Dopplegangster (27 page)

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Authors: Laura Resnick

BOOK: Dopplegangster
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Max paused to consult his notes.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. There was a kind of excruciating fascination to his performance.
“I’m going to explain what you don’t know about these hits,” he told the wiseguys. “And then we will talk about, er, some suitable precautions that I strongly feel are advisable.”
As Max laid out the facts about Charlie’s and Johnny’s doppelgangsters, the strange ways the victims had died, and what we believed we understood so far about the doppelgänger phenomenon that was occurring here in the city, the bewildered revulsion on the wiseguys’ faces changed to open skepticism.
“Whoa. Whoa.
Whoa
,” said Mikey Castrucci. “You’re saying you met with Johnny Be Good
after
he was dead?”
“That’s right,” said Max. “So you can understand why we thought this phenomenon worthy of investigation.”
Mikey shoved his chair away from the table. “That’s it. I’m outta here.”
As the gangster stomped out of the crypt, Max said, “Nelli? If you please.”
In a frightening burst of speed for so large a beast, Nelli leaped across the room, jumped on Mikey, and knocked him down to the floor. He screamed in terror. Except for Lucky, everyone in the room jumped to his feet.
Tail wagging, Nelli started sniffing Mikey all over.
Obviously afraid to go near an unpredictable dog that big, Danny demanded, “What the fuck is going on? What is that mutt doing?”
Nelli paused in her task long enough to glance at Danny with open dislike. Then, enormous ears flopping, she went back to examining Mikey.
“Yo, listen up,” Max said. “I have instructed Nelli to frisk you guys.”
“We
been
frisked!” protested Fast Sammy. “So you know we ain’t packin’ heat!”
“I ain’t looking for your heaters,” said Max. “I’m attempting to ascertain if any of you is a doppelgangster.”
Nelli finished sniffing Mikey, then turned her back on him and returned to Max’s side.
“So,” Danny said. “I guess he’s not a dopp . . . whatever.”
“Doppelgangster,” said Max. “No. At least, we hope not. In truth, Nelli’s never encountered one, and she’s very new to this dimension, so we’re not positive she can identify one. But it does seem worth trying, don’t you agree?”
Danny guffawed. “You think one of those doppelgangsters is
here?
”
“It’s certainly possible,” said Max.
“This is bullshit!” Mikey Castrucci hauled himself off the floor, dusted himself off, and stormed out of the crypt, radiating wounded pride.
Lucky looked at Danny, who did not stop his subordinate from departing. “Are
you
staying?”
“Hell, yes,” said Danny. “I ain’t heard anything this funny since Bob Hope passed away. Hey, make my day and tell me he’s been doppelgangstered, too. What I wouldn’t give to see him perform again! I
loved
that guy!”
Who would have guessed that Danny the Doctor had a sense of humor?
Fast Sammy said to Danny, “Come on, boss, this Zadok guy is a whack job.”
“Shut the fuck up,” said Danny. “I’m enjoyin’ myself.”
Since it wouldn’t look good to leave the capo alone at a sit-down with three Gambellos, Fast Sammy grumbled but stayed in his chair.
“Now what?” Danny prodded.
“Now,” Max said, “Nelli will frisk everyone here, while I finish what I was saying before that
babbo
created a commotion and left.”
“Watch you your mouth,” Danny warned.
“Madonna,”
Max said.
So Nelli walked around the room sniffing everyone, which Danny found quite amusing. And he couldn’t contain his hilarity when Max reached the crux of the matter.
“Me?
Me?
A doppelgangster of Johnny told you he’d met a doppelgangster of
me?
” Danny laughed so hard that his beady eyes watered. “Oh, no! Oh, my God! It’s too good!”
When Max explained that we’d had some concerns until Nelli examined him, that
he
could be the doppelgangster, I thought Danny would fall off his chair laughing.
“I assure you, my dear fellow . . . er, buddy,” said Max, “this is not a laughing matter.”
“You’re killing me!” Danny cried, pressing his hands over his stomach as if it ached, while he continued to laugh uproariously.
He had not struck me as a mirthful person. I guess you never can tell.
“The only reason we’re having a sit-down with you, you
schmendrick,
” Lucky said in exasperation, “is that if your doppelgangster
is
out there somewhere, then we’re willing to believe you guys ain’t behind these hits.”
“So we need . . .” Max sighed, sat down, and took off his hat. Since the sit-down was going so far off course anyhow, he evidently decided to abandon his attempts to establish a Mafia persona to make the wiseguys feel more comfortable with him. “Oh, dear. I must not be explaining this crisis with sufficient clarity.”
Father Gabriel patted Max on the shoulder. “I can see you’re in deadly earnest, Dr. Zadok. But, well, surely you three must realize how absurd this sounds?”
“If we’d had any doubts before,” I said, “I think we certainly realize it now.”
“I’m telling you, Danny,” said Lucky, “this is serious business. We came here tonight to warn you. We think you’re marked for death.”
Danny sputtered with renewed laughter. “Oh, Lucky! I wish we weren’t blood enemies! I’d always heard you was a fun guy, but I had no
idea!
”
Max added, “Please, Mr. Dapezzo, we truly believe your perfect double is roaming the city preparing to curse you.”
“Hoo, hoo, haw, haw, mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-HA!”
Max rubbed his brow. “I’m not communicating this very well.”
I said, “You did fine, Max. It’s just, er, not being received as we had hoped.”
Max sighed, met my gaze, and nodded. “Mercury Retrograde. I should have realized what could happen.”
After Danny left, red-faced with mirth and gasping for air, we discovered he had dropped the piece of paper we had given to him with Max’s and my phone numbers written on it in case he couldn’t reach Lucky at a crucial moment. When we spotted it on the floor, I grabbed it and ran upstairs, hoping to catch Danny. He and Fast Sammy were outside the church and getting into their car—which Mikey Castrucci was driving, and which was waiting curb-side for them—when I caught up with Danny.
