Sue Grafton - V is for Vengeance

“Think about it. That’s all I’m saying. Retire from the PD and live in style for a change. You could do a lot worse.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” he said. “What’s the time frame for this departure of yours?”

“That’s no concern of yours. I’m telling you this much because I want to be fair since you’ve been such a help to me.”

Dante left the office early. He was restless, obsessing about Nora, trying to decide what to do. He wanted to tell her what happened to Phillip, but he knew it would be the end of their relationship. On the other hand, what was love about if not honesty and openness? He had Tomasso drop him at the house, where he picked up his car. He drove to the Vogelsangs’ in Montebello and swung the Maserati into the courtyard, then parked it next to Nora’s Thunderbird. It was Wednesday and he assumed Channing was back in Los Angeles. Dante was heavy-hearted, a phrase he’d never understood before.

He crossed to the front door, aware of how ordinary all of his actions felt. He was playing the part of Lorenzo Dante, not fully inhabiting his body, but removed as though watching from outside himself. She must have heard his car pull in because when he rang the bell, she opened the door. Her face was stone. She held on to the door, forcing him to remain outside.

Someone had spilled the beans. “Who told you?”

“Two FBI agents came to the house in Malibu. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me yourself. How long were you going to let this go on?”

“I had no idea you were married to Tripp until yesterday at the beach house.”

“Yes, you did. I saw it in your face. Why didn’t you speak up?”

“I couldn’t. When it finally dawned on me, all I could think was I didn’t want to lose you. I knew if I owned up, it was over.”

Nora said, “You’re despicable.”

“I didn’t mean to deceive you. I came here because I want to be straight with you whatever the cost.”

“Well, aren’t you the noble one?”

“Nora. God’s truth. I never laid a hand on your boy. I’m not excusing myself. He died because of me. I’m responsible, but not through any intention on my part. I made an offhand remark and Cappi took it for something else. He’s vicious and he has no impulse control. He’s been that way since he was a kid. I should have had him taken out. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, but I should have done it anyway. I didn’t understand how dangerous he was.”

“Yes, you did. You knew perfectly well, but you looked the other way.”

“I don’t want to argue with you. That’s not why I’m here. You’re right. Whatever you say, I accept. I should have turned him in two years ago when I found out he threw Phillip off that roof. I thought his being my brother mattered more than justice. I was wrong.”

“You could have turned him in yesterday. I might have believed in your sincerity if you’d done that.”

“I’ll make it right. I’ll talk to the DA and tell him everything.”

“Who gives a shit what you do now? He’s still your brother. I don’t see why you should suddenly see your way clear to doing what you should have done long before now.”

“Listen to me. Listen. All bets are off. Cappi sold me out to the cops and that’s the end of anything I owe him.”

“Are you hearing yourself? You’re saying if he’d been loyal, you’d have gone on protecting him. So what if he killed a few people, you’d have shielded him as long as there was some benefit to you.”

“I carried him because Pop would’ve died if anything happened to him. I thought if I looked after him, my old man would eventually bring me in out of the cold.”

“Oh, you’re out in the cold, all right.”

“Fine. I’m out. I won’t fight you on this. As long as we’re putting our cards on the table, there’s something else. You do whatever you have to do, but fold this into the equation while you’re at it. Phillip was a good kid, but he was off track. He told me he gambled all through college. He bragged he made money at it, but that was bullshit. All poker players say that. It’s a distortion… filtering out the losses and exaggerating the wins. Did you ever stop and calculate how much you and Channing paid out to cover his debts? You’d be paying to this day because he would never have given it up. He couldn’t. That was his fix… how he took care of whatever pain and anxiety he felt.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do. I see guys like him all day long. I lend them money so they can try to bail themselves out of whatever hole they’ve dug. You and Channing were always going to be picking up after him. He was weak.”

“How dare you criticize my son! He was a child ! Twenty-three years old.”

“Nora, he had big problems. He was up and down, immature, grandiose. Which was fine as long as he lived in the bubble he created for himself, but in the real world, he was floundering.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t have straightened out? He lost any chance he had. He lost his life and for what?”

“Maybe he would have straightened up. I don’t know that and neither do you. He didn’t deserve to die. What happened to him was my fault and I don’t deny the part I played. I know you can’t forgive me. I’m not asking you to. I just don’t want you to pretty up who Phillip was and what he did. I’m sorry he died. I mean that. I know how much he meant to you and I’m sorry.”

“Anything else?” she asked, her tone flat.

Dante took a deep breath. “As long as I’m being honest, I might as well give you the rest. I set him up. I meant to teach him a lesson, something Tripp might have done if he’d lived.”

“A lesson? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I put a woman at his table, one of my employees. Georgia’s a world-class poker player. I knew he’d go down in flames if he came up against her. I wanted him to hit rock bottom so he’d see the error of his ways. He was never going to figure it out if he had people coming to his rescue. That was truly my intent, to put him back on the straight and narrow.”

She started to close the door.

He put a hand out, stopping her. “Listen to me. My brother killed your son. Phillip didn’t kill himself. His death had nothing to do with you. Blame me, if it helps. You’ve been through a loss no parent should have to bear and nothing will make up for it. But Phillip’s dead either way. At least you know now he didn’t die through any will of his own.”

“Enough. You’ve had your say. Now get away from me. I’m tired.”

“Hell, Nora. We’re all tired.”

She closed the door. He stood on her doorstep for one minute more and then he turned and went back to his car.

He thought their conversation was the low point of his day, but there was worse in store. When he reached home, the upstairs rooms were dark. Lights in the kitchen, dining room, and living room were ablaze, but there was nothing cheery waiting for him. Lola was long gone. He left his car in the driveway for Tomasso to put in the garage and entered the house through the front door. He was relieved to see there was no sign of his father. He went into the library and fixed himself a drink. He left the house by way of the back door, greeting Sophie briefly in passing. She gave him a long look, apparently aware that Lola had packed up and departed. While she knew better than to commiserate, she was in the process of preparing all of his favorites: beef Wellington and haricots verts. Chunks of potato were simmering on a low burner and he knew she’d mash them with butter and sour cream. The tureen was set out for the fresh tomato soup she’d made. She’d also made a green salad she’d be dressing just before she served him. This was the only form of mothering he knew-someone cooking his supper, fixing everything he loved. He paid her handsomely, but so be it. Nurturing was nurturing.