Chapter 29
29
“ W hat did you say?” Pulling the straps of my dress back on my shoulders, I stared at him in disbelief.
“I know who killed his father,” he repeated, as if we were discussing the weather. “I know who pulled the trigger outside the station and I know who ordered the hit on Big Leo that killed him.”
“But—but how?”
“Nobody keeps a secret for that long in this business. It’s been a few years now—eventually you find someone disgruntled with a particular faction and willing to talk, for the right price, of course.”
“Of course.” My mind was spinning. I knew how badly Joey wanted to find out who’d killed his father— he’d just told me so when we were on the roof. Undoubtedly he’d give up the drugs to know who pulled the trigger. But would he stab Angelo in the back? “So...so did you tell him?”
“No. I simply told him I had the information. If he wants the details, he’ll have to decide what they’re worth.” He moved toward me again, but I backed up.
“Just wait.” I put my hands out. “I’m a little flustered right now.”
“I like you flustered.” He kept coming at me and I thought he might back me right into the closet but instead he swept me off my feet and carried me over to the bed.
“Enzo, please.”
He set me down and slipped my shoes off. “Please what? I’ll do anything you want me to.” Running a hand up one leg, he paused at different places—my knee, my thigh, and finally my hip. “I’ll kiss you here. And here. And especially here.” He slipped his fingers inside the loose edge of my step-in and brushed them against my tingling skin.
Oh, God. He was so handsome and the room was so beautiful and the bed was so inviting and I knew it would feel so good, but?—
“No.” I pushed his hand away, brought my knees together, and propped myself up on my elbows. “I’m not doing this with you. You’re about to marry some other girl, and?—”
“Jesus!” he exploded, pounding a fist into the bed. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not going to fucking marry her!”
“You lie!” I shouted through gritted teeth. “You’re always telling me just what I want to hear and nothing that’s actually true. Until you prove to me that you’re not stashing me in this apartment just so your wife won’t see us together, we’re not doing this.”
He eyed me angrily. “You knew about her last time we did it. And you knew we had to keep our time together a secret. What’s changed?”
“I don’t know!” I yelled. “But something has.”
“Within one week?”
“Yes!”
Enzo breathed deeply through his nose. “What the fuck do you want, Tiny?”
I had no idea. What had actually changed? It was a fair question, in a way—I had known he had a fiancée the last two times we’d slept together. True, I hadn’t known about the wedding date, but if I was honest with myself, I had to admit there wasn’t much of a difference between sleeping with a man who had a fiancée, and sleeping with one who had a fiancée and a wedding date. Both were pretty despicable, separated perhaps by a scant few degrees on the scale .
“I don’t know, Enzo. I guess...I guess I’ll wait until next Saturday and see if you manage to dodge your own wedding. ” Slapping a hand over my face, I groaned. “God, that sounds so ridiculous.”
“That’s a long time away, Tiny.” He trailed his fingers along my shin. “I don’t think I can wait that long. I don’t think you can, either.”
“It’s one week, Enzo. You can’t go seven days without having sex?”
“I just want you so badly.” He rubbed my hip, staring at his hand against the ivory material. “Can’t we come up with a different plan?”
“No.” I got off the bed and located my heels on the floor. “We can’t.”
“Is this about him?” He watched as I slipped my feet into my shoes.
My cheeks flushed, and I bent over one leg as if I needed to concentrate on the buckle. “No.”
“I don’t believe you. You have to decide, Tiny. You can’t be loyal to two people in this situation.”
I straightened so quickly I got dizzy. “Ha! Look who’s talking!”
“Gina means nothing to me. In fact, she annoys the hell out of me, and it’s pretty clear I am not loyal to her. I never claimed to be.”
I bent and buckled the other shoe. When I straightened, Enzo was reaching for the lamp, and a second later the room went black. “I need my purse,” I said.
He picked it up from the chair brought it to me. “Are you sure you won’t stay?” His voice was lilting and soft again. “I can come back later and stay with you. All night.”
I felt a quick tug of arousal, but it disappeared at the thought of him coming straight from Gina’s side to my bed. “No. Not until I know for sure that you’re not going to marry her.”
“How do I know for sure that you’re not fooling around with Lupo?” he asked testily. The light coming from the parlor illuminated only one side of his face, leaving the other half dark.
“I’m not.”
Silence. “I saw you dancing with him. ”
My stomach flipped. “So what? It was just dancing. There’s nothing between us.”
“What if I want you to prove it?”
