Don of the Dead (33 page)

Like maybe she was expecting company.

"We got to be quick." She didn't explain why and I didn't ask. One meeting with Lester was all it took to figure out that he was a no-good bastard. "I wouldn't of even come except… " She took in another lungful of nicotine.

"Except that his obituary says that you were Tommy's loving mother." She didn't have to elaborate. I knew my mention of the obituary back at the house was what finally made her cave and I played the sympathy card again for all it was worth. "Are you the one who sends flowers to Tommy's grave every week?"

Linda laughed. Her teeth were crooked and yellow. "Do I look like I got the money to send flowers?"

She shook her head and maybe she was emphasizing her point. Maybe she was just wishing she could have sent those flowers. "Even if I did have the money, Lester, he'd find a way to spend it. On something other than sending flowers to that boy."

"But you did know Tommy?"

I held my breath, partly because I was waiting for her answer. Mostly because she blew out another puff of smoke and I didn't want to take the chance of inhaling any of it.

"Raised him," she said. "And you know what? He was nothing but trouble from the day I brought him home."

"You didn't say 'from the day he was born.' You weren't his biological mother, were you?"

It was the first time she actually looked me in the eye. "Why do you care?"

I knew it was bound to come to that, and on the way over there, I'd come up with a story that was plausible, even if it wasn't true. It was all about my burning interest in genealogy and how Tommy was the final branch on a family tree that was oh-so important to my gray-haired granny.

Funny, looking into Linda's lifeless eyes, I decided nothing short of the truth was good enough for her.

"I need to know how Tommy might have been mixed up in GusScarpetti's death," I told her.

She dropped the butt of her cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of her worn sneaker.

"Tommy died back in the sixties and thatScarpettifella , I remember seeing him on the news. He died way later. Around the same time Lester was laid off from the paper plant."

"But there was some connection between Tommy and Gus. Something more than the fact that Tommy was a foot soldier in theScarpetti Family."

"A connection? Yeah, I guess you could say that." She looked me up and down. "If you know what's good for you, you'll be satisfied with that and leave it alone."

"I can't. Besides, it's already too late for that. I've poked my nose in one too many places. Somebody's trying to kill me and the only thing I can figure is that it has something to do with Tommy. If I can find out the truth, maybe I can get these people off my back."

"Think so?" Her lips thinned into an expression that wasn't exactly a smile.

And I wasn't exactly going to back down. Not when I was this close.

I stepped nearer, sensing that Linda might share her story if she felt safe. "I've got to find out. And you're the only one who can tell me. I know that Tommy died before his mother did. If you're not her… "

"He was a foster kid. Even had a different name from ours. Nobody was ever supposed to know where he came from."

"But you did. And it wasn't from Children's Services or any formal agency like that, was it?"

She aimed a look at the convenience store as if she could see through it to the shabby house across the street. "I had plans for the money we was paid. Thought maybe we'd take a vacation sometime. You know,Florida or Vegas. Like regular folks do. Even thought maybe we'd have a couple kids of our own.

But Lester, he said I couldn't make those decisions, me being only a woman. Turned out it didn't much matter. He spent the money before I ever could think what to do with it."

"Then someone paid you to take Tommy?"

Linda's hands were small and nervous. They flittered over her face and through her thinning hair. "You're young and things are different now. You don't know what it was like in the old days. A girl who was single and pregnant… well, it would have been a big scandal if anybody found out. They sent her away.

ToNew York . When he was born, she was supposed to put him up for adoption."

"Only she gave Tommy to you."

Linda propped another cigarette between her lips. It took her six flicks of her lighter to get it fired up.

"We met at that home. That's what they called it. A home for unwed mothers. Guess we needed to be locked away where nobody could see us and get embarrassed."

"And your own baby?"

