The Penny Ferry - Rick Boyer (32 page)

"'Okay," said Tescione, his eyes never
leaving Joe. I don't think he had blinked in two minutes.

"Friday before last, Andy Santuccio was murdered
up in Lowell."

Tescione's eyes blinked and fluttered down briefly to
gaze at the desk top before returning to Joe.

"I know. I was at his funeral; God rest his
soul."

"The same people who killed him killed another
friend of mine, and a friend of the doctor's here too. The man who
killed Andy is Carmen DeLucca."

Tescione's eyes widened slightly. He put his palms
back down on the desk top and leaned over close to Joe, still looking
him square in the eye.

"We know he killed him," Joe continued. "We
have laboratory proof. Now what I wish to ask you is, do you know who
had DeLucca kill Andy?"

"No. But I do know one thing."

"What's that?"

"That if he were in this room now I would kill
him. And if you tried to stop me I would kill you first, then him."

"Do you know what Andy Santuccio had in the
Boston Public Library that people would kill for?"

"I know his father had important papers from the
Sacco and Vanzetti trial. That is, if you could call such an outrage
a trial."

"Yes. I know that too. But do you, or anyone you
know, have any idea exactly what part of the papers could have caused
his death?"

"No;" said Tescione, who sank slowly back
into his chair and propped his chin on his knuckles. "Until a
week ago I thought DeLucca was dead. I don't know why anyone would
have Andy killed. He was a friend of mine and a good man in the
community. Did you know that at the time of his death he was working
on a housing project for the elderly?"

Tescione opened a silver case at his elbow and drew
out a black-and-gold cigarette. He stuck it in his mouth and patted
his pockets. Joe put his Orsini lighter on the desk top and slid it
over to Tescione. Having lighted the cigarette, Tescione began to
slide the lighter back, but Joe pushed it away.

"
Keep it," he said.

Tescione held the lighter up and examined it.

"But this is a very expensive lighter, Mr.
Brindelli. I can't—"

"No, please. Keep it. I got plenty."

Tescione pocketed Joe's lighter as a man brought a
carafe of coffee and four cups. He detained the man by his sleeve,
got up and walked with him a few steps, and whispered some
instructions. Then he returned to the desk and poured coffee for all
of us. I wanted a cigarette. I haven't had one for twelve years and
it takes a helluva situation to make me think about them. But now I
wanted one. A Camel. Joe sighed.

"Then," he pursued, "who had DeLucca
kill Andy, and why?"

"I don't know," replied Tescione, setting
down his coffee cup and dragging on the Du Maurier cigarette. "And
also I don't think I know anyone who knows."

Joe looked blankly, and bleakly, ahead with his
Thousand-Yard Stare. "I guess I have no alternative but to
believe that."

For a second a look of annoyance crossed Tescione's
aquiline face, then it was replaced by a smile. I could see how
people could be afraid of him.

"Then believe it. Because it is true," the
man said, thumping his palms down on the table. "Now. You have
asked me. You said also you were going to tell me something."

Joe hesitated for a moment, then crooked his finger
at Tescione as a signal for him to lean over the desk, which he did.
Joe leaned over too until they were cheek to cheek, as if embracing.
I heard him whispering right into Tescione's ear. The whispering
stopped; the two men began to part, then Joe grabbed Tescione by the
shoulder and drew them close again. The whispering continued. Then
the men sat back and Tescione nodded slowly at Joe.

"Very well," he said. "Then it
appears, Mr. Brindelli, Mr. Adams, that our business is concluded.
Thank you very much for the visit. And thank you for the fine lighter
too."

"Don't mention it. Enjoy it."

We shook hands. The attendant returned. to take the
coffee tray and leaned over and whispered quickly to Tescione, who
nodded and smiled at him. Then he left, and we followed. Mr. Aldorfer
led us back downstairs and said good-bye. The Yaley- lackey appeared
with a paper sack for Joe. It contained his pistol. We were once
again walked back through the dark and deserted realty office, let
out through the front glass door, walked down the stairs, and soon
found ourselves on the street near the candy store where Joe had made
the phone call. It was as if the whole thing hadn't really happened.