“How would I do that?”
A smile appeared on his half-shadowed face. “By keeping a secret.”
“What secret?”
“This one: The gunman outside the prison was a hitman named Legs Putnam. And the hit was ordered by Sam Scarfone.”
I gasped. “Sam Scarfone! But Big Leo was his uncle! Why would he do that?”
“Because Big Leo was the boss. And if you don’t like the way things are being run, and you think you deserve more than you’re getting or you been screwed one too many times, that’s one way to fix it. Take him out.”
“Oh my God.” I brought a hand to my mouth.
“It was especially smart because Scarfone must have known everyone would blame Provenzano, since that was the big rivalry at the time. But it backfired, because none of the old guard under Big Leo wanted to take orders from pissant Sam and his hot-headed buddies.”
That part wasn’t new to me—Joey had told me about Sam and his friends leaving the Scarfone faction to start the River Gang. He’d known some of them from school and thought they were decent guys just doing what they could to make a buck.
I swallowed hard. “But...it was family.”
Enzo shrugged. “Sometimes blood is cheaper than whisky.”
Out of the apartment. Down the hall. Into the elevator. Through the lobby. Under the awning. One thought held my mind hostage the entire time.
I know who killed Joey’s father.
And I couldn’t tell him.
Could I?
No. Stay out of this.
As the attendant pulled up in the Packard, Enzo put his hand on my arm. “I need to see someone at the desk a moment. Just wait in the car, OK?”
Another attendant opened the passenger door for me and I got in, my earlier distaste at riding in the wedding gift eclipsed by my anxiety over the information I now had. I knew exactly why Enzo had told me—he wasn’t sure he could trust me and this was the test. Enzo wanted to see if I would run to Joey with the knowledge of who killed his father, which would mean I was loyal to Joey over him. Not that I had any guarantee Enzo had given me the truth—when had he ever done that? Giving me false information was just as effective a test as giving me the real names.
I thought of Joey, agonizing over the decision to give in to Enzo’s demands in exchange for the information he’d wanted for years. If he did, he’d betray Angelo, who might then be tempted to put Sam wise to the scheme. Sam, whose nickname was The Barber because of his skill with a razor, who’d ordered the murder of his own uncle in order to gain a bigger share of the black market spoils.
What would he do to Joey if he found out about the opium?
“God, Joey,” I whispered as my eyes filled. “What a fucking mess. Why didn’t you just stay in Chicago to begin with?”
My nose began to run a little, and I sniffed, wiping at it with my hand. I needed a handkerchief, but I’d forgotten to put one in my purse. Maybe Enzo had one in here somewhere. I checked the glove compartments in the doors. Nothing. Twisting in my seat, I glanced into the back and thought I saw a bit of white peeking out from under the seat. Enzo was always tossing his coats in the back, so maybe one had slipped out. I opened the door, waving off the attendant who came immediately to assist me. Pulling the rear door open, I leaned into the back and slipped my hand under the seat. My fingers closed around a piece of cloth, and I pulled it up. It wasn’t a handkerchief.
It was a pair of women’s silk underwear.
I dropped them as if they had scorched me and backed out of the car.
Heart racing, I slammed the rear door and jumped back into the front, tucking my hands between my knees. What the hell was going on? Some girl had been in the back seat of this Packard and left without her knickers? That meant at some point, she’d removed them—or they’d been removed, I thought, scowling—and there was only one reason a girl doffed her underwear in the back seat of an automobile.
Bastard.
Seething, I crossed my arms over my chest. I had no idea what to say to him—part of me wanted to claw his eyes out and tell him he could go fuck himself in his nice apartment because he’d certainly never fuck me there. I recalled the one physical flaw on Enzo’s body, a crescent-shaped scar at the top of one sharp cheekbone near his left eye.
Maybe I’d give him a matching one on the right.
Thank God I didn’t sleep with him tonight.
The moment he got in the car and turned to me, I slapped him again. “You bastard!” I shouted. “Want to tell me what a pair of women’s underwear is doing in the back seat?”
“What?” Enzo grabbed my wrists so I couldn’t smack him again, but he struggled to look into the back seat. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the lacey little panties on the floor back there.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“You’re not denying anything either.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve never gone parking with Gina in this car, like we did the other night?” My blood boiled as I imagined Enzo in here with me one night and her the next.
“No!”
“Then how do you explain it?”
“I don’t know, Tiny! Maybe she had some clothing in here or something. Yes, that must be it. She’s been moving some of her things to a new place.”
