Vineyard Shadows (18 page)

“What do you mean?” asked Rimini in a startled voice. His eyes flicked to the woman's face and then back to mine. “Do you know something? How . . . ?”

“Take it easy, dear,” said the woman, putting a hand on his arm. “Don't jump to conclusions. I'm sure Mr. Jackson will explain what he means.” The blue eyes looked up into mine. “You will, won't you? I'm afraid that Tom's a little on edge these days. You can understand why a remark like yours could disturb him.”

“It's pretty simple,” I said. “Tom, here, isn't the only guy who has eyes for you. Sonny Whelen does, too. In fact, I'm told you're a weakness of his. He's already after Tom and if he finds out you're down here with him, he'll have two reasons for being mad. He might even be mad enough to come down here himself, since they say he likes to handle personal matters personally.”

“But who would tell him, Mr. Jackson? Not you, surely. Not after the efforts you've made on Tom's behalf? And if not you, then who?” She now had both hands on Rimini's arm, and was holding him close to her, as if to protect him from the evils of the world.

“No, I wouldn't tell him,” I said, trying and failing to see past those sharp blue eyes into her mind, “but I know a couple of people who might: Tom's wife, for one. They put the fear of God into her before, and they might do it again.”

“But she doesn't know where he is.”

“Don't count on it. Tom, here, told you, didn't he? How many other people has he told?” I looked at him. “He has a hard time keeping things to himself.”

“I didn't tell anyone but Grace!” cried Rimini. “She's the only one!”

“You wouldn't hold back on me, would you, Tom?”

“No! I'm telling you the truth.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“How about you, Mrs. Shepard? Are you telling me all of the truth, too?”

She smiled. “No woman ever tells any man all of the truth, Mr. Jackson.”

I liked her brass, and saw still more clearly how she could be a magnet for men. “That's not the kind of truth I'm talking about, Mrs. Shepard.”

“What kind are you talking about, Mr. Jackson?”

I looked from one to the other. “We can start with the guns. Neither one of you has mentioned them.”

Rimini paled, and something in his eyes became feral, but the woman only shrugged.

“They belonged to my husband. Tom is pretty nervous, so I brought them down when I came. Maybe he didn't mention them because he didn't think they were important. You might think of them as props, psychological props.”

“If you want protection, you should call the cops.”

Rimini started rubbing his hands. “No. No police. I may have something worked out. I just have to think about it some more. Grace is right. She brought the guns because I've been frightened. Why, we don't even know how to shoot. I haven't touched a weapon since I
got out of basic training. It's just that . . .” He let his voice trail away, then shook his head. “I don't think you can understand. You've never been afraid. You've never had killers after you.”

I had bullet and shrapnel scars that said he was wrong, but saw no point in mentioning them since he was totally caught up in his own situation.

“What's this plan you're working on?”

He shook his head. “It's too soon to talk about it, but in a couple of days I'll know. I'll tell you when I've got it figured out. I need to stay here until I do. Is that all right? I want Grace to stay, too. I need her.”

He was a fairly pitiful sight, with those nervous hands and wild eyes. He seemed to be one of those men who needed a woman who was stronger than he was, and Grace struck me as fitting that bill. I had little feeling for Rimini, but I felt sorry for Carla and their sons. Rimini was a poor figure of a husband and father.

Grace Shepard stepped forward. “If we can just be alone for two or three days, I'm sure we can resolve Tom's problem. Tom and I have to talk things out without anyone else being around. You've been wonderful to Tom, and I know that you've got a major interest in what happens to him, but if you can just leave us alone here for two or three days, I promise you that we'll get everything worked out and get out of your life.”

Her blue eyes were wide and full of arcane intelligence. She put one hand on my arm. “Please. Just two or three days. We need that much time for Tom to calm down and for the two of us to talk. Then we'll be gone.”

“Show me the guns.”

“Certainly.” She led me into the library. There, on a reading table surrounded by shelves filled with thousands
of John Skye's books, were two gun cases. I opened them and found a 30.06 Winchester and a Remington 12-gauge pump gun. Two common weapons.

“Your husband was a hunter, Mrs. Shepard?”

She nodded. “He used to go to Maine with friends. I'm afraid I don't know much about guns.” She pointed to a satchel. “I brought bullets, too, but I'm not sure they're the right ones. They were in the closet where Ralph kept the guns.”

