They backed away quickly and gratefully.
“You gave a great performance, Jimmy!” Kathleen shouted.
Jimmy “The Pearl” and his wife smiled and nodded and kept backing away.
“They seemed nice,” Kathleen said.
The great room was cavernous, with twenty-four foot ceilings. Up above, there was only room for a crawl space, something I knew first hand. The week I “visited,” I hung out in the areas above the bedrooms. There was standing room there, and I’d managed to fashion a relatively comfortable lifestyle. I had to remain quiet and cramped at night, of course, but when the family was out I could move around and make some noise. My first job had been to divert a portion of the heat and air to the attic. Next I hooked up a phone jack, so I could record all the land line calls that came in and went out of the house.
Kathleen looked at the ornate painting over the fireplace.
“Is that Sal’s wife, Marie?” she said.
“It is.”
“She seems so young. How long ago did she pose for it?”
“Maybe fifteen years ago.”
A young lady was making a bee-line to us through the crowd. Kathleen squealed, “Why Donovan, she’s
“Damn right, she is! Kathleen, this is Liz Bonadello, Sal’s daughter.”
Liz was a tall, classic Italian beauty, close to Kathleen’s age, meaning mid-thirties. Watching them interact socially was a thing of beauty. Over the next two minutes they had started and discarded half a dozen topics of conversation and were now deep into an animated discussion that generated no small amount of laughter, as if they’d known each other for years.
Liz had her own place, but Sal and Marie kept her old bedroom ready for the occasional weekend visit. Liz spent the night here only once during the week I hid in the attic. After the first day, after I’d completed my noisy work, I was able to relax and enjoy their home. On those occasions, while Sal and Marie were out, I’d push down the attic stairs, climb down and raid the cupboard or fridge, take a shower, and use Liz’s old computer.
Liz and Kathleen concluded their discussion and promised each other they’d stay in touch.
As Liz walked away I said, “What do you think of her?”
Kathleen said, “Classy, olive complexion, nice boobs, knows her fashion.”
“Do women always size each other up that way?”
“Always. What planet are you from?”
“What do you suppose she’s thinking about you right now?”
“Classy, porcelain complexion, small tits, sexy boyfriend.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said. “Especially the last part.”
“Me too,” she said. “So where’s the bar?”
“There,” I said, pointing to the door that led to the terrace.
Once outside I could see that Sal had really outdone himself. The terrace had been professionally decorated with lavish columns, topiaries, and hundreds of tiny white lights that made it seem like a fairyland. The tables were draped in textured, white linen, with centerpieces of fresh-cut orchids. The chairs were covered in white fabric with organza sashes in cobalt blue. The bar was at least twenty feet long, with three bartenders going at it double-time.
Despite the ample and capable staff , it took ten minutes to get our drinks. While I waited, I looked back up at the house. The curtains along the back of the house were open. All the lights were on, and I could see inside Sal and Marie’s bedroom.
I’d been hiding in Sal’s attic for a reason. He had been given some misinformation about me and decided to have me whacked. I figured the safest place to hide out was in his attic. I tapped his phones and bored some tiny holes in the various ceilings and fitted them with pinhole cameras. I was trying to learn which of Sal’s lieutenants had lied about me. I figured I’d find him and torture a confession out of him. Barring that, I’d kill Sal. As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long. Six nights into my stay, while Sal and Marie slept in their bed, I heard two guys break into the house. Through pinhole cameras I watched them creep toward the master bedroom with their guns drawn. I positioned myself over Sal’s bedroom. When they flipped on the lights, I put a gun in each hand and
