Lust, Money & Murder (39 page)

Scanning the crowd, she spotted a bleach-blonde weighed down by gaudy gold jewelry. She was with a man in a cowboy hat and string tie. They were at a craps table, gathering up their chips.

“Don’t leave now!” one of the other players said. “You’re on a hot streak.”

“Darlin’, we’re quittin’ while we’re ahead,” the woman said, greedily sweeping up the chips. There was a diamond on her finger the size of an acorn.

“I lost my shirt last night,” the man with her muttered, sweeping the chips into his cowboy hat. “We’re gittin’ out while the gettin’s good.”

As they turned in Elaine’s direction, she stepped around another craps table to intercept them.

“Ya’ll are from Texas, I’ll bet.” Elaine said, with a big grin.

“We sure are!” the woman said. “Don’t see too many Americans in this neck of the woods. We’re from Galveston—where ya from?”

“Dallas,” Elaine said, turning to keep up with them—they were walking hurriedly towards the currency exchange. “Listen, I can save ya’ll a considerable amount of money on your winnin’s, if you’re interested...”

They slowed down.

“How that?” the man said guardedly.

“I can change your chips into U.S. dollars—you won’t have to pay a bit of commission.” Elaine glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then opened the Gucci bag so they could both see inside.

The man glanced at his wife, tempted.

“Chester, are you outta your mind?” the woman said. Glaring at Elaine, she said, “We weren’t born yesterday, darlin’.”

She grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled him away.

* * *

Elaine walked around the casino, her mind racing. Only five minutes had passed since she had come in the door, but each subsequent minute seemed like a week. She shuddered to think what Cattoretti would do to her.

She could hear his voice when he had talked about Sforza:

It is said that he nailed one betrayer to his own coffin, still alive.

Elaine walked all the way to the back, where the restrooms were located. There was a rear door, an emergency fire exit, as required by law—but there were two armed security guards stationed there. Again—even if she could get past them, where could she go? She couldn’t buy anything in Italy with any currency but Euros, she certainly couldn’t chance using her credit cards.

Elaine went back to the front of the main hall, peering around the edge of the window frame.

Cattoretti was still sitting at the cafe across the street. He was too far away for her to make out the details of his face, but she could tell he was watching the entrance—she could see the flickering orange glow of his cigar each time he puffed it.

She went over to the craps tables and desperately looked around. There had to be some way out of this...but no one in their right mind would trust a stranger offering to change money. And if the guards saw her do that, they would throw her out, at the very least.

Then she remembered something: The Turkey Roll. A ploy along those lines might work.

She spotted a young, voluptuous blonde, about her age, who seemed upset about something. Beside her was a man with wire-frame glasses who looked old enough to be her grandfather. They were arguing about something.

Elaine moved a little closer so she could pick up the conversation.

“You say those chips
mine
,” she said in a heavy Italian accent, “and then you say how I bet! I gamble how I want!”

“My dear, I’m just trying to keep you from losing.” He spoke in a cultured British accent. “You need guidance.”

“I no want your guidance!” she said haughtily. She slid her stack of chips farther away from him.

“Suit your bloody self.” He picked up the dice and rolled. “Throw it all in the rubbish bin, I don’t care. But you’re not getting any more tonight.”

“And neither are you,” the girl muttered.

Elaine turned around and went straight to the women’s restroom. There was an attendant inside, sitting at a table piled high with towels, reading a paperback book. Elaine went into one of the middle stalls. She locked the door, then hung the Gucci bag on the door hook. Making no sound, she slipped under the partition into the next stall, waited a few seconds, then flushed the toilet and emerged.

A minute later she was back out in the casino, stepping up behind the curvy Italian girl. Between her fingers was a sticky wad of chewing gum she’d picked out of an ash tray.

“Excuse me, you’ve got gum on the back of your dress,” Elaine said.

The girl frowned. “
Merda
,” she said, reaching behind her back, trying to find it with her fingers. “
Questo vestito è molto costoso!
” She glanced over at her elderly male companion, who was now caught up in his own game, paying her no attention.

“That’s a shame,” Elaine said sympathetically. “I know how to get it off without spoiling the dress. Let’s go to the ladies’ room.”

* * *

When they entered the restroom, Elaine said to the attendant. “Would you mind getting us some strong tape, please? From the kitchen, or the janitor?”

“
Nastro d’argento
,” the girl said, translating.

“
Si
,” the attendant said, and left the room.

“Tape will take it off like magic,” Elaine assured the girl, who had turned and was looking at the sticky mess through the mirror.

“Excuse me a minute,” Elaine said, and she went into the middle stall, shutting the door behind her. She slipped under the door and into the one where she’d left the Gucci bag, then back into the first one.

“Oh my god!” she cried.

“
Cosa c’è
?”
the girl said.

Elaine came out of the stall with the bag in her hands, then quickly shut it. “Nothing...I...someone left this behind.” She took a step towards the door. “I’m going to turn it in to security—”

“Wait,” the girl said suspiciously, grabbing Elaine’s wrist. “What is inside?”

“Nothing,” Elaine said, averting her eyes.

The girl tried to pull the bag away. Elaine kept hold of it but made sure the girl got a glimpse of the money.

“
Madonna mia!
” she gasped.

“I found it,” Elaine said, pulling it away. “It’s mine!”

“
We
find!” the girl said, pulling it back. Her eyes were aflame with greed. “I call security!”