I opened the satchel. The ammunition was for these weapons. There was also a box of 9-mm ammunition for a pistol that wasn't there. Ralph apparently hadn't had a chance to use his nine when he'd been shot.

“Where's the pistol that goes with this?” I asked.

The woman shook her head. “I don't know. I didn't know Ralph had a pistol.”

I zipped the gun cases. “I advise you just to leave these weapons alone. Pretend you don't even have them. If, for some reason, you think you're in danger, call the police.”

She glanced back toward Rimini, who was standing in the adjoining room, and lowered her voice. “I will. Tom doesn't want the police involved because of his own gambling, but I'll call them if we need protection. I'd rather have Tom alive and in jail than dead. I won't take any chances.”

“Good. I'll be back in a couple of days. Good luck with the master plan.” I could hear the sarcasm in my voice.

Her smile was not free of mockery. “Thanks. And thanks for being understanding. Tom is a wonderful man, but his nerves have gotten bad; still, with your help I think we'll be fine.”

Maybe Tom and Grace would be fine, but I doubted if Carla's situation was going to improve.

When I passed Rimini on my way out, all I managed to say to him was, “Call your wife every day. She's foolish enough to love you.”

I got into the truck, drove to town and picked up the kids, and went home. I was irritated and uneasy, but my discontent was not made glorious by any sun, for there was only darkness where my thoughts and feelings dwelled.

If I were a Zen master, I could accept all things, but I am not, and am therefore distressed when some bell rings wrong in my psyche, when my sense is that things are out of joint. And there was something going on with Rimini that illed my ease. The lies and deceptions were part of it, but both my twentieth-century cynicism and my work as a cop had conditioned me, like Sam Spade, to expect people to lie under pressure. I did it myself, after all, from time to time, and Rimini was being pressed hard, so I wasn't shocked. But I was very uneasy.

I went out to the flower beds and popped dead heads and weeded. Overhead the innocent sun shone bright in a clear blue sky. All around me Nature continued her timeless cycle of life and death, ignoring human notions of right and wrong. The great circle rolled and universes disappeared and were created. Neither Rimini nor I would be noted for our coming or our passing. Part of me knew that my worries were absurd, that everything was perfect, that only my human pettiness denied me that realization; but I was stuck with that pettiness and could not set it aside.

A monk went into the wilderness and swore he would not return to the temple until he achieved enlightenment.
Years later, having finally seen the white light, he returned. On the way, he met a novice.

“Do you know me?” asked the monk.

“Oh yes,” said the novice. “You're the monk who knows everything.” And he walked on by.

The phone rang.

“I'll get it, Pa.” Joshua galloped into the house.

“I want to get it next time,” said an aggrieved Diana, her mouth sagging.

“No sniveling,” I said. “Joshua gets it this time; you get it the next time.”

“I got it for Ma when those bad men were dead.”

“I know. It's just that there are two kids here and only one phone, so you have to take turns. Next time it's your turn.”

Joshua came out with the phone in his hand. “It's Quinn.”

I took the receiver.

“It's migration time,” said Quinn. “I don't know if it has anything to do with you, but Sonny Whelen and some of his minions have dropped out of sight.”

“Who?”

“Sonny himself, for one. And Sean. And Todd. Remember him, sitting there with Sonny? I don't think he liked you very much.”

“I remember.”

“And Pete McBride and his pal Bruno. I think you met them, too.”

“Sounds like good news for the Boston PD. Everybody's leaving town. Maybe they've all decided to retire to Florida.”

“Sure.”

“Where did they go?”

“I don't know, and neither do my contacts in the law enforcement business.”

“When did it happen?”

“I just found out about it this afternoon. As far as I know, they were all in town yesterday. People are running around like chickens with their heads cut off. It's not a good feeling when your prime criminal element just disappears.”

“Another one of those Mafia conventions like I used to read about? A summit meeting in the Catskills?”

“Could be. I don't know and neither does anybody else. But since you and your friend Rimini have been in Sonny's face lately, I thought you might be interested.”

I was interested, all right.

“Do you think they're coming here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, pal.”

“Thanks, Quinn.”

I rang off and called Boston's Finest, Gordon Sullivan. He was out. I left a message to call me as soon as he got in. If the Whelen gang had dropped out of sight, I wanted to know if they were headed for the Vineyard.

