Secrets & Lies (35 page)

“Here, against the wall.”

“Oh, man, they're beautiful!”

Gabriel was showing them the motorcycles. “That's a '51 Harley, looks brand-new, huh?”

“I'll say.”

Gabriel's two visitors were not Mexicans. I took the risk to raise my head far enough to see out the window.

Los Serpientes's leader stood with two white men I recognized. They were Italians. I'd seen them at Flickers with Sal Casazza. It took me a moment to remember their names, because I'd greeted them as a hostess. Mr. Faretti and Mr. Capri. Bala and Hoja stood
obediently by their master, but they were looking at the Oldsmobile. The dogs knew I was in there; I just hoped they didn't come over looking for me and give me away.

Could I get a photo? I plucked the Brownie Starmatic from my backpack and readied it, but I didn't have a good shot of the three men together.

“You want to come inside?” Gabriel asked.

“Nah, we'll wait here. I want a closer look at this thing.”

“I'll be right back.”

Gabriel left them and went inside the offices. Faretti and Capri squatted by one of the bikes, touching parts of it, and admiring it. Then they moved to the next one. Capri sat on the seat and proclaimed how great it felt. That's when Bala and Hoja got bored with the newcomers and trotted over to the car. I got down in the floorboard again as Hoja pawed the side of the vehicle. Bala whined. More scratching. I was going crazy. From inside the car I tried to will them:
Go away!

“Hey, what are those dogs doing?” Faretti asked. I heard his footsteps come nearer—and suddenly the two animals viciously turned on him and barked. “Whoa! Easy, dogs!” He quickly backed away and joined his buddy. By then, Gabriel had returned. The dogs kept growling.

“Tell your dogs to heel, Carlos,” Faretti said, not enjoying the canine attention.

Gabriel gave a command in Spanish and the animals shut up and sat.

“They must not like you,” Gabriel said. “Here is what we agreed on.”

That I had to see. I raised my head again and saw Gabriel hand Faretti two stuffed envelopes. The men were in a perfect composition.
Now!
I raised the camera and clicked a picture.

The dogs heard the snap. Again they trotted over to the Oldsmobile scratched on the side. I dug down into the car.
Oh no,
I thought,
I am dead
.

But the men ignored them and kept talking. “The delivery will be on time?” Gabriel asked.

“Like horse poop.” The two Italians laughed boisterously at that one. Then Faretti said, “Carlos, I have a message from Casazza.”

“What's that?”

“You have to stop the war with the Heathens.”

“I've heard that before. It's the Heathens's fault. Tell
them
. As long as you sell guns to the Heathens, there will be war.”

The dogs sensed their master's agitation. They barked and ran back to him, ready to devour the other men at Gabriel's command. The growls were louder than a motorcycle engine.

“Hey, don't kill the messenger!” Faretti said. “Tell them goddamned dogs to heel, Carlos!”

“You tell Sal Casazza that I made promises to my people in Mexico,” Gabriel said. “Los Serpientes can make things very, very difficult for him—and his
boss
in Vegas—if you screw with us.”

Capri said to his partner, “Come on, let's go.”

But Faretti held his ground, even in front of the snarling pit bulls. He stared at Gabriel and the Mexican glared back. Finally, he laughed. “You got
cojones
,
señor
.”

I was pretty sure I knew what that meant, ha ha.

There were no good-byes or handshakes. The two Italians left the premises. Gabriel stood in the garage bay and watched them, his dogs now quiet and at his side. After a moment, he spoke to the dogs in Spanish, and then he left for La Cantina. Bala and Hoja immediately ran to the Oldsmobile and scratched on the door.

“Okay, I'm coming,” I told them. I got out and thought I had enough information to give to Barry. I peeked out of the garage and scanned the lot. I saw Gabriel standing with his cohorts in front of La Cantina, smoking cigarettes, talking, and laughing. It didn't look as if they were going to move any time soon. Would they see me? If I slipped out and sprinted to the side of the building where I'd climbed over the fence, I'd be visible for less than five seconds. It was worth the risk.

“Come on!” I whispered to the dogs, and the three of us shot out of there and ran. Since I was dressed in black, there was a good chance I'd blend in with the darkness or be mistaken for one of the dogs. At any rate, I made it to the fence and started climbing. Bala barked, not wanting to see me go.

“
¡Siéntate!
” I ordered, and they obeyed. I was getting pretty good at that command!

I pulled down the barbed wire with the hook, swung my leg over, and then somehow caught my jacket's armpit in the barbs. They started ripping the leather. I managed to balance myself, clinging on to the hook with one hand, the chain-links with the other, and my legs straddling the entire fence. I had to try and unsnag my jacket, or it would tear badly or, worse, not tear at all. And the latter was what appeared to be happening. I couldn't move! It was as if that barbed wire had a grip on my clothing and wasn't letting go.

The dogs barked.

“
¡Siéntate!
” They were already sitting, but that was the only command I knew. I wished I'd learned “Shut up!”

Then I heard Gabriel whistle for the dogs. They wouldn't go to him. Bala barked at me again, followed by Hoja. The irony of the situation was that they were probably trying to get their master's attention so he could come and help me out of a predicament.

Curious as to why the dogs weren't obeying, Gabriel and a couple of his men headed back to the shop. They'd see the dogs—and me—at any second. I tugged on my jacket and heard the material rip loudly.

One of the men shouted excitedly, and then they started running.

