Vincent Zandri - The Innocent

“There’s something else I should tell you,” Tony added.

“What now?”

“Just this morning, Pelton nominated Mastriano and Logan for a citation and a promotion.”

I felt the blood fill my face.

“At the same time,” Tony went on, “Pelton wants to compensate them for their physical and emotional troubles. A bonus, if you will.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” I said.

Tony got up from the counter, shaved some bills off the thick stack he kept in the pocket of his pants.

“Give it to me straight, Tony. Just what the hell do you think is going on?”

Tony took a deep breath, adjusted the two buttons on his double-breasted blazer. He looked directly at me.

“In my opinion, paisan, Pelton’s gonna try and bring you down.”

“I’m aware of that already.”

“Yeah, but he’s gonna stop at nothing. He’s not interested in convincing the public that you let Vasquez go free out of simple negligence. He wants to convince Johnny Q. Public that you were paid to let him go. In other words, he’ll try to make it look like you were part of a much larger crime syndicate. Pelton could actually be putting you in his own shoes, making you take the rap for something gone way out of control for him. This could either be the fruition of a long-range plan or something he’s doing as a last-ditch effort. Who knows?”

“You mean to tell me I might have been stepping on Pelton’s toes the past three years and not even realized it?”

“If he’s involved in what I think he’s involved in, the last thing he needed was an overzealous warden stemming the flow of drugs and contraband into Green Haven.”

I made a fist, brought it down hard on the tabletop.

“Bastard’s turning the tables on me,” I spat. Coffee spilled over the rim and made a puddle on top of the Formica. Cliff made an about-face at his grill. So did the man seated at the counter. He was still wrapped in his overcoat, like it was cold and snowing outside instead of hot and sunny.

“It’s okay, Cliff,” Tony said. “My paisan’s a little upset.”

Cliff looked at me for a second or two with eyes that seemed more searing than his grill. His round face, on the other hand, was as cold and white as old bacon grease. He sported faded tattoos on both forearms-Navy tattoos-one an insignia, the other a hula-hula dancer with a grass skirt. He held a stainless-steel spatula in his right hand. After a second or two, he let out a short breath. Then he turned and flipped a couple of eggs, over easy.

“Listen,” Tony said. “That business this morning at your house? The ransacking? In my opinion, just a scare tactic. Probably from Pelton to make you know he can get at you whenever he wants. He knows you can’t get away with accusing him of doing such a thing because, after all, he is the commissioner. An accusation would be ludicrous, especially after your arrest.”

Tony got up, retrieved his brown Mike Hammer fedora from off a hat rack that was attached to the booth back. He placed the hat on his head carefully, so that it didn’t muss up even a single strand of his black hair. Then he pulled down the brim, shading his eyes. He took a toothpick out of the shot glass atop a small table by the door and placed a hand on the door knob. All I could see from where I sat were his head and shoulders on the other side of the booth back.

“Still not going to be easy to sleep knowing they’re out there,” I said, resting my hand on the.45 stuffed inside my belt, hidden by my blazer and the tabletop.

Tony took his hand off the doorknob and laid his heavy arms on top of the booth back. He set his chin on the backs of his hands and, at the same time, glanced over at the grill to see if Cliff was watching. When he saw that Cliff was distracted, he brought his right hand up and made a trigger-pulling motion with two fingers.

“Listen up,” he said. “I got a little story for you that might put you at ease.”

“A story,” I repeated. “Now?”

“Just relax and listen,” he said. “Once upon a time there were three little pigs who left their mama to go out into the world and build homes of their own. Now, the first little pig built a house of straw. One day the big bad wolf came by and blew it down. The pig ran like a bat out of hell across town to his brother’s house, which by the way, was made of wood. But the big bad wolf had been tailing his ass and when he caught up with the two pigs, he blew in that house also. The two pigs screamed ‘Mamma mia’ and managed to escape to their oldest brother’s place-a house built the right way. You know, the Italian way with bricks and mortar.”

“Heard this one before, Tone.”

“Let me finish, paisan,” Tony said with a calming wave of his hands. “Now, the two younger pigs were in a panic, screaming that the big bad wolf was after them and that he would be there any second to destroy the brick house and make roast pork with rosemary out of them. But the oldest pig was calm and cool. He told his bothers to settle down, relax. Even if it didn’t seem like it at the time, he had everything under control. Just to prove it, he picked up the phone, dialed a number, spoke with someone for a few seconds, and then hung up. A few minutes later, sure enough, the old wolf was at the front door shouting off like a drunk on a bender about huffing and puffing and caving in the entire joint. While the two younger pigs huddled in a corner trembling in fear, the oldest pig sat back and relaxed. But just then, there was the sound of a car racing up the road. The car skidded to a stop right outside the door. A bunch of rounds were fired – shotguns, grease guns, Uzis, you name it. Then the car sped away. ‘What was that?’ the youngest pig asked the oldest pig. ‘That, my little brother,’ he said, ‘was the Guinea Pigs.’”

Angelino laughed and pushed back his fedora just slightly, enough to expose some of his forehead.

I sat back.

“I’m not sure I get it,” I said.

“What I’m trying to tell you is not to panic. I’m prepared to help you fight Pelton no matter what it takes. Even if I have to call in a few of my underworld pals to lean on the big bad wolf a little. If you know what I mean.”

“Guinea Pigs,” I nodded. “Friends of yours.”

“I prefer to call them business associates,” he said, cocking his head. “And they’re available whenever or wherever I want them. Capisce?”

“Capisce,” I said.

Angelino laughed unlike any lawyer I had ever known. It was a tongue-in-cheek laugh that said, screw the law, what’s right is right. It felt good to know he was on my side, working for me. He gave me a wink and a smile, and pulled the brown fedora back down over his forehead. He twisted that toothpick around inside his mouth. But before he left, he took a good look at the guy in the wool overcoat who had both hands wrapped around the coffee cup like it was snowing outside. Tony turned back to me, made like a pistol with his forefinger and thumb, pointed it at his temple, and twirled it around a few times. Then he exited the Miss Albany Diner the by way of the front door.

INSIDE THE TOYOTA, BEFORE turning over the ignition, I took one final look at the color-Xeroxed file Val had lifted from the microfilm in the prison archives. Rap sheets, medical histories, two photos of Vasquez-one a snapshot of him seated in a cheap aluminum lawn chair, a shotgun laid out flat across his lap; another a blow-up from mug shots taken during his 1988 arrest in New York for shooting that rookie cop at point-blank range. There was a third photo, too, but not of Vasquez. A blurry, color shot of a woman who had to be his girlfriend, Cassandra Wolf. Her hair was brown and her face white, her eyes black and heavy. The color Xerox was a little distorted. But even with the distortion, I could make out a small red mark on her neck, down near her shoulder. Just a small mark, about the size of a thumb print. Maybe a birthmark, maybe a tattoo. It was hard to tell because the mark was cut off by the edge of the photo. But then it came to me. I thought about the heart-shaped tattoo from the photos now in Schillinger’s possession. Could Cassandra be the mystery girl in the orgy shots? Whatever the case, it wouldn’t take an Einstein to figure out that wherever I found Eduard Vasquez, I’d find Cassandra Wolf.