Last Don

by Mario Puzo

  “And what if the Clericuzio were behind him?” Cross asked.

  “The Don is a man of honor,” Lia said. “From the old days. If he killed Pippi, he would have killed you. He knows you. He understands you will avenge your father and he is a prudent man.”

  “But still,” Cross said, “who would you choose to fight for? Me or the Clericuzio?”

  “I don’t have a choice,” Lia said. “I was too close to your father and I’m too close to you. They won’t let me live if you go down.”

  Cross for the first time had brandy with Lia for breakfast. “Maybe it’s just one of those foolish things,” he said.

  “No,” Lia said. “It’s Losey.”

  “But he has no reason,” Cross said. “Still, we’ll have to find out. Now I want you to form a crew of six men, those most loyal to you, none from the Bronx Enclave. Have them ready and wait for my orders.”

  Lia was unusually sober. “Forgive me,” he said. “I have never questioned your orders. But on this I beg you to consult with me on the overall plan.”

  “Good,” Cross said. “Next weekend I plan to fly to France for two days. Meanwhile find out all you can about Losey.”

  Lia smiled at Cross. “You’re going with your fiancée?”

  Cross was amused by his politeness. “Yes, and with her daughter.”

  “The one with the quarter of her brain missing?” Lia asked. He did not mean to be offensive. It was an idiom in Italian that also included brilliant people who were forgetful.

  “Yes,” Cross said. “There is a doctor there who may help her.”

  “Bravo,” Lia said. “I wish you all the best. This woman, does she know about Family matters?”

  “God forbid,” Cross said, and they both laughed. And Cross was wondering how Lia knew so much about his private life.

  CHAPTER 17

  FOR THE FIRST time Cross was going to watch Athena work on a movie set, to see her act out false emotions, to be someone other than herself.

  He met Claudia in her office at the LoddStone lot, they would watch Athena together. There were two other women in the office, and Claudia introduced them. “This is my brother Cross and this is the director, Dita Tommey. And Falene Fant, who is working today in the picture.”

  Tommey gave him a searching look, thinking he was handsome enough to be in the business except that he showed no fire, no passion, he would be stone cold dead on the screen. She lost interest. “I’m just leaving,” she said as she shook his hand. “I’m very sorry about your father. By the way, you’re welcome on my set, Claudia and Athena vouch for you even though you’re one of the producers.”

  Cross became aware of the other woman. She was sort of dark chocolate with an outrageously insolent face and a terrific body, which her clothes flaunted. Falene was far less formal than Tommey.

  “I didn’t know Claudia had such a handsome brother—and rich, too, from what I hear. If you ever need somebody to keep you company at dinner, give me a call,” Falene said.

  “I will,” Cross said. He was not surprised by the invitation. Plenty of the showgirls and dancers at the Xanadu had been just as direct. This was a girl who was naturally flirtatious, aware of her beauty, and not about to let a man she liked the looks of escape because of social rules.

  Claudia said, “We were just giving Falene a little more to do in the film. Dita thinks she’s talented and so do I.”

  Falene gave Cross a big grin. “Yeah, now I shake my ass ten times instead of six. And I get to say to Messalina, ‘All the women of Rome love you and hope for your victory.’ ” She paused for a minute and said, “I hear you’re one of the producers. Maybe you can get them to let me shake my ass twenty times.”

  Cross sensed something in her, something she was trying to hide, despite her vivaciousness.

  “I’m just one of the money men,” Cross said. “Everybody has to shake their ass at some time or another.” He smiled and said with charming simplicity, “Anyway, I wish you luck.”

  Falene leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He could smell her perfume, which was heavy and erotic, and then he felt the grateful hug for his goodwill. Then she leaned back. “I have to tell you and Claudia something but in secret. I don’t want to get into trouble, especially now.”

  Claudia, sitting at her computer, frowned and did not answer. Cross took a step away from Falene. He did not like surprises.

