“Morehead,” Dutch said in a growl. “Lieutenant Morehead.”
“All right, Morehead—”
“Lieutenant.”
Costello glared a moment or two more. “Lieutenant Morehead, what the hell do you want from us?
Why are we here?”
Dutch said, “Maybe you haven?t noticed, but a lot of your relatives have dropped suddenly dead in the
last couple of days.”
“is that why that bunch of beach bums of yours has been harassing us for the past few weeks?”
“Oh, I would hardly call that harassment, Mr. Costello,” Dutch said. “I?ll be glad to show you real
harassment, if you?d like.”
Throughout the exchange, Chevos never took his eyes off me. They glittered like the eyes of a night
predator. It had suddenly occurred to him who I was, a man whose assassination he had once ordered.
I looked back and for a moment we were eye to eye. A lot went on in that face in a couple of seconds:
hate, fear, annoyance, curiosity, anger, frustration. He finally looked away.
I finally cut into the conversation. “So you?re representing all these people, right, Costello?”
“That?s right. I?m glad somebody finally remembered I?m an attorney.”
“Then let?s just you and us talk,” I said, and I stepped back into the war room. Dutch ushered Costello
in and the Stick followed.
I slammed the door and said, “Look, let?s stop fucking around. You?re just a mobster, Costello. We all
know it, so let?s stop the bullshit. Uncle Franco is dead and that makes you primo candidate for capo
di capi—that?s if you don?t join the rest of your worthless ancestors, which wouldn?t hurt my feelings
at all.”
He started to say something but I held my hand up and kept talking. “Now we figure two things,
Costello; either some mob from up country has decided to muscle you out of Dunetown and take over,
or somebody inside your clan has got a real beef going
on.
“Are you implying that I engineered these killings?” he said angrily.
“You haven?t got the guts,” I said, letting my feelings hang out. “I?m telling you what we know and
what we?re guessing.”
“It?s our problem.”
“Wrong again, asshole,” I said. “We just made it our problem.”
“Not likely,” he said, very slowly and deliberately. “Whatever the problem is, it?s our problem arid
we?ll take care of it.”
