The Love Killers (20 page)

His black Mercedes roared down the highway at a steady pace. Leroy was completely at ease, his mind clear and able to deal with the job ahead.

He'd thoroughly inspected Enzio Bassalino's mansion a few days previously, before the family had arrived. Enzio was in New York, so the grounds had not been as closely guarded. With no family present it had been a relatively simple matter to gain access to the house posing as a telephone engineer. The oldest trick in the world, but once the telephone went dead it always worked. Cut the lines, wait twenty minutes, then appear. ‘Telephone engineer, fault reported on your line.' Guards check the phone, check his phony credentials, and nod agreement that he can come in. At first someone follows him everywhere, but then they got bored and he's on his own. Ready to do whatever he wants.

He'd set the house up exactly as he wanted it. Only the finishing touches were needed. He was well aware of the guards at the gates, the alarm systems, the dogs.

It was an exciting job, a challenge, and Leroy looked forward to challenges.

* * *

Mary Ann August purchased a long black wig. It covered her blondness nicely. Next she bought jeans, a T-shirt, a man's shirt, and tinted glasses. Hurrying to the ladies' room, she washed off her makeup and put on the new clothes. When she emerged she looked like a different girl.

A cab took her to the airport, where she got herself a ticket for Miami.

She was extremely jumpy. There had been a lot of money in Claire's purse, and she was sure that someone would come after her if just for that. But they wouldn't find her—she didn't even recognize herself in the mirror.

After buying a selection of magazines she boarded the plane.

* * *

Nick was in charge. The old man had gone to pieces, his age suddenly and surprisingly catching up with him.

Angelo sat around, restless and manic, until Nick finally got one of the boys to fix him up with a couple of joints to calm him down.

After the meeting Nick phoned Los Angeles to check on business. Everything seemed okay. He had good people working in L.A. Men he could trust.

He kept on thinking about Lara. April was a distant memory. So he wasn't going to be Mr. April Crawford. Big deal. So what?

The old man was resting, and Angelo was playing cards out by the pool.

Nick called the gate. No problems. He'd put an extra man out there. Now there were three of them on constant alert, and no one was allowed through unless they got his personal okay.

The Bassalino family was under fire, and Nick was taking no risks.

Picking up the phone, he dialed Lara in New York. He couldn't help himself.

She took her time answering.

‘Listen, lady. You're lucky I didn't kill the sonofabitch,' he said threateningly. She didn't answer, so he added, ‘If I catch anybody in bed with you again their number is up. Do you understand what I'm sayin'?'

‘You broke his nose,' she said quietly.

‘Yeah? That's a shame.'

‘It's not a joke. He'll probably sue you.'

‘I'm shakin' in my boots.'

‘Why are you calling me?'

‘I wanted to.'

She was ridiculously pleased to hear from him, and yet she couldn't just give in and fall into his arms because April had married Sammy and Nick was now on the loose.

‘I'm in Miami,' he said. ‘I want you to go straight to the airport an' catch the next plane here. We have a lot of talking to do.'

Breathlessly she said, ‘Are you crazy?'

‘Yeah, I'm crazy,' he replied recklessly. ‘Crazy about you. I need you here, Lara. It's got nothing to do with April and Sammy. I want you. Don't let me down, baby.'

‘I can't, Nick, I—'

‘Don't fight it, sweetheart. We belong together, and you know it. I'll have a man at the airport to meet you—he'll bring you straight to the house.'

She felt lightheaded. He needed her. He wanted her. ‘Okay,' she whispered. What the hell, she'd never made a spontaneous decision in her life. Now was the time to take a risk and do something just for Lara.

Before she changed her mind she began throwing things into a suitcase, humming softly to herself until suddenly Cass's words hit her. Words she hadn't really listened to before were now very clear in her head.

‘Let Dukey do it his way. I'm not sure what he has planned, but whatever it is, I don't think ifs safe to be around the Bassalinos.'

She experienced a moment of panic. Quickly she phoned Cass. ‘What did you mean when you said it's not safe to be around the Bassalinos?' she asked urgently. ‘What does Dukey plan to do?'

