Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [76]
Father Gabriel patted Max on the shoulder. “I can see you’re in deadly earnest, Dr. Zadok. But, well, surely you three must realize how absurd this sounds?”
“If we’d had any doubts before,” I said, “I think we certainly realize it now.”
“I’m telling you, Danny,” said Lucky, “this is serious business. We came here tonight to warn you. We think you’re marked for death.”
Danny sputtered with renewed laughter. “Oh, Lucky! I wish we weren’t blood enemies! I’d always heard you was a fun guy, but I had no idea!”
Max added, “Please, Mr. Dapezzo, we truly believe your perfect double is roaming the city preparing to curse you.”
“Hoo, hoo, haw, haw, mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-HA!”
Max rubbed his brow. “I’m not communicating this very well.”
I said, “You did fine, Max. It’s just, er, not being received as we had hoped.”
Max sighed, met my gaze, and nodded. “Mercury Retrograde. I should have realized what could happen.”
After Danny left, red-faced with mirth and gasping for air, we discovered he had dropped the piece of paper we had given to him with Max’s and my phone numbers written on it in case he couldn’t reach Lucky at a crucial moment. When we spotted it on the floor, I grabbed it and ran upstairs, hoping to catch Danny. He and Fast Sammy were outside the church and getting into their car—which Mikey Castrucci was driving, and which was waiting curb-side for them—when I caught up with Danny.
I pressed the piece of paper with our phone numbers into Danny’s hand, reiterated our warning, and urged him to call us if he saw anything unusual.
He cracked up again, and was still laughing as his car rolled away from St. Monica’s.
Back down in the crypt, Tommy Two Toes and Jimmy Legs looked like they thought Lucky had lost his mind. However, he was a Gambello and had seniority, so they hadn’t contradicted him in front of Danny, and they didn’t say anything in front of Max and me, either.
After the two gangsters left, Father Gabriel brought a bottle of wine downstairs—from his personal stash, I supposed—and offered to share it with Lucky, Max, and me. We accepted with gratitude. Lucky was annoyed with the Corvinos, Max was discouraged, and my nerves were frayed. So I enjoyed the mellow warmth of the Sicilian red wine as it slid down my throat and into my belly, soothing me.
“Well, perhaps there was one productive result to the evening,” Max said, trying to regain some of his habitual optimism.
“Oh?”
“I thought the Corvinos seemed very sincere in their assurances that they’re not behind these murders.”
“Of course they seemed sincere, Max. They’re wiseguys.” I glared at Lucky. “Professional liars.”
“What did I do?” Lucky snapped.
“We don’t have enough time tonight to talk about what you did,” I said coldly. I also didn’t have the energy right now.
“Huh?” Lucky frowned. “What is with you tonight?”
“Esther does have a point,” said Father Gabriel. “Logically, what would the Corvinos do but deny involvement in these hits?”
I said to the priest, “You think they’re just stalling? Trying to create a window of time for hitting more Gambellos before there’s any retaliation?”
Father Gabriel said, “Doesn’t that make more sense than anything else?”
“But it doesn’t explain why they—or someone—has involved doppelgangsters,” said Max.
“Yes, well, as for that . . .” Father Gabriel looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. You’re intelligent people, and you seem convinced and sincere, but it just sounds so fantastic.”
“Oh, really? But transubstantiation,” I said testily, “when bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ, while still looking and tasting exactly like bread and wine . . . That seems perfectly reasonable to you?”
There was an awkward silence, and I realized I’d offended the priest. I was about to apologize, but Father Gabriel smiled awkwardly, rose from his chair, and said, “Pardon me. It’s late; I should start closing up the church.”
“Nice goin’,” Lucky said, as soon as the priest