Part 25 (1/2)
”I thought we were here for a sit-down,” I whispered.
”This is is a sit-down,” he whispered back. a sit-down,” he whispered back.
”No, this is more like a family reunion in h.e.l.l.”
”It's a process process,” Lucky said. ”This ain't a meeting between lawyers and accountants, you know. We're blood enemies. You gotta allow time for everyone to get comfortable with each other and get used to makin' eye contact without reaching for their pieces.”
”I thought no one brought pieces!” I whispered in alarm.
”Relax, no one did. I searched 'em as they came in. That was a figure of speech.”
”Well, it's been an hour. Aren't they comfortable yet? yet?”
”It ain't a good idea to rush things,” Lucky said. ”Anyhow, officially, Danny's the one who called for this sit-down. So protocol is, it's up to him to bring up our mutual business.”
”Our 'mutual business'?” I repeated sharply. ”You mean the killings, Lucky?”
My tone annoyed him again. ”Madonna, you're edgy tonight. Maybe you shoulda stayed home.”
”No, I'm just wondering how you could have . . .” I bit my lip and reined in my temper. Lucky's ruthless murder of Elena's husband was not a subject to be discussed in whispers in the stairwell and under these circ.u.mstances. ”Never mind. Let's go back in.” I avoided his eyes and brushed past him.
When we reentered the crypt, my gaze sought out Max, who was sitting with Father Gabriel. The priest seemed to be accepted here as a sort of referee. And Lucky had been right to insist that Max and I adjust our appearances. I looked exactly the way the Corvinos (and most other wiseguys) thought a woman should look, so they found me unthreatening and accepted my presence though the avid ogling of the two Corvino soldiers made me feel self-conscious. (The Gambello soldiers, who knew I was dating a cop, averted their eyes from my tight outfit.) Meanwhile, the only comment that Max's appearance inspired was an unabashed compliment from Tommy Two Toes on his snazzy ensemble.
Max and I had been introduced to the others as friends of Lucky's. This was no casual phrase among wiseguys, I knew that much. It meant Lucky was vouching for us, guaranteeing that we were trustworthy people. Mobsters took such a voucher very seriously; if we turned out to be rats, snitches, or trouble, then this introduction could cost Lucky his life. I tried to be touched by his faith in us, but I could only think of him murdering a Corvino for the sin of falling in love and getting married.
While the wiseguys conversed and stuffed their faces (how could they still still be hungry?), Max got up and offered (yet another) plate of prosciutto and cheese to Nelli, who began gobbling it eagerly as soon as he set it on the floor for her. I suspected her digestive system would make him regret this benevolence around three o'clock in the morning. be hungry?), Max got up and offered (yet another) plate of prosciutto and cheese to Nelli, who began gobbling it eagerly as soon as he set it on the floor for her. I suspected her digestive system would make him regret this benevolence around three o'clock in the morning.
The wiseguys were talking about money. That was what wiseguys often talked about at Bella Stella, too. It was their favorite subject.
”So then this gavone gavone at the car dealers.h.i.+p,” Tommy Two Toes said to everyone, winding up for the punchline of the seemingly endless anecdote he had been telling, ”says to Little Paulie that he 'knows some people,' and he tries to offer Little Paulie a knockdown loan-from the family!” at the car dealers.h.i.+p,” Tommy Two Toes said to everyone, winding up for the punchline of the seemingly endless anecdote he had been telling, ”says to Little Paulie that he 'knows some people,' and he tries to offer Little Paulie a knockdown loan-from the family!”
Lucky silently crossed the crypt to make himself a cappuccino, but the five other gangsters present, including Tommy, guffawed loudly. Father Gabriel looked at Max, and Max looked like he wanted to ask what a ”knockdown loan” was. Since he didn't, though, I gathered that Lucky had advised him not to ask such questions. All I knew was that there were different kinds of loans, with different kinds of outrageously high interest rates (known as ”vig” or ”vigorish”) and different kinds of punishment if the borrower failed to repay on time.
As the laughter died down, Nelli finished eating her prosciutto and walked across the room to gaze longingly at the cannoli tray.
Lucky, who was standing nearby, asked, ”Doc Zadok, is it okay if I give her one of those?”
”Hey, you shouldn't oughta give no sugar to a dog,” said Jimmy ”Legs” Brabancaccio, the other man, besides Tommy, who had joined Lucky here tonight to represent the Gambello crime family. Jimmy had nearly stormed out of the crypt upon learning there was no wine, but Lucky had calmed him down. ”Sugar is bad for a dog's pinkies or somethin'.”
