Эд Макбейн - Criminal Conversation

But I love her.

He stared up at the ceiling and wondered how she could have done this to him, coming in wired, telling him she wanted to marry him, was she serious about that, had she at least meant that ? Did she know how he was aching inside right this minute just thinking she may have been lying to him about that, too? Just so he would open up, just so she could get him talking for the wire?

He’d have to call Sal.

What time was it, anyway? Two, three o’clock? Sal would be asleep, it could wait till morning. Catch her as she came out of school tomorrow, catch her as she...

Tomorrow was Wednesday.

She’d be expecting Billy to pick her up on Fifty-Seventh, as usual. Or had her husband told her he’d be coming here with a deal tonight? I shouldn’t be too long, darling, I just want to play this incriminating tape for your lovely boyfriend. Ta-ta, don’t wait up.

Well, come on, he wasn’t like that at all.

Tall, good-looking guy, you could sense a kind of... I don’t know... strength about him. Something strong about him. The way he sat there, looking me dead in the eye. Except when... whenever he mentioned Sarah, his lip began quivering. Well, his wife.

But you know, Andrew thought, I didn’t want to hurt you, mister, I mean that. For what it’s worth, I mean that. I didn’t even know you. You weren’t even a part of the scheme, the equation. It was just Sarah and me. You had nothing to do with any of it. So...

You know.

I hope you didn’t come here thinking you’d find some kind of... bum.

Some kind of cheap...

Wop.

I love her, you see.

Oh, Jesus, how could this have...?

I mean...

I wanted her to meet Ida. Ida, I was gonna say, this is her. This is the woman I was telling you about, isn’t she beautiful, Ida? I love her to death, Ida, we’re gonna get married.

Why did she have to do this? How the fuck could she have done this to me? To us? Come in wired ? How could she have done such a thing?

Well, the daughter.

You love someone, you do whatever’s necessary to protect that person. You really love someone with all your heart, you can’t let that person be destroyed. You can’t do that.

It was my understanding that you loved her.

The stiff way he’d said those words, as if they were very hard to get past his lips. As if he would choke on them.

It was my understanding that you loved her.

Yes, Andrew thought, that’s true, Counselor, your understanding is entirely correct, I do love her, Counselor, but if you think I’m going to cop to murder one...

I didn’t think you’d want this to happen to her.

... and spend twenty-five to life in a state pen just so you won’t put her on the stand and embarrass your fucking daughter...

I didn’t think you’d want this to happen to her.

“I don’t,” he said aloud.

It was my understanding that you loved her.

“I do love her,” he said aloud.

He lay in bed for a long while, silent and thoughtful and troubled.

At last, he snapped on the bedside lamp and opened the drawer in the nightstand. He found the number in his directory and swiftly dialed it.

Billy drove her to the Buona Sera, the Brooklyn restaurant where first they’d dined in public...

Wrong.

Wrong?

We had dinner in public in St. Bart’s. And we also had coffee and croissants in that little place on Second Avenue.

That was all before.

Yes. That was all before. Chocolate croissants. The day we had our first fight.

That wasn’t a fight. I simply got up and left.

Because I kissed you.

Yes.

I’m going to kiss you now. Don’t leave.

He kissed her the moment she was at the table.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“So do you,” she said.

She was wearing a blue suit, a white blouse with a stock tie, and patent blue pumps. He was wearing a blue suit, a white shirt, a rep tie, and black shoes.

“We match,” he said.

“We do,” she said.

He took her hands in his. The way he had that first time they were here. When she’d been so terribly afraid they’d be seen.

“We have to talk,” he said. “But let’s order drinks first.”

“What about?”

“The future. Our future.”

The unctuous proprietor came over, wringing his hands, smiling like Henry Armetta.

“ Sí, signor Faviola ,” he said. “ Mi dica. ”

They went through the drink-ordering ritual yet another time. She was thinking There is no future to talk about. When the drinks arrived, Andrew lifted his glass and said, “To you.”

“To you,” she said, and lifted her glass.

“To us,” Andrew said, and clinked his glass against hers.

They drank.

“Ahhh,” he said.

“Ahhh,” she said.

He put down his glass. He took her hands again.

“When I called last night...”

“I thought you were crazy.”

“Why? He knows. There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”

“Four in the morning?”

“Do you still sleep with him?”

“No.”

“Good. I called because I was going to tell you all this on the phone. But I thought...”

“All what?”

“I heard the Connecticut tape.”

She almost pulled her hands back from his. They tightened on hers. His hands would not let her go, his eyes would not let her go. He’s going to kill me, she thought. He’s taken me here so that someone will kill me.

“I think I know why you did it...” he said.

“Andrew, you have to understand...”

“I wish you hadn’t, but I...”

“Mollie,” she said.

“I know.”

“I had to.”

“I know.”

“But... the tape ? You heard the tape ?”

“Your husband came to see me.”

“What? When?”

“Last night. He offered me a deal.”

“Andrew, what are you saying?”

“I plead, he sends me away, we keep you out of it.”

“Plead?”

“Guilty. To two counts of murder one. I refused. I think he’ll agree to a single count. If he does, I’ll take it.”

“What do you mean, you’ll keep me out of it?”

“No one will ever know. No one will ever hear any of the tapes.”

She nodded.

He kept holding her hands, looking across the table at her. She turned away from his steady gaze.

“I feel rotten,” she said. “I feel as if I’m personally sending you to prison.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Sarah,” he said, “I still want to marry you.”

She looked into his eyes.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be away,” he said.

She squeezed his hands hard.

“... but I’ve got good lawyers, and maybe we can pull some strings here and there. I’m hoping to get out...”

“Andrew,” she said, “please don’t break my heart this way.”

“I love you, Sarah,” he said.

“Oh, I love you, too, Andrew. Oh my darling, darling, darling, I love you so very much.”

“Then tell me you’ll...”

Petey Bardo’s goons came in the front door.

They moved like automatons, right hands inside their jackets, fingers wrapped around the nine-millimeter Uzis under the jackets, legs propelling them speedily toward the rear of the restaurant. “Excuse me, sirs, do you...?” a waiter started to say, but they shouldered him aside and continued their swift, steady glide to the table on the right in the rear of the place. The man at the table had spotted them, he was already beginning to stand up. The woman stood up, too, puzzled, her hand in his, and turned to look where he was looking as he started to pull her away from the table. The gunman in the lead fired four rounds into the man’s face. He fell over backward against the wall, his chair falling over, the gunman pumping round after round into him. The woman was screaming. She held onto his hand as he went over and backward, screaming, screaming all the while.