"I had no idea that the notorious Paul Tescione
was so approachable," I said as we walked back to Salem Street
and headed for the car.

"He usually isn't. I don't think we'd have
gotten in if I weren't Italian. He knows of me; we've got some mutual
friends, like Giordano. Ha! Meeting him like that, you'd never know
how he makes his money would you?"

We walked on in silence. I didn't mention the
lighter; I knew it would be unwise. Joe had loved that lighter and
had given it up as a sign of fealty to a man he hated, but needed. I
wondered too what he had told Tescione. I had an idea.

"Why the hell did they give me back my gun in
this damn sack? Wait a sec; I'll slip into the car and lock it up
under the seat."

I waited outside while Joe locked his Beretta in the
special strongbox bolted to the frame of his sedan under the driver's
seat. He hated to carry guns. He emerged, shut the door and locked
it, and came to my side chuckling. He held in his big hand a blue
cardboard box.

"Look what I found in that paper sack along with
my gun."'

I took the box and opened it. It was a lighter. A
Cartier, dark blue and gold. The gold seemed to be real.

"Shit. I'm moving from a wop lighter up to a
frog lighter. I'm moving up in the world. Do you believe how fast he
did that?"

We both laughed, and went into Toscana's and bought
six extra-thick loin lamb chops. Up the street at Beninati's we
bought some fresh bread sticks, the white nougat candies with the
bright wrappers that Mary loves, some fresh bread, espresso beans,
and six cans of flat anchovy fillets. It's practically impossible to
go into these little North End stores and buy one thing. Back on
Storrow Drive, then home by eight-forty. Not too bad, considering all
we'd done.

Joe and Mary talked in the living room while I sliced
tomatoes in the kitchen. I alternated slices of tomato, cucumber, and
onion s around the outsides of three large plates, putting a bed of
romaine lettuce in the center. On this I placed a big chunk of white
tuna, a handful of Tuscan peppers and semihot banana peppers,
pimentos and black olives, Greek olives, provelone and feta cheese,
Genoa salami, and prosciutto, and I topped it with anchovies. Off to
one side of this was a big scoop of marinated eggplant chunks and
artichoke hearts. Then I crushed fresh basil over the tomatoes, added
salt, coarse black pepper, olive oil, vinegar, and a little lemon
juice. The lamb chops had been basted with garlic butter and were
almost done. With the meat we would have bread and white beans with
lamb drippings.

We started with the antipasto, and when we were
almost through it Joe showed Mary the lighter and told her about our
visit with Paul Tescione. She sat at the table wide-eyed and silent,
her eyes never leaving her brother. She fed herself by touch. I
brought in the meat and the rest of the meal and squirted a few drops
of fresh lemon juice over each buttery chop. Joe had demolished his
first chop and almost the second one when the phone rang and Mary
went into the kitchen to answer it. She came back with a message for
Joe.

"It was your office at Ten-Ten Comm. Ave. A man
called the office there asking for you, saying it was pretty
important. A Mr. Aldorfer?"

He was in the kitchen quite a while. His chop got
cold. He came back, sat down, stared at his plate a minute, and then
excused himself, saying he'd be in my study.

Mary asked me who Mr., Aldorfer was and I let on I
didn't know. just a little white lie to keep her from getting worked
up. I finished Joe's chop for him and told Mary I'd see him alone in
the study for a few minutes.

I found him in there playing with the dogs. He was
patting them and talking to them, and smoking. .

"What's up?" I asked.

"What's up? I'm up. I'm up shit's creek without
a paddle is what. Aldorfer just told me that some of his
acquaintances up in Lynn stumbled across a corpse up there."

"
Then they got DeLucca?"

He exhaled smoke through his nostrils like a dragon
and shook his head.

