Chapter 54
“We all missed you, principessa.” Bruno looks around. “Okay, I’ll just speak for myself. I’m fine with that. When you came into the house, it was like all the lights went on, like that place was lit properly for the first time. Like you just being there blew away the darkness that seeps out from the stones of this place.”
Even in this chilling old house, I’m happy to be back with the three men, my three princes. I don’t want to break the mood and bring us back to the serious business.
I’m watching Carlo watching me.
Bruno sees us and says, “We know you wouldn’t take us without him.”
Alessio adds, “We do wonder if you’d take him without us.” He’s trying to make it sound like he’s joking, but there’s a trip in his voice.
“Well, I’m not going to take Carlo without the two of you. You’ll have to be satisfied with that.”
We all breathe thick and hard, and our eyes blaze into each other’s. The air is charged. I know that I could dive into the powerful arms of the three men, and they could all jump straight at me right now.
The don’s voice rumbles from the dining room next door, and the moment is gone.
Carlo straightens up. “You go on into the dining room. Tell the don we’ll be there as soon as we can. There’s something we have to find upstairs.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Something I need to give you.”
“Oh, yes,” Bruno says with a dark chuckle. “We all want to give you something.”
“Chill, Bruno. Down, boy.” Alessio’s voice is low. “Although, yes. That, too.”
Esther and the don are seated at opposite ends of the long dining room table as I step in. The don looks at his watch, charming as ever. Jago stands at the back of the room. I take a seat in the middle of the table.
Jago sets a bowl of soup in front of each of us. The broth is a cloudy grayish green. The aroma is discouraging. Hotplates on the sideboard have large dishes with piles of equally mysterious and unappealing ingredients.
Manners and hospitality are important, sure, but I’ve only just come back from Italy. I don’t want to eat any of this.
Esther says, “Your cooking is very special, Mrs. Jago. Did you learn it in prison?”
“I haven’t been to prison, Donna Fortuna.”
“Really?” The donna arches an eyebrow. “Then wherever did you get these extraordinary recipes?”
Mrs. Jago’s jaw clenches and her eyes burn.
“Seriously, Mrs. Jago,” Esther says, “you’ve outdone yourself here. I don’t think I’ll eat now. You know, formal dinners like this, early in the evening, they’re not really what I’m used to. Maybe I’ll get something later.”
The don glares at me, then at Esther. Then at his soup, which he also hasn’t touched. He looks at the door, as though that will make Carlo, Bruno, and Alessio appear. The long silence is chilling.
I think about trying to make some polite conversation, but I can’t be bothered.
Since all of us are at a simmering point at least, if not actually a bubbling boil, there doesn’t seem much point in holding back or trying to practice any kind of discretion. I turn to the don.
“So, Don Fortuna,” I give him my innocent look. “I understand you’re trying to steal my daddy’s territory.”
Lucky he didn’t have a mouthful of the murky soup. His face reddens. “Who let this bitch in here? I don’t have to listen to this. Not in my own house.”
“Well, Giuseppe, strictly speaking, this is still my house.”
“God, Estella.” He looks like his blood pressure is rising too fast. “What is it? What the fuck do you want? Whatever it is, maybe I can at least clear that up and get you out of my fucking hair.”
She smiles, amiably. “Well, let’s see. You are the don, so of course the call is yours, but it is still my family. So I’ve come to find out why you staged that highly theatrical raid on the party that you threw for Adrianna Bagniola.” At the mention of the girl’s name, Jago’s head snaps around and stares hard into the don’s face. Esther goes on, “Adrianna’s pretend kidnapping, which you then tried to pretend was somehow Lucrezia’s doing.”
His eyes bulge.
Jago’s eyes widen and she leans toward him. “Did you?”
His teeth clench and he bangs the table with the side of his fist. Soup splashes from his bowl. There’s something glutenous in it, but I can’t tell what it is. “Of course I didn’t. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Jago’s face darkens. “You did. I can see you did. Why?”
He blusters. “It was a contract thing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her voice hardens. “You’re lying.”
“Alright, alright. Look, she didn’t want to marry him. It’s as simple as that?—”
“So?” Jago’s eyes flash. “So what?” she puts a hand in the pocket of her apron as she stamps toward him. “What is it to you who the Baginola slut wants to marry and who she doesn’t?”
“Look, nothing. She just asked me…”
“Why would she ask you? And why would you care?”
Quietly, Esther says, “Something leopard something spots, I think, Mrs. Jago.”
Jago strides at the don. When she lifts her right hand, she has a small Beretta pistol.
“Why?” her voice is shrill. “Why would you do that?”
The don pushes both hands out, toward her.
The pistol crack is sharp but not loud. She fires again. Three times in all. At each flash, he jolts and his chest bursts with a red bloom. His eyes stretch wide. But they stop moving. As he slumps and slides down on the chair, she drops the gun onto the linen tablecloth and turns away, shaking all over.
I’m watching Esther. Her face hasn’t moved. Quietly, I say, “You goaded her into that.”
“Mm.” She blinks once as she turns to me with an easy smile. “I hope I’m not giving away too big a secret, little mouse, but running a mafia family means you sometimes need to do things your average civilian would think are really not very nice.” She looks back at the don, sprawled on the floor in a spreading red pool.
“Now and again, though, they can be truly satisfying.”
I ask her, “Do you wish you’d shot him yourself?”
“Rather than watch him get it from his own handpicked slut?” she smiles. Then she turns to look Jago in the eye. “Oh, Mrs. Jago. I’m sorry, are you still here? I’d expected you to have high-tailed it, as they say. I mean, we will have to call the police, you know. There’s a corpse, and there are very strict rules about that sort of thing. It’s leaking on the rug, too.” Her nose wrinkles and she looks back up at Jago with a Cheshire cat grin. “If you want to make your escape, I’d suggest you get to it with haste, right about now.”
Jago plants her face in her hands as she runs. Her footsteps clump, heading for the stairs.
“Oh, Mrs. Jago,” Esther calls out after her. “If you take the time to pack, the police might ask us embarrassing questions about why we didn’t attempt to detain or delay you. It won’t look all that good, will it?”
I step over to look at the don.
His hand twitches. I ask Esther, “You don’t think he could survive that, do you?”
“I certainly hope not. But I’m not a medic, dear.”
I press my lips together and carefully use a linen napkin to pick up the little Beretta. “It would be a terrible shame to put him out of his misery. Since misery is what he deserves.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry,” Esther’s eyes sag as she looks into my face. “I didn’t realize. Really, I had no idea. You had an encounter with him yourself. Before tonight.” Her head tilts to one side. “You’re so beautiful, and he was such a filthy lech, it was bound to happen.” She looks down at him. “Technically, still is, I suppose. A filthy lech, I mean.”
She casts a quick glance his way.
“Darling, do you want me to do it?”
“Hell, no.”
“Well, I think I hear movement upstairs.” She moves to shut the door. “The boys must be coming down.”
I look in his eye. I don’t know whether he can see me or not.
“Say goodnight, Johnny.” The little Beretta cracks one more time. He can’t see me now.
I lay the little gun back on the table, and Esther touches my arm. “Obviously, we do have to call the police, so, let’s be clear. We didn’t see anything.” It’s standard for everybody in the Life. We don’t tell the cops a thing. Ever. “You and I came in here, and we found the room just as it is.”
She inclines her head toward the door. “And we should leave the room now. There’s no need for the boys to see this.” She leads the way.
Guiding me into the conservatory, she takes out her phone. “I’ll call 9-1-1, but after that, I’ll have a word with Commissioner Calhoun. We go back quite a long way.”