There was only one way to get free. I unzipped the jacket and pulled my arms out. There I was, suspended on the fence in my black pants and a
white
T-shirt, which stood out like a beacon in the dark. The men were inside the lot. I rolled over the wire and clung to the opposite side and removed the hook. The wires took my jacket with them as they rose to their normal position. I had to pull and jerk and finally crack my jacket like a
whip
before it separated from the barbs.
There was a terrible ripping sound, but I got it free. I dropped to the ground and ran, just as one of the men
fired a gun
at me. The bullet missed. I was sure they would get on their bikes and try to catch me, but I had my escape route mapped out—down an alley, across a street and into a different alley, and then a long block around to Compton, where I changed back to Judy Cooper and casually walked to my car. I never heard the cycles though. Once I was safely in my Ford, I examined my jacket. A foot-long piece had torn out of the lower arm and part of the shoulder. It must still be hanging on that barbed wire. Maybe they'll think it was from a Heathens jacket. So now I have to spend the next hour repairing it with needle and thread.

All in all, I was proud of myself for a job well done.

T
HE
P
AST

It was the first Monday in November and I was at work when I learned that two men were at reception requesting to talk to me. They identified themselves as representatives of Sandstone Incorporated. I knew that meant the Sandstone Casino, so I let them in. I didn't know them, but they were faces I'd seen at DeAngelo's parties. Muscle guys.

Apparently the boss wanted to see me
immediately
and they were there to see that I cooperated and came along as quickly as possible. So I did. I let Christina know where I was going, and asked the men if I needed to follow them in my car so they wouldn't have to bring me back. One said, “Don't worry, Mr. Kelly, we'll bring you back.”

That didn't sit well. Frankly, the limo ride to Vegas was torturous. I don't normally get nervous or rattled, but I was then. I didn't like the idea of being in Vegas without a ride home. Was DeAngelo angry at me about something? The counterfeit operation had to halt because of the stupid war between the Heathens and Los Serpientes. Had it to do with that? Or was it about Maria? Did he find out we slept together and he wanted to kill me?

When we got to the ranch, I passed Paulie in the corridor, and his eyes shot daggers at me. What the hell was wrong? My escorts ushered me directly to DeAngelo's office, a library of sorts where he
spent most of his time. It resembled a room in one of those elite English men's clubs with Victorian leather furniture.

Finally, the door closed behind me and I was alone with Vince in his inner sanctum. He stood with his back to me, looking out the window at his back lawn and the desert landscape beyond that. The boss wore a smoking jacket and had a lit cigar in his hand.

“Vince?” I managed to say. When he didn't answer, I asked, “You wanted to see me, sir?”

The man slowly turned around and looked at me.

“Do you love my daughter?” he asked.

Shit, he
did
know about us going all the way.

“Yes, sir.”

“You know she's crazy about you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why the hell are you carrying on with a girl in L.A.?”

What?
“L.A.?”

He moved to his desk and picked up a piece of paper. “Judy Cooper,” he read. Then he showed me a photo of her taken at Flickers. “I understand you've been seeing this girl for a few months now.”

My stomach lurched. Several people in L.A. were aware I was dating Judy, but I didn't think they knew about my connection with Maria. How did DeAngelo find out?

He read my mind, saying, “You're wondering how I know. You think I wouldn't have a future son-in-law checked out? You don't think I have eyes and ears in all the territories I control? I know what my people are doing.”

Crap. I was in a serious situation. Sweat started to break out all over and I felt clammy. I was about to get whacked. I'd never walk out of the DeAngelo mansion alive.

“
Well, are you going to admit it or not?
”

“I'm sorry, sir. Yeah, it's true. But I've been trying to break it off.”

“So break it off already! How could you be sleeping with my daughter and making her believe you're going to marry her, and at
the same time you're plugging some whore that works in your uncle's nightclub?”

I almost said, “Judy's not a whore,” but thought it best to remain silent. He made me feel ashamed and angry. On the one hand, my feelings for Judy were genuine. He was right; I should have stopped seeing her a while ago after I began to get serious about Maria. But I couldn't. Judy was incredibly special. I liked being with
her
more than I did Maria. On the other hand, hooking up with Maria was a means to an end. Marriage into the DeAngelo family would be my ticket to paradise. I was hoping I could set up Judy in L.A. as my mistress while being married to Maria in Vegas, but now that Big Daddy knew about Judy, that wasn't going to work.

“Does Maria know?” I asked.

DeAngelo stared at me a few seconds to make me squirm. “No. Thank God. And you better pray she never finds out. Maria's a good Catholic girl, even though she went and did with you what she did, before marriage. Yeah, don't look so shocked. I know. In the past I'd kill anyone who took my daughter to bed without marrying her first. But it's different times. I understand that. The thing is, she did it because she really thought she'd be marrying you. You understand? How do you think she'd feel if she knew you were screwing another girl?”

“I'm sorry, Vince.”

“You're damned right, you are.” He kept his eyes on me a long time before he gestured to a chair. “Sit down.” Then he went around his desk and sat in his leather rocker. I took the seat and waited for him to speak again. It seemed as if an hour passed by.

“Okay, here's the deal. You don't see her anymore. Ever.”

I figured that one was coming.

“Two. You don't break my daughter's heart. The reason you're not in the hospital right now is because you mean a lot to her. And since you're doing a competent job with that counterfeiting thing, and since you've got all those warehouse connections and influence, and because you're the son of one of my best friends, may he rest in peace, I believe you'd be a welcome addition to our family.”

He waited for me to respond to that. I was slow at realizing he'd just complimented me. “Thank you, sir. I'd really like that. I never meant any disresp—”

“I know you didn't.” He waved a hand at me. “I'm a man, too. We're all the same. Dames are dames. I've had something on the side, too. But this is my daughter we're talking about now.”