Sicilian Defense (12 page)

“Would you be able to recognize them again, those five men?” said Gianni.

“The two guys in the apartment, for sure. The other guys, no. Only that there's two of them big guys, and the third one is shorter and wide, built like a bull. I been looking for them myself, but who's going to see them again?”

“What kind of house was it?” asked Gianni.

“We've even put up some money for information—ten Gs. But nobody's come up with anything. What do you mean, what kind of house?”

“Big, little, new, old?”

“I couldn't tell you. We walked up and down a couple of flights, but I don't know if it was a big house, you know, an apartment house or what. But it wasn't too old—I mean it wasn't one of those slum kind of buildings. Inside, the apartment was all right: a nice joint, to tell you the truth.”

“Anything else that might be helpful, Mickey?” said Gianni.

He shook his head. “Not that I can think of. One of your guys got snatched too?”

“We've got a similar problem, Mickey,” said Gianni. “I appreciate your help.”

“It's nothing, Gianni. If there's anything else I can do, just call.”

“I will, thanks,” said Gianni. “Angie, give Mickey a ride back to his place.”

Angie nodded and moved toward the door. Mickey stood and shook hands with Gianni and Frankie. He followed Angie out of the garage.

“Well,” said Gianni. “We've got something really real now.”

“The bunny?” asked Frankie the Pig.

Gianni nodded. “Right. We've got to find a chocolate bunny.”

“I didn't even know they had any,” said Tony.

“Now you know,” said Gus.

“You want me to go up to that Playboy place and look around, Gianni?” asked Tony.

“Yes.”

“Take Gus with you,” said Frankie the Pig. “If you took Matteawan he'd end up playing around with the dames and we wouldn't see him for two days.”

“Yeah. And you can't come either,” said Tony, a cool smile on his lips.

“
Minca
. That reminds me, I better call
a cummad
' and tell her I'm busy,” said Frankie the Pig. “I hope we find Sal soon.”

“I do too,” said Gianni.

Wednesday, February 10

10:00 A.M.

John Feigin was sleepily leafing through the September issue of
Reader's Digest
he had found in the school custodian's office. During the night, until the restaurant closed, there was very little action, nothing significant, on the phone-booth tap. There was nothing at all on Sal Angeletti's home. Communications had completed that installation about 1:00 A.M.

It was just about time for one of the other detectives from the squad to relieve him, Feigin thought, looking at his watch. He suddenly noticed the recorder on the tap at Angeletti's home moving, the spool of tape winding. Feigin picked up the headset and fit the cups over his ears.

“Hello, Maria?” Feigin heard a woman's voice from the outside line.

“Oh, hello Andrea,” said the voice in Sal's home.

“What's the matter?” Andrea asked, “you don't sound well.”

“I didn't sleep last night,” said Maria. “Sal hasn't been home now in two nights. How could I sleep?”

“He hasn't been home in two nights?”

“Two nights. He was out Monday night and didn't even tell me. And I fixed veal and peppers—the way I do? And he didn't even come home. So I figured I'd put it in the refrigerator and he'd eat it Tuesday. But he didn't come home last night again.”

“Maybe he heard you kept the leftovers.”

“It isn't funny, sister of mine,” said Maria soberly.

“What do you think?”

“What can I think? I haven't any idea,” said Maria. “When he gets tied up like this, usually he lets me know—he sends Joey over, or Tony.”

“Nobody came over to explain anything?”

“Gianni Aquilino came over just now.”

“Gianni Aquilino?” Andrea was surprised.

“Just like that,” said Maria. “Gianni rang the doorbell and came in for coffee. I haven't seen him it must be three years.”

“How did he look, still as handsome as ever?”

“Still the same—elegant, handsome.”

Feigin on the earphones was listening and taking notes. He had written the name Gianni Aquilino, underscoring it three times.

“Remember when he was sweet on me?” asked Andrea.

“Remember the lions eating the Christians?”

“Speak for yourself, sister dear.”