Then I got out my old .38, checked it, loaded it, and shoved it under my belt.

When Zee got home, I waited until she'd changed and played with the kids and the two of us were on the balcony with cocktails. There, I told her everything I'd seen and heard that day.

“Time for you to get untangled from all of this,” said Zee. “I don't like the way it smells.”

“Neither do I. What does your nose tell you?”

She touched her healing lip with her fingers. “You're dealing with liars, deceivers, and professional criminals. Everybody has a gun. One man is dead already and that was just the start of it all.”

“It started before that.”

“I meant for us. It started for us then. I'm glad you told the cops about Tom Rimini. They're the ones who should take charge of him, not you.”

“I'm not in charge of him, I'm just trying to help him.”

“Why? So he can go back home and keep cheating on his wife while he caters to his gambling habit?”

Touché.

“Maybe if we can get him free from Sonny Whelen, he can get into a program. Gamblers Anonymous, or whatever they call that outfit.”

“Do they have a Mistress Anonymous he can join? Something for people who can't stay away from other women?” Her voice was sharp.

“They probably do,” I said, “but I'm not his social worker, I'm just trying to help him out.”

“Because of Carla!”

“I'd like to think I'd help out anybody in a similar jam. I don't want to be somebody who just stands by and watches somebody else get killed.”

“Do you love her?”

“I love you.”

“But do you still love her, too?”

I'd thought enough about that question, but I still couldn't answer it the way I wanted to. “I have feelings for her. I care about what happens to her. I don't love her like I did when we were married, but she and I shared too much for me to abandon her now.”

She stared out over Sengekontacket Pond, but I wasn't sure she was seeing the departing beach people or the boats heading in for the night. Finally, she nodded a small nod. “Yes. That's you, all right. You don't abandon people. I'm sorry. It's just that I don't like this mess we're in, and I don't want it to get worse.”

I found her nondrinking hand and gave it a squeeze. “If there's any trouble, I'll try to stay out of it.”

“That pistol in your belt says differently.”

“Well, you know what Manny Fonseca says . . .”

In ironic unison we recited the gun toters' maxim: “It's better to have one and not need it than to need it and not have it.”

“The terrible thing about that,” said Zee, “is that it's true. Did I tell you that I gave a blood sample to the D.A. today?”

I felt my muscles tighten. “Was Norm Aylward there?”

“Yes.”

I relaxed a bit. “Why do they need a sample of your blood?”

“Because there was a lot of blood around here last week, and they want to know whose was whose. I need to have you tell me something.”

“What?”

“Do you really still love me?”

I was surprised. “Let me count the ways.”

“No, Jeff, I'm serious. Do you?”

“Of course.” I studied her. “You never have to ask.”

She shook her head. “I have to because I'm different now. I'm not the person I was a week ago. I don't feel the same. I don't know how anybody can love me, now that I've killed a man.”

Such guilt irked me. “I killed a woman and you love me.”

“I know, but . . .”

“You'll get past it. Remember, your four days of mourning are over and your life goes on.”

“I'm not a Navajo. It's taking me longer.”

“Everyone knows you're no killer, and everyone who loved you before loves you still. Look down there.” I pointed to Joshua and Diana, who were playing with Oliver Underfoot and Velcro. “You know the kids love you just the same. So do I. So do your friends.”

She looked at her children. “Yes.” Then she sat back and said, “I think I'm going to give up shooting. It was just a game before, but now it seems like practice for homicide.”

“Fine. Manny Fonseca is going to be sad, because you were his best pupil, but he'll understand.”

“What a drudge I am,” she said. “Full of gloom.” She donned a smile and showed it to me. “No more of that.”

I wished that I could just accept the smile and play along with it, but I couldn't.

“I'm worried about the Whelen crew disappearing like
they have,” I said. “I don't know where they went, but one of the possibilities is that they're coming here. It could be that Sonny's got a line on where Tom Rimini is, in which case Tom is in trouble. Or it could be that Sonny's changed his mind about you and me and has decided to stop the laughs about what happened to Logan and Trucker. I think it might be a good idea if you and the kids went up to Aquinnah for the next couple of days.”

The smile went away faster than it had come. “Fat chance of that! This is our house, and I won't have anybody running us out of it!”

