Callie’s Last Dance

life, or I’ll require-whatcha call-retri-retri-”

“Retribution?” I say.

“No.”

“Remuneration?”

“Tribute. I’ll require tribute. In the form of money and a life. Your money, Callie’s life. And if you refuse to pay? We’ll be more than enemies. We’ll be at war.”

He suddenly slaps the table again. “Because I will be respected!”

Slaps it again. “I will be consulted before you kill my people!”

“Are you ready to hear my explanation?” I say.

“Not yet. Three things, before you speak.”

“Go ahead.”

“One.”

“Yes?”

“Put yourself in my position.”

“What do you mean?”

“This lovely young lady sitting in front of me. Callie Carpenter.”

“What about her?”

“She works for you. Reports to you.”

“So?”

“She’s got a girlfriend, yes?”

“For the sake of this conversation, let’s say yes.”

“I’m told her name is Gwen,” Sal says.

“Leave Gwen out of this,” Callie says.

“Please, dear. Hear me out while I speak to Mr. Creed. Because your life is literally on the line today.”

To me, he says, “Suppose you paid me money-for whatever reason-to kill Gwen, but I take it upon myself to not only kill Gwen, but Callie as well. Without even discussing it with you. Is there any possible explanation I could give you that would be-whatcha call-sufficient? That would sit well with the others who work for you? Is there any explanation I could give that would satisfy you as to why I killed your top person? Anything I could say that would allow you to forgive me?”

“Only one.”

“Then that’s the explanation I better hear. And the second thing?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you don’t plan to tell me you killed Frankie because he would have been furious with me for killing his wife, and that he would have come after me, tried to kill me.”

“Why wouldn’t that be a good reason?”

“Because he personally approved the hit on Angie. Because his kids are grown and he had a new girlfriend he wanted to marry.”

“I hadn’t heard.”

“It’s true.”

“Do tell.”

“And third?” Sal says.

“Yeah?”

“I hope you don’t plan to tell me you killed Frankie because you found out he and Sophie were dealing drugs. Because I’m part of that deal.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Now go ahead and give me your reason for killing the top person in my entire organization without my permission.”

40.

I LEAN FORWARD in my chair and place the folder I’ve been holding on Sal’s desk. He opens it and looks at the thin stack of papers.

“What’s this?”

“The first page is a copy of FBI phone records documenting conversations with Frankie. The next twelve pages are certified transcripts of phone conversations between Frankie and Special Agent Robert Thorne, of the FBI. If you read those transcripts, I think you’ll be stunned to see what he’s already given the Feds.”

Sal glances at the papers and says, “What’s this last bit?”

“The evidence catalog.”

“What’s that?”

“The sheet that documents where the evidence is being held, and what type of evidence they have.”

“What type is that?”

“Audio tapes of the phone conversations, for one.”

“There are three listings for audio tapes,” he says.

“The others are recordings Frankie made of private conversations with you.”

“I don’t believe it. Anyone could type this shit up.”

“You think? Plus, why would I want to kill Frankie for free, other than to save your ungrateful ass?”

“Frankie was as loyal as they come. This here’s bullshit. Unless you’ve got proof says otherwise.”

“One of those tapes on the evidence sheet is a private discussion he claims you had in your basement last Memorial Day, when you gave him the order to whack the DiPietro brothers.”

Sal looks like he ate a bad fig. “That’s on tape?”

“It is. Apparently you also told him to torch the Jersey Icehouse restaurant, and gave him a date and time to do it. And it was, in fact torched on that day, at that time.”

“The FBI heard that?”

“They did.”

He closes his eyes. After a long time he says, “What’s the other tape?”

“A meeting he says took place here in the office ten days ago where you discussed a hostile takeover of Carmine Porello’s territory.”

“Frankie said that?”

“He did. And gave them the tape to prove it. I can’t believe you don’t strip search your people before having these meetings.”

He waves a hand, absently. In a defeated voice he says, “That would be disrespectful.”

“So is ratting you out to the Feds.”

Sal looks at me like a guy on a sinking ship, watching the last lifeboat launch without him.

“The Feds have all this?” he says.

“Did have all this,” I say.

“What’s that mean?”

“Permission to reach into my jacket pocket?” I say.

He nods. “You already been searched.”

I remove two microcassette tapes, and slide them across the desk.

“Happy birthday, Sal.”

“What’s this?” he asks hopefully.

“I was called to Virginia yesterday. Emergency meeting with Homeland Security. For some insane reason they made me head of the whole anti-terrorist division. While I was there I thought I’d check out the FBI files on my good friend, Sal Bonadello. Imagine my surprise when I learned they had a full-scale investigation underway, based on the tapes and testimony of Frankie De Luca.”

“These are those tapes?”