The Love Killers (13 page)

Next he reached his female croupier friend. She arrived within the hour, and he rushed her into bed, giving her controlled action and countless orgasms for two hours. She screamed and moaned her appreciation. He found he couldn't come himself. He was still hard when he threw her out.

He phoned Rio again.

‘Wow, you're a very anxious
little
boy,' she drawled mockingly. ‘I'm not into anxious guys. You know something, honey? It
really
turns me off.'

‘Can I come over?' he asked, hating himself for begging, but consumed with the need to prove himself to her.

She consulted her watch; it was six o'clock. ‘Okay. Be here in five minutes.'

As soon as she put the phone down she went out.

Angelo hurried over and then waited outside her rented apartment for an hour, constantly pressing the buzzer. Naturally, there was no reply, which really pissed him off. Just who did the bitch think she was?

Finally he settled himself in at a nearby bar and had a few drinks. Every fifteen minutes he phoned her, getting no answer.

He consumed several Scotches. Normally he didn't drink much; grass was his scene. Tonight he needed something.

By the time he arrived at the casino he was unsteady on his feet and belligerent. Eddie Ferrantino took one look and sent him home.

He called up another girlfriend and met her at Tramp. Rio was there, surrounded by her so-called friends.

‘You're a fuckin' bitch,' he hissed at her.

‘And you're a lousy lay,' she hissed back.

‘Listen, lady—come home with me now and you'll eat your words,' he insisted, forgetting about his girlfriend.

‘It's not
words
I'm interested in eating,' she said with a mocking grin.

‘It's not words you'll get,' he mumbled, wishing he was sober.

‘Let's go,' she said briskly.

They took a taxi. Rio flung off her clothes as soon as they entered his apartment.

Angelo realized he'd made a mistake. The booze had made his cock limp and his mind groggy.

‘Well?' She faced him, hands on hips, legs spread. ‘Get your clothes off, lover. Let's
see
what you can do.'

She stripped him herself. He couldn't have summoned a hard-on if his life depended on it. Humiliation overcame him.

Laughingly she jeered, ‘Call Momma when you grow up to be a
big
boy. Okay, babe?'

And with that she dressed and left.

It was late by the time Nick was through at his brother Frank's house. There were problems on top of problems. And a lot of talk. Nick didn't feel he was that much involved. Things were running smoothly for him in California; the inside killings and takeovers in New York didn't really concern him.

‘Putan
!'Enzio spat at him when he said as much. ‘What happens here today happens there tomorrow. You think you're protected by some fuckin' guardian angel? Balls!'

Both Enzio and Frank were mad at him because he had flown in with no bodyguard.

‘You don't
move
in New York unless you're covered,' Enzio had bellowed, and Frank immediately agreed. They'd dismissed the car and chauffeur he'd rented at the airport and replaced it with a black Cadillac sedan and two of Frank's men.

Nick couldn't help wondering how Lara was going to feel about a couple of heavies stationed outside her front door when they were together.

He arrived at Le Club late. Lara was with a group he fortunately didn't know. To his annoyance, she introduced him. He wished she hadn't.

Glancing around, he couldn't spot any familiar faces. What a relief! Anyway, it wasn't like he was
alone
with Lara. How could anyone think they were together? He'd even arrived after her.

Relaxing slightly, he decided she looked more beautiful than ever. Immediately he wanted to touch and hold her. Why waste time? He was sick of being with her only at parties and clubs.

‘Why don't we get out of here, beautiful lady?' he suggested in a low voice, touching her leg under the table.

‘You just got here,' she chided gently. ‘It's rude.'

‘Listen.' His grip tightened on her leg. ‘I don't give a damn. How about you?'

‘Don't you?' She sounded amused. ‘My, how the climate changes your attitude. Shall we dance?'

He didn't feel like dancing. He just wanted to be alone with her.

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor, where she pressed against him. Once again he felt the excitement and the promise of what was to come.

The hell with April. He was free to do what he pleased. He wasn't married yet.

* * *

There was an Italian restaurant called Pinocchios in New York that reserved a king's welcome for Enzio Bassalino whenever he was in town. It was a family concern. Mother, father, two daughters, and a son. They anticipated Enzio's needs, and on any evening he dropped by, nearby tables were given only to people he personally approved.

