“And be nice to Roy.”
“It isn’t easy.” Her whole personna changed, and her voice deepened. “‘I remember the time when… blah, blah, blah.’ ”
“Marissa,” Sterling cautioned, with a twinkle in his eye.
“I knowwwwww… ” she said. “ Roy ’s all right, I suppose.”
Sterling stood, relishing the momentary lightheartedness he saw in Marissa’s eyes. It was an instant reminder of the first time he had seen her with Billy and Nor. I cannot fail her, he thought. It was both a prayer and a vow.
“It’s time for me to go now, Marissa.”
“Christmas Eve-you promised!” she said.
Charlie and Marge always piled the presents under the tree a few days before Christmas. Their three children all lived nearby on Long Island, a blessing for which Marge gave daily thanks.
“How many people’s kids are scattered to the ends of the earth?” she would ask rhetorically from under the dryer. “We’re so lucky.”
Their six grandchildren were a source of joy, from the seventeen-year-old about to start college to the six-year-old in the first grade. “All good kids. Not a lemon in the lot,” Marge often boasted.
But tonight, after she and Charlie had arranged the gifts, they did not feel their usual sense of satisfaction and anticipation. Dread of the inevitable outcome of Charlie going to the FBI had settled over them, and at 8:30 they were sitting quietly side by side in the living room, Charlie aimlessly flipping the channels on the television.
Marge stared at the Christmas tree, a sight that usually brought her great comfort and joy. Tonight it didn’t have that effect on her. Not even the homemade ornaments her grandchildren had made over the years could bring a smile to her face.
Then, as she watched, one of the ornaments slid to the carpet, the paper-mache angel with one wing shorter than the other, and wearing a hat instead of a halo. She got up to retrieve the angel, but before she could reach it, the ornament started to glow.
Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. For once, not a word came from her lips. In ten seconds the angel had been transformed into a pleasant-faced man, neatly dressed in a dark blue chesterfield coat and wearing a homburg, which he promptly removed.
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH,” Marge screamed.
Charlie had started to doze on the couch. He jumped up, saw Sterling, and cried, “Junior sent you, I know he did.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Marge cried prayerfully. “The Badgetts didn’t send him, Charlie. He’s a ghost.”
“Please don’t be alarmed. I’m here to help solve your problems with the Badgetts,” Sterling said calmly. “Do sit down.”
They looked at each other and then obeyed. Marge blessed herself.
Sterling smiled. For a moment he said nothing, wanting them to get used to him and lose any lingering fear that he might do them harm.
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked.
Marge’s eyes were still like saucers. “Please do, and help yourself to the Christmas cookies,” she said, pointing to the dish on the coffee table.
“No, thank you.” He smiled. “I don’t eat anymore.”
“I wish I had that problem,” Charlie said, staring at Sterling, the remote control still in his hand.
“Turn off the TV, Charlie,” Marge ordered.
Click. Sterling was amused, remembering the queen’s remark that in this house, Marge ruled the roost. He could see them both begin to relax. They understand that I’m not here to harm them, he thought. It’s time to explain myself to them.
“You know Nor Kelly and Billy Campbell, Charlie,” he began. “And you know they are in the Witness Protection Program.”
Charlie nodded.
“I was sent here to help Billy’s little girl, Marissa, who longs to be with her father and grandmother. In order to accomplish that, it is necessary to remove the threat that hovers over them.”
“Junior and Eddie,” Charlie said flatly.
“Those two!” Marge said contemptuously.
“As I began investigating the best way to ensure Nor and Billy’s safety, I realized that you are in grave danger from the Badgetts as well.”
Marge reached for Charlie’s hand.
“Understanding all the circumstances, I have come to the conclusion that the best and most effective way to solve the problem is to get the Badgetts to go back to Wallonia, where they will be incarcerated for the remainder of their lives.”
“And I hope they throw away the key,” Marge pronounced. “Those two are bad, bad, bad.”
Ever the lawyer, Charlie said, “I assure you, there is no way that those two will ever willingly set a foot on Wallonian soil.”
“Even for Mama Heddy-Anna?” Sterling asked.
“They’ve been crying in their beer for nearly fifteen years about not seeing her, but they still haven’t paid her a visit,” Charlie said.
“I have a plan that just might take them back to their mother’s side,” Sterling explained.
Their expressions suddenly hopeful, Charlie and Marge listened raptly.
The next morning, FBI agent Rich Meyers, accompanied by his top assistant, agent Hank Schell, arrived at the home of Charlie and Marge Santoli. Dressed as repairmen, they carried in tool kits that held recording equipment.
They sat at the kitchen table with the Santolis while Schell set up and tested the microphone.
When Charlie had phoned Meyers the previous night, Meyers warned him that he might want to have legal counsel before going on the record with potentially self-incriminating disclosures.
Charlie had dismissed the suggestion. I’ve got something far better than a lawyer, he thought. I’ve got Sterling in my corner.
“Ready, Mr. Santoli?” Meyers asked.
“Yes, I am. For the record, my name is Charles Santoli…”
For the next hour, Charlie described his connection with the Badgetts, starting with their legitimate enterprises, then detailing his growing knowledge of their criminal activities. He concluded by saying that in his opinion the government would never be able to convict Junior and Eddie Badgett of arson in the Kramer warehouse fire, and that Nor Kelly and Billy Campbell would always be in grave danger, whether or not they were in protective custody.
Meyers listened impassively.
Charlie took a deep breath. “With what I’m going to suggest to you, you may decide I need medication, not legal help, but at least hear me out.”
Sterling made a face at Charlie and winked.
With a slight smile, Charlie calmly laid out the plan Sterling had outlined to him the night before. Every once in a while he glanced over at Sterling for approval and was rewarded with an encouraging nod.
Meyers’ first reaction-“You want to do
“That’s my point,” Charlie said eagerly. “It may take years to get a conviction here, and even
