Vineyard Shadows (21 page)

I asked about the chances of getting Tom Rimini into a witness protection program, and Agganis said about what I expected him to say:

“That depends on what he can tell us about Sonny. If he's got enough, maybe we can do something. Have him call me and set up an appointment. I'll have somebody from the A.G.'s office listen to what he has to say.”

“All right,” I said, “I'll do that.” Then I told him what Sullivan had said about the possible sighting on Cape Cod.

“The problem,” said Agganis, “is that we don't have any reason to stop Sonny from going wherever he wants to. He hasn't done anything.”

“You mean he hasn't done anything that you can prove.”

“That's what I mean. Sonny is just another citizen until we can begin to make some dirt stick to him. If he wants to take a Vineyard holiday, there's nobody to say he can't.”

“Well, don't you think it's just a little bit odd that Sonny and Graham and several other Boston area guys probably in Sonny's gang are all showing up here on the Vineyard at the same time, just when Tom Rimini and Grace Shepard happen to be hiding out from Sonny?”

“Maybe the Mafia is going to have another big Appalachian Convention–type meeting, only this time
on the Vineyard. I mean even the evil empire likes to convene in a nice vacation place, just like the AMA. Anyway, we'll have some people at the docks when the next boats come in. In fact, we'll have more than one somebody this time, so we won't lose Sonny like we lost Graham. We can probably trail him, but we can't arrest him until he does something illegal, and Sonny never does any illegal thing himself unless it's very personal.”

“If he's got the hots for Grace Shepard, he might take it personally that she's shacked up with Tom Rimini.”

“He might at that, especially since one theory is that Sonny had Ralph Shepard hit so he could get at Grace. But that's only conjecture, of course.”

“My impression is that Sonny doesn't leave Charlestown all that often. If he's come down here, it's for a reason.”

“Brilliant, Watson. And people say that you're just a brainless schmuck.”

“I want you to write this down and credit it to me, Dom. Ready? ‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.' Got that?”

“Go eat some lunch and leave me alone.”

I did that, feeding myself and my offspring slabs of homemade bread slathered with butter and honey. Delish!

Then I mowed the lawn with the mower I'd salvaged from the dump years before. All it needed was a cleaned carburetor and a new starter cord and it was just fine. People throw away a lot of perfectly good stuff.

Mowing grass is a mindless operation, so you can think of other things while you do it. I thought about all of the shady people who were casting shadows on the island. The pattern they composed was elusive, but one thing seemed clear: Tom Rimini was at the center of it somehow.

I tried to remember everything I had seen, heard, or been told, known lies and all. I tried to figure which things I'd presumed were true might also be lies.

I started with Howie Trucker. He'd told me that day from his hospital bed that Sonny had sent him and Logan after Tom Rimini, but he didn't know why. I believed him because Howie had believed I'd kill him if he lied. Then, at the Green Harp, Sonny had indirectly admitted that sending Logan and Trucker had been a mistake, because Logan couldn't keep his hands off pretty women. He'd said that Logan and Trucker had only been given the job because they were already on the island, vacationing. He hadn't said why Rimini was being sought, but what he had said had backed up Howie's story.

Rimini had told me that he'd fled to the island because of his gambling addiction and because Sonny had found out about his connection with Graham, who wanted to know everything Rimini could tell him about Sonny and his numbers games. Carla had told me the same thing. They agreed that Carla had sent Rimini to my house and that later Carla had been frightened into telling that to Sonny's thugs.

So far, so good. But now things got less clear: Graham wasn't a cop anymore when he'd contacted Rimini; he was an ex-agent for the DEA, which dealt with drugs, not gambling. So he'd lied to Rimini about who he was and what he was up to.

Then Pete McBride and his muscle, Bruno, had trailed me out to Carla's house. Were they working for Sonny or for themselves? Pete was nominally one of Sonny's gang, but had the reputation of wanting Sonny's job. I didn't know why Sonny hadn't already hit him just to be on the safe side, but he hadn't. Maybe because he wasn't sure if the rumors were true. In any case,
McBride might be Sonny's man or he might be just the opposite.

Meanwhile, back on the ranch, Tom Rimini had lied about almost everything. Grace had done the same, but with more panache. And they had a little armory that both knew how to use. They said they had a plan, but didn't say what it was, and said that they only needed to hide out a couple more days. It was quite possible that they were just telling more lies, of course, but in any case I planned to move them off John Skye's place when their two days were up. I'd had enough of Tom Rimini.