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright . . .

“It might be safer,” I said.

“This is our house! I won't change our life because of some Boston thugs!” She saw something in my face and put both hands on her cheeks. “Oh, my! What am I saying?”

“You're saying that He who made the lamb made thee. . . . And you're right. You're the gentlest person I know, but when there's a threat to your family, you turn into a lioness.” I felt my head tip to one side as I looked at the fire deep in her bottomless eyes. “Some people call it maternal instinct, but you had it in you before we had children, so I call it love.”

She shook her head. “Is that what it is?”

“Would you die for me?”

“Of course. What a question!”

“And I for you. Would you die for the kids?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And so would I. The other side of that coin is fighting for them, if you have to. You did that a week ago and you're willing to do it again. Accept that. I have. If people
will leave us alone, they have nothing to fear from us. If they try to hurt us, they put themselves in harm's way. We're together on this.”

“Yes. What a world we live in.”

What a world, indeed. It was magnificent and grand and beautiful and totally without mercy or meaning.

“So, we'll stay put,” I said.

“Yes, but this place is a terrible fort, you know.”

When had she studied defensive architecture? “You're right; it's a house, not a castle, but it's not the worst fortress in the world, either. I can't imagine any big-city thugs finding their way here through the trees, so there's only the driveway to bring them in. Logan and Trucker got here because you never expected an attack. If you plan for one, you've got the edge. You can split, because you know the lay of the land, or you can waylay them on their way in. The defense always has the edge, at least in the beginning.”

“I know the first thing we should do: we should call the Chief and have one of his guys stand out there at the head of the driveway!”

“A good thought, but a very expensive one. It costs a lot of money to hire a cop, and we can't afford it.”

“We can't not afford it if Sonny Whelen is coming!”

“But we don't know that he is. In fact, if I was to bet on it, I'd say he wasn't. He as much as admitted he'd made a mistake sending Logan here, and he can't like the bad press and the jokes that came out of it. I don't think he wants anything more to do with you or me.”

“Are you sure?”

I've been sure about a lot of things that turned out differently from how I expected.

“I'm fairly sure,” I said, “but I'll talk with the Chief
and Dom Agganis and tell them what Quinn's told me. I think the Chief will be willing to keep an eye on us for the next couple of days, at least.”

“Until Tom Rimini and that woman have gone.”

“Yes.”

“I wish they were already gone.”

“Me, too.”

Below, on the lawn, the children, green and golden in the heydays of their lives, played with the cats, rubbing their bellies and petting them. Eden, before the fall.

“I'll talk with the Chief right now,” I said, finishing my drink.

Downstairs, I called his office. He'd gone home. I called his home and got his wife, who handed him the phone.

“What?”

I told him what Quinn had told me and of my worries.

“You're right to be worried,” he said. “You get yourself into these situations and you never learn.”

“You really should have been a priest. You love to preach.”

“We get paid the really big bucks to protect and serve. I'll call Dom Agganis and see if he knows what's going on. Probably he doesn't because probably Sonny and his gang have all gone up to New Hampshire or Maine or someplace where Sonny doesn't have to read any more stories about how your wife wiped out two of Boston's baddest. How did your pal Quinn learn about this disappearing act, anyhow?”

“He has police sources, he says. You can ask him yourself, if you want to.”

“Sure. And I'd get that confidentiality of sources routine. Meanwhile, I'll have the cruiser swing by your place
every now and then to make sure everything's okay. Make sure you don't get nervous and shoot holes in it, because it has to last a couple more years.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, yeah. One thing more. I'm afraid we won't be taking any of those long guns away from your pal Tom Rimini or his girlfriend. Both of them have firearms permits.”

Really.

“Even better, the woman, Grace Shepard, has a license to carry a handgun. Seems that she feared for her life after her hubby got himself shot dead a couple of years ago, and needed to protect herself.”

“She owns a handgun?”

“A 9-mm S and W, registered all nice and legal. Shoots it at a gun club pistol range. According to my sources, all confidential, you'll understand, that's where she met your friend Rimini.”

“You're sure?”

“Death and taxes are sure; the rest is negotiable.”

I rang off and stood there. If anyone had been looking at me they might have thought I was memorizing the shape of the telephone. But what I was really doing was trying to think clearly for a change.