"No. The body they found was the late Johnny
Rizzo, tied to a chair in his rooming house. He'd been gagged. Then
somebody— gee, I wonder who— broke both his legs with a billy
club and went to work on him with a knife. Poor bastard. And it's my
fault."

"
Where were the cops?"

"They were still watching the sub shop, not
Rizzo's place. None of us took Johnny's fear seriously. He was such a
chicken-shit all the time. But he was right; DeLucca did know he was
being set up. Maybe that was him in the cab. Jeeee-sus Keeeee-riste."

"Now I know what you whispered to Tescione."

"No you don't. You can guess, but you'll never
know. We made sure of that. Listen, Doc: the stakeout was blown and I
didn't think we'd snag him. And if we did, chances are he'd walk, or
get life. And I'll tell you one thing: I want Carmen DeLucca dead. On
a slab. He's a goddamn animal."

Joe stalked out of the study and through the hall to
the little phone booth underneath the stairway. Before he could close
the door after him I held it.

"Joe. What would happen if O'Hearn and the
others at Ten-Ten Comm. Ave. got wind you'd met with Paul Tescione in
his office?"

He stood there glaring at me with the phone cradled
in his big hairy paw and a new cigarette dangling from the corner of
his mouth, trailing smoke. He needed a shave. Joe always needs a
shave. He smelled of stale sweat and old smoke and food and booze. I
saw a corner of his shoulder holster peeping through his coat. He was
straight out of a Cagney flick. He was scary.

"Seewwww what!" He snarled. "They
wouldn't particularly give a shit. But anyway, they'll never find
out. Know why?"

"Why?" .

"Because you don't want to take a fall for a B
and E, remember?"

He slammed the door after him and pushed buttons
while I went back into the study. They say when you fight an enemy
long enough you begin to take on his characteristics. Maybe they're
right; all Joe. needed was a big white fedora. He marched from the
booth.

"Where are you going?" Mary asked him as he
went to the door. He kissed her on the cheek, thanked both of us, and
said he'd just alerted his own people to check on Rizzo. Knowing what
they'd find, he thought it best to be on hand.

"
At least the Mob wasn't in on the
Robinson-Santuccio hit," he said as he paused at the open door.
"I mean, I think he's leveling with us."

"I do too. I don't think it was the Mob."

"And if the hot item never surfaces, then so
much the better. All I want now is DeLucca on a slab and I'm happy."

He left. Mary and I went into the kitchen and started
up the coffee machine. She sat at the kitchen table and rubbed her
fingers nervously over her eyes and forehead. Then she played with
her hair, kneading and pulling at it like a grumpy child. She gazed
down at the table, ignoring her coffee. Mary had had it. She was
wrung out and exhausted. I patted her back.

"I can't wait for the trip," she said,
resting her head down on her forearms. "When do we leave? The
third?"

"Yep. Day before the Fourth of July. The Flight
to Milan is out of New York, and I've heard the Tall Ships will be in
the harbor . . ." .

"Good. Jeeez, I can't wait to get out of here
for a while."

I opened the swing-out, lead-pane windows and let the
spring breeze in. Mary sighed.

"At least it's just about over . . . this
thing."

"Yep," I said, and went to get a magazine.
On the hall table I spotted a manila envelope with no writing on it.
I opened it. Inside were some police circulars on Carmen DeLucca and
some glossy photos of him. He had black eyes like a Gila monster. He
did not look like a nice guy. Joe had left the envelope with us,
probably by mistake. I pulled one of the big glossy prints out of the
envelope and took it in to Mary. It would be interesting to see if
she could recognize a mad-dog killer just by his face and eyes.

She was slumped against the table, playing idly with
her earring. She looked tired. I slid the photo in front of her. She
glanced at it and looked up. -

"
Where'd you get that?"

"Joe left it here. What do you think of it?"

"It's a good photo. It's him all right. Joe
works pretty fast."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean,
it's him?"