Чарли Стелла - Johnny Porno

Nick’s hands were up again. “Hold on,” he said. “I had to borrow Mike’s car because my wife had ours today. I wasn’t anywhere near Albano.”

Vento went silent.

Nick was too afraid to admit what he’d done to Albano’s windshield earlier, but it might help get him out of this mess now. He was about to tell Vento, but couldn’t. He took a moment to gather his composure, then said, “Look, I have problems with the guy, I’ll admit it, but I’m no friend of his. I had this thing, my sister-in-law, her husband roughed her up a little and my wife got all crazy. I went for the sake of keeping peace at home. As far as Albano goes, like I said, you’re ready to take him out, I beg you to put me on it.”

“Regular tough guy, you are.”

Nick knew to keep his mouth shut.

Vento pointed a threatening finger. “I find out you had anything to do with this you won’t go easy, jerkoff. I’ll feed you to the sharks over the aquarium myself. A quarter fuckin’ inch at a time.”

“On my kids,” said Nick, making the sign of the cross. “I got nothing to do with Albano.”

“Get upstairs and don’t go nowheres until I say,” Vento said.

“Right,” Nick said. He got up out of the chair. “You want the door closed?”

“What?”

“The door?”

“What about it?”

“Open or closed?”

“Leave it.”

“Right,” Nick said. He stepped around the door on his way out. He was halfway up the stairs when he thought he heard Vento call him an asshole.

“I must be,” Nick whispered, “working for you.”

They had gone to Melinda’s place after John called the bar back and finally spoke to Eddie Vento. The mobster had been too cordial. John suspected he was in trouble. He’d called Nancy’s house a few times since without reaching her. He tried again now but there was still no answer.

In an attempt to ease some of the stress, Melinda joked about different ways he might escape the mob.

“I could drive you up to the mountains, to one of the Catskill resorts,” she said. “I read somewhere it’s what they used to do, hide in the mountains.”

John was preoccupied wondering if his ex-wife had really set him up.

“If you can do a Yiddish accent, I have a yarmulke my ex had to wear at Jewish funerals,” Melinda added. “I’ll put a kerchief over my head and we go up there as a couple.”

“Huh?”

“Or I could drop you off at JFK. You can head for Mexico.”

“I’m afraid of flying,” he said. “Going back to when we were kids.”

“We?” Melinda said.

“Me and my brother,” John said. He realized she didn’t know about Paul and explained, “He was killed in Vietnam.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“I’ve got to find Louis,” John said.

“What?”

“Nancy’s ex. If she did this, she did it with him.”

“Do you know where to find him?”

“I doubt she does. The guy’s a snake.”

“Would she tell you?”

“She won’t volunteer it. Maybe once she understands how serious it is. Maybe.”

“I like her less and less.”

“I have to assume they’re already wondering about me and the money,” John said. “It won’t be long before they look into Nancy. Then my son won’t be safe.”

“Bring him here. You’ll both be safe here.”

“For tonight, then tomorrow you’ll be in the shit, too. There’s no running away from this. And if Nancy really did have something to do with it, her dopey first husband’s behind it, he’s got the cash and is probably long gone. The only justice in it for her is she’ll never see two cents if she helped him.”

“You can’t still think she’s innocent in this?”

“I don’t know. I don’t. The real problem will be convincing Nancy she’s the one needs to hide. She’s clueless, though. She’ll tell me I’m paranoid.”

“Convince her? You don’t give her enough credit. If she’s still in town, she’s probably scared shitless right now.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe nothing. And if—what’s his name, the ex?”

“Louis.”

“If Louis has the money and takes off, she’ll know she’s been had and she’ll count on what she told you, your mother bailing you out or whatever, but she’ll be a train wreck while she’s waiting for that to happen. She’s not that stupid. By now, if Louis is gone, she knows she screwed up. It’s you I’m worried about, the fact you’re still not sold she had something to do with this. Speaking of which, it’s time to give her another call.”

He tried Nancy’s phone again but there was still no answer. He thought about what Eddie Vento had said over the telephone earlier and repeated it. “‘Hey, buddy, where you been?’”

“You said he sounded friendly.”

“Why I knew I was in the shit,” John said. “Sounded like my best friend.”

“Shit, John. Where might your ex be?”

“I don’t know. Nathan’s maybe, but I don’t know where he’s staying now he’s left. I don’t know he’s got family or what.”

“What about her? Any family?”

John shook his head. “Mother lives in Florida, but they’re not close.”

Melinda could tell he was still struggling with the idea of his ex-wife setting him up. “What?” she said.

“Santorra,” John said. “I can’t get past him.”

“Except why would he draw all that extra attention breaking the windshield?” Melinda said.

“I don’t know. None of it makes any fucking sense.”

“You’re a terrible sleuth, John.”

“Not to mention a dope.”

“You’ve got a good heart. Too good. You wanna believe in people, even Nancy. It’s what she counted on to distract you.”

“On the street they call that a sucker.”

“We’re not on the street now.”

She leaned over and kissed him. It was a long kiss, but when he went to hold her, Melinda held up the telephone.

“Business first,” she said.

John started dialing.

After his impromptu meeting with Special Agent Stebenow first and Kaprowski immediately after, Levin had spent the rest of the night reviewing surveillance audio tapes. He was close to falling asleep when the doorbell rang. He yawned in Brice’s face when he answered the ring and had to squint to make out the fifty-dollar bill the junior detective was holding against his chest with both hands.

“He left it in my car,” Brice said.

“Kelly?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure, I already slept it must’ve been two, three minutes.”

Levin stepped back to let Brice inside.

“You want coffee, make it yourself,” he said. “I’m going straight to bed after you leave.”

Brice went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took a beer. He brought it to the living room and sat on the sofa.

“He wanted me to go out for drinks with him,” Brice said. “After sitting in the car with him all day, he wanted to ‘spend some time,’ the way he put it.”

Levin sat in the armchair facing the couch. “You should’ve offered him a few bucks to go home.”

“Clever,” said Brice before taking a sip of the beer.

“Any callers?”

“What?”

“At Berg’s place. Anybody come back today?”

“Zilch.”

Levin yawned again, this time long and loud. “Why he probably left the fifty,” he said. “Keep your interest.”

“Keep it or feel for it?”

“Both.”

“You know he’s dirty, right?”

Levin rubbed his face to avoid answering the question.

Brice said, “You know because you’re investigating him.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

The detectives stared at one another until Levin lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, exhaled the smoke, and said, “Would it really make a difference?”