“We're both old now,” said Maria.

Andrea sighed. “What did Gianni say?”

“He said he was in the neighborhood, and he knew Sal wasn't home, so he thought he'd come and say hello and let me know Sal was all right.”

“That was nice of him,” said Andrea.

“Gianni is considerate,” said Maria. “Not like that Sal, leaving me alone without calling.”

“Sal was always that way—you expect him to change now?”

“Well, it was nice of Gianni to come over and let me know everything is okay.”

“Yes,” said Andrea. “How are things otherwise?”

“Okay, and you?”

“Okay,” said Andrea. “Except for Jimmy's ulcer.”

“How are the children?”

“Okay. Everybody's fine. Well, I just called to see how you were. Let me know about Sal, if he's okay?”

“I will. Thanks for calling.”

“You're welcome. Remember, it's your turn now,” said Andrea.

“How could I forget it?”

They both laughed and hung up.

Feigin opened the door, locked it behind him and went down to the principal's office to call the precinct house. A few children were walking through the halls, toward their classrooms, or to lavatories. They looked at him quickly as they passed, wondering who the new teacher was.

“Hey, Lou, I got something interesting over here,” said Feigin into the telephone.

“What's that?”

Feigin glanced at the principal's secretary, who was now listening to the conversation. She looked down at her typewriter.

“Hold it,” Feigin said in the phone. “Miss, is there a private office I can use?” He looked at her without hiding his contempt. She was a little Jew intellectual, he thought, one of those liberals.

“You can go into the principal's office,” she said, pointing to an inner door.

“Thanks. Hold it, Lou,” said Feigin, pushing the
HOLD
button. He walked into the office and picked up the phone. “Listen, Lou. Gianni Aquilino was just over to see Sal's wife.”

“Aquilino? I didn't think he'd be around this morning.”

“He went over to tell her that Sal's all right,” said Feigin. “He must have been the guy talking on the phone last night.”

“Of course. Who else would talk instead of Frankie?” said Schmidt. “Very good.”

“I thought you'd like to know right away.”

“I think we should drop over there and pick Gianni up,” said Schmidt. “Maybe he's used to the soft life these days. Maybe he'll talk where the others won't.”

“You want me to pick him up?” asked Feigin.

“No, I'll take care of it from here,” said Schmidt. “You stay on the wires until I get somebody over to relieve you. Then come in. Aquilino will be here by the time you get here.”

“If his high-priced lawyer doesn't get there first.”

“I'll see you in a bit.” Schmidt hung up.

Feigin went out of the office and returned to his listening post. The tape in Sal's house was going again. Feigin donned his headset quickly.

“Even so, he's still your father,” Maria's voice was saying.

“But that doesn't mean I have to agree with what he is or does,” said a female voice. “One of these days you're going to be a widow. He thinks he's still a kid.”

“He's got a lot more life than a lot of men,” said Maria.

“And if he'll just stop what he's doing and retire, and go to Florida, he'll keep that life, God willing, for a long time. I just worry about him, mother.”

“I know. I do too,” Maria agreed. “But what can we do? You can't teach an old dog new tricks. That's the way he is.”

“I'm sure Daddy's all right. Didn't Gianni say so?”

“Yes, but even so, how does Gianni know? He's not around to know from day to day.”

“If Gianni Aquilino says everything is okay, mother, I'm sure it is.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. And so do you.”

“I guess you're right,” said Maria. “It's just that I worry.”

“Do you want me to come over and stay with you today?”

“Can you?”

“Sure. I'll bundle up little Sal and we'll come over and spend the day together.”

“That'll be nice,” said Maria. “I'll fix some food the way you like it.”

“We'll be there in about forty-five minutes.”

“Okay. And bundle Sal up warm, now. It's cold out.”

“Yes, mother.”

“All right, come on, we'll watch the astronauts on the TV. Tell little Sal to hurry to Nonna.”

“Okay, good-by.”

“Good-by.”

Feigin shrugged, picking up his
Reader's Digest
again.

