Michael Collins - Silent Scream

“Sid Meyer isn’t explained.”

“That kind of killing happens every day, half of them never get explained. Not officially.”

“Why’d Bagnio keep the ring and money clip?”

“Mistake. Maybe thought it was safer than dumping them, risking them showing up to point to a private murder not gang.”

“Why did Bagnio search Mia Morgan’s apartment?”

“Andy’s daughter. Maybe he mentioned something to her about dumping Bagnio. In writing. Bagnio just being very careful. If you’d killed Andy Pappas, you’d be careful, too.”

“Did you check on Ramapo Construction and Ultra-Violet Controls?” I asked.

“Ramapo is best equipped to handle that laboratory and housing project in Wyandotte, even if Charley Albano does own it. Ultra-Violet Controls is a solid company, no Mafia connections. A subsidiary of Caxton Industries, a big conglomerate.”

That made me uneasy. Caxton Industries, and a Martin Winthrop, had been represented by Irving Kezar in stock dealings. So? Kezar was a businessman. He probably got a lot of companies together-even Charley Albano’s legitimate companies.

“Why was I shot, Captain? Was it the same gun that killed Max Bagnio?”

“No, not the same,” Gazzo said. He looked uncomfortable. “I can’t explain why you were shot, Dan. Maybe you stumbled over something. Maybe the gunmen just didn’t want you around.”

“Then why get me down there at all? A setup? Then what did I do to be set up? Two open questions-me and Sid Meyer.”

“You could have been a mistake. Got there too soon, the killers needed more time. Or maybe they left some evidence we can’t spot, came back to get it.”

It was a reasonable explanation.

“Dan, the gang’s satisfied,” Gazzo said. “And they wouldn’t be if they had any doubts about Bagnio. Not the Mafia.”

That was reasonable, too. But…?

I thought more about it for a week. The Mafia were happy, and they wouldn’t be if they had doubts that Max Bagnio had killed alone-unless they had some more important problem.

It was over, closed, everyone satisfied. Too damned satisfied. Mia Morgan married to Stern, but still in New York while Stern was in Israel. Just a willful girl, or some other reason? Hal Wood looking better, able to work again. Charley Albano, who seemed to have forgotten his suspicions that Bagnio might have been hired by someone to kill Andy. John Albano being nice to me, visiting a lot. And where were those neat-looking men interested in Irving Kezar? Were they glad the case was closed?

I was released on a hot day for May, summer in the air. John Albano had offered to drive me home. I told him to drive me somewere else.

“To Stella?” he said. “You’re not convinced, Dan?”

“I just want to look around. It’d help to have you along, but I can get out there by myself.”

“All right, we’ll go to Stella,” the old man said. “But leave it closed, Dan. It worked out okay.”

“Mia’s safe?”

“I’m thinking of you. The brotherhood won’t like any more snooping.”

It was true. Too damned true. But I don’t like being shot, especially if the one who shot me was still loose.

Without all the cars around it, the big white house near Somerville seemed abandoned. An aura of neglect already. The grass too long, weeds ragged in the spring flower beds, as if its pride had been buried with Andy Pappas. Or its discipline-no one to give orders in a world where only orders counted.

An old man with a stiff leg answered the door. He wasn’t hospitable, but he recognized John Albano and grudgingly led us to the same side room where Don Vicente Campagna had held court over two months ago. Stella Pappas stood at the garden windows. She still wore the simple black that suited her motherly manner. Mia was with her. The girl wasn’t in black, a sleek red dress that wasn’t much like a new bride, either.

“What does he want now, Grandpa?” the girl said, irritable and surly. “Wasn’t he told it’s over?”

“Where’s your husband, Mia?” I said. “Mrs. Stern, right?”

“Up in his big bird, or with the prophets. Where else?”

“But you’re still here. Something special keeping you in New York?”

“I like New York,” Mia snapped.

She was back to her cool, overly mature control, but oddly tense, even petulant. Defiant, but defying what and who? Not me. Under the cool shell she was nervous and edgy-more like a bridegroom who’d had the wedding night postponed too long. Was that all it was, the separation from Levi Stern, wanting him but wanting her own way, too? A girl who got what she wanted.

Stella Pappas spoke from the windows. “Mia has to learn about marriage.” She looked at me. “What do you want here, Mr. Fortune?”

The conflict I had seen in her at the funeral-Italian wife versus American woman-seemed to have been resolved. She still looked like Momma in Palermo, but she acted all American now. Andy was dead, no more kitchen and pasta?

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Some questions.”

“You don’t think Max Bagnio killed my husband? You don’t believe the police?”

“Do you?” I said. “Max Bagnio alone? Personal anger?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care very much. He’s dead, so is Max. It doesn’t matter. The Dons say it was Max, so it was Max.”

Mia said, “Always the Dons. The old man, my father, Charley. Whatever the men say, Mama? The patriarchs!”

Stella Pappas smiled. “You’ll be different, Mia. A new world for women, yes. But you still have to decide how to live with a man. Be yourself, but where and how? Levi is a man who knows where he belongs. He belongs in Israel. If you have to belong here, you have no marriage.”

“Mia doesn’t belong here,” John Albano said.

“I won’t be the harem slave you were, Mama,” Mia said.

“Slave?” Stella Pappas watched something outside the windows. “You’re a baby, Mia. You think I didn’t know your father and his life? Marry a sailor, you expect separation. Marry a politician, you expect neglect. I knew the man I married, and I lived with it. At home a husband and father, no more. But I knew what he did. I knew about the women.”

She looked down at her pudgy hands. Suddenly alone. I sensed it-deep inside her own mind. “All the women, the show girls, the secretaries. Always a new girl. I hated it. But he always came home to me, to us.” She clenched her hands at the windows, talking to herself now as if no one was there. “This time he… he… Divorce! No, not right. This time… dead. With her. In bed with her. That… whore!”

I couldn’t see her eyes, but I sensed their flashing, and it wasn’t May sunlight she saw outside but a darkness. She had accepted all the years of Andy Pappas, but this time…? John Albano didn’t like it.

“That’s enough, Stel,” the old man said. “Andy’s dead. Max Bagnio killed him, and it’s over. It doesn’t matter now.”

“No?” She turned sharply. Stopped. “No, it doesn’t matter. I have the house, the money. No more worry, no more girls.”

I said, “Max Bagnio ended it.”

“Yes,” Stella Pappas said.

John Albano touched my arm, we should leave. I shook him off.

“Was Andy involved in some big business deal, Stella?”

“He never talked business with me.”

“I’m not so sure Max Bagnio was in it alone,” I said. “You understand? Max killed him, but maybe for a different reason. Paid to do it. Then Max was killed to shut him up.”

Her eyes flickered away. She was silent.

“Did Andy mention Caxton Industries, or Ultra-Violet Controls, or Ramapo Construction Company?”

“Ramapo?” Stella said. “Charley’s company?”