Linda looked at the blacktop. "Died. No sooner than he was born. That's what gave us the idea. She told everybody her baby was adopted and that the whole thing was over and done, but really, I took Tommy. Hell, my own family, they already kicked me out on account of I was pregnant and they said I was a slut. I figured I might as well end up with a baby. I was already with Lester by that time and she asked us to move toCleveland so she could be close to the baby and visit. She even bought us our house. Believe it or not, back then, this was a real nice neighborhood. Didn't need no bars on the windows then."

It was getting dark and when Linda took another drag on her cigarette, the tip of it flared red. "That boy was hell on wheels." Even so, she smiled. "Nothin' but trouble, but I suppose that was to be expected with where he came from and all. Lester, he never did want nothing to do with him. He would have dumped Tommy in a minute if the money didn't keep coming in. She paid for Tommy's school and his doctor visits. She gave us money for food and clothes."

"And Lester spent that, too, right?"

She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

I stepped closer to Linda without getting too close to the garbage can. "Tommy had a tough life," I said.

"Maybe this is your chance to make it up to him. You know, to put an end to the secrets and the lies."

"We promised we'd never saynothin ' to nobody about who Tommy was or where he came from."

"Sure. But that was a long time ago," I reminded her. "And it doesn't matter to anyone anymore. Except me. No one will care if you tell me. And Linda, you'll be doing me a huge favor. I'm being followed by the FBI. I'm being shot at by hit men. I need to figure out what's going on and right now, you're the only one who can help."

Linda's scrawny shoulders rose and fell. She took another look out toward the street.

I tried again. "I know you cared about him, Linda. He took the place of your own little boy and you raised him just like you would have raised your own baby. Even though Tommy was a bad boy, I know you wish things could have been different. Otherwise you wouldn't have listed yourself in his obituary as his loving mother. You did that for yourself. To help ease the hurt. And you did it for Tommy. You did it because even though you didn't give birth to him, he was your son and you loved him."

She looked away from me and when a streetlight flickered on at the curb, I saw that her eyes were misty. "Lester, he never reads the paper. He didn't know nothing about that obituary."

I could have kicked myself for mentioning it back at the house. "I'm sorry, I—"

She brushed off my apology. "Don't matter no more. Besides, Lester, he was drunker than a skunk when you came to the door. If he says anything about it, I'll tell him he heard wrong."

I knew that for her, lying to Lester would be a major accomplishment. It might be dangerous, too.

"Look, Linda, if you need anything—"

She laughed. At least I thought it was a laugh. It was kind of hard to tell since she coughed and gagged at the same time. When I moved forward to help, she put up one hand to stop me. "Too late to help me,"

she said. "But I got to tell you, I do appreciate you asking. Nobody has cared about me. Not for a very long time. I suppose… "

Her scraggy shoulders went back and she lifted her chin. "I suppose the least I can do in return is tell you what you want to know."

And with that, Linda leaned closer and whispered a name in my ear.

When I talked to him, he sounded tired and weak. Still, Anthony came through for me. I'd never been a religious person, but I promised myself I'd make a donation to Blessed Rosary soon. It was the least I could do to thank Anthony for his help. I never would have gotten as far as the front door without a call from him on my behalf.

Of course, now that I was there, I wondered if I was doing the right thing. If I was, maybe I could find some hint that would lead me to the answers Gus needed to finally rest in peace.

And if I wasn't?

Well, if I wasn't, I knew word would go around to all the wrong people. And very soon, another hit man would be headed my way.

Like it or not, there was only one way to find out.

I gulped down a breath for courage and knocked on the door.

When it opened, the last person I expected to see was Johnny the Rat Vitale.

"Oh!" Not exactly the coolest opening statement, especially considering that the last time I saw Johnny, I'd been pretending a bravado that I hadn't had a chance to resurrect. "Mr. Vitale. I'm here to see—"

"Yeah. I know. I told Anthony it wasn't a good idea but he wouldn't listen. And me?" He laughed but not like it was funny. More like he was disgusted by his own failings. "Even I'm not tough enough to argue with a priest. That's not the way I was raised." He stepped back to allow me inside a pleasant room painted green and white and accented with touches of pink. "Father Anthony didn't say what you wanted but I'll tell you one thing, it won't do you no good to try and talk to her. She's a little out of it today."