10:30 A.M.

Gianni lit a cigarette and put the lighter back in his pocket. He was sitting to the right of Lieutenant Schmidt's desk. He smiled at him. “You're really looking great, lieutenant. And the promotion, that's great. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. How long has it been since I've seen you?”

“Come on, Gianni, don't horse around,” Schmidt said patiently.

“I'm not horsing around,” said Gianni. “I'm delighted you made lieutenant. It's nice to know the old-timers on top are letting in a few besides their own for the promotions.”

Schmidt leaned back in his chair and smiled. “You look great too, Gianni. Come on now, level with me. We're not trying to pin anything on you, or on Sal. You know-that. We know there's something wrong. We're trying to help—but you've got to cooperate.”

“You know, I wish there was something for me to tell you, lieutenant. But I don't know what in blazes you're talking about. As far as I know, there's nothing wrong.”

“Then where's Sal?”

“He must be at home,” Gianni replied calmly.

“You know he's not at home. We know he's got troubles and we can help.”

“You know more than I do, lieutenant. I don't know about any trouble. By the way, did you get in touch with my lawyer?” Gianni said, turning around. Feigin and Quinn were standing in the doorway.

The lieutenant looked up at his two detectives.

“We called him. Luca said he'd be over in about a half hour,” said Quinn. “That was twenty minutes ago.”

“That's fine. Do you know Sandro Luca, lieutenant?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“A nice kid. A terrific lawyer too. He's going places. You'll like him. He's a real gentleman.”

“That's great, Gianni,” said Schmidt. “But you didn't need your attorney.”

“I know, I know, but that's what he's paid for. I may as well get my money's worth.” Gianni smiled, puffing slowly on his cigarette.

“Gianni, believe me, we're trying to help. This has nothing to do with you or anyone else you know.”

“I believe you, and I think you guys are doing great work. I mean that. You're trying to help out a private citizen in distress, no matter what his past, or if you like or dislike him. It's great. But as I said, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I don't want to get rough on you, Gianni,” said Schmidt.

“I don't want you to either. I'm too old for that kind of thing. And you said I didn't need my lawyer.”

“You know you could be held for obstructing justice.”

“What obstruction, lieutenant? What's the crime we're talking about?”

“You know what we're talking about,” Feigin said.

“You know more than I do, then,” said Gianni, not turning. “I may have been out of circulation a long time, lieutenant, but you know you can't hold me. Just let's understand each other. I don't know what's going on. As a matter of fact, when I leave here, I'm going to call Sal and find out if there's anything wrong.”

Another detective came to the doorway. “Lieutenant, there's a lawyer here asking about Gianni Aquilino.”

“You're going to like him,” said Gianni.

Schmidt nodded. “Show him in.”

“Good morning, lieutenant,” said Sandro, entering the office. He shook hands with him and Gianni. Then Schmidt introduced Feigin and Quinn. “Is Mr. Aquilino being held on a crime of some sort?”

“No, we're investigating what we believe is a crime perpetrated against a friend of his. We can't help if we don't get cooperation from the victim's friends.”

Sandro looked at Gianni. “May I speak to my client alone for a moment, lieutenant?”

“I don't think that's necessary,” said Schmidt, “not just yet.”

“See how we disagree. I think it is necessary. And of course a person accused of a crime can confer with his attorney.”

“I guess I didn't make myself clear,” said Schmidt. “Aquilino is not being charged with a crime.”

“In that case, we don't have to stay here any longer, do we?”

The lieutenant stared at Sandro, then at Gianni. He shrugged. “Listen, we're trying to help. If you don't want help, that's your business. If Angeletti ends up a stiff, don't come crying around here.”

“Lieutenant, I'd help you if I could,” said Gianni. “Seriously.”

“Yeah, I bet,” said Schmidt. “Okay. Take off.”

Gianni rose and moved toward the door. Sandro followed him.

“Take care of yourself now, lieutenant,” said Gianni. “Good seeing you again.”