What about Carla? I'd been drawn to her first by a sense of duty, then by feelings and a physical attraction I thought I'd gotten past long ago, and I had believed everything she'd told me. But now, in the midst of lies and mysteries, I wondered if I'd been wrong.

I could see her face, and my lips and arms remembered her warmth. If she had deceived me, it wouldn't be the first time a woman made a man into a fool. But I'd been married to her for five years, and in that time had never known her to be cruel, not even when she was leaving me, and I hadn't seen any changes in her when we met in Jamaica Plain. No, I'd put my money on Carla's honesty, win or lose.

It was a relief to believe her, but a sorrow to realize that I could not save her from the pain that would come to her when she finally knew the truth about the husband who was wronging her.

Which meant that I actually owed little or nothing at all to Tom Rimini, since saving him would not stop the hurt that was coming to Carla.

I finished the mowing, cleaned off the mower and put it away, then washed up and had a Sam Adams. The beer was dark and cool and just what I needed.

I considered everything again, then had a small thought that should have occurred to me before: Tom Rimini had lied about Grace Shepard, and both he and Grace had lied first about the guns, and then about their knowledge of how to use them. If they lied about those things, what else might they have lied about?

How about everything? Rimini and Carla had told me, for example, that Sonny was after him because of Tom's gambling debts and his contact with Graham. But Carla knew nothing firsthand about Tom's gambling and had never even seen Graham. All she knew or thought she knew was what Tom had told her, and Tom might have been lying to her, too.

What if Graham had never hassled Tom at all and had never claimed to be a cop? What if they had been meeting for some other reason?

What reason?

I had to be careful not to get too Byzantine in my thinking. Things were complicated enough without me imagining them to be even worse.

I called Quinn. “You're getting to be my best customer,” he said.

“There may be a story for you down here on the island.”

“My ears are up. Even if there isn't a story, an excuse to visit the Blessed Isle is always welcome. What story?”

I told him of the arrival of the Boston players. “I don't know what it's all about, yet, but the cast of characters is interesting.”

“Indeed. Your guest room available?”

“Sure, but first you can do something for me.”

He groaned. “What?”

“Check back and tell me everything you can about a drug dealer named Ralph Shepard. He was chief supplier
in Jamaica Plain until he got himself shot to death a couple of years ago. I want to know what kind of a guy he was. Was he laid-back and trusting? Was he nervous and scared? Was he sweet? Was he sour? Did he extend credit? Mostly, I want to know if he was the kind of guy who'd let a stranger into his car, because somebody sitting in the shotgun seat put a hole in his head. Can you do that? If you can, do it and call me back.”

“I can do it,” said Quinn. “Go make the bed in the guest room.”

An hour later he called back. “I'm on my way down. Tell Zee and watch her face light up. A real man is on his way.”

“What about Ralph Shepard?”

“Ralph was the nervous type, as well he should be, considering his trade. He was smart and he didn't trust people much, so he kept a layer of small-time dealers between him and his real customers. If he relaxed anywhere, it was at home. The only person he'd have let into his car was somebody he knew and trusted, the more fool he.”

It is a truism that we tend to get murdered by people we know and trust. Family members and friends kill each other every day.

“They find the weapon?”

“Nope.”

“One theory is that Sonny waxed him so he could get at his wife.”

“Sonny is slick, so maybe he arranged the hit. But Ralph knew that Sonny had an eye on his wife, so I don't see him letting anybody dangerous into his car.”

“Maybe Sonny got to one of the dealers working for Shepard, and the dealer did the job.”

“The police rounded up Ralph's retailers, but never
got anywhere. The dealers were small-fry, and any time they'd done was for nonviolent stuff. Possession with intent to sell, and that sort of thing. Most of them were just supporting their own habits. The cops never really had a solid suspect. No more time to gossip, I'm heading for the island. Set an extra plate on the table!”

I got a container of chowder out of the freezer and set it to thaw, then I called John Skye's house using the same code as before. Rimini picked up the receiver. I told him about Agganis's offer to talk with him about the possibility of getting into the witness protection program.

“It's the best I can do for you,” I said. “Maybe you and Carla can go out West someplace where they need teachers and leave all this behind you.”

Rimini seemed appropriately grateful. “That sounds good, J.W. Thanks. I'll think about it, I really will. It might be the best solution.”

Sure. He and Carla and Grace would find happiness together out in the golden West.

“Do what you think is best,” I said, and rang off. I had done my duty as far as Tom Rimini was concerned, and it was a freeing experience.