‘I don't know,' Cass replied. ‘I guess he's going to finish off—'

‘Finish off
what?
'

‘I don't know.'

Slamming the phone down, she tried to reach Dukey. There was no reply at his apartment.

Oh, God! She had to get to Nick, tell him the truth, and warn him.

Finishing her packing, she called down to the doorman to find her a cab.

Miami was her next stop. And as quickly as possible. There was no other way of warning him.

* * *

Sitting in her room, Rose Bassalino brooded. She had no tears left to cry for her oldest son. Her tears had all been shed many years before.

It was Enzio's fault, of course. Everything was always Enzio's fault.
Basta!
Bastard! Big man with a big cock.

He had taken Frank away because he knew Frank was her favorite.

If she closed her eyes, she could picture in vivid detail that night so many years ago when Enzio and his men had sliced Charles Cardwell to death in front of her. Like a piece of beef they had sliced and carved and hacked.

Animals!

And all the while Enzio had held her, his hands on her breasts, his body stiffening with excitement.

Rose stifled a scream as the memories came crowding back. She stared out of her window. The pool was still there, the grass, the trees. She had trained her mind to go blank, shut out everything, concentrate on the scenery. Over the years she had even managed to ignore Enzio's succession of whores.

Today it didn't work. Today the sun-drenched garden and bountiful greenery did nothing to calm her.

Rose Bassalino was not crazy. She was as sane as anyone. But to hang on to her sanity she had shut herself away, and now she could feel the fury building in her body, a fury giving her new strength.

For her children's sake she had remained in her room for years. It spared them the agony of what she might do if she ever returned to the real world.

Now it didn't matter. Frank was gone. And it was Enzio's fault.

Rose stood up and stepped away from the window.

She knew what she had to do. Her mind was clear for the first time in seventeen years.

‘Angelo—it's the telephone for you.' Alio strolled out to the pool to tell him.

‘For me?'

‘Yeah—a woman.' Alio was not interested.

Angelo put down his cards. Nobody knew where he was. He picked up the phone beside the pool.

‘You little prick,' a familiar voice said. ‘Running away ain't gonna get you but
nowhere,
baby!'

He recognized her voice immediately. It wasn't difficult. ‘Rio. How did you find me?'

‘I
smelt
you out, baby.' She laughed. ‘We still friends?'

He relaxed. ‘Yeah, but I want to talk to you.'

‘To me.' She paused.
‘And
my friends?'

‘Listen, that was strictly a one-time scene.'

‘Sure, sure. And you hated it—right?'

Once again he experienced the excitement he'd known that time in her apartment. ‘I don't go that route,' he said slowly.

‘Oh,
come on,'
she replied mockingly. ‘This is
me
you're talking to. And I am right here at the Fontainebleau with two divine
new
friends who are
aching
to meet you. Shall we come to you, or will you sashay your
nice, tight
ass over here?'

His throat was dry and constricted. ‘I can't see you today,' he said weakly. Nick had given strict instructions that nobody was to leave the house.

Her voice purred raunchily over the phone. ‘But Angelo, baby. I am naked and horny, and I
never
take no for an answer. My friends are naked and horny and very,
very
willing to do
anything
your little heart desires. They are also
very
impressed with your advance publicity. I showed them the pictures—pictures I'm sure you wouldn't want Daddy to see. So come on over
now,
baby.' He had wanted to go, and now he had to go. The only problem was getting out.

* * *

The only problem was getting in.

More than anyone, Mary Ann August realized how heavily guarded the Bassalino mansion was. She had lived there all those months, and she knew Enzio's stringent methods for keeping strangers out.

However, she was banking on the fact that she wasn't a stranger. She was Enzio's girlfriend, his mistress, and as far as everyone was concerned, she had gone to New York with him just over a week before. And it was perfectly logical that she'd come back with him. She didn't think Enzio would have bothered to announce the fact he was sending her away. He'd obviously told Alio, had him do his dirty work, but apart from that—well, she was sure she knew him well enough to know he kept things to himself.

