Don of the Dead (26 page)

Even that wasn't enough to shake him loose.

"Okay. Fine." By now, I was yelling. I didn't much care. If Dan heard me… well, he already thought I was crazy. I crossed the road and ducked into the next section, weaving a path through the headstones.

"Have it your way, Gus. But just so you know, I talked to Anthony."

"Anthony?" Like the breeze that rattled the branches of the tree above my head, I heard the name out of nowhere. The next second, Gus was right in front of me. I remembered the icy chill of our last contact and stopped myself just before I slammed into him.

"How do you know about Anthony?"

I pulled in a deep breath, hoping to calm myself and when it didn't work, I plunged right into the fight. "I saw him," I told Gus, raising my chin and daring him to challenge me. "I talked to him. Gus, I know Anthony is dying."

He aimed a look at me that must have intimidated plenty ofwiseguys in its day. I was way beyond that.

When I stood my ground, Gus cleared his throat.

"Anthony, he don't have nothing to do with this."

"It's not why you fired me?"

He scowled. "I fired you because I don't need you no more."

I snorted my opinion and poked one finger toward his midsection. "You fired me," I told him, "because you didn't want me to figure out why you're suddenly so anxious to go to that big spaghetti dinner in the sky. It doesn't exactly fit with your bad-guy image, does it? You didn't want me to know that underneath it all, you actually have a heart."

I knew I had him there and in my mind's eye, I saw him crumble like a stale saltine.

So much for my imagination. Instead of falling apart, Gus pulled himself up to his full height and pointed a finger right back at me. "I fired you because you work for me. I can fire you or not fire you. I can do anything I damn well want."

"Yeah, anything but be alive."

I regretted the words the moment they were past my lips. Not that it wasn't a great comeback. How often would I have the chance to throw a dead guy's mortality back at him? Still when Gus turned away from me, my conscience prickled.

He stepped toward a tall granite obelisk and I followed, refusing to let him walk away. I already felt like shit. If he left with my words still hanging in the air between us, I knew I'd never forgive myself.

"You fired me because you're a chicken, Gus," I threw the words at his back, my voice quieter now, and the tears that choked it more evident than ever. "You didn't want me to know it. You didn't want me to know that once Anthony is gone—"

When I heard him curse under his breath, I knew I'd pushed Gus beyond his limit. He spun around fast.

But whatever I expected, it wasn't the pained expression that crossed his face. Or the emotion that clogged his voice. "I fired you… " His words wavered. His shoulders drooped. "I fired you because I never meant for you to get hurt," he said.

It took a moment for what he was saying to sink in. When it did, I realized there wasn't a sound around us except the far-off croaking of the spring peepers down by the pond at the center of the cemetery.

That, and the rough noise of my own sobs. There was a huge marble slab nearby, a family marker, and I dropped down on it. It was still warm from the afternoon sun, but the heat didn't penetrate. I hugged my arms around myself.

"You mean Albert."

Gus shook his head in disgust. "I never would have allowed such a thing. Going after a woman… "

He mumbled something in Italian that I hadn't learned on
The Sopranos
. "You should know I never meant for nothing like that to happen."

It was as close as I'd ever get to an apology from Gus and I knew it. I also knew it meant I owed him something in return. All I had to offer was the truth.

I pulled in a breath that fluttered on the edge of my tears.

"When Anthony dies, you want to go with him."

"You think?" Gus reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. He held it out to me.

I brushed my hand across my eyes and sniffed. If there was ever a time I needed a hanky, it was now, and I would have liked nothing better than to grab it. But…

"It's not real, is it?" I asked Gus. "At least notforme ."

He put the hanky away. "I suppose not. I just thought, you know, maybe… "

"Thanks, anyway." I sighed, the sound of it rippling in the air. There was nothing left to say and I got up and headed to the office. I didn't bother to look to see if Gus was coming with me. Spoken or unspoken, we had a truce of sorts. I knew he was right beside me.

"You think about why Albert tried to off you?"

I shook my head. "I haven't exactly had the chance."

"It must have something to do with your visit to The Family Place."

"And Benny's dead, too."

Maybe it came as no big surprise. Or maybe the dead have a line on such things. He nodded like he knew all along. "That makes me wonder, too. You know? Why get rid of Benny? Why now?"

"Benny was more talkative than the other guys. Maybe somebody was afraid that eventually, he was going to say too much."

"About what?" Gus threw his hands in the air. "You didn't talk about nothing that mattered. You asked about my murder, they said nothing."

"And then I mentioned Tommy Two Toes."

Gus dismissed the idea with a sneer. "He was a nobody."

