I finished my pizza slice and wondered again at my own motivations. I knew what Ishoulddo, which was as he said, kick him out. Let the kid run around New York trying to solve the crime like Batman if that was what he wanted. But the truth was, I couldn’t do this alone, and I didn’t want to call on too many Family members, because the more people involved, the more likely word would get out that I was hunting the Central Park Slayer. The only real advantage I had right then was secrecy.
And if I was honest with myself, Baxwasactually helpful. It had been his suggestion to watch Greco, and as it turned out, that instinct was the right one. It had beenmyinstincts that let us down, my desire for Bax that had been my Achilles heel.
I had never, it hit me then, wanted a man like I had wanted Bax last night. Not even—
I pulled my thoughts back abruptly. “You’re sure no one went into or out of that building?”
He shook his head solemnly. “Absolutely no one. I watched between the times that we were, you know, busy, and then I went back and watched the whole night again in fast-forward. So unless the killer came early and hung around in his apartment, there was no one.” He frowned, thinking, and the expression had become familiar to me.
“Something else bothering you?”
“Well, it’s just that…” He scratched at a drip of candle wax on the tablecloth and toyed with his pizza crust. “We wereoccupiedthis morning, no doubt. But it still seems strange to me that we didn’t hear anything. You and I, we know what guns sound like. Even with our attention distracted, it just seems like we would’ve noticed a freaking gun going off across the street.”
“He could have used a silencer,” I pointed out, but he had a point.
“Maybe,” Bax said, but he clearly didn’t believe it. “He’s never bothered with one before, and it doesn’t fit with the psychology. Our killer, hewantsit loud. He—or she, I guess—whoever they are, they want people toknowsomething’s happened. And the location doesn’t fit, either. It was nowhere near Central Park. I mean, if we hadn’t considered Greco already as a suspect for the case, wouldn’t we be more likely to assume he got taken out by someone he knew, someone who took a dislike to him? It’s not like he didn’t have enemies.” He sent a quick look at me, and added, “It definitely wasn’t one of yours who did it, right?”
“If it was, they were off-script. But I would know about it by now—yes, even underground,” I added, as I saw what he was about to say. “Luca would get a message to me. And we don’t go around indiscriminately killing people, Bax, even if they are our enemies. That’s no way to do business.”
He scoffed. “No, according to Giuseppe, you run around Brooklyn doing good deeds. Who would ever have thought?”
I ignored that. “And besides that, the Clemenzas are not our enemies. Luca D’Amato made peace with them.”
I wasn’t sure whether he was more shocked that I had made so obvious my Morelli connection, or that our Families were no longer sworn in vendetta against each other.
“So how the hell does that work?” he demanded. “Didn’t they take out Tino Morelli?”
My appetite died. I put down the slice of pizza I’d been working on and wiped my fingers on the napkin. I poured myself a second glass of wine while I thought about my response.
“There comes a time when old grudges have to be put away for the good of the community, for the good of the city. Louis Clemenza knows he’s done. Luca D’Amato rules the city now, and if the Clemenzas step out of line, they know they won’t answer only to the Morellis, but to our allies as well.”
Baxter leaned in, intrigued. “Okay, but how exactly did D’Amatomakethese allies? I know he’s supposed to be head of this new commission, the New York City Commission, but how exactly did thathappen? Everyone knows about Chicago, but—”
“I’ve already said too much.” It must have been the wine; it had gone to my head. “Let’s get back to the case, or if you’re done eating, we’ll get out of here. I don’t want Giuseppe to be in danger any longer than he has to be.”
Frustrated, Bax helped himself to another slice of pizza and gave me an obstinate look. “Anything you tell me, I promise I won’t spill it to the Feds when I get back to them. What happens in Vegas, right? Or Brooklyn, I guess.”
“I madevows. I’m not gonna break them over pizza and wine just for some sexy kid who thinks he can get me drunk and screw the information out of me.”
I’d intended once more to shut him down, but Bax tipped his head to one side and gave me a slow smile. “You think I’m sexy?”
The wine was going to both our heads, evidently.
“Of course,” I said with a shrug. I could hardly deny it after that morning.
“And you think I can screw some information out of you?”
For the first time in a long time, I found myself lost for words. “I don’t—that’s not what I meant,” I said, and took several more large mouthfuls of wine. “Finish up. We should go. Giuseppe was kind to feed us, but we really are intruding on his hospitality.”
Baxter looked dolefully at the pizza still left on his plate.
“We’ll get it to go,” I told him, and that seemed to satisfy him.
Giuseppe refused to let me pay, but I mashed a hundred-dollar bill into his hand as I shook it on the way out, ignoring his protests. “It’s a tip. Good service is good service,” I told him. I leaned in to embrace him and in a low voice, asked, “Anything I should know about?”
He tucked a scribbled note into my coat pocket. “I took a message for you on the phone.” He pulled back and boomed, “Now, you and your boy, you come around here anytime you like.”
I was about to deny that Baxter wasmy boy, whatever Giuseppe meant by the term, but Giuseppe had turned to embrace a startled Bax.
