A Crazy Little Thing Called Death (28 page)

Michael watched me and said nothing. I held the baby close and left the kitchen.

U
pstairs, I telephoned Reed to pick me up for my nightly round of social engagements.

“Can you be here in an hour?” I asked him.

“You’re the boss,” he said.

I had slipped away from the party to change my clothes. And to gather my wits. I used the bedroom telephone to make another quick call. Then I put on a Calvin Klein sheath dress with a silk jacket that I could slip off later. Simple and versatile. I swept my hair up, suitable for evening.

When I came back downstairs, Dilly, Kaiser and Artie were still going through Penny Devine’s red-carpet dresses. They appraised my change of clothes.

“You look marvelous,” Dilly said, giving my cheek a kiss. “Just change bags, dear heart. The proportion is all wrong.”

I patted his face fondly. “Stay as long as you like.”

Libby was asleep on the sofa with her shoes off and Maximus snoring on her chest. I didn’t disturb them. When Reed arrived, I kissed Michael good-bye in the kitchen.

“You’re leaving already?” he asked.

“Sorry.” I could barely meet his gaze. “There’s an afternoon tea and then a cocktail thing and a charity dinner that starts at six. I’ll be home before midnight, though.”

“Be careful what you drink.”

“I will.”

“Got your cell phone?”

I grabbed it off the counter. “I do now.”

Crewe helped me with my jacket. “My mother’s invited to a tea this afternoon. Maybe it’s the same one you’re attending?”

“Maybe,” I said, giving his cheek a quick kiss before heading out the door. I didn’t want to linger. I didn’t want to hear more. “Bye.”

Reed didn’t question me when I gave him directions, and in half an hour we pulled into a Wawa convenience store.

At the edge of the parking lot idled a police car, its windows down and radio squawking. Leaning against the rear bumper was Ben Bloom, slugging from the straw of a large fountain drink.

As if sinking a three-pointer, he threw the paper cup into a nearby trash can and came over to the town car. He opened the rear door for me, and I got out. A large truck rumbled past, making it hard for Reed to hear our voices, but I walked away from the car anyway. I didn’t want him reporting back to Michael this time.

Bloom slipped one hand under my elbow. “Hey. You sounded agitated on the phone.”

“No more than usual,” I said. “Did you find the tigers?”

“Animal Control went over a couple of hours ago. They’re delighted to have a project that’s going to be so high profile. They’re working on their press conference notes right now. It’s going to be all over the six o’clock news.”

“Is that good?”

He shrugged. “I managed to mobilize the state-police forensic team, too. They took one look at the blood in the carport and acted like they’d won the lottery. It’ll be nice to have some expert help on the case now.”

“Do you think—I mean, did the tigers—?”

“Eat Penny Devine? Maybe. I don’t know how they’re going to figure it out, but the blood-spatter geeks can’t wait to try.”

I shivered despite the warmth of the sun. “What about Kell Huckabee? Was he attacked by the tigers, too?”

“Do you think the tigers sawed off his arm nice and neat?”

We had stopped beside the patrol car, and I hugged myself.

“Sorry.” Bloom looked more closely into my face. “Is something else wrong? You don’t look so hot. What’s going on?”

“I’m fine.”

He smirked. “Just wedding jitters, huh?”

When I didn’t answer, he opened the passenger door of his car. “Get in.”

“No, I just wanted to know about the tigers. There’s no need for—”

“Get in, Nora,” he said more gently. “I have something you need to see.”

I obeyed and slid into the front seat. I knew immediately why he’d left the windows rolled down. Despite its clean exterior, the car smelled slightly of vomit.

He left the door open, too, went around the patrol car and got in behind the wheel. He left his door gaping wide and reached to turn down the volume on the police radio. On the seat between us lay a manila folder. He picked it up.

He said, “Abruzzo’s out of the hospital?”

“Yes. But he’s in a lot of pain.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll stay close to home for a little while.”

Michael had never told me his history with Ben Bloom. I understood they’d met in some kind of juvenile jail, where Michael’s behavior had convinced authorities he needed a little more time in captivity. Bloom, by contrast, had been a perfect angel—or so I was led to believe—and walked out early. His criminal record had been expunged, thanks to the intervention of a family friend, and he’d turned his misspent youth into a life of crime fighting.

That was as much as I had pieced together. There was more to the story, but neither Michael nor Bloom wanted to tell me what had happened between them while in custody. I knew only that they now disliked each other intensely. And that seemed to have grown into Bloom’s rekindled fire to put Michael back in jail.

I said, “You’re talking about the man I’m supposed to marry.”

“Supposed to? That’s an interesting choice of words.”

I shook my head. “That was a slip of the tongue. I am going to marry him.”

Bloom tapped the manila folder on the steering wheel. “Maybe you’ll come to your senses first. What time did he get home today?”

“In time for lunch.”

“Eleven? Twelve? Or was it a late lunch at your house?”

On my guard, I said, “Why are you asking?”

“Because I think he made a stop after leaving the hospital.”

“He’s on crutches, you know. Hardly capable of sticking up a liquor store or whatever you think he’s done.”

“It wasn’t a liquor store,” said Bloom. He held up the folder for my inspection. “You know those guys who tried to grab you the other day? Can you identify their faces?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I’ve got some pictures to show you.”

I held out my hand. “Let me see.”

“I’ll warn you. They’re not pretty.”

From the folder, Bloom removed two Polaroid-style photographs. I accepted them and looked at the two faces in the pictures. I recognized the first immediately by the shape of his head, the cut of his sideburns and the angle of his nose. The second man—younger, with more hair—could have been one of my would-be abductors, but it was hard for me to be sure.

Because most of his face was covered in blood.

He was dead.