"Then I don't know what I said to piss those guys off." We were close to the office now and before I stepped into the pool of light thrown by the security lamps on the side of the building, I looked around to make sure that Dan was gone.

When I was certain he was, I turned back to Gus. "You know, Anthony has been praying for you. All this time."

He pulled on his earlobe. "I figured it was his fault. All that praying, it's bound to lead to trouble."

"He thinks it's the reason I showed up."

"Like I said, trouble."

"Yeah." I unlocked my car, and when I opened the door and the light came on inside, I peered into the backseat. Just to make sure the coast was clear.

I turned and leaned against the car. "Am I still fired?" I asked Gus.

"You worried you're going to have to give all that money back?"

Somehow, I managed a smile. Still, I couldn't let things go like this. Before I got into the car, I looked Gus in the eye. "When Anthony goes," I told him, "you're going with him. I promise."

He didn't answer.

He just brought his thumb down on his index finger. Like he was shooting a gun.

Right before he winked and disappeared.

I made a chart.

Gus's name was at the top of it. Below that, I wrote the names of anybody I could think of who might have had something to do with him beingoffed .

I know, I know… there were probably plenty of "anybodies" I didn't know anything about. That, wasn't my problem. At least not then. I thought about the voices young AnthonyScarpetti had heard outside the garage that day, and wondered who they belonged to. I concentrated on the people I'd talked to and the ones I hadn't talked to who'd been mentioned by the people I'd talked to.

By the time I was done, I had what looked like a family tree. Rudy below Gus and below Rudy, the names of the guys at The Family Place including poor dead Benny and my friendly neighborhood hit man, Albert. Father Anthony and VictorLaGanza had their own columns. So did Nick, the cook from Lucia's.

The last column was headed with Carmella's name.

It looked impressive.

And got me absolutely nowhere.

I was staring at it when there was a knock on my office door.

"There you are!" Ella sailed in like a spring breeze. She looked like spring that day, too, a vision in yellow and orange. "I wanted to stop and talk to you earlier but I haven't had a minute to myself today. I had a meeting with Jim first thing this morning and after that, the folks from one of the local TV stations stopped by. They're planning ahead and talking about doing a segment on our Community Day in the summer. Isn't that terrific?"

I guess she didn't need an answer. She plunked down in the chair in front of my desk and kept right on going.

"This afternoon, we've got the trustees of the foundation stopping by." She fanned her face with one hand. "That's always stressful. And it's bound to run late. These meetings always do. That's why I figured I'd better find you now and remind you. Today's deadline day!"

I chewed the Pretty in Pink off my lips.

"Of course I remember." I smiled while I said it—no easy thing considering that my lower lip was still caught in my teeth. I thought back to my last conversation with Ella and how she thought I was the poster child for ambitious young women everywhere. I hated to disappoint her, but—

"I've got to get the next newsletter completely finished by tomorrow." Ella popped out of the chair. "I'm saving space on the front page for your headstone symbolism article."

My article.

The one I'd completely forgotten about.

I kept my smile firmly where it was and picked up the chart from my desk. "Almost done." I waved the paper at her and if it looked like a white flag of surrender… well, Ella didn't know that. From where she was standing, all she could see was a piece of paper covered with writing.

She gave me the thumbs-up and dashed back to the door. "I knew you wouldn't let me down. And don't get too carried away. A thousand words ought to do it."

A thousand words?

The grim reality sank in. I was hoping to spend the day getting my ducks in a row as far as my investigation went. What should I do next? Who should I talk to? Who could tell me something that I didn't already know? Considering that I knew very little, that didn't seem like it would be too tough.

All the while, inside my head, I heard the tick, tick, tick of the clock that was counting down Father Anthony's life. I knew there wasn't much time. If Anthony died and Gus was left behind…

Back in the day before I was a pushover without a very high propensity for hallucinatory imaging, I would have laughed at anyone who said they cared what happened to a guy who had already been dead for thirty years.

But that was then…

I didn't even realize I was sighing until I heard the sound ripple the quiet of my office.

Sure, Gus was a bad guy. There was no denying that or the fact that I found the wholewiseguy culture creepy, not to mention scary. But bad or not, there was another side to Gus. He didn't want me to know how frightened he was to think that Anthony might die and leave him behind. And Anthony had been praying for Gus all these years.

I hate to admit it, but something about it all tugged at my heartstrings.

It also made me feel responsible.

And responsible was not a feeling I liked.

The sooner I got my investigation over and done with, the sooner I could get on with my life. Such as it was.

Tick, tick, tick.

I turned down the volume of the sound in my head, punched the keys on my computer to connect to the Internet, andGoogled "cemetery symbolism." I'd write the article and write it fast.

Then…

I took another look at my chart, picked up a pen, and circled one of the names.