said good-bye. The Yaley- lackey appeared with a paper sack for Joe. It contained his pistol. We were once again walked back through the dark and deserted realty office, let out through the front glass door, walked down the stairs, and soon found ourselves on the street near the candy store where Joe had made the phone call. It was as if the whole thing hadn't really happened.
'I had no idea that the notorious Paul Tescione was so approachable,' I said as we walked back to Salem Street and headed for the car.
'He usually isn't. I don't think we'd have gotten in if I weren't Italian. He knows of me; we've got some mutual friends, like Giordano. Ha! Meeting him like that, you'd never know how he makes his money would you?'
We walked on in silence. I didn't mention the lighter; I knew it would be unwise. Joe had loved that lighter and had given it up as a sign of fealty to a man he hated, but needed. I wondered too what he had told Tescione. I had an idea.
'Why the hell did they give me back my gun in this damn sack? Wait a sec; I'll slip into the car and lock it up under the seat.'
I waited outside while Joe locked his Beretta in the special strongbox bolted to the frame of his sedan under the driver's seat. He hated to carry guns. He emerged, shut the door and locked it, and came to my side chuckling. He held in his big hand a blue cardboard box.
'Look what I found in that paper sack along with my gun.''
I took the box and opened it. It was a lighter. A Cartier, dark blue and gold. The gold seemed to be real.
'Shit. I'm moving from a wop lighter up to a frog lighter. I'm moving up in the world. Do you believe how fast he did that?'
We both laughed, and went into Toscana's and bought six extra-thick loin lamb chops. Up the street at Beninati's we bought some fresh bread sticks, the white nougat candies with the bright wrappers that Mary loves, some fresh bread, espresso beans, and six cans of flat anchovy fillets. It's practically impossible to go into these little North End stores and buy one thing. Back on Storrow Drive, then home by eight-forty. Not too bad, considering all we'd done.
Joe and Mary talked in the living room while I sliced tomatoes in the kitchen. I alternated slices of tomato, cucumber, and onion s around the outsides of three large plates, putting a bed of romaine lettuce in the center. On this I placed a big chunk of white tuna, a handful of Tuscan peppers and semihot banana peppers, pimentos and black olives, Greek olives, provelone and feta cheese, Genoa salami, and prosciutto, and I topped it with anchovies. Off to one side of this was a big scoop of marinated eggplant chunks and artichoke hearts. Then I crushed fresh basil over the tomatoes, added salt, coarse black pepper, olive oil, vinegar, and a little lemon juice. The lamb chops had been basted with garlic butter and were almost done. With the meat we would have bread and white beans with lamb drippings.
We started with the antipasto, and when we were almost through it Joe showed Mary the lighter and told her about our visit with Paul Tescione. She sat at the table wide-eyed and silent, her eyes never leaving her brother. She fed herself by touch. I brought in the meat and the rest of the meal and squirted a few drops of fresh lemon juice over each buttery chop. Joe had demolished his first chop and almost the second one when the phone rang and Mary went into the kitchen to answer it. She came back with a message for Joe.
'It was your office at Ten-Ten Comm. Ave. A man called the office there asking for you, saying it was pretty important. A Mr. Aldorfer?'
He was in the kitchen quite a while. His chop got cold. He came back, sat down, stared at his plate a minute, and then excused himself, saying he'd be in my study.
Mary asked me who Mr., Aldorfer was and I let on I didn't know. just a little white lie to keep her from getting worked up. I finished Joe's chop for him and told Mary I'd see him alone in the study for a few minutes.
I found him in there playing with the dogs. He was patting them and talking to them, and smoking..
'What's up?' I asked.
'What's up? I'm up. I'm up shit's creek without a paddle is what. Aldorfer just told me that some of his acquaintances up in Lynn stumbled across a corpse up there.'
'Then they got DeLucca?'
He exhaled smoke through his nostrils like a dragon and shook his head.
'No. The body they found was the late Johnny Rizzo, tied to a chair in his rooming house. He'd been gagged. Then somebody- gee, I wonder who- broke both his legs with a billy club and went to work on him with a knife. Poor bastard. And it's my fault.'
'Where were the cops?'
'They were still watching the sub shop, not Rizzo's place. None of us took Johnny's fear seriously. He was such a chicken-shit all the time. But he was right; DeLucca did know he was being set up. Maybe that was him in the cab. Jeeee-sus Keeeee-riste.'
'Now I know what you whispered to Tescione.'
'No you don't. You can guess, but you'll never know. We made sure of that. Listen, Doc: the stakeout was blown and I didn't think we'd snag him. And if we did, chances are he'd walk, or get life. And I'll tell you one thing: I want Carmen DeLucca dead. On a slab. He's a goddamn animal.'
Joe stalked out of the study and through the hall to the little phone booth underneath the stairway. Before he could close the door after him I held it.
'Joe. What would happen if O'Hearn and the others at Ten-Ten Comm. Ave. got wind you'd met with Paul Tescione in his office?'
He stood there glaring at me with the phone cradled in his big hairy paw and a new cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, trailing smoke. He needed a shave. Joe always needs a shave. He smelled of stale sweat and old smoke and food and booze. I saw a corner of his shoulder holster peeping through his coat. He was straight out of a Cagney flick. He was scary.
'Seewwww what!' He snarled. 'They wouldn't particularly give a shit. But anyway, they'll never find out. Know why?'
'Why?'.
'Because you don't want to take a fall for a B and E, remember?'
He slammed the door after him and pushed buttons while I went back into the study. They say when you fight an enemy long enough you begin to take on his characteristics. Maybe they're right; all Joe. needed was a big white fedora. He marched from the booth.
'Where are you going?' Mary asked him as he went to the door. He kissed her on the cheek, thanked both of us, and said he'd just alerted his own people to check on Rizzo. Knowing what they'd find, he thought it best to be on hand.
'At least the Mob wasn't in on the Robinson-Santuccio hit,' he said as he paused at the open door. 'I mean, I think he's leveling with us.'
'I do too. I don't think it was the Mob.'
'And if the hot item never surfaces, then so much the better. All I want now is DeLucca on a slab and I'm happy.'
He left. Mary and I went into the kitchen and started up the coffee machine. She sat at the kitchen table and rubbed her fingers nervously over her eyes and forehead. Then she played with her hair, kneading and pulling at it like a grumpy child. She gazed down at the table, ignoring her coffee. Mary had had it. She was wrung out and exhausted. I patted her back.
'I can't wait for the trip,' she said, resting her head down on her forearms. 'When do we leave? The third?'
'Yep. Day before the Fourth of July. The Flight to Milan is out of New York, and I've heard the Tall Ships will be in the harbor…'.
'Good. Jeeez, I can't wait to get out of here for a while.'
I opened the swing-out, lead-pane windows and let the spring breeze in. Mary sighed.
'At least it's just about over… this thing.'
'Yep,' I said, and went to get a magazine. On the hall table I spotted a manila envelope with no writing on it. I opened it. Inside were some police circulars on Carmen DeLucca and some glossy photos of him. He had black eyes like a Gila monster. He did not look like a nice guy. Joe had left the envelope with us, probably by mistake. I