I dropped the photos on the seat. Instinctively, I covered my eyes as if I could prevent the images from penetrating my brain.

“No,” I said. “Oh, no, no, no.”

Bloom waited while I fought to catch my breath. Grimly, he picked up the photographs and put them back into the folder. He said, “I guess that’s a positive identification?”

“What happened?” I asked when I could speak again. My voice broke. “Who—who are they?”

“One’s Benny Cartucci. The other’s James ‘Torchy’ Pescara.”

“Pescara?”

“Yeah,” said Bloom. “Torchy’s one of Lou Pescara’s unlimited number of nephews. He’s been working for the family, doing little arson jobs here and there, some petty crime, a couple of minor convictions. Not anymore, of course, since he got whacked this morning. Somebody killed him down on the Delaware. Just half an hour from the hospital where your boyfriend checked out early, without a doctor’s permission.”

“Michael has a broken leg! He couldn’t possibly—”

“It’s got to be Abruzzo,” Bloom reasoned.

“Why would Michael do such a thing?”

“Because of you, Nora. Because you were threatened. That’s how it works,” Bloom said, as patiently as if he were explaining multiplication tables. “Somebody grabbed you, and Mick had to do something or they’d do it again, using you against him. I figured he’d just beat the crap out of those two mutts, but I was wrong, wasn’t I? He decided to kill them so nobody would ever touch a hair on your head again. He left Torchy’s body out in the open, real brazen. An obvious message.”

I’ll make it very clear,
Michael had said.
What they did to you is outside the rules of engagement.

And his hand. I’d seen the bruise on Michael’s hand. How had he explained the injury?
I bumped it,
he’d said.

“No,” I said.

“So your wedding jitters should be all for nothing.” Bloom fastened the catch on the envelope. “He’s made sure you’ll never be harmed. It’s more than his father would have done in the same situation, I’ve got to admit. That’s why Big Frankie’s still a mediocre mobster. Mick, though, he’s got the right stuff. He knows how to make a statement. How to make people afraid of him.”

“Stop it,” I said.

“Trouble is, the one who’s still alive—at least we assume so—is Benny. Benny’s not small-time. His expertise is shooting. He’s a sniper. Very good at it, too.”

I got out of the car. The harsh sunlight slammed against my head, and I reeled. Leaning against the car’s door to catch my balance, I put one hand up to dash the tears from my face.

Bloom came around the car to me. He took my forearms, but I wrenched out of his grasp. He waited until I had my weeping under control.

At last, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m sorry to hurt you, Nora. Abruzzo belongs in jail, but you—you shouldn’t have to suffer like this.”

“He didn’t do it! He came home! He has a broken leg!”

“He was there, and we’re going to prove it. Mick’s a smart crook, the most dangerous kind. But we’re going to get him on this one, Nora. It’s almost impossible to commit this kind of murder and get away without leaving some tiny clue behind. And there’s a whole lot of cops who want to make sure he goes to jail one way or another.”

I fished a handkerchief out of my handbag and used it.

Voice tight, Bloom said, “I hate seeing you like this.”

He tried to touch me again, but I pulled away.

“Let me help you, Nora.”

I looked up into his face. His smirk was long gone. In its place was an expression that looked a lot like genuine concern. His dark eyes met mine and didn’t waver. He put one hand on the roof of the car and leaned closer to me.

“No.” I turned my head away.

He sighed. “Forget about the Devine murder. Or the Huckabee murder, whichever it is. Why don’t you stay with a friend for a few days? Calm down so you can think rationally again.”

“I don’t need to leave my home to think rationally.”

“You should get away from him.”

“Michael would never hurt me.”

“Maybe not physically.” With a light touch that was almost a caress, Bloom let his fingertips slide down my arm. “You could stay at my place, if you like.”

I could not imagine staying with Ben Bloom.

Nor could I imagine Michael killing anyone. It was beyond anything I believed about him. I had seen glimpses of his dark side. Perhaps I’d been attracted by that part of him, too. But this—murdering men who’d threatened me—I did not want to think he was capable of that kind of horrific act.

I stepped away from Bloom. “I have to go,” I said.

“Nora—”

I left Bloom and tottered unsteadily across the parking lot to the town car. Reed had gotten out and opened the back door for me.

“You okay?” He saw my face. “You’re not gonna pass out, are you?”

I shook my head.

He opened the door to the front seat instead, and helped me slide inside. A moment later, he got behind the wheel and turned to me.

“Oh, Reed,” I said. And I burst into tears.

“Hey, now.” He sounded exasperated. “Don’t do that!”

“I’m not crying.”

“Then what do you call it? Just cut it out. What’d that cop say to you? You want me to call Mick?”

“No! Don’t tell Michael,” I said into my handkerchief. “You can’t tell him about this.”

“Oh, man.” He put his hand awkwardly on my shoulder. “Come on, now,” he coaxed. “Take a deep breath.”

I did, and I felt a little better.

“You want to go home?” Reed kept his hand on my shoulder.

“No.” I sniffled. “There’s a tea I have to attend. I’m meeting a photographer there.”

“You can’t go to nothing looking like that. Fix up your face.”

He drove in silence the rest of the way into the city, while I tried to rescue my makeup. Periodically, Reed sent nervous glances my way. But he didn’t say more.

There had to be another explanation for the killing of Michael’s cousin. I couldn’t imagine what it was, but surely there was more to the story than what Bloom had told me.

Then it hit me that Aldo hadn’t come along with me today.

Because he knew one of the men who’d tried to hurt me was dead. Maybe the other one was, too.

We arrived at the small restaurant near upscale Rittenhouse Square, and Reed pulled next to a fire hydrant. But I didn’t feel like attending anything, let alone a gracious tea with my mother’s friends.