Stuart Woods - Worst Fears Realized

“Well, don’t bite my head off,” Dolce said.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I got your note, and I’m very sad; I wanted you here when I got home.”

“Dolce, I really needed to get home. Good news: the man who has been trying to kill Dino and me and everyone we know, is dead. He was shot while in police custody.”

“That is good news,” she said. “Then it’s all over?”

“No, we haven’t got Mitteldorfer, and there appears to be one other man involved. Watch the six o’clock news.”

“Can I come over there and watch it?” she asked, her voice low.

“Sweetheart, I need a night off. I’ve got a grand-jury appearance first thing in the morning, and I need to think about my testimony.”

“Stone,” she purred, “just because you had a problem last night doesn’t mean you’ll have one tonight. Why don’t I come over and cook you something?”

At the mention of cooking, Stone weakened. “Okay, let me give you the address.”

“I have the address,” she said. “I’ll bring groceries, you do the wine.”

“What time?”

“Give me an hour or so.”

“Take your time; I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know you’re not,” she said.

Stone returned a few phone calls, then went to the cellar and chose some wines. That done, he went upstairs and changed into comfortable clothing, switching on the bedroom TV. The story was all over the tube, with the photograph of Mitteldorfer and a modified sketch of the second Hausman. He hoped to God they would get some more calls from that. The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“It’s Dino; you’re back in your own house?”

“Yeah, I figure with Erwin dead and Mitteldorfer’s picture on TV, the bad guys are in disarray, so it’s safe here.”

“I’m glad to see you out of the witch’s bed and back into your own.”

“Dino, Dolce is on her way over here right now, and I want you to stop saying all these terrible things about her.”

“I haven’t said anything that wasn’t true.”

“I like her, Dino; I’ll grant you, she can be a little overbearing at times, but I like her. I like her father, too. You may as well know that it was he who found out about the doctored tape used in the Dante trial, so we both owe him.”

“I don’t want to owe him,” Dino said.

“Well, that’s tough; you do, anyway, and I, for one, am glad to have all the help he can give us. I want my life back, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m trying to figure out whether to bring Mary Ann and Ben home.”

“Not yet; let’s be cautious for a few more days. Maybe the TV news story will produce some calls.”

“By the way, we got the warrant on Deacon’s place; Andy’s going to execute it tomorrow morning, as soon as he’s out of his apartment.”

“What do you expect to find?”

“Probably nothing; the guy’s not stupid enough to take the knife home. But we’ve got to make the effort. The fact that he was around the corner when Susan was killed isn’t enough.”

“Why don’t you brace Mick Kelly, too?”

“Good idea; I’ll have him picked up at the same time as Deacon.”

“Tomorrow morning, call me on my cell phone if you find out anything; I’d like to have as much ammunition as possible when I testify.”

“Sure.”

“Oh, by the way, Johnny Donato was here this afternoon.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Dino said. “You see what happens when you ignore my advice?”

“Tell me what you know about the guy, Dino.”

“Well, he’s not just a soldier, but he’s not a capo, either, though the word is, he might be one of these days, if somebody doesn’t pop him.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Who knows? He might call a hit on you, if he thought he could get away with it. In my judgment, he wouldn’t have the guts to do the job himself.”

“He showed me his gun, and I showed him mine.”

Dino laughed. “That’ll keep him off the block, anyway. Guys like Donato aren’t used to dealing with people who are as well armed as they are. You ought to be grateful to the guy, Stone; he’s a buffer between you and Dolce. As long as he’s alive, she can’t do anything permanent.”

“What makes you think she’d want to do anything permanent with me?” Stone asked.

“I don’t know, Stone. Eduardo apparently thinks highly of you, and he doesn’t have a history of admiring Dolce’s boyfriends.”

“And where are you getting this?”

“From Mary Ann, where else?”

“Dino, you’re making way too much of all this.”

“Just make sure you don’t shoot Donato; it wouldn’t be in your best interests.”

“Goodbye, Dino,” Stone said, and hung up. A moment later, the front door buzzed. Stone picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“Your dinner has arrived,” Dolce said.

DOLCE WALKED IN CARRYING TWO LARGE bags filled with groceries. She pecked him on the lips, handed him the bags, then walked around the living room, assessing the place. “This is nice,” she said, finally. “A little gloomy, maybe; could use some color, but it has good bones.”

“Let me show you the kitchen,” Stone said, leading the way.

She liked the kitchen better. “A girl could do good work here,” she said. “You got all the right appliances; how’d you know about that?”

“I cook a little,” Stone replied, setting down the groceries. “Can I get you a drink?”

“A little Strega, maybe.”

“Ah, I don’t have any Strega, I’m afraid.”

“Stone, you’re seeing an Italian girl, now; stock up.”

“I do have some very good olive oil.”

“Never drink it; how about a good single-malt scotch? Is that whitebread enough for you?”

“I’ve got a Laphroaig,” Stone said, looking through the kitchen liquor cabinet, “or a Glenlivet, or a Dalwhinney.”

“The Laphroaig, please; no ice, just a little cold water.”

Stone did as she asked.

She sipped the drink, then came into his arms. “Very good,” she said, kissing him. “When do I see the bedroom?”

“First food, then love,” Stone said, wondering why he had said “love” instead of “sex.”

“Fair enough,” she said, grabbing an apron from a hook and starting to unpack groceries. “By the way, you haven’t heard anything from a Johnny Donato, have you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“He’s been bothering me, but I think he’s too smart to bother you. He’s my husband.”

“He bothered me this afternoon,” Stone said. “He came to the house.”

Dolce closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. She turned and looked at Stone, contrite. “I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stone said. “I think I scared him off with talk of the cops and the feds. I think he probably feels that he’s out of his depth.”

Dolce put some water on to boil and began chopping garlic. “Johnny has always been out of his depth,” she said, “on this side of the East River. He’s a Brooklyn boy, and he should never leave.”

“He is handsome,” Stone said. “I can see how your ad might have been turned at nineteen.”

“Trouble is, Johnny is still nineteen.” She began chopping prosciutto. “He does crazy things, then wants to be forgiven. He’s kind of a split personality – one moment, a sweet little boy, the next, a screaming maniac.”

“How long did you actually live with him?”

“Less than a month. On our last day together, I hit him in the head with a cast-iron skillet and left him on the kitchen floor for dead. He had a harder head than I thought.”

“Remind me never to make you angry,” Stone said.