  Falene noticed these responses. Her voice faltered a little. “I’m sorry about your father,” she said. “But there’s something you should hear about. Marlowe, the guy who supposedly mugged him, was a kid I grew up with and I knew him really well. Supposedly that detective Jim Losey shot Marlowe who supposedly shot your father. But I know Marlowe never had a gun. He was scared shitless of guns. Marlowe did small-time drugs and played the clarinet. And he was such a sweet coward. Jim Losey and his partner, Phil Sharkey, used to pick him up sometimes and ride him around so that he could spot dealers for them. Marlowe was so scared of jail, he was a police informant. All of a sudden he’s a mugger and a murderer. I know Marlowe, he wouldn’t harm a soul.”

  Claudia was silent. Falene waved to her and went out the door, then came back. “Remember,” she said, “it’s a secret between us.”

  “It’s all gone and forgotten,” Cross said with his most re-assuring smile. “And your story won’t change anything.”

  “I just had to get it off my chest,” Falene said. “Marlowe was such a good kid.” She left.

  “What do you think?” Claudia said to Cross. “What the hell could that be about?”

  Cross shrugged. “Druggies are always full of surprises. He needed dope money and he does a stickup and he gets unlucky.”

  “I guess,” Claudia said. “And Falene is so good-hearted she’ll believe anything. But it is an irony, our father dying like that.”

  Cross looked at her stone-faced. “Everybody gets unlucky once.”

  He spent the rest of the afternoon watching scenes being shot. One scene showed the hero, unarmed, defeating three armed men. This offended him, it was ridiculous. A hero should never be put in such a hopeless position. All it proved was that he was too dumb to be a hero. Then he watched Athena do a love scene and a quarrel scene. He was a little disappointed, she seemed to do little acting, the other actors seemed to outshine her. Cross was too inexperienced to know that what Athena was doing would register much more forcefully on film, that the camera would work its magic for her.

  And he did not discover the real Athena. The acting she did was only for a few short snippets of time, and then there were long intervals in between. You could not see any of the electricity that would flash across the screen. Athena even seemed less beautiful when she was acting before the camera.

  He said nothing of this when he spent the night with her that night in Malibu. After they had made love and she was cooking their midnight supper, she said, “I wasn’t very good today, was I?” She gave him her catlike grin, which always sent a shock of pleasure through him. “I didn’t want to show you my best moves,” she said. “I knew you’d be standing there trying to figure me out.”

  He laughed. Always he was delighted by her perception of his character. “No, you weren’t much,” he said. “Would you like me to fly with you to Paris Friday?”

  Athena was surprised. He knew she was surprised by her eyes. Her face never changed, she was in control. She thought it over. “That could be a big help,” she said. “And we could see Paris together.”

  “And we’ll be back Monday?” Cross asked.

  “Yes,” Athena said. “I have to shoot Tuesday morning. We have only a few weeks to go on the picture.”

  “And then?” Cross asked.

  “Then I’ll retire and take care of my daughter,” Athena said. “Besides, I don’t want to keep her a secret much longer.”

  “The doctor in Paris is the final word?” Cross asked.

  “Nobody’s the final word,” Athena said. “Not on this stuff. But he’s close.”<
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  On Friday evening they flew to Paris on a specially chartered plane. Athena was disguised in a wig, and her makeup veiled her beauty in such a way as to make her even look homely. She wore loosely fitting clothing that hid her figure entirely and in some ways made her look matronly. Cross was amazed. She even walked differently.

  On the plane Bethany was fascinated to find herself looking down on the earth. She roamed the plane looking out all the different windows. She seemed a little startled, her usually blank expression became almost normal.

  They went from the plane to a small hotel off Georges-Mandel Avenue. They had a suite with two separate bedrooms, one for Cross and one for Athena and Bethany, the sitting room between them. It was ten in the morning; Athena removed her wig and makeup and changed her clothes. She could not bear to be homely in Paris.

  At noon the three of them were in the doctor’s office, a small chateau set on its own grounds and enclosed by an iron fence. There was a guard at the gate, and after checking their names he let them in.

