Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [44]
Father Gabriel tried several times, without success, to calm them down.
Finally, the other man capped the escalating exchange of insults by saying, “What makes you think she’d even waste saliva by spitting on you, asshole? You killed her husband, for chrissake!”
“Don’t take the Savior’s name in vain in here, you putz!” Lucky shouted back.
“You killed her husband?” I blurted.
All three men spun around to look in my direction with identical expressions of surprise on their faces.
“Esther!” Lucky said. “Why didn’t you say something? I didn’t know you was here. You’re late.”
No wonder he was so sure, when I had asked about it, that Elena wasn’t killing off her own husbands.
“You killed her husband?” I repeated.
He shrugged. “Just the second one.”
“Gee, Lucky,” I said, “do you think maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you?”
“She got over it,” he said defensively. “She remarried.”
“Who the fuck are you?” said the other man. He turned to Father Gabriel. “Who the fuck is she? Oh! Excuse me, Father. I mean, who is the young lady?”
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Esther.” Father Gabriel smiled at me, then gestured to Max. “Did this gentleman come with you?”
“Yes, Father.” I wobbled toward the men, wincing a little. I had turned my ankle when I fell. Max removed his fedora and gave a courteous little bow as I made the introductions. “Dr. Maximillian Zadok, Father Gabriel.” I looked at the stranger. “And I’m Esther—”
“Hey, I just got it!” The man snapped his fingers. “I seen your face in the Exposé. You’re the chorus girl who saw Charlie Chiccante get whacked.”
“Chorus girl, you schmuck?” Lucky said. “I’ll have you know, this young lady is a fine classical actress who also happens to sing like an angel, which is why Stella gives her a job whenever her talents don’t happen to be in immediate demand on the stage.”
I beamed at Lucky. Maybe the Widow Giacalona should cut him some slack.
“And you, sir?” Max said politely to the stranger. “May we know your name?”
“Sure.” The man stepped forward to offer Max a handshake. “Buonarotti. Michael Buonarotti.” He smiled and added, “No relation.”
“To Lucky?” I said.
Buonarotti scowled. “Jesus, no.”
“Watch your mouth,” Lucky said. “We’re in chu—”
“I mean,” Buonarotti said, “no relation to the Buonarotti.”
I frowned. “To the don of the Buonarotti family?”
“I am the don,” Michael Buonarotti snapped. “Don’t you know nothin’?”
“Then who—”
“I believe he means Michelangelo Buonarotti,” Max said.
I was still confused. “Michelan . . . Oh! That Buonarotti?”
“No, no, really,” said the don modestly. “No relation, I assure you.”
“Fine,” I said. “Whatever. Lucky? We need to talk.”
Lucky was frowning at me. “What are you wearing? You can’t come into church dressed like that!”
“I have a date,” I said tersely. “Anyhow, there’s nothing wrong with the way I’m dressed.” I was wearing a sleeveless black dress with a beaded bodice that showed some cleavage, complimented by a silky, translucent wrap that was currently slung over my arm. It was my sexiest dress, and it had been too long since I’d had occasion to wear it. Okay, it wasn’t what I would choose to wear to temple, on the two occasions per year that I go so that my mother won’t nag me, but it certainly wasn’t indecent.
“Of course there’s nothing wrong with it,” said Father Gabriel. “I think you look lovely, Esther. Your date is a lucky man.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at the handsome priest. Lucky frowned at me and stepped on my foot.
“Nothing wrong at all,” Buonarotti agreed. “You look classy. A real eyeful.”
“Ain’t you got nothin’ else to do with your time?” Lucky said, glaring at Buonarotti.
“Oh, I guess I can find something to occupy me elsewhere.” Buonarotti rolled his eyes. “After all, I wouldn’t wanna intrude on you and your doctor and your fine classical actress, now would I?” He chuckled at his own wry wit. “No, definitely not. So I guess I’ll be leaving.” He turned to the priest. “Always a pleasure to see you, Father.”
“You’re