”I think you mean pancreas,” I said absently.
”Pancreas? Yeah, that's it!” Jimmy Legs looked at me with newfound respect.
Lucky shrugged and said to Nelli. ”Sorry. We gotta keep you healthy. You got important work to do in this dimension, helping protect the city from Evil.”
I realized that Max had also also explained some traditions during the afternoon he and Lucky had spent together. explained some traditions during the afternoon he and Lucky had spent together.
Nelli whined and gazed imploringly at Lucky. After a moment, he gave in and slipped her a pastry.
”What are ya doin'?” said Jimmy Legs. ”You're gonna make that dog sick.”
”Just one won't hurt her,” said Lucky. ”Everything in moderation. Ain't that right, Danny?”
Danny ”the Doctor” Dapezzo's cold, sharklike eyes met Lucky's. ”That's right.”
Danny had been accompanied here tonight by Mikey Castrucci and Fast Sammy Salerno. They were both thick-necked Corvino soldiers with short dark hair, loud s.h.i.+rts, casual pants, and gold jewelry. Danny, a balding capo who looked about fifty-five, had a trim build, maintained good posture while the others slouched, and was dressed with tidy propriety: brown trousers, a pale s.h.i.+rt, a brown tie, and a tan sport jacket. He ate sparingly, spoke quietly, and lectured the other men at the table about diet and exercise. At a casual glance, he would blend into the woodwork or disappear in a crowd. But after watching those cold eyes for a while, I found it all too easy to believe that he had developed a high skill level at cutting fresh corpses into small pieces.
As the conversation continued, Jimmy Legs pa.s.sed around a photo of his new love-a snazzy boat he'd recently acquired.(Not bought; acquired.) Lucky accepted the photo, stretched out his arm to hold it farther away, and squinted at it. ”Not bad.”
”Not bad?” Jimmy repeated, offended. ”She's a beauty!”
”Give it here,” Danny the Doctor said, reaching into his pocket for a pair of reading gla.s.ses. As he put them on, he said, ”You're getting old, Lucky, you should get a pair of these.”
Lucky shrugged off the comment and petted Nelli, who burped at him.
Danny studied the photo and said, ”Yeah, I used to have a little boat like this, before I upgraded.”
Jimmy's predictable response was interrupted by Fast Sammy, who said to Danny, ”Hey, ain't those gla.s.ses new boss? They look good.”
”I hate them,” Danny said curtly, handing the photo back to Jimmy. He took off the offending spectacles and gave them a contemptuous glance before putting them back in his pocket. ”But my old ones are missing, G.o.dd.a.m.n it. Those frames were real real gold, you know.” gold, you know.”
Mikey Castrucci, speaking with his mouth full, looked at the rack of costumes along the far wall and said, ”So what's with all the f.u.c.kin' bunny costumes?”
”The children wore them in our Easter play,” Father Gabriel said.
”That's f.u.c.kin' stupid,” said Mikey. ”When did you ever see a f.u.c.kin' pink pink rabbit? For real, I mean?” rabbit? For real, I mean?”
”My six-year-old granddaughter was in that play,” Danny said quietly. ”And she was adorable, so watch your G.o.dd.a.m.n language.”
Mikey shrugged. ”I'm just saying, boss. In nature, there ain't no such thing as a pink bunny, so why-”
”Shut the f.u.c.k up,” Danny ordered.
Mikey complied.
Although Corvinos and Gambellos rarely ate in the same restaurants, apparently the church was neutral enough turf that members of both families could be paris.h.i.+oners without violence breaking out in the middle of Ma.s.s.
”Yo, buddy,” said Fast Sammy to Max, who was telling Nelli apologetically that the prosciutto was all gone now. ”Uh . . . Doc Zadok, right?”
”Sure.”
”What the h.e.l.l kind of a dog is that, anyhow?”
”Well, she ain't precisely a dog.” Max did not sound like a wiseguy. He sounded like Lord Peter Wimsey or Sir Percy Blakeney (a.k.a. the Scarlet Pimpernel)-some fictional historical aristocrat with a man-about-town speech affectation. And his slight Eastern European accent made the overall effect seem almost surreal. ”She's actually my fa-”
”She's part Great Dane,” I said quickly. ”And part, um . . . we're not really sure.”
As the men looked my way, Mikey and Fast Sammy gazed lasciviously at my legs. I considered telling them I was dating a cop.
”So she isn't a purebred animal?” asked Danny Dapezzo.