  They were met at the door by a maid who led them into a huge sitting room, which was densely furnished. There the doctor awaited them.

  Dr. Ocell Gerard was a huge, heavy man, carefully dressed in a beautifully cut suit of brown pin stripes, a white shirt, and a dark brown silk tie to match. He had a round face, which should have had a beard to hide his heavy jowls. His thick lips were a dusky red. He introduced himself to Athena and Cross but ignored the child. Both Athena and Cross felt an immediate aversion to the man. He did not look like a doctor suitable to the sensitive profession he practiced.

  There was a table set for tea and pastries. A maid attended to them. They were joined by two nurses, young women clad in strict professional attire, white caps and ivory-colored blouses and skirts. The two nurses watched Bethany intensely all during the meal.

  Dr. Gerard addressed Athena. “Madame, I would like to thank you for your very generous contribution to our Medical Institute for Autistic Children. I have observed your request for complete confidentiality, which is why I’m conducting this examination here in my own private center. Now tell me exactly what you expect of me.” His voice was a mellow bass, it was magnetic. It attracted Bethany’s attention, and she stared at him, but he ignored her.

  Athena was nervous, she really didn’t like the man. “I want you to evaluate. I want her to have some sort of normal life if possible and I will give up everything to achieve that. I want you to accept her into your Institute, I am willing to live in France and help in her schooling.”

  She said this with enchanting sadness and hope, with such an air of self-abnegation, that the two nurses gazed at her almost adoringly. Cross was aware she was using all her acting skills to convince the doctor to take Bethany into the Institute. He saw her reach her arm out to clasp Bethany’s hand with a caressing gesture.

  Only Dr. Gerard seemed unimpressed. He did not look at Bethany. He addressed himself directly to Athena. “Do not deceive yourself,” he said. “All your love will not help this child. I have examined her records and there is no doubt she is genuinely autistic. She cannot return your love. She does not live in our world. She does not even live in the world of animals. She lives on a different star, absolutely alone.”

  He continued, “You are not at fault. Nor, I believe, is the father. This is one of those mysterious complexities of the human condition. Here is what I can do. I will examine and test her more thoroughly. Then I will tell you what we at the Institute can and cannot do. If I cannot help, you must take her home. If we can, you will leave her with me in France for five years.”

  He spoke to one of the nurses in French, and the woman left and returned with a huge book containing photographs of famous paintings. She gave the book to Bethany, but it was too big to fit on her lap. For the first time Dr. Gerard spoke to her. He spoke to her in French. She immediately put the textbook on the table and began to turn the pages. Soon she was lost in studying the pictures.

  The doctor seemed ill at ease. “I don’t mean to be offensive,” he said. “But this is in the best interest of your child. I know Mr. De Lena is not your husband, but is it possible he is the father of your child? If so, I would want to test him.”

  Athena said, “I did not know him when my daughter was born.”

  “Bon,” the doctor said. He shrugged. “Such things are always possible.”

  Cross laughed. “Maybe the doctor sees some symptoms in me.”

  The doctor’s thick red lips pursed as he nodded and smiled amiably. “You do have certain symptoms. So do we all. Who knows? A centimeter either way, all of us could be autistic. Now I must make a thorough examination of the child and run some tests. It will take at the very least four hours. Why don’t the two of you take a stroll through our lovely Paris. Mr. De Lena, your first time?”

  “Yes,” Cross said.

  Athena said, “I want to remain with my daughter.”

  “As you wish, madame,” he said and then spoke to Cross. “Enjoy your stroll. I detest Paris myself. If a city could be autistic, it would be Paris.”

  A taxi was called, and Cross went back to the hotel room. He had no desire to see Paris without Athena and he needed rest. Besides, he had come to Paris to clear his head, to think things out.

  He pondered what Falene had told him. He remembered that Losey had come to Malibu alone, detectives usually worked in pairs. Before leaving Paris he had asked Vazzi to look into it.