"A little out of it" was a kind way to describe it. The woman I'd been searching for was seated at a table tucked into the sunny bow of a bay window. There was a bird feeder outside and she was staring at the cardinals and chickadees diving in for seed. She didn't blink or move or smile. She didn't look at me or acknowledge me. Not even when I sat down in the chair opposite hers.

What on earth had made me think that this might actually work?

I glanced at Johnny, who was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his broad chest and an I-told-you-so look on his craggy face.

And decided I'd be damned if I was going to admit I was beat that early in the game.

I slapped a cheery smile on my face, added the little lilt to my voice that the tourists at the cemetery loved, and slid my chair over so that I was in her line of vision. "Hi, Marie. Remember me? My name is Pepper. I stopped by a few weeks ago to see your nephew, Rudy."

Like the last time I saw her, Gus's sister was impeccably dressed, this time in white slacks and a lacy sweater of the same, icy color. This time just like last time, she wore a string of pearls and this time—just like last time—when she looked my way, her expression was deadpan and her eyes were blank.

"Did he come with you?" she asked. Just like last time.

Only this time, I knew who she was talking about.

A spark of hope flared. I might actually be able to get through to her. I leaned closer. "You mean Tommy."

No sooner did I speak the name than Johnny abandoned his post near the door. He hurried over and stood behind Marie, his hands protectively on her shoulders.

I ignored him. I could afford to. I knew the secret. The magic name that just might unlock Marie's psyche. I used it for all it was worth.

"No, Tommy couldn't come today," I told her. "But I saw the flowers you sent him. The white carnations. And the irises and tulips. They were red and purple. Really beautiful."

"He likes tulips." A tentative smile played around Marie's lips and over her shoulder, she reached for one of Johnny's hands. "He always liked tulips. Just like you did." She turned and smiled up at Johnny. "He was so much like you in so many ways."

It took a second for what she was saying to sink in and when it did, my mouth fell open. I hadn't seen Gus since the night before when Linda told me who Tommy's mother was. I hadn't had a chance to tell him about Marie or to ask him to speculate about who the boy's father might have been. But, knowing that it was Johnny…

My stomach swooped and a ball of emotion clogged my throat. The expression on Johnny's, face told me to back off and shut up, but I couldn't. The words were out of me before I could stop them. "Gus had you do the hit. He didn't know he was ordering his nephew's murder. He had no idea he was asking you to kill your own son."

Johnny's eyes sparked lightning. There was another empty chair at the table and he scraped it over next to mine and dropped into it. He leaned too close for comfort and glared at me. "How the hell do you know about that? No one knew about the hit. No one but me and DonScarpetti ." He looked at Marie, who had returned to her own world, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her.

"It was business. And business… " Johnny shrugged.

He suddenly looked old and far more vulnerable than the poker-playing tough guy I'd met back at The Family Place. Call me an opportunist but I knew that at least for the moment, I had the upper hand. I went for the jugular.

"Revenge is a pretty good motive for murder," I said.

Johnny's voice was as steady as the hand he slashed through the air. "I was loyal to the don. More loyal than to my son. More loyal than to anyone. Even her." He didn't have to look at Marie for me to know that's who he was talking about. He passed a hand over his eyes.

"I was married, see. And Marie, she was eighteen and as pretty as any woman I'd ever seen. When she found out she was pregnant… well, her parents reacted like any parents would. They sent her away to have the baby and when she came back, we all pretended like nothing ever happened. Eventually she married and had daughters. Raised them herself, too, when her husband was killed in a traffic accident.

And when she came to me years later and told me this punk namedCavolo needed a job… honest to God, I never questioned it. I never thought… "

"But eventually you knew. You knew before you killed Tommy."

"Yeah. I knew. And it didn't make no difference. The don got what the don wanted."

"And then he got what he deserved."