I pressed the piece of paper with our phone numbers into Danny’s hand, reiterated our warning, and urged him to call us if he saw anything unusual.
He cracked up again, and was still laughing as his car rolled away from St. Monica’s.
Back down in the crypt, Tommy Two Toes and Jimmy Legs looked like they thought Lucky had lost his mind. However, he was a Gambello and had seniority, so they hadn’t contradicted him in front of Danny, and they didn’t say anything in front of Max and me, either.
After the two gangsters left, Father Gabriel brought a bottle of wine downstairs—from his personal stash, I supposed—and offered to share it with Lucky, Max, and me. We accepted with gratitude. Lucky was annoyed with the Corvinos, Max was discouraged, and my nerves were frayed. So I enjoyed the mellow warmth of the Sicilian red wine as it slid down my throat and into my belly, soothing me.
“Well, perhaps there was one productive result to the evening,” Max said, trying to regain some of his habitual optimism.
“Oh?”
“I thought the Corvinos seemed very sincere in their assurances that they’re not behind these murders.”
“Of course they seemed sincere, Max. They’re wiseguys.” I glared at Lucky. “Professional liars.”
“What did
I
do?” Lucky snapped.
“We don’t have enough time tonight to talk about what you did,” I said coldly. I also didn’t have the energy right now.
“Huh?” Lucky frowned. “What is with you tonight?”
“Esther does have a point,” said Father Gabriel. “Logically, what would the Corvinos do but deny involvement in these hits?”
I said to the priest, “You think they’re just stalling? Trying to create a window of time for hitting more Gambellos before there’s any retaliation?”
Father Gabriel said, “Doesn’t that make more sense than anything else?”
“But it doesn’t explain why they—or
someone
—has involved doppelgangsters,” said Max.
“Yes, well, as for that . . .” Father Gabriel looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. You’re intelligent people, and you seem convinced and sincere, but it just sounds so fantastic.”
“Oh, really? But transubstantiation,” I said testily, “when bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ, while still looking and tasting exactly like bread and wine . . .
That
seems perfectly reasonable to you?”
There was an awkward silence, and I realized I’d offended the priest. I was about to apologize, but Father Gabriel smiled awkwardly, rose from his chair, and said, “Pardon me. It’s late; I should start closing up the church.”
“Nice goin’,” Lucky said, as soon as the priest left the room.
“Nerves,” I said shortly. “I’ll apologize to him.”
“I think that was your chance, and you just missed it.”
“I need this from
you
,” I said, “of all people?”
“Me ‘of all people’? What’s
that
supposed to mean?”
“Let’s not quarrel among ourselves,” Max said firmly. “We have enough problems to confront without adding that to the list.”
Lucky snorted. “Max is right.” He raised his hands in a gesture that indicated he was backing away from the argument.
Calming down, I looked at him curiously. “Why do
you
believe in the doppelgangsters, Lucky?”
“Huh?”
“I don’t mean
now
,” I clarified. “After all, you were there, too, talking to Johnny after—as we now know—he was already dead. I mean, why did you believe at first, as quickly as I did, that there was something supernatural going on?”
Max said, “As I’ve noted before, there really is no such thing as ‘supernatural,’ all phenomena are natural, but some—”
“Not now, Max,” Lucky and I said in unison.
I continued, “When I met Max, I was reluctant to believe in this sort of thing until he forced my eyes open and I saw things I couldn’t deny or explain any other way.
“But, as Max taught me, most people rationalize phenomena like this according to the conventional wisdom they’ve been taught. And if such explanations are inconsistent, then they find reasonable excuses for that. Like the Widow Giacalona. She thinks we’re mistaken about when we saw Johnny’s apparition—it must have been Johnny himself and we’re just confused. That’s how most people view events like this, and why they have no notion of the world that Max and his colleagues inhabit and the work that they do.
“You, on the other hand . . .” I shook my head. “You were quick to realize something mystical was going on as soon as I told you about Charlie’s fears of a perfect double and the evil eye. And when we met Max and you saw what goes on in his laboratory . . . well, you seem faster than most people to accept the unusual for what it really is.” Faster than Lopez, certainly.
Lucky shrugged. “Well, I was raised a strict Catholic, and there’s a lotta mysticism in the Church, y’know. Like Father Gabriel, for example, I believe in transubstantiation.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was being testy.”
“Yes, you were. But you’re Jewish, so you ain’t expected to believe in our rituals, just like we ain’t expected to believe in yours. I spent a lot of time in Mickey Rosenblum’s home when we was growin’ up, so I know how superstitious Jews are, too.” He shrugged. “Anyhow, more to the point, I was raised by my grandmother, who was a
strega
from Sicily.”
“A what?”
“A
strega
. A witch.”
“Ah,” Max said with interest. “A white witch, I assume?”
“Yeah, sure. But she was willing to put the screws on people she thought were bad. And she raised me with a lotta the knowledge and memories she brought over from Sicily, where this kind of thing was more accepted in her day. So I guess it gave me some insight that not everybody has got.”
“Indeed,” Max said. “And we’re very fortunate to have your expertise and dedication devoted to this matter, my dear fellow.”
Lucky sighed. “Didn’t help much tonight.”
“So what do we do now?” I wondered. “Just hope no one else gets duplicated?”
“Well, I, for one,” said Max, “am planning a long night of reading Germanic texts. It should be most invigorating. Especially since my High Middle German isn’t what it used to be. I look forward to renewing my acquaintance with the language.”

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