“A new place at the Statler?” I snapped. “How convenient it would be to have your wife and mistress in the same hotel!”
“No.” He dropped my arms and rubbed his face with his hands. “Jesus Christ, Tiny. I brought you here tonight because I thought it was what you wanted. You told me it was what you wanted. Your own place. Where you can come and go as you please. Where you can do what you want.” He looked at me. “Am I wrong? Isn’t that what you want?”
I struggled to reply. “Yes. But no. I mean—not like this.”
“You don’t want the apartment?” He held up a key. “Because that’s what I was doing in there. Getting you your own key.” When I didn’t take it, he dropped it into my lap. “It’s yours, Tiny. You want to get out of your father’s house? Here’s your opportunity.”
I stared at the gold key, linked to an oval plate that said Hotel Statler, Detroit, Michigan. “I can’t afford it.”
“I’ll pay the rent.”
“I’m not your charity case, Enzo.”
“I’ll get you a job at the club. I just want you to stay here, so I can see you when I want. When you want. It’ll be fun, just like we said.”
I sighed, exhausted and overwrought, physically and emotionally. Did I really want to continue fighting him? What did we owe each other, after all? Fidelity? Or just a good time? I played with the key in my lap. “I don’t know, Enzo. I need to think about it. Can you take me home now, please? I’m tired.”
We went back to the club, where Enzo put me in a different car and instructed one of his men to drive me home. As usual, I had no idea when or where I might see him again, but I was so worn out I didn’t much care. I nodded off several times on the way home and fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
The next morning I woke up around eight, the sounds and smells of breakfast drifting into my room. The scent of coffee made me whimper a little, and I licked my dry lips. Actually my entire mouth was dry, and my tongue felt swollen. Dammit, who told me to drink so much? Every one of my teeth felt as if it was covered in wool. I tried to sit up and promptly fell back when the sunlight stabbed my eyes. Was it always this bright in here in the morning?
I flung an arm over my face. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to think.
But over the clink of plates and cups downstairs, I heard Enzo’s voice telling me who killed Joey’s father again. The gunman outside the prison was a hitman named Legs Putnam. And the hit was ordered by Sam Scarfone.
I couldn’t remember all the names of the men brought to trial for the ambush at the police station, but there were several, and Putnam might have been one of them. A few had been held but released for lack of evidence, and the trial had been a joke. I vividly recalled the day the jury reached a verdict—not guilty, of course. No witness had been willing to testify, and every member of that jury was well aware of the danger involved in deciding against a gangster. They’d reached a verdict in less than an hour.
I swallowed hard. Had the same hitman shot Vince too? What would it do to Bridget, knowing the name of the man who put the bullets in her husband, robbing her children of their father, robbing her of the love of her life? She told me repeatedly she’d never remarry. It only happens once , she always claimed, falling in love that way. I’m grateful I had it at all. Some people never do.
While I liked the idea of that once-in-a-lifetime love, I wanted her to be wrong too, so she could love someone again. But what did I know? I’d certainly never been in love, and I’d never had anyone say he was in love with me. Given the two offers from men I’d had in the last week, it didn’t seem as if love was on the near horizon, either. Joey had invited me to run off to Chicago with him without even so much as a kiss, and Enzo had offered me a luxury apartment, for free, with the idea that we could use it for uninterrupted nights of illicit pleasure. But despite telling me how much he wanted me all the time, he wasn’t murmuring any words of real affection. Once, he’d even admitted to wanting to kiss me one minute and strangle me the next.
And what about my own feelings?
Last week I’d been willing to overlook the fact that Enzo had a fiancée—it had almost seemed like a fun little twist in the game. I’d sort of convinced myself that it really didn’t matter, and a few fiery hot sexual escapades with a gangster seemed like the perfect way to kick off my new life.
But was it?
I slapped my hands over my face. What was wrong with me? I was getting everything I’d wanted, wasn’t I? Enzo had made good on his promise and come through with the apartment, that beautiful apartment at the Statler with a view of the park, my own bathroom, my own space. Would I take my meals in the dining room there? Order breakfast in my room? At the thought of food, my belly rumbled, and I knew I’d feel better if I ate something.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I counted to three and righted myself. My vision clouded a bit, so I closed my eyes and counted again. When I opened them, the room was still. Getting slowly to my feet, I shuffled toward the dresser and looked at myself in the mirror.
