Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Gary put down Bruno DiFanetti’s statement. “I think I’ve read this three times.”
It didn’t get any better with each fresh reading.
“Me too.” Dan appeared gloomy.
The sergeant at the front desk had called to let them know Senator Cain had been brought to the precinct and was on his way to the interview room.
“He didn’t go back to the house in Lenox when he was released?”
Gary shook his head. “I told him to stay in Boston.” He paused. “You know, Lori Dettweiler called this morning? The Rembrandt is already back at the museum.” He stood as the door opened.
Senator Cain looked exhausted.
And he’s about to feel a lot worse.
“Senator, please, take a seat.”
The senator frowned. “When you called, you told me I wouldn’t need my lawyer with me.”
“It’s not that kind of interview.”
Gary would be doing all the talking.
Senator Cain peered at him. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you look awful. I’m the one who’ll be facing manslaughter charges, not you.”
Gary cleared his throat. “Except you won’t.”
The senator blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“Cheryl Somers didn’t die as a result of her head wound.”
Senator Cain frowned. “What do you mean? She died on her way to a doctor from injuries I inflicted.”
Gary shook his head. “Her death was the result of strangulation, inflicted by Bruno DiFanetti’s son, Gianni.”
“Strangled?” The senator widened his eyes. “Why would he do that? It doesn’t make any sense. Unless I was right, and he did it on his father’s instructions because he wanted me to think I’d killed her, to have a hold over me.”
“I don’t doubt that was what Gianni wanted, but that wasn’t why he killed her. And actually, it makes perfect sense—once you have all the facts.”
“Bruno DiFanetti told us the whole story in a statement,” Dan added.
Senator Cain sagged into his chair. “Then you’d better tell me.”
Friday August 28, 1992
Just before midnight
Bruno stopped his car at the gate and wound the window down. “Is Gianni back yet?” he asked the guy on duty. There’d been nothing from Gianni since the call to say Cheryl Somers had died on the way to a doctor. Bruno had called him several times after leaving Lenox, but there’d been no answer.
“Not yet, sir.”
What is Gianni playing at? He should have been back by then.
Bruno thanked him and drove through the gate. The house sat in darkness, apart from one light on the first floor, which meant Talia had already gone to bed. Sure enough, the space where Gianni’s car usually sat was empty.
Where are you?
Bruno switched off the engine and grabbed his phone. His call went straight to voicemail again. “Gianni, call me when you get this, okay?” He hung up.
Christ, what a mess.
Everything he tried to do to improve his family’s reputation and bury the past seemed to backfire. He’d attempted to help the senator because there was one guy who could do a lot of good.
But not if he’s tarnished by an affair—and manslaughter.
Bruno went into the house and headed for his den. He needed a drink.
He switched the lamp on, poured himself a shot of whiskey, then sat in his armchair, his mind turning over the evening’s events.
Why did she have to up and die on us?
Bruno firmly believed they could have paid her off. From what he knew of her and her father, Bruno could have set them up in a different state with no money worries. Anything to keep Senator Cain in Bruno’s pocket.
It’s not as if I wanted to use him for some nefarious purpose, Bruno reasoned with the Lord. Couldn’t you just give me a break here?
Bruno had a feeling God was not on his side.
He heard a car engine and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Twelve forty-five. What’s he been doing? Bruno listened for Gianni’s key in the door, but instead of coming to find him as he’d expected, he caught the creak of the stairs.
Hell no. There was no way Gianni was going to bed.
Bruno wanted answers.
He switched off the lamp and quietly closed the door to the den. He crept upstairs and went to Gianni’s room on the third floor. As he reached for the door handle, he heard running water, and he scowled. Talking to his father took precedence over a shower, especially in the circumstances.
Bruno entered Gianni’s room and stopped dead at the sight of his crumpled clothes, lying on a sheet of plastic.
The patches of red made his stomach roil.
Oh God, what have you done? Bruno sank onto the edge of the bed and stared at the stained heap of clothing. Then he breathed easier. He was overreacting. Of course there’d be blood. Cheryl had a head wound; the senator had said so.
What troubled him was the amount of blood.
“Dad?”
Bruno jumped. Gianni stood in the bathroom doorway, a towel wrapped around him. Before Bruno could get a word out, Gianni scurried over to the clothes, bundled them up in the plastic, and shoved them into a bag.
That oily feeling in Bruno’s stomach worsened.
