in traffic,” he announced.
“The snow’s really bad and there’s been an accident a few blocks up.
Roads are all closed. So he doesn’t know when he’ll be able to get here.
” He looked around the room. “I suggest we clean up this mess before he gets here. My husband is unlikely to be as forgiving as I am.”
There was a soft susurration through the room, like every man there had taken in a deep breath.