  At four, Cross was back in the doctor’s sitting room. They were waiting for him. Bethany was poring over the book of painting, Athena was pale, the only physical sign that Cross knew could not be acting. Bethany was also gobbling a plate of pastries, and the doctor took it away from her, saying something in French. Bethany did not protest. A nurse came then to take her to the playroom.

  “Forgive me,” the doctor said to Cross. “But I must ask you some questions.”

  “Whatever you like,” Cross said.

  The doctor rose from his chair and strode about the room. “I will tell you what I have told madame,” the doctor said. “There are no miracles in these cases, absolutely none. With long training there could be enormous improvement, in some cases, not many. And with Mademoiselle, there are certain limits. She must stay in my institution in Nice for five years at least. We have teachers there who can explore every possibility. In that time we will know whether it is possible for her to live a nearly normal life. Or whether she must be institutionalized forever.”

  Here Athena began to weep. She held a small blue silk handkerchief to her eyes and Cross could smell its perfume.

  The doctor looked at her impassively. “Madame has agreed. She will join the Institute as a teacher. . . . So.”

  He sat directly across from Cross. “There are some very good signs. She has genuine talent as a painter. Certain senses alert, not withdrawn. She was interested when I spoke French, a language she cannot understand but intuits. That is a very good sign. Another good sign: The child showed some signs of missing you this afternoon, she has some feeling for another human being and that may be extended. It is highly unusual, but can be explained in not so mysterious a way. When I explored this with her she said you were beautiful. Now, you must not be offended, Mr. De Lena. I ask this question only for medical reasons to help the child, not accuse you. Have you sexually stimulated the girl in any way, perhaps unintentionally?”

  Cross was so startled he burst out laughing. “I didn’t know she responded to me. And I never gave her anything to respond to.”

  Athena’s cheeks were red with anger. “This is ridiculous,” she said. “He was never alone with her.”

  The doctor persisted. “Have you at any time given her physical caresses? I don’t mean clasping her hand, patting her hair, or even kissing her cheek. The girl is nubile, she would respond simply out of physicality. You would not be the first man tempted by such innocence.”

  “Maybe she knows about my relationship with her mother,” Cross said.

 
; “She doesn’t care about her mother,” the doctor said. “Forgive me, madame, that is one of the things you must accept—nor her mother’s beauty or her fame. They literally do not exist for her. It is you who she extends herself to. Think. Perhaps an innocent tenderness, something inadvertent.”

  Cross looked at him coolly. “If I did it I would tell you. If that would help her.”

  “Do you feel tenderness for this girl?” the doctor asked.

  Cross considered for a moment. “Yes,” he said.

  Dr. Gerard leaned back and clasped his hands. “I believe you,” he said. “And that gives me great hope. If she can respond to you, she may be helped to respond to others. She may tolerate her mother someday and that will be enough for you, am I right, madame?”

  “Oh, Cross,” Athena said. “I hope you’re not angry.”

  “It’s OK, really,” Cross said.

  Dr. Gerard looked at him carefully. “You are not offended?” he said. “Most men would be extremely upset. One patient’s father actually struck me. But you are not angry. Tell me why.”

  He could not explain to this man, or even to Athena, how the sight of Bethany in her hugging machine affected him. How it reminded him of Tiffany and all the showgirls he had made love to who had left him feeling empty. How his relationships with all the Clericuzio and even with his father left him with feelings of isolation and despair. And finally how all the victims he had left behind seemed the victims of some ghostly world that became real only in his dreams.

  Cross looked the doctor directly in the eye. “Maybe because I’m autistic too,” he said. “Or maybe because I have worse crimes to hide.”

  The doctor leaned back and said in a satisfied voice, “Ah.” He paused and smiled for the first time. “Would you like to come in for some tests?” They both laughed.

  “Now, madame,” Dr. Gerard said. “I understand you catch a plane back to America tomorrow morning. Why not leave your daughter with me now. My nurses are very good, and I can assure you the girl will not miss you.”