Vineyard Shadows (16 page)

“Yes,” she said, “you're right. It is about both of us. But I'll take care of it.”

How many times had I taken it upon myself to attend to some matter affecting us both? More than once, and often without even mentioning it, as though it was my duty as a man, as a husband, and not something I should even consider sharing with my wife. Wives, I suspected, did even more of that in marriages than did their husbands.

“All right,” I said. “I'll stay home with the kids.”

“You're a good man, Charlie Brown.”

Zee was barely out the door on her way to see Aylward when the phone rang. It was Carla.

“I've been so worried,” she said. “I can't seem to get in touch with Tom. Oh, I hope nothing's gone wrong. I don't know what the boys and I would do without him!”

I could almost see her tears. “He's safe,” I said.

“Please don't let him get hurt. He's like a child sometimes. He does foolish things.”

“He thinks he's got some sort of plan that will take a few days to work out. Do you know what it is?”

“No. But please keep him safe. I don't think I could stand it if anything happened to him. Please, Jeff!”

I felt a great pity for her. Her husband was an unfaithful liar, but she loved him and needed him. I decided I could put my distaste for him aside, at least for another few days.

“All right,” I said. “I'll make sure that nothing happens to him.” The words tasted sour, but they made her happy.

The morning was bright and glittering after the passing of the rain. The new sun beamed down on earth and water. Six days before, Pat “The Pilot” Logan and Howie Trucker had driven into my yard, and my world and Zee's world had changed forever. On the first Sixth Day God had seen everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. I wondered how he felt about how things were going lately.

The night before, in bed, Zee had told me about her talk with Norman Aylward.

“The first thing you should know is that he wasn't wearing a tie.”

“Ah! A good sign.”

“The second thing is that he's good-looking and I like him.”

“I thought you had eyes only for me.”

“You're not too observant, but you're nice. Maybe I should tell you that he had a picture of his wife and three little kids on his desk.”

“If I had a desk, I'd have a picture of my wife and two little kids on it.”

“We chatted while we checked each other out and when we both—I, at least—decided we could get along, he told me pretty much what Brady told me over the phone.”

“Which was?”

“Don't talk with any reporters and don't talk with any cops or legal types without having him alongside. If anybody has any questions, refer them to him. It sounds like what you read in the newspapers: ‘Mr. and Mrs. Jackson referred all questions to her lawyer, Norman Aylward. Mr. Aylward expressed every confidence that the district attorney would find that his client had acted completely within the law, but declined further comment.'”

“Good advice, no doubt. Let's take it.”

“He doesn't want us to talk about what happened with anybody else, either, including our friends.”

“A little late for that.”

“That's what I told him. He said that from now on we should just tell everybody that our lawyer has advised us not to say anything to anybody until after the D.A. decides what he's going to do. I told him about the assistant D.A. snake I talked with. He said he didn't know him, but that it was the snakes who are responsible for all those lawyer jokes. I think you'll like him.”

I actually did like at least one lawyer: Brady Coyne. Was it possible for one person to like two lawyers in only one lifetime? What's the difference between a lawyer and a rattlesnake? The snake warns you. Page 1000, volume fifty, of the
Lawyer Joke Book.

“Do you feel better, having talked with him?”

“Yes. When you think you might be in trouble, even though you don't think you deserve to be, it's nice to know that somebody is on your side.”

True.

“Enough of lawyers,” she said. “You're the somebody on my side that I'm interested in right now.” She rolled toward me and ran her hand down over my belly.

I tried to avoid the scar on her side, but I made good
contact with the rest of her and she with me. As I've often said, bachelors are a sad lot.

In the morning, after Zee, looking healthier, drove to work, I packed up Josh and Diana, and followed her to Oak Bluffs. But instead of going to the hospital, I went to the State Police offices on Temahigan Avenue. In past years the building had been painted a dubious shade of blue, but now it was shingled with cedar and looked more Vineyardish.

I parked, and the kids and I went inside where I was pleased to actually find Corporal Dominic Agganis and not his testy fellow officer Olive Otero. Not that Dom Agganis and I were bosom buddies, but at least we'd gone fishing together and had occasionally shared a beer.

“Well, well,” said Agganis, “what brings you to these hallowed halls?”

“Talk.”

He opened a drawer of his desk. “You kids want some candy? I've got some lemon drops in here.” He brought them out.

“Thank you,” said my polite children, holding out their hands.

Agganis took a good look at the Band-Aid on Diana's throat. “What sort of talk? How's your wife, by the way?”

“Better.”

“Good. You want your kids to hear this conversation you have in mind?”

I found a chair. “It may bore kids to hear grown-ups talk, but I don't think it hurts them.”

He leaned back in his chair. He was a tall, thick-bodied man who usually wore an air of polite skepticism about the world in general. He was very smart and tough. “Well, then.”

I told him almost everything I had seen and heard
since I'd come home from clamming the morning Logan and Trucker had been shot. I didn't mention the pencil I'd shoved up Trucker's nose or the place where Rimini was staying, but gave him the rest of it, including Gordon R. Sullivan's telephone number. It took a bit of time, but Agganis never interrupted. When I was done, I gave him a copy of the picture of Graham and waited.

