Part 26 (2/2)

Back down in the crypt, Tommy Two Toes and Jimmy Legs looked like they thought Lucky had lost his mind. However, he was a Gambello and had seniority, so they hadn't contradicted him in front of Danny, and they didn't say anything in front of Max and me, either.

After the two gangsters left, Father Gabriel brought a bottle of wine downstairs-from his personal stash, I supposed-and offered to share it with Lucky, Max, and me. We accepted with grat.i.tude. Lucky was annoyed with the Corvinos, Max was discouraged, and my nerves were frayed. So I enjoyed the mellow warmth of the Sicilian red wine as it slid down my throat and into my belly, soothing me.

”Well, perhaps there was one productive result to the evening,” Max said, trying to regain some of his habitual optimism.

”Oh?”

”I thought the Corvinos seemed very sincere in their a.s.surances that they're not behind these murders.”

”Of course they seemed sincere, Max. They're wiseguys.” I glared at Lucky. ”Professional liars.”

”What did I I do?” Lucky snapped. do?” Lucky snapped.

”We don't have enough time tonight to talk about what you did,” I said coldly. I also didn't have the energy right now.

”Huh?” Lucky frowned. ”What is with you tonight?”

”Esther does have a point,” said Father Gabriel. ”Logically, what would the Corvinos do but deny involvement in these hits?”

I said to the priest, ”You think they're just stalling? Trying to create a window of time for hitting more Gambellos before there's any retaliation?”

Father Gabriel said, ”Doesn't that make more sense than anything else?”

”But it doesn't explain why they-or someone someone-has involved doppelgangsters,” said Max.

”Yes, well, as for that . . .” Father Gabriel looked apologetic. ”I'm sorry. You're intelligent people, and you seem convinced and sincere, but it just sounds so fantastic.”

”Oh, really? But transubstantiation,” I said testily, ”when bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ, while still looking and tasting exactly like bread and wine . . . That That seems perfectly reasonable to you?” seems perfectly reasonable to you?”

There was an awkward silence, and I realized I'd offended the priest. I was about to apologize, but Father Gabriel smiled awkwardly, rose from his chair, and said, ”Pardon me. It's late; I should start closing up the church.”

”Nice goin',” Lucky said, as soon as the priest left the room.

”Nerves,” I said shortly. ”I'll apologize to him.”

”I think that was your chance, and you just missed it.”

”I need this from you you,” I said, ”of all people?”

”Me 'of all people'? What's that that supposed to mean?” supposed to mean?”

”Let's not quarrel among ourselves,” Max said firmly. ”We have enough problems to confront without adding that to the list.”

Lucky snorted. ”Max is right.” He raised his hands in a gesture that indicated he was backing away from the argument.

Calming down, I looked at him curiously. ”Why do you you believe in the doppelgangsters, Lucky?” believe in the doppelgangsters, Lucky?”

”Huh?”

”I don't mean now now,” I clarified. ”After all, you were there, too, talking to Johnny after-as we now know-he was already dead. I mean, why did you believe at first, as quickly as I did, that there was something supernatural going on?”

Max said, ”As I've noted before, there really is no such thing as 'supernatural,' all phenomena are natural, but some-”

”Not now, Max,” Lucky and I said in unison.

I continued, ”When I met Max, I was reluctant to believe in this sort of thing until he forced my eyes open and I saw things I couldn't deny or explain any other way.

”But, as Max taught me, most people rationalize phenomena like this according to the conventional wisdom they've been taught. And if such explanations are inconsistent, then they find reasonable excuses for that. Like the Widow Giacalona. She thinks we're mistaken about when we saw Johnny's apparition-it must have been Johnny himself and we're just confused. That's how most people view events like this, and why they have no notion of the world that Max and his colleagues inhabit and the work that they do.

”You, on the other hand . . .” I shook my head. ”You were quick to realize something mystical was going on as soon as I told you about Charlie's fears of a perfect double and the evil eye. And when we met Max and you saw what goes on in his laboratory . . . well, you seem faster than most people to accept the unusual for what it really is.” Faster than Lopez, certainly.

Lucky shrugged. ”Well, I was raised a strict Catholic, and there's a lotta mysticism in the Church, y'know. Like Father Gabriel, for example, I believe in transubstantiation.”

”I'm sorry,” I said. ”I was being testy.”

”Yes, you were. But you're Jewish, so you ain't expected to believe in our rituals, just like we ain't expected to believe in yours. I spent a lot of time in Mickey Rosenblum's home when we was growin' up, so I know how superst.i.tious Jews are, too.” He shrugged. ”Anyhow, more to the point, I was raised by my grandmother, who was a strega strega from Sicily.” from Sicily.”

”A what?”

”A strega strega. A witch.”

”Ah,” Max said with interest. ”A white witch, I a.s.sume?”

”Yeah, sure. But she was willing to put the screws on people she thought were bad. And she raised me with a lotta the knowledge and memories she brought over from Sicily, where this kind of thing was more accepted in her day. So I guess it gave me some insight that not everybody has got.”

”Indeed,” Max said. ”And we're very fortunate to have your expertise and dedication devoted to this matter, my dear fellow.”

Lucky sighed. ”Didn't help much tonight.”

”So what do we do now?” I wondered. ”Just hope no one else gets duplicated?”

”Well, I, for one,” said Max, ”am planning a long night of reading Germanic texts. It should be most invigorating. Especially since my High Middle German isn't what it used to be. I look forward to renewing my acquaintance with the language.”

”Doc, you're just a party animal,” Lucky said. ”There ain't no containing you.”

I said, ”Maybe I'll just, oh, go home, go to bed, and hope for a full eight hours of sleep for a change.”

”Me, too,” said Lucky.

”And while wisely preparing for the worst, we should nonetheless strive for optimism,” Max said. ”It is possible, after all, that poor Chubby Charlie and Johnny Be Good were the only intended victims of these strange events. Perhaps Johnny's doppelgangster misled us, and there never was a duplicate of Doctor Dapezzo. In which case, his mirth over our fears was well-merited.”

It was a comforting thought to go home with.

However, the next day, Danny Dapezzo phoned me in a blind panic, his sense of humor all gone. He had just seen his perfect double, and he knew death was coming for him.

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