Less liberating was a confused scenario that was forming in my brain. I could think of two people who could have gotten into that car with Ralph Shepard and both of them were on the island. I also thought I knew where Sonny Whelen would establish his headquarters if he arrived as well. The game was afoot.

Whelen's, Rimini's, and Graham's groups were all converging, and it was beyond belief that there was no tie among them or that the center of the knot was Rimini. It was not hard to believe that Rimini had somehow revealed his whereabouts to both Graham and Whelen, for he seemed to be set on talking to people on the mainland. I knew he'd talked with Grace Shepard and Carla, and he might well have telephoned someone else. And anyone he spoke to might have told what he or she knew to someone else, deliberately or by accident or from fear. It was possible, even probable, then, that Graham or Whelen or both knew Rimini was hiding out on John Skye's farm. And even if they might not know exactly where the farm was, they probably knew it was in Edgartown and wouldn't be too long in finding it.

And then what?

I could guess what Whelen had in mind. His reputation for participating in matters that were personal to him suggested that he had come to deal with Tom or Grace or both of them. That did not bode well for Tom and Grace.

Less guessable was the relationship among Graham, Rimini, and Whelen. If Graham was working for Whelen, why hadn't they come down together? Or, if circumstance obligated them to come separately, why
wasn't Graham waiting for Whelen to show up at Howie Trucker's house?

For that was where I expected Whelen to make his headquarters while he organized his forces. Sonny could afford to stay anywhere he wanted to, of course, but being in a profession that eschewed close attention, he probably preferred to be as inconspicuous as possible. Tucker's house was ideal for his purposes, as Sonny knew from past visits. It was an unobtrusive middle-class dwelling that was set well off the road at the end of an inconspicuous driveway, and thus offered both security and privacy. What more could a guy like Sonny desire?

But if Graham was working for or with Sonny, why hadn't he been at the house, waiting for him, when I'd driven in? He would have known when Sonny was coming and he had to wait somewhere, and that was the logical place.

But he hadn't been there.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Or maybe not.

What if Graham didn't work for or with Sonny? I had no more reason, after all, to think that he did than to think that he didn't. If Graham wasn't Sonny's man, then what was he up to? He wasn't Rimini's pal, for sure, not after the hard time he'd given Tom.

But wait. What if Graham and Tom were thick? What if Graham was Tom's ally instead of his enemy?

It was as though a switch had been thrown in my brain. Gears began to creak into motion after long inactivity. I oiled them with speculation. They moved more smoothly.

If Tom and Graham were pals, it was possible that their relationship had never been about money, but about drugs, since that was Graham's area of expertise. Maybe
Tom wasn't in the gambling business but in the drug business. Or, more likely, he was in both. Sonny Whelen was in both, too, and wanted to get back into the Jamaica Plain trade. Nervous but crafty Ralph Shepard had run the drug trade there, but Whelen had been thwarted when Ralph had got himself hit, because somebody else had moved faster than Sonny and had taken over Ralph's trade. Who? I didn't know. How about the guy who had hit Ralph? Who might that be?

How about Willard Graham?

How
about
Willard Graham. He had the expertise and the experience and the contacts. All he had to do was kill Ralph, and he'd be in the driver's seat.

But Ralph would never let anybody he didn't know into his car.

Unless the guy had a badge. If Graham no longer had his old shield, he sure knew where to get one that looked real. And Graham had the further advantage of looking and acting like a cop because that's what he'd been. A corrupt cop, admittedly, but a cop nevertheless, and any perp can tell you that most cops smell like cops before they ever show their shields. Hell, even I was still mistaken for the law sometimes, and I hadn't been in uniform for fifteen years.

So nervous Ralph might have let Graham into his car because he didn't want trouble with a narc.

On the other hand, if he saw Graham or any other guy who looked like a cop coming close, he'd probably just have put the pedal to the metal and gotten out of there in the time-honored way of avoiding trouble with the fuzz.

So maybe Graham hadn't hit Ralph, although he remained on the short list. If not Graham, then who?

Grace.

Ralph might be too nervous to let Graham into his car, but he would have welcomed his wife. In fact, she was probably the one person he never would have expected to kill him. After all, they were married and lived together, and she'd never killed him yet although she no doubt had had plenty of chances, just as all wives have.

But why would she have done it?

A fit of pique? Maybe. People killed in bursts of rage, often ruing the act the moment it was done.

But Grace hadn't struck me as the burst-of-rage type. She was nothing if not cool. If she killed her husband, it wasn't because of uncontrollable anger.

Why, then? Perhaps because he stood between her and something she wanted.