“Pa, can we look around?”

“It's not my house, Joshua.”

“Sure you can,” said Agganis. “Look anywhere you want. Here.” More lemon drops exchanged hands and more thank-yous were uttered.

“Stay together,” I said, “and don't touch anything.”

“Yes, Pa.”

Agganis watched them ease into a hallway. “How's the little girl?” he asked, touching his throat with a thick finger.

“She only got a small cut. I don't think she gives it a thought. Kids may be little, but they're tougher than you'd think.”

“Where's Rimini hiding out?”

I'd been sure he'd ask. “Do you have to know?”

“He's in the middle of something that's already got one man killed and another all shot up. He's got Sonny Whelen looking for him already, he's got this Graham character pulling his strings, and now he's got the woman who may be Sonny's girlfriend down here with him. Because of him, your wife had to kill a man and your daughter damned near got her throat cut. I'd say there's plenty of reason for me to know.”

“The more mouths, the fewer secrets.”

“Don't irk me, J.W.”

“He's at John Skye's farm. You know where that is?”

“Yeah. Up off the Edgartown–West Tisbury Road.”

“John and Mattie and the twins are out West for a month. I look after the place, so I stuck him there until I could figure out what else to do with him.”

He nodded. “It's a good spot to hide somebody, but I get the impression that Rimini's not as keen on being hid as you are on hiding him. He's already brought in this bird from Boston. Who else knows where he is?” He tapped his fingers on his desk. “I think this Sullivan guy up in Boston is right. I think you'd better step out of this dance and let the authorities handle things from now on.”

“I have some interests the authorities don't have.”

“Yeah. Rimini's wife.”

He could be snide when it pleased him. So could I. “I don't want her to get hurt, but I don't think the authorities you mention give a damn about her one way or another.”

“You interfere with an investigation, you'll end up in court.” He waved his trigger finger at me.

I waved mine back. “Yeah, but there isn't any investigation to interfere with. None of those authorities you talk about are investigating Rimini.”

He had a little smile that consisted of one corner of his mouth lifting in what also looked like a sneer. “Don't bet your life savings on that, not that you have any life savings. I'm still investigating the shooting at your place, and Rimini is in the middle of it.”

“Let's have some tit for tat,” I said. “I've told you what I know, now you tell me what you know.”

The smile became bigger. “You jest.”

I didn't have any smile at all. “No. My wife and daughter almost got killed. Trucker told me it happened because Whelen sent them to get Rimini, and Logan let his testosterone get the best of him. Whelen
sort of halfway told me that sending Trucker and Logan after Rimini was a mistake, but he never actually said that he sent them. He told me that Trucker and Logan were already on the island, vacationing with their wives, when they got the job. Did you talk with the wives? Are they still here? Where? Can you make Whelen as the mastermind?”

“You're full of questions, aren't you? Well, I'll tell you this much: Logan's widow and Trucker's wife and all of their kids who were here on vacation are off the island now and back home in America. The women claim they don't know a thing about their hubbies' work, and that may be true, since a lot of hoods keep their professional lives and their family lives separate, and a lot of hoods' wives go out of their way not to know anything and to keep their kids from knowing anything about their men's business. As far as I know, the same goes for Sonny Whelen's family. They may know his reputation from what they read in the papers and hear on the news, but then again maybe they don't read, or watch TV.”

“Where were Logan and Trucker staying?”

“Why? You want to go search the places for clues? Save your energy. Trucker owned a house up in Chilmark. We got a warrant to search the place, but we didn't find a thing and the wives didn't leave anything of theirs behind. No confessions, no incriminating letters from Sonny Whelen, no nothing. Forget it.”

“Can you tie this to Sonny any tighter than I have?”

“Not yet, but when you get yourself out of the picture there'll be one less person blocking the view.”

“Dom, if it wasn't for me coming here today, you wouldn't have any idea that this whole thing wasn't just Sonny Whelen muscling Rimini over a gambling debt.”

“And you think it's more than that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, smart guy, tell me. You tell me what's going on and then we'll both know.”

“I don't know.”

“I didn't think so.”

“Pa, there's goldfish. Come and see. Come and see, Pa.” Diana waved an arm, beckoning.

I got up, looking at Agganis. “You have goldfish? I didn't know authorities kept goldfish.”

“Yes, we have goldfish. There's a lot you don't know about authorities.”

He got up and went down the hall with Diana and me. In the next room was a small aquarium containing several varieties of fish, most of them goldfish. We all stood and admired them.

“Can we have some goldfish, Pa? Look at that one. She's my favorite.”

“Maybe we can have some little fish,” I said. “I'll think about it.”

“Sure you can have some,” said Agganis. “Your dad knows how much you want some, so he'll get them for you. Isn't that right, J.W.?”

I gave him a sour look.

“Can we, Pa? Can we?”

“We'll see.”

“You can buy them right here in town at the tackle shop,” said Agganis.

“Come on, kids, it's time to go. See you later, Dom.”

“Come back anytime, kids. You, too, J.W.”

We went out to the truck.

“Can we have a dog, too, Pa?”

“No. No dogs.”

“Can I have my very own goldfish?”

“Me, too, Pa? I want my own goldfish, too.”