Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [115]
I knew “the widow” wasn’t the real thing, but she looked and acted so real, I didn’t want to leave her alone and frightened in the subterranean laboratory tied to a chair.
I also knew that the situation was taking a heavy toll on Lucky. He wouldn’t be able to behead this doppelgangster, nor to let Max behead it. It was too much like the woman he loved. On the other hand, we certainly couldn’t release the creature. Left to its own devices, after all, the duplicate would sooner or later meet the real Elena Giacalona unless the widow went into hiding for the rest of her life.
I sat down on a spare chair in the laboratory, within a few feet of Elena’s double, and wondered what to say to it. The doppelgangster didn’t like me any better than the real woman did. Actually, since I was keeping it tied up in a cellar, it probably liked me even less.
After a few minutes of sullen silence, Elena frowned as her gaze moved over me. “That wretched dog has shed all over your dress.”
“Oh. Yes.” I brushed self-consciously at the increasingly unhygienic black knit material. “I slept on Nelli’s couch. In this dress. With Nelli on top of me.”
“Perhaps it’s time to change clothes,” the widow suggested with fastidious distaste.
“I don’t have any spare clothes here. And I don’t really want to go home until Lucky knows whether the Corvinos are planning to k—”
“Lucky.” She scowled. “So what’s he going to do, now that he’s kidnapped me? Rape me and then feed my body to a cement mixer?”
“What? Oh, good God, no!” I was shocked. Okay, yes, he had murdered her second husband. But still. “Look I know it sounds crazy,” I said to the glaring doppelgangster, “but Lucky’s trying to save your life.” I blinked, realizing it wasn’t this thing’s life that he was trying to save. “I mean, um—”
“Oh, nonsense!” she snapped. “His obsession with me has sent him over the edge! I wish his wife had never died! None of this would be happening if he still had a woman at home to look after him.”
“Did he love his wife?” I had never asked him.
“Yes. And he mourned her death. Then when he was done mourning . . .” She gave a disgusted sigh. “He decided he was in love with me.”
“I guess he’s lonely,” I said.
She made an exasperated sound. “Michael Buonarotti says he’s lonely, too! That was his excuse for his disgusting behavior last night!” She added with satisfaction, “I pushed him down the stairs of my building.”
“Really? I thought you and Buonarotti seemed like you were starting to get along,” I said.
“Not after last night. He’s an animal!” She added with a dark scowl, “Well, I’ve had enough. I didn’t press charges for the murders of any of my husbands, but I will have Michael arrested if he ever comes near me again, and I will definitely prosecute Lucky for kidnapping me!”
“None of the murders were prosecuted? I suppose that’s because you were afraid for your life,” I said.
“No,” she said dismissively. “I stay out of the business.”
“Pardon?”
She gave me an irritated glance. “Don Victor took care of Anthony Gambello’s killers. I stayed out of that. And the deaths of Salvatore Fatico and Eddie Giacalona . . . It was business, and I stayed out of that, too.”
“You think of Sally Fatico’s death as business?” I said, stunned.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate Lucky for it,” she said darkly. “But Sally . . . well, there’s no denying he brought it on himself.”
“By marrying you?”
“What? No.” She glared again. “Being married to me was what kept him alive after they found out what he was doing.”
I felt lost. “What was he doing?”
“He was cutting into the Gambellos’ truck hijacking business.” Her shoulders slumped for the first time since I had met her. “Sally was a bit of a fool. Dashing and handsome and romantic, and . . .” She sighed. “A bit of a fool.”
“He was stealing from the Gambellos?” A fool indeed.
“Lucky liked