What? Not money, supposedly, because he was making good money and they were living well, as suggested by her almost new Explorer.

Another man?

Tom Rimini?

Why not? Tom was bored with his wife, and Grace was bored with her husband. They had met at the gun club and hit it off. One thing leads to another. If Carla gets wise, all she can do is get a divorce, but unlike Carla, Ralph carries a gun, so Grace and Tom can't afford to have him catch them while they cavort. Fortunately for them, Ralph is in a profession where sudden death is not an unexpected event. So one night Ralph is parked in his usual spot and who is he surprised to see but Grace. She smiles and waves and gets into the car.

“What are you doing here, sweetie?” he asks, probably not too happy to have her there on the street where he's working.

“This,” she says, and shoots him in the head.

Then she gets out and walks away into the dark.

She gets the apartment, the Explorer, the insurance, and Tom Rimini. Not bad. I could see it happening.

She also gets more attention from Sonny Whelen. They play around and Sonny is serious about her. That means he doesn't like having Tom Rimini sharing Grace's bed. Tom keeps it up and Sonny gets more put out. He sends his people after Tom, and Carla, having been fed a line about Tom's gambling problem, sends her husband to the first safe place she can think of: my house. But Sonny's thugs pressure Carla and she talks, so Sonny phones Logan and Trucker, who are already on the island, and has them go get Tom. But they find Zee instead of Tom and the rest is history. Now Sonny is really pissed, and when he learns where Tom is, he comes after him in person.

How did he learn? From blabby Tom? Maybe, but maybe not.

Anyway, that explains Tom and Grace and Sonny being here, but it doesn't explain Graham.

“Pa.”

“What?”

“Diana can't throw straight. You come and throw.”

“He's mean, Pa, he won't let me play!”

“You two see that sign there above the door?”

“Yes, Pa.”

“What does it say?”

Diana stared at the sign, then shook her head. “I don't know, Pa. I can't read.”

Joshua sounded the letters: “N . . . O . . . S . . . N . . . I . . . V . . . E . . . L . . . I . . . N . . . G.”

“That's right. It says
NO SNIVELING.
That means we don't snivel in this house. Unless we absolutely have to, that is.”

Diana's mouth and eyes turned down. “But I have to, Pa. Josh won't let me play. He's mean.”

“He's not mean. He just wants somebody who can catch the ball and throw it back. Come on. I'll go outside with you and the three of us will play. Josh can throw it to me and I'll throw it to you and then you throw it to me and I'll throw it to Josh.”

So we did that, because I didn't care if Diana caught it or threw it straight and because Joshua, in spite of his big brother airs, wasn't much better. For that matter, I never had a shot at the big leagues, either. Together, we tossed, caught, dropped, and chased the ball under the summer sun. While we did, I brooded about Graham.

He was here and he was not alone. Who was with him? What did they all want?

Something having to do with Rimini, but what?

Drugs.

Rimini was hot for the wife, later the widow, of Jamaica Plain's prime supplier. If I thought that Ralph would let Tom get into Ralph's car and if I thought that Tom had the backbone to do it, I'd have thought that Tom might have hit Ralph because of Grace. But I didn't think either of those possibilities was likely. Still, that didn't mean that Tom wasn't involved. Tom was smart and dishonest, a hazardous combination, and ambition would make him even more dangerous.

Suppose Rimini's interests and Graham's interests were linked. Suppose Rimini wanted the woman, Grace wanted Rimini, and Graham wanted to control the drug supply in Jamaica Plain. With Ralph gone, all of them got what they wanted.
Voilà!
Just like that.

A nice partnership, indeed. Maybe Grace and Tom were satisfied with just each other, but on the other hand maybe Graham shared some of his newly acquired drug
money with them. Why not? Together they'd gotten rid of Ralph, so together they would apportion the rewards. Good friends sharing good times.

On the ocean of my thought, something was hull down on the horizon. I could see its topmasts but the rest of it was out of sight. It made me curious and uneasy. It was something I should be able to bring into view, but could not.

Back to the Graham/Rimini thesis.

If Graham was Rimini's friend and partner, it made him Whelen's enemy. If that were the case, then Graham wouldn't be waiting for Whelen at Howie Trucker's house, but would more likely be visiting Rimini at John Skye's farm.

Why?

Not to enjoy a Vineyard vacation with his pals, certainly. Something else.

The ship beyond the horizon sailed into view. It came closer and I clapped a telescope to my mind's eye. The ship had a blue hull and was named
Abraham Lincoln,
and when I saw her I suddenly knew what was going on.