At one such table sat Kosta Gennas. A small, sweating man with blackened teeth and gnarled skin. It seemed incongruous that he should be sitting with the three most attractive girls in the room.

Kosta chewed on the end of a stubby cigar and sucked at his Scotch through a special silver straw.

No one at the table spoke. The girls, three different kinds of beauties, stared vacantly ahead. They all had old-fashioned teased hairstyles, although they each had hair of a different shade. They were all big of bosom, long of leg.

Kosta Gennas jumped up abruptly when Enzio Bassalino entered the restaurant.

Enzio nodded briefly at him as he passed his table. But it wasn't until an hour later that he summoned Kosta to join him. ‘I like the look of the blonde,' Enzio said. ‘What's her story?'

‘She's nineteen years old,' Kosta replied quickly. ‘A lovely girl, hard worker, only been with us two months. She was married to some bum, and when he split on her she decided there were smarter ways to make a living. We was saving her to send to Brazil—she'd be a sensation there. Of course, when I heard you was lookin', we hung on to her.'

‘Is she clean?' Enzio asked, getting straight to the point.

‘
Is she clean?
' Kosta echoed in amazement, his furtive eyes darting around in surprise at Enzio's six or seven male companions. ‘He asks me if she's clean. Would I ever—'

‘Enough,' Enzio interrupted sharply. He didn't like Kosta Gennas, never had. But Kosta had the best girls, and he always knew exactly which ones would please Enzio the most. ‘Send her over,' he growled. ‘I'll see for myself.'

The girl wobbled across the restaurant on ridiculous stiletto heels. She stood by the side of the table, grinning foolishly, until Enzio indicated she should sit beside him.

When she was seated he looked her over closely. She had a pretty, pointed face, dominated by jammy, wide red lips. Blue-shadowed gray eyes, a smattering of freckles she'd endeavored to conceal, and—from what he could see—a perfect body.

‘What's your name, dear?' he asked kindly, patting her on the knee in a not-so-fatherly way.

‘Miriam,' she whispered, in a breathy Marilyn Monroe voice.

‘Well, Miriam,' he said, his eyes greedily devouring her ample cleavage, ‘how would you feel about comin' to stay at my house in Miami?'

* * *

Anna Maria set her alarm clock for six
A.M.
every day. Then, heavy with child, she would stumble in the dark to the kitchen, where she liked to sit and drink warm, sweet tea, and watch the morning grow light.

Anna Maria had never trusted anyone else to make her children's breakfast. She enjoyed doing it herself. Mixing the hot, lumpy porridge. Heating the bread. Setting out the home-made plum jam. By seven, when they all appeared, she always had everything ready.

Anna Maria was a strong girl, but after four pregnancies her legs were feeling weak, her belly stretched almost beyond control. She was hoping the birth would be soon. Frank went off her when she was pregnant. He never touched her and avoided looking at her. Not that he said anything, but she knew, and it saddened her. After all, Frank was the one who wanted many children.

Anna Maria struggled into her robe. She was exhausted; she hoped today would be the day. It was a strain entertaining Frank's father. There had been so much extra cooking to do, preparing all his favorite dishes. And the children always became more excitable than usual, while Frank himself was surly and gruff.

It seemed as if she'd just gotten into bed, and now it was another day. Wearily she plodded into the kitchen, switched on the light, and stared with a sense of unreality at her husband.

Frank was crouched over Beth, who he had spread-eagled across the kitchen table. His face was creased with concentration, and his breath was short. He was dressed, but Beth was naked, a crumpled white nightgown lying on the floor by her feet.

Anna Maria's hand fled to the crucifix she wore around her neck, and, her eyes wide with shock, she began to mumble in Italian.

‘Jesus Christ!' Frank bellowed. He was nearing the moment of climax and was in no mood to be interrupted.

Beth wriggled out from under him. It was too late for him to stop. With a roar of fury he came all over the kitchen floor. The final insult.

