Part 28 (2/2)
This cab driver, however, didn't know Brooklyn any better than I did. He also didn't speak English. And Max's Russian was rusty, especially when combined with the stress of being in a moving vehicle. So we drove around for quite some time in search of Vino Vincenzo, the wine shop where Danny was hiding.
”There are days when I really hate New York,” I muttered.
Just as we found the right street and turned into it-going the wrong way down a one-way street-my cell phone rang. The caller was Lucky.
”I'm here at the wine shop,” he said. ”But I'm too late.”
”What do you mean?”
”Danny's dead,” Lucky said.
Our cab rolled to a stop in front of Vino Vincenzo.
”What?”
”Dead,” Lucky repeated. ”In the cellar.”
I half wondered if the gangster had died of old age while we made our epic journey to this spot.
”Are you sure?” I asked.
”I know what a corpse looks like,” Lucky pointed out.
”How was he killed?”
”Shotgun.”
”How do you know that?”
”I seen it before,” he said patiently. ”And it's pretty hard to mistake.”
”Oh.” My head was reeling. ”How long ago?
”About ten minutes,” said Lucky. ”Where are you now?”
”I'm right outside the wine shop. Max is paying our cab driver.” I got out of the cab.
”Don't come downstairs. I'll come up. This is not something you should see.”
I absorbed that for a moment. Then Max took my elbow, and I said, ”All right. We're coming inside now.”
I briefly relayed to Max what Lucky had just told me. Whatever had happened here, it hadn't attracted a crowd. There were only a few people on the street, and they were going about their business. A ma.s.sive young white man with big muscles and short brown hair was guarding the door of the wine shop, blocking the way.
”We're closed, miss,” he said as we approached him.
”We're here to see Lucky,” I said.
He looked at Max. ”You're the Doc?”
”Yes,” Max replied.
”Okay, you can go in.” He stepped aside long enough to let us pa.s.s, then resumed his position.
As we entered the shop, I said to Max, ”He should have been standing there all along. Then maybe this wouldn't have happened.”
A shaky voice said, ”He was was standing there all along.” standing there all along.”
I looked at the tidily dressed balding man who had just spoken. He was pale, sweating, and looked queasy. Something about his beady eyes was familiar. ”You must be Danny's cousin?”
He nodded. ”Vinny Dapezzo.” He looked at Max. ”You must be the Doc. I've been expecting you. Danny said you'd know what to do.” He gulped and started shaking. ”And Lucky said there'd be a young lady with a white beard . . .”
”Pardon?” Max said.
”Sorry. I mean . . . Um . . .” Vinny shook his head, as if trying to clear it. ”Lucky got here right after it happened. Thank G.o.d. I know he's a Gambello, but . . . Well, I was a mess mess. So were Danny's boys. We had no idea what to do. I don't, uh . . .” He started wringing his hands.
Lucky emerged from the back of the shop. It was an attractive place, elegantly decorated, very upscale, reflecting the expensive neighborhood and the well-heeled professionals who probably shopped here. Everything seemed to be in perfect order. You'd never guess that a notorious mobster was lying dead in the cellar.
”What happened here?” I asked.
Lucky and Vinny started to speak at the same time. Then Lucky said, ”You tell it, Vinny. You were here.”
Agitated and wiping his damp brow, Vinny Dapezzo nodded. ”Danny showed up here this afternoon carrying two Glock semiautomatics and a big supply of ammo. He said someone was after him. So he was going to lock himself in the vault and wait for the Doc. It's ventilated.” Vinny paused. ”The vault, I mean.”
”So he told me,” I said.
”I keep the specialty bottles there. That's why I've got the vault. Because the stock in there is so valuable. We do off-the-street retail business, of course, but my real interest is limited editions, rare vintages, and collector's items. So if you're looking for something very special, miss, or if you want a unique gift for-”
”Vinny,” Lucky said.
”Oh, my G.o.d, I'm babbling, aren't I? Sorry.” Vinny looked like he might cry. ”Where was I?”
”The vault,” I said helpfully.
”Right. Danny said we shouldn't allow anyone into the cellar. Then he said . . .” Vinny started swaying a little. For a moment, I thought he might pa.s.s out. ”This whole thing is so crazy!”
”Take a steady, deep breath,” Max said gently, ”and give yourself a moment to put your thoughts in order.”
Vinny gave Max a grateful look and nodded. After a few slow, calming breaths, he said, ”Okay. I'm telling you exactly what happened, even though it sounds nuts.”
Max nodded. ”Understood.”
”Danny said the killer was crafty, ruthless, and might be disguised-might even look just like him him. Identical. A perfect double.” Vinny shook his head. ”He was jumpy and confused, not making much sense. He kept babbling in Italian-”
”He talked Italian,” Lucky said pointedly to me.
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