“Where is she?” he demanded in a low voice. His and Talia’s bedroom was directly below Gianni’s, and he didn’t want her to wake up.
“Better if you don’t know.”
“But I want to know.”
Gianni snorted. “Trust me, you really don’t. What do they call it—plausible deniability? If someone starts asking questions, you can say in all honesty that you know nothing.”
“Since when do you know anything about the law? And before you start throwing such terms about, you’d better check your facts, because I don’t think that phrase means what you think it means.” Bruno’s heartbeat quickened. “She did die the way you said she did? Because of her head wound?”
Gianni dropped his towel and put on his robe. “Sure. We’ll go with that.”
He sprang to his feet. “No, we’ll go with the truth.”
“And what if you can’t handle the truth?”
Bruno had heard enough. “I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
Gianni scowled. “That’s the problem. You’re not the man I thought you were. You’ve gone soft. If Grandpa could see you now, he—”
Bruno’s laugh sounded bitter to his own ears. “‘Grandpa’ makes him sound like a sweet old man, but we both know better, don’t we? Now sit.” He pointed to the bed. “And start talking. Because I’m not leaving this room until you’ve told me everything.”
Gianni flopped onto the bed with a sullen expression. For a man of twenty-seven, he behaved like a child sometimes, petulant and stubborn.
But no child possessed his cunning, his malice.
“I settled an old score tonight, that’s all.”
Bruno frowned. “What old score?”
Gianni was quiet for a moment. “What if I was to tell you Cheryl Somers wasn’t born with that name?”
Bruno rolled his eyes. “I know you think I’m ancient, but I’m not stupid. Even I could work out she was trans.”
Gianni nodded. “Yeah, but what I discovered was, before she was Cheryl, her name was Benjamin Raskin.”
Something began to clang in the deep recesses of Bruno’s mind. “Why do I know that name?”
“Because nine years ago, Benjamin Raskin killed my best friend.”
Shock thrummed through him. “Connor?”
Another slow nod. “Raskin was the other driver.”
“But—” Bruno wracked his brains for the details. “—it wasn’t his fault. Connor caused the accident that killed him, not Raskin. Everyone said so, the witnesses, the police.”
Gianni gaped at him. “Seriously? And Raskin’s dad just happened to work for a wealthy family that was able to pull a few strings, even pay people off?”
Bruno’s stomach plummeted. “Gianni, listen to me. I know you and Connor were close, but—”
“Close?” Gianni’s eyes were huge. “He was my best friend. He’d been my best friend since we were five years old, when you took us to stay with Uncle Paul in Nantucket for the summer.”
The Brightmores’ summer home was next to Paul’s, and the two small boys had been inseparable. If ever Gianni couldn’t be found, Bruno had known to look no further than the house next door, and Connor spent as much time with them as he did playing with his sisters.
“How did you find out about Cheryl?”
That earned him another snort. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I knew I had to make him pay. I used to call him, telling him he hadn’t escaped justice, that I’d get him in the end.”
“When was this?”
“For two years after Connor died.”
Bruno’s mouth fell open. “You… you were eighteen.” Eighteen years old and making death threats.
Cold flooded through him. Bruno had the feeling he’d never known what his son was capable of.
But I’m learning fast.
“And then suddenly—nothing. Raskin disappeared off the face of the earth.” Gianni narrowed his gaze. “No phone number, no address…. Took me another five years to learn the truth.”
“But how? How did you discover it?”
Saturday, August 4, 2018
“That’s what I want to know too.” Senator Cain regarded them with a bewildered expression. “How could he have found her? Cheryl never used her dead name after 1985. She obliterated all traces of Benjamin Raskin.”
Gary’s chest tightened. “Gianni found out via an informant. Someone who was reporting back to him on anything that crossed your desk.”
“This informant discovered Cheryl’s previous identity in 1990, Bruno told us,” Dan added. “Not that he knew anything about them. He’d always wondered how Gianni managed to glean so much information about you.”
The senator’s expression grew sober. “I think I mentioned to you that I suspected it was someone working for me, although I could never prove who.”
Gary’s throat seized. “Not working for you—it was your wife.”
Senator Cain paled. “No. You’ve made a mistake.”
Gary’s heart went out to him. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. There’s no doubt.”
The senator stared at him with pain-stricken eyes. “But why would she do that? More importantly, how could she have anything to do with the DiFanettis?”
Dan’s voice was soft.
“Because she is a DiFanetti.”