Twenty Blue Devils

'Did he? I don't remember.'

'Yes, he did.'

Nick shrugged and waved a dismissive hand. “Aaahh, what can you do? The guy was a big talker, that's all.'

'Nick—'

But they had pulled up to the ferry-loading dock in Clinton and were waved by the crew aboard one of the old, green-and-white ferries for the brief trip to Mukilteo and the mainland. As the engines started up and the ship slid smoothly over the ruffled gray expanse of Puget Sound, Nick looked placidly at his nephew.

'John, I know what you're driving at, and I appreciate your concern. But forget about Gasparone; the guy was showing off. Look, sometimes we go for years up at the farm without any accidents, and other times they gang up on us. Okay, we've had a string of problems lately. It's just things averaging out, that's all. Believe me, there's no vendetta going on. Even if there was, Tony Gasparone's got bigger fish to fry than me, take my word for it.'

That's what John thought too, but he wasn't quite as confident of it as he'd been before he'd seen the files, and it made him feel better to hear Nick say it.

'Well, I'm not so sure,” Nelson proclaimed from the back seat. “I told you twelve years ago that it was a mistake to get involved, and I still say so. You can't go around filing depositions when you're dealing with human scum like—'

Nick laughed. “Nelson, give it a rest, will you? If I thought there was anything to it, I'd be the first one to ask for some help from J. Edgar Hoover over here, believe me.'

'Yeah, like hell you would,” John said.

Nick laughed again, which was meant to close the subject, but Nelson, warmed up now, wasn't about to comply.

'Nick, sometimes I don't understand you at all. You're just sticking your head in the sand. Now, we all know that John has been talking to Brenda about this. Are you going to deny that, John?'

John glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Not me.'

'I wouldn't think so. Well, I was against bringing John into this in the first place, you all know that, but now that he is in, I think we should get his help.'

'Oh, hell,” Nick grumbled and slouched down into his seat with his arms folded.

'John?” Nelson said in the peremptory tone that had been raising the hair on the back of John's neck for over thirty years, since he had been eight and Nelson had been twelve anyway, and probably before then.

'Nelson?” he replied mildly.

'Now, then. I want you to find out how we can get in touch with this Gasparone person. With the others too.'

That caught John by surprise. “Get in touch with them?'

'Exactly, I think it's time to lay things on the table with them. They may be gangsters but they're also businessmen. They may have something in mind, some sort of...remuneration. We're in a sound financial position now. We can afford to negotiate, to work things out.'

'Forget it,” Nick muttered without turning around.

'It's not a good idea, Nelson,” John said firmly. All the same, in one respect Nelson did have a point. When sleaze-bags like Gasparone got even with people for doing them wrong, they went out and blew their heads off, or maybe just their kneecaps if the original offense wasn't too bad. The point was to make it clear to others that it wouldn't be a good idea to do the same thing. But when they started in on piddly little things like a minor injury or accident here or there— such as the happenings on the plantation—you had to assume that they were after something; some kind of cooperation, or compliance, or kickback.

That is, if they were involved at all.

'Nick,” he said, “they haven't been in touch with you, have they?'

Nick looked sulkily at him. “Are you kidding me?'

'What about anybody else that might be speaking for them? Somebody in the coffee business that could be backed by them? Anybody, well, suggesting that—I don't know, that you ought to give them special terms, or —'

'In touch with me? No, give me a break.'

Nelson took up the attack again. “Just because they haven't approached us doesn't mean we can't approach them. I'm only saying that if they feel they have a grievance, the sensible thing—'

'Lord, don't you love it!” Maggie cried with a laugh. “Nelson the Ethical. God forbid that we file a deposition against these lousy creeps back then when it counted, and now he can't wait to sit down and negotiate with them.'

'I'm only saying—” Nelson began.

Nick cut him off. “Nelson, will you use your head for once? If these cruds wanted to get back at me for what happened in Seattle, why go all the way to Tahiti to do it? And do what, when it comes down to it? Bribe our employees to lose a few records...to jam the pulper? Hell, no, if they had a score to settle with us, they'd just burn down the building right here on Whidbey Island. It'd be a whole lot easier. That shack would go up like kindling.'

Rudy, who had been minding his own business, sat up with a jerk. “Oh, thank you very much. That'll help me sleep nights.'

'Or blow it up, or something,” Maggie suggested. “That's what I'd do.'

'Wonderful, even better,” said Rudy.