I couldn’t help groaning when I saw my reflection. Not only was my red hair tangled and matted, but I’d neglected to remove my eye makeup, which was smudged around my eyes like a raccoon mask, and I’d put my nightgown on backward. As I pulled it over my head, I remembered wearing it the night I’d been with Enzo in the Packard. I tossed it into my hamper. It needed to be cleaned.
I spent the day doing household chores with Molly, who was glad to help me out as long as I kept my promise to her about going to the movies without Mary Grace. Daddy had disappeared after breakfast, saying he was emptying the office at the garage of his things and moving them to his new space, and not to hold supper for him. My sisters said goodbye, but I ignored him. We still hadn’t exchanged more than two words since he’d forbidden me to move out.
All afternoon Molly and I laundered the linens, scrubbed the bathroom, mopped the kitchen floor, washed the windows with newspaper and vinegar, and took the rugs outside to beat them. With each swish of the mop and pillowcase pinned on the line, I fretted about Joey. What would he do? What would I do in his place?
More important, what should I do in mine?
I had the power to allow Joey to keep a third of the drug money and discover who’d taken his father’s life—assuming Enzo had told me the truth. The problem was, Joey didn’t just want to know who killed his dad; he wanted to act on it. He wanted revenge. Did I want to be responsible for what he would do with the knowledge? He could go to jail for the rest of his life. Actually, Joey going to jail might be the least painful result—if Sam the Barber heard what he did, there would be consequences. Not to mention what friends of Legs Putnam would do, assuming he had friends. And what price would I pay for betraying Enzo’s confidence? I didn’t think he’d send me to the bottom of the river, but he’d be plenty mad.
On the other hand, I could just say nothing. Let Joey make his own decision. Let him decide what the information was worth. I hated the idea of keeping something he wanted so badly from him, but it seemed like the safest option.
Between the agonizing and the hangover and the household drudgery, I was totally miserable.
If I accept Enzo’s offer, I’ll be free of these chores. In my mind I saw that apartment once more. I bet the Statler has maid service.
“Molly.” We were hanging sheets on the line in the back yard, and she had to pull a clothespin from between her teeth to answer me.
“Yeah?”
“If I moved out, would you help Daddy with Mary Grace and the house?”
She stuck her neck out so far I almost laughed. “Move out? What are you talking about?” She shrank back, eyes wide. “Are you pregnant?”
I smiled, unable to help it. “No.”
“Then why move out? Where are you going?”
I continued pinning a sheet and tried to explain without telling the whole truth. “I’d like to move downtown...into an apartment.”
“With Evelyn or something?”
“No. By myself.”
She burst out laughing. “How are you going to afford an apartment downtown by yourself?”
“Well, I’m going to get a job. And the place belongs to a—a friend, so the rent is reasonable.” Briefly, I wondered what that suite actually cost.
“Oh.” She went back to her sheet. “I guess it would be OK. Yeah. Actually, I know it would.” Her tone was more positive with each word, and I imagined she was getting excited about the prospect of one less adult breathing down her neck. “I mean, I’m a better cook than you are, anyway, and Mary Grace is certainly old enough to take over some chores.” She stopped and looked at me. “Does Daddy know about this?”
I sighed. “Kind of. I mean, I told him I wanted to move out, but he didn’t take the news too well.”
“You’re an adult. You should be allowed to do as you please. ”
Grimacing, I reached for another damp pillowcase from the basket. “He doesn’t see it that way.”
“Well, I support you. If you want to move out, I think you should do it. I know I’d do it if I were you— in fact, I will do it. As soon as I’m out of school, there’s no way I’ll stay here. A girl’s gotta get out and live a little, you know?”
I nodded. It would mean more work for her in the short term, but her support made more sense now that I realized she wanted to do the same thing when she was old enough. And if I did it first, Daddy couldn’t stop her. At least, that’s the way she saw it. “Well, we’ll see. I haven’t made my decision yet. Lord, my head is pounding.”
“You don’t look too good. Your face is a little green. Why don’t you go lie down or something? I can finish this.” She took the pillowcase from my hands and nudged me toward the house.
“Actually, I prefer the fresh air. Maybe I’ll just stretch my legs a bit. Take a walk.”
“OK. Just don’t be gone too long—I’m leaving right after supper, remember?”
“I remember.”
I headed down the driveway and turned right. The sun was hidden behind clouds, so the day had taken on a gray pallor that suited my mood. I sniffed the air and caught a whiff of something strange, almost metallic. Maybe I wouldn’t walk that far—it smelled like a storm might be coming.