boxes bearing the labels she had made in Santa Fe. “Gee, that’s good time. I didn’t think they’d get here so soon.”
“Not so fast,” said Dave. “Forgetting something? I’m a businessman, not your relative.”
“What do I owe you?”
“Fifteen a month for the box is 180, plus 205 for forwarding, that’s what? Three eighty-five.”
Jane pulled out four of the hundred-dollar bills from her visit to the bank. Then, on an impulse, she handed him two more. “Here’s for the next year,” she said. “In case I don’t get here again … for a while.”
He counted out her change, then pulled a sheet of paper from under the counter and gazed at it, then at Jane. “I was saving this for you, but it’s not as good as I thought now that you cut your hair.” He spun it around quickly, staring into her eyes for a reaction.
It was the same drawing Jane had seen at the parking lot. This time it said, “Woman missing since July 20. Large reward.” She couldn’t recall whether the telephone number was the same. Jane said, “Are you saying that looks like me?”
He looked at it again. “I thought you’d get a kick out of it.”
“ ‘Large reward,’ ” Jane mused. “Maybe I should try to turn myself in and collect. Where did you get it—the police?”
He shrugged. “Some guy came in and stuck it on my bulletin board. He didn’t hang around long enough to hear about how my board space ain’t free. I mean, this isn’t the post office. Am I wrong?”
“You know me,” said Jane. “The world’s most rabid capitalist. Hey, you mind if I take that picture?”
He handed it to her. “I saved it for you.”
“Thanks. I’ve got to get a second opinion.” She folded it into her purse and surveyed the bulletin board to see if there was another with a picture of Rita, but if there was, it had not stayed on the board.
He laughed. “You want a hand loading your mail?”
“It’s the least you can do.”
She got her keys out while Dave slipped his hand truck under the first five boxes, tipped it back on its wheels, and brought the boxes out the door.
He followed her to the Explorer and shoved the boxes into the back, then went inside again. When he returned with the last five, Jane was rearranging the first five in the aisle behind the front seat. “Thanks,” she said.
“See you next time,” said Dave.
As Jane drove off, she wondered whether she had paid him a year’s rental in advance to be fair because she never intended to come back, or because it was beginning to look as though she would not live that long. She held the wheel with one hand and pulled out the portrait. If they had this picture, then she had made some terrible mistake.
25
“What the hell is this?” shouted Catania. “Will somebody please tell me?” He stood up so fast that his belt buckle hooked on the edge of the table and upset his glass of orange juice. The two men across the table from him watched the pulpy liquid soak the deck of cards, then moved their chairs back to watch it drip onto the floor near their feet. The floor of the Rivoli Social Club was very old wood, and over the years a lot of things had soaked into it, but neither of the men wanted orange juice stuck to the bottoms of their shoes.
Pescati glanced at the cards in his hand, then at the wet deck on the table, and tossed his cards beside it. “It could be just a story.”
“Yeah?” said Catania. “What’s the point of making up a story that proves you can’t find your own ass with both hands? Or that some little chick kicked the shit out of you and took your car?” Catania began to pace. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered. “It’s got to be a joke.” He stopped, grasped thin air with his hands, and shook it. “Has the whole universe suddenly gone crazy?”
“If it did happen, it’s just one of those things,” said Cotrano.
“One of what things?” The two men could see that Catania was working himself into a blind rage. Since his rage was not directed at them, they were not afraid. If they could be polite long enough to weather it, they would be all right. “What kind of things? Talking dogs? Pigs with wings? Lifetime guarantees?”
“He means it’s just a temporary setback,” said Mosso in a soothing voice from the other side of the room. “They said she surprised Langusto’s guy in the Seattle airport. I suppose it’s possible she did. What does it take to trip a guy in the middle of an airport, with a million people around? Even if he was in the mood, he couldn’t exactly gut her and skin her in the middle of a crowd, could he?”
Catania was calming down. “He could have stopped her, or stopped the plane. This is billions of dollars.”
The other men looked at Mosso expectantly. He took a deep breath and walked closer. “We’ve been thinking about this,” he began. “If I’m wrong, tell me to shut up. But it doesn’t seem to us that everything they told you on that bus is true.”
“They hardly told me anything on the bus,” snapped Catania. “You know what I learned? Tasso thinks it’s Bernie’s ghost, who is pissed off because I wanted him to empty his brain onto a computer disk. Molinari thinks it’s Delfina, who happens to be boss of a family about the size of a pro football team, which makes him a good one to blame it on. The Langusto brothers think we shouldn’t waste time making guesses. We’ve got to do the same things to stop them no matter who it is, and we’ll find out when we find out.”
“That’s the one that strikes me as odd,” said Mosso. He was four years older than Catania, and at sixty-three was beginning to look wise and distinguished, so he cultivated the impression. When Catania had been a small, skinny boy on the streets, Mosso had stepped into the role of protector and quiet adviser, and let Catania speak for him. He had always been uncomfortable when he was singled out for notice, but he had seen instantly that Catania craved attention as though it were sunlight. Whenever Mosso spoke, Catania’s head would turn toward him and he would fall into unaccustomed silence.
“What’s so odd?”
“The Langustos. They kind of took charge, didn’t they?”
“They wish,” said Catania contemptuously. “Joe has connections in brokerage houses and banks, so he was in a position to find things out. The Langustos were supposed to be responsible for Bernie all these years, so they should take on more of the headache. And Phil’s the head of their family, that’s all.”
Mosso nodded, and sat in silence. Catania looked away and walked back to the table, picked up his empty juice glass, then glanced at Mosso, still sitting in mute immobility. His silence was beginning to feel loud. Catania put down his glass. “What?”
“The Langustos call a meeting,” said Mosso. “They tell everybody what they ought to be looking for, but they also tell everybody what they shouldn’t be looking for. And it sounds like an odd choice: who’s doing it. Then this woman nobody knows supposedly shows up in Seattle and hammers a full-grown made guy. But who saw it besides him, and whose guy is this?”
“Langusto’s,” conceded Catania. “But that could just be odds. They’ve got more guys out looking than anybody else. They flew them all over the place. I figured it’s better Phil Langusto pays those travel bills than me.”
Mosso sat in silence. His silence was expanding again, and Catania began to feel it taking up space. Catania said, “Are you thinking that the Langusto family don’t want us to find the money?”
“I don’t want to say the Langustos are trying to get all that money for themselves. Maybe they wouldn’t do that.”
“Of course they would,” said Catania. “I would, you would, anybody would.”
Mosso shook his head and feigned bewilderment. “I’m not as smart as a lot of people: you, them.… But wouldn’t a good way be to send everybody else to look in all directions except the one that will pay off?”
Catania’s eyes began to burn. He nodded.
Mosso said, “This is like being in a card game where the dealer is a little too good. You don’t know he’s dealing from the bottom, because you didn’t see it, but you can tell he could if he wanted to. So if he’s not, why isn’t he?”
“It’s true. The Langustos might be trying to keep us all out of the way while they concentrate on finding the people who have the money and then shaking them down.”
