Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [102]
“But you did.” Of course.
“I look at you a lot more than he does.”
“You have to tell him,” I said quietly.
“No, I don’t think so.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to be the cause of you doing something you think is wrong.”
“Too late now,” he muttered.
“You can still fix this.”
“Well, I know this will sound unconvincing if I wind up having to explain it later to someone, so I hope I don’t . . . but we’re already wasting time on one dead end, thanks to the Falcone kid’s story, and I don’t think we should waste any time on another.”
“So it was Angelo who claimed credit for the hit?”
“Yeah. And, like I figured, it’s all over the news now. You haven’t seen it?” When I shook my head, he continued, “Something like this makes it harder for the DA to prosecute a case after the cops find and arrest the real killer. So we can’t afford not to treat Angelo seriously, even though he’s full of shit. We have to take him apart so well that he can’t be used to help a slick defense lawyer create reasonable doubt with a jury.”
“Take him apart?”
“Prove he didn’t kill Danny,” Lopez said. “And prove he had his reasons—however dumb, warped, and shortsighted—for lying and saying that he did.”
“I see.”
“And that takes time. So I don’t want to waste any more time or stretch the team any thinner by giving Napoli a crazy old bookseller and well-meaning actress to chew on.”
“Oh.”
“Did you have anything to do with killing Danny Dapezzo?”
“No!” Caught off guard, I was startled and indignant.
“But you knew him?” His voice was clipped.
“Briefly.”
“How briefly?”
“I met him the night before he died.” I added in surprise, “Last night, I mean.” It already seemed like a long time ago.
“Did you see him today?”
“No. But you must know that, since you had him under surveillance.”
“Surveillance isn’t like what you see in the movies,” he said. “We don’t have the budget or the manpower to cover these guys nonstop. So we don’t know where Danny was between leaving St. Monica’s last night and winding up dead in his cousin Vinny’s wine cellar this afternoon.”
“I don’t know where he was, either.”
“So what were you and Max doing at St. Monica’s with half a dozen wiseguys last night?” He added, “And why were dressed like that? Both of you?”
“We were trying to fit in. It was a sit-down. Max and I were Lucky’s, um, guests.”
“Why did Lucky bring you two to a sit-down?”
“He thought we could help prevent a mob war.” Unnerved by Lopez’s stony expression, I said in a rush, “That’s why I’m involved in this. Max, too. To stop anyone else from getting killed. To prevent a mob war. All we’ve done is talk to people! Trying to get information and to convince them not to act rashly.”
“Trying to get what information?”
“Trying to find out who’s behind the killings. The Gambellos didn’t hit Danny. Danny said the Corvinos didn’t hit Charlie and Johnny—and Lucky believed him,” I said. “Lucky and Danny couldn’t stand each other, but neither of them wanted another mob war, and that’s why they met last night.”
“What did they say at the meeting?”
I thought about it. “Actually, I guess Max did most of the talking.”
“Oh, good God.” Lopez rubbed his forehead as if it suddenly ached. “We’ll be lucky not to have corpses all over Mulberry Street by tomorrow.”
“That’s what we’re trying to prevent! And as far as I can tell, the Corvinos want to avoid a war just as much as the Gambellos do. But these are jumpy, violent guys who don’t trust each other, so every time someone else gets killed—”
“You have got to get out of this.”
“And now it’s gone beyond that! Now you’re—”
“Esther, I’m taking you—”
“Listen to me!”
“No, you listen to me.”
“You’re in danger.” I tried to keep my voice calm and rational, not to sound hysterical. It wasn’t easy. “Whoever is behind these murders has targeted you. You’re next. He’s trying to kill you.”
“These