Mary Ann August had a plan. It was risky. But with luck and guards she knew on the gate, things might just work out.

* * *

‘I'm going to the airport,' Nick said.

‘Hey, I'll go with you.' Angelo saw a way out. Drive to the airport with his brother and then get conveniently lost.

‘No.' Nick shook his head. ‘You stay here and take over from me. There's no way of knowing what their next move is.'

Angelo hesitated. He didn't want to argue with Nick, but then again he was desperate to get out.

Nick was already on his way to the door. Angelo decided to hang back. It would probably be simpler to split when Nick wasn't there anyway.

‘Sure, I'll take care of everything,' he said. ‘You can depend on me.'

Enzio awoke around five. His bedroom overlooked the pool, and when he got up he walked over to the window and gazed out for a while.

He felt old and tired. Feelings he wasn't used to. Age was a son of a bitch. In two months' time he would be seventy years old. Frank was only thirty-six, and the bastards had murdered him—a man in his prime, a Bassalino.

Enzio swore to himself, a slow murmuring of never-ending curses. A prayer of obscenities.

He would have liked to have gone to Rose; she was the only one who could possibly understand the pain he was going through.

But it was impossible. Rose had sworn never to talk to him again, and he knew his wife. She would try and punish him for the rest of his days. Not that he let it bother him. She was lucky he hadn't thrown her out.

Perhaps he should visit the girl he'd imported from New York—the one Kosta Gennas had brought him—what was her name? Mabel? No, Miriam. That was it, Miriam. She had been sent to the house and installed in the usual room, but so far he'd not visited her.

‘Filth!' With a sudden show of anger he spat on the floor. They were all filth, these women he could buy. Besides, he could summon no sexual interest. At his age it was becoming more difficult.

He lay once again on his bed. Maybe he would sleep some more; perhaps he would feel better in a while.

Images of Frank as a child kept flashing before him. They'd called him Frankie, and the kid was a tough little monkey. He remembered the day Frankie lost his first tooth. The day he learned to swim. The time at school he beat up a boy twice his size. Oh, that had made Enzio so proud! When Frankie was thirteen he'd taken him to his first girl—an eighteen-year-old hooker. Frankie had performed like a man. From that day on they'd called him Frank.

Enzio chuckled, although his eyes were filled with tears.

The door to his room opened quietly. For a moment he couldn't quite make out who it was standing there. Then he recognized Mary Ann August, with her teased blond hair, small red bikini, long legs, and large breasts.

‘Hi, baby-sweetie-pie,' she said, smiling nicely.

He grunted, struggling to sit up. Hadn't he sent her away? Hadn't Alio dealt with her?

Mary Ann swayed toward the bed. ‘How's Mommy's big bad man?' she cooed, at the same time undoing the tie on her bikini top, allowing her breasts to tumble out.

Enzio's mind was muddled. Alio must have screwed up. Anyway, so what? Mary Ann August was just what he needed now. She knew what he liked, his fads and fancies.

Suddenly he wasn't an old man of nearly seventy, he was a Bassalino, a stud.

Reaching the bed, she leaned over him, her breasts dangling tantalisingly over his face. He opened his mouth and attempted to cram in an obliging nipple.

She giggled and began fiddling with his clothes.

He closed his eyes and sighed as he felt the erection beginning.

His mouth was full of her when she shot him precisely and silently straight through the heart.

Angelo left the house soon after Nick. It was easy. Just walk out, climb into his old souped-up black Mustang, drive to the gates, wave at the guards as they let him through. Easy. After all, he was a Bassalino, too, so who dared to stop him?

He switched on the radio. Drake. Loud and clear. Great. He felt good, a little high, just enough. Frank's death had completely unnerved him. A fucking bomb right in the middle of New York—that was one hell of a way to go. But he couldn't pretend he was heartbroken. Okay. Sure. So Frank was his brother. But he'd always been a mean bastard. There had never been any love lost between the two of them.