“Shhh,” Elaine said, glancing nervously at the door, “Look, we’ll split it? Fifty-fifty. Okay?”

At that moment, two other women came in the restroom.

Elaine and the girl went into one of the stalls and locked the door. Elaine quickly counted the money, the girl watching her every move.

“There’s fifty thousand here,” Elaine whispered. She nodded down at the girl’s bag. “You give me twenty-five thousand worth in chips, and you can keep all of it.”

It only took the girl a split second to decide the cash was better than the chips. She quickly counted out 25,000 worth of chips, and Elaine gave her the money in exchange.

As Elaine went out the restroom door she passed the attendant, who was carrying a roll of duct tape.

“Thank you,” Elaine smiled, “but we got the problem solved.”

* * *

A minute later, Elaine was at the roulette wheel furthest from the entrance, standing at a spot where she could both place bets and clearly see everyone who walked in the room.

All the chips were stacked in front of her, but she had not bet anything yet—she had merely been observing, waiting.

Cattoretti soon entered. He glanced around, looking for Elaine. She immediately shoved a €4,000 stack of chips forward onto the BLACK rectangle.

Cattoretti reached her just as the roulette wheel ball settled into one of the red slots.

“
Quattordici, rossa
,” the croupier said mechanically. He swept Elaine’s chips away.

“I’m afraid my luck isn’t very good tonight,” she muttered.

“Oh, I would not say that.” He looked down at the chips, then at the people surrounding the table, and finally up at her face. “I think your luck is holding out
very
well.”

She glanced nervously at him. “What do you mean?”

He motioned to the chips. “You still have what—about half of the money you started with?”

“A little less.”

“Roulette is a very seductive game. Many people would have lost it all by now.” He glanced around at the others again, then extended his arm to her. “Come,
cara
. I will teach you how to play baccarat.”

* * *

They gambled together for several more hours. Cattoretti had a couple of hot streaks. By 2 am, the chips had swelled to about €60,000 worth.

“Shall we go back to Vernazza now?” he said.

Elaine hesitated. She felt much safer here, around all these people, than at Cattoretti’s hideaway. But she could think of no excuse to stay.

“Yes, I’m getting sleepy now.”

During the winding drive back to Vernazza, Cattoretti did not utter a word. Elaine gazed out the window at the oncoming cars they passed out on the coastal highway, and became more and more anxious. If he knew that she had managed to change the money without using the currency exchange, he didn’t show it. Yet there was something different about the way he was acting now. Something subtle. Something dangerous.

When they reached the villa, Cattoretti parked the car in the garage and they went inside.

He wasted no time in taking her to the bedroom. He was soon on top of her again, making love to her with a new ferocity that she had never seen before.

“You drive me wild,” he said, panting, as he rolled her onto her stomach. He entered her from behind, driving himself inside her so deeply she thought she would pass out.

He was soon spent, collapsed on top of her, and softly snoring in her ear.

She lay there a long time before she very gently slipped out from under him, trying not to rouse him. He stopped snoring for a moment, then let out a long sigh and rolled over.

She was thinking about the locked cabinet in his desk, wondering if a gun was hidden there.

His face was only inches from his key ring, which lay on the nightstand.

She lay there another few minutes, debating, and decided it was too risky. They would jingle if she picked them up, and she already knew that he was a very light sleeper.

She slipped out of the bed, put on her robe, and went out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind her.

The stress of changing the money at the casino and outwitting Cattoretti had energized her, snapped her out of her daze. She was not going to let him dominate her, or get away with what he had done.

She went to the kitchen, poured a glass of orange juice, then casually wandered to the living room. She paused a moment at the door, listening. She could still faintly hear Cattoretti snoring.

She went to the desk and opened the top drawer. There were some paper clips of various sizes. She picked out one and knelt in front of the cabinet.

She had taken a lock-picking class at the Secret Service, and had spent one session on methods using “improvisational tools” like paper clips and bobby pins. Now she sorely regretted not paying more attention that day.

Elaine fumbled for a good ten minutes, cringing every time she made a loud scraping sound and pausing to make sure Cattoretti was still snoring.

Finally, the lock opened.

A quick survey of the cabinet revealed that there was no gun hidden there. Just a bunch of file folders.

She pulled one out and looked at the label.

Lassiter

She opened it. There were pages and pages of notes scrawled in Italian—in Cattoretti’s distinctive handwriting.

Then back a few sheets, computer printouts, with photographs printed out four to a page, and notes scribbled in the margins: Gene Lassiter limping along 15th Street in D.C., his cane in his hand. Gene Lassiter eating dinner alone at a restaurant. Gene Lassiter opening the front door of his Georgetown home, this one taken through a telephoto lens.

Elaine turned the page.

The top of the paper was labeled,
Berlino, Germania
.

More photos. Lassiter and Gypsy, coming out of a seedy bar. Lassiter and Gypsy, walking hand in hand on some beach. Lassiter and Gypsy, together in a bedroom, naked and—

She quickly closed the folder.

When she picked up the next one, she had a strange, unsettling feeling.

Sofia, Bulgaria
, the label read.

She slowly opened it...there were photographs. Many photographs. Elaine and Nick having dinner at a restaurant. Elaine flagging down a taxi on Boulevard Todor Alexandrov, the main drag.

And Elaine and Nick going into the entrance of her apartment building.

The photos had to have been taken the night we slept together,
Elaine thought dully.