‘You fuckin' bitch,' he screamed at Anna Maria. ‘What the hell you doin' spyin' on me?' His face was red with rage.

Anna Maria turned to run, but it was too late. Frank was after her, his arm raised in uncontrollable anger. He struck her across the face twice. The second time she fell to the floor.

‘Bitch!' he yelled, standing over her with his arm raised, ready to give her more punishment.

Beth could not believe what was happening. She hadn't meant it to be like this. When she'd altered the time on Anna Maria's alarm clock she'd fully intended that Anna Maria would discover them together. But she hadn't realized Frank would turn into a screaming madman.

For a moment she was paralyzed. And then the full realization of what he was doing to his wife hit her. With all her strength she threw herself at him, trying to hold back the angry blows now raining down on Anna Maria.

He shoved her away.

‘Stop it, Frank. Stop it!' she screamed. ‘You're killing her!'

Suddenly he seemed to realize what he was doing. Abruptly he stopped and began to groan. ‘Oh, my God. Oh, Jesus! What have I done?'

Anna Maria lay very still. For a moment Beth feared she might be dead. But she listened and heard faint breathing, and without a word to Frank she rushed to the phone and called an ambulance.

Frank was crying and trying to cradle Anna Maria in his arms when the ambulance arrived.

‘She fell down the stairs,' he told the ambulance attendants. ‘I couldn't save her. She fell.'

The two men exchanged glances. They'd heard that one before.

Then Anna Maria started to groan. Horrible loud, animal groans.

‘Please! Get her to the hospital quickly,' Beth said urgently. ‘I think she's starting to have the baby.'

Leroy Jesus Bauls watched the ambulance pull up at Frank Bassalino's house in the early hours of the morning with hardly a flicker of interest showing in his flat eyes. He was chewing gum, slowly, methodically. Now he took the gum from his mouth, squeezed it into a tight, hard ball, and rolled it between his fingers.

How easy it would be to lay a hit on Frank Bassalino. One carefully aimed shot between the eyes—it would be a cinch. By the time the two goons who were apparently his protection reacted, Leroy Jesus Bauls would be long gone.

Frank Bassalino was a far easier target than the old man. Enzio Bassalino knew what protection was all about, and wherever he went he made sure he was always surrounded and shielded. Of course, he protected himself in the old-fashioned way. Somebody should tell him, Leroy thought, with a wide yawn.

It was a shame there was nothing to be done right now. But he'd studied his homework, and if the occasion arose, if Dukey K. Williams gave the word for the final hit… Well, he was ready.

Leroy dropped his chewing gum to the ground. He had work to do. The Bassalinos were proving to be a stubborn family, but they would learn… eventually.

* * *

Later that morning Leroy walked slowly toward the van he had stolen. He wore cheap clothes with SAMSONS LINENS written across the T-shirt he had on. Once in the van he jammed on a black leather cap and yellow-tinted shades.

With a tight smile he imagined he could hear the witnesses now. ‘Yeah—a black boy—about twenty-something—tall, skinny—how the hell do I know what he looked like—he was
black.
'

‘Sure, sure. We all look alike, baby,' he muttered to himself.
‘Beee-oootiful!
'

He drove the van carefully. It wouldn't do to have any kind of accident.

Barberellis was a large Italian restaurant and bar situated on a main street. Pulling the van up outside, Leroy got out. Collecting a large laundry basket from the back of the van, he carried it inside.

A girl was sitting behind a cash register adding up bills, while a wizened old man beat at the floor listlessly with a broom.

‘Morning,' Leroy sang out. ‘Samsons Linens, fresh delivery. Anything to go?'

The girl looked up vaguely. She had only worked there a week. ‘I don't know,' she said. ‘Nobody's in yet. You'd better leave it on a table.'

‘Sure.' Whistling, he chose a table by the window. The old man kept on sweeping. ‘I'll drop by tomorrow,' Leroy said cheerfully.

‘Okay,' the girl replied, disinterested.

Still whistling, he departed.

Leroy was three blocks away when he heard the explosion. It gave him a strange, almost sensual jolt of pleasure.

Carefully he extracted a new piece of gum from the pack, and even more carefully he drove the van to his next stop.