Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [101]
“So have you seen anyone who looks even a little bit like you? Same height and build? Same age and coloring?”
“Probably dozens of people,” he said. “So what?”
“He was wearing the same clothes you’re wearing now,” I said. “Blue jeans, pale shirt, denim jacket . . .”
“He? Who are we talking about?”
I froze as I realized what I had just said. “The same clothes . . .” Both versions of Charlie were wearing the same suit on the night that Lucky and I saw his doppelgangster at Bella Stella’s. And Lopez’s doppelgangster had been wearing what the real Lopez was wearing tonight.
“He who, Esther?”
Did this information mean anything?
“What was Johnny Gambello wearing when he was pulled out of the East River?” I asked.
“What?” Lopez was confused by the sudden change of topic.
“Was it a red shirt and white leisure suit with silver trim?”
Frowning at me, he shook his head. “No.”
So was I on the wrong track? No, not necessarily. Johnny had gone home and talked to his wife after seeing his doppelgangster. So maybe he changed his clothes sometime after he was duplicated and before he died.
So maybe . . . “Yes!” I said, grasping it.
“Yes, what?” Lopez prodded.
Maybe the clothing the doppelgangsters wore could help us pinpoint when they had been created!
“I have to tell Max,” I said, heading for the door.
Lopez grabbed my arm. His grip was hard. “Tell him what? No, wait, never mind. Whatever you think you have to tell Max, you and I have things we need to talk about first.”
“You’re right.” My thoughts were scattered. I was still in shock from seeing him beheaded. I had to pull myself together. Focusing on the single most important thing we needed to discuss, I said, “You’re in danger.”
“Yeah, of getting suspended.” He released my arm.
I looked at him in surprise. “Because of the note that I gave Danny?”
“The one with your phone number? And Max’s land line? Yeah, I found it near the body.”
I gazed at him in confusion. How could he and his double both have found it?
He continued, “At the time, I was . . . upset.”
“Upset,” I repeated faintly.
He rubbed a hand over his face, looking tired. “But you know, it’s been such a hell of a day since then, I kind of forgot about it.”
“What?” I didn’t understand. The doppelgangster had been furious.
With a weary, resigned expression, he reached into his pocket and pulled out . . .
“Photos?” I said.
“Surveillance photos.” His voice was flat, tired, a little cold. “We look at most of them digitally. These are just a few that I printed out for myself tonight. Call me sentimental.”
They were four-by-six color prints with a matte finish. He laid them out slowly on the table for me to look at, one by one.
The photos had all been taken at night on a city street. The composition wasn’t good, and neither was the lighting. There was a dark car outside what looked like the entrance to a church, a couple of men, a gumata with big hair and shiny clothes that were a little too small for . . .
“Oh, my, God!” I blurted. “I didn’t realize how that blouse gapped when I moved.”
Even with the bad lighting, you could see a glimpse of my bra in one of the shots. I looked up at Lopez to explain that I’d put together that costume on short notice.
Our eyes met, and I realized that probably wasn’t important just now.
I gasped as another thought occurred to me.
“You’ve got me under surveillance?” I demanded.
“No,” he said with forced patience. “We’ve got capos in the major crime families under surveillance, Esther.”
“Oh. Right.” And I was so naive, this hadn’t occurred to me when I met with Danny “the Doctor” Dapezzo in Little Italy last night. “Of course.”
He put another photo on the table. It showed me handing a small piece of paper to Danny. The next photo Lopez laid down was a shot of me, Max, and Nelli leaving St. Monica’s together last night.
Lopez said, “What in the name God did you think you were doing?”
“Napoli’s going to want to question me again, isn’t he?” I said in resignation.
“No, he thinks these are pictures of Danny’s daughter.”
“What?”
Lopez shrugged. “There’s definitely