Worst Fears Realized

by Stuart Woods

  Suddenly, Stone felt an unaccustomed sensation. Something was climbing up his right calf. He froze, his wineglass in midair.

  Bianchi stared at him. “Is the wine not to your satisfaction?”

  Stone took a sip and swallowed hard. “It’s superb,” he said. He now realized that what was climbing his calf was a foot belonging to Dolce Bianchi.

  “It is grown in my own vineyard in Veneto,” Eduardo Bianchi said.

  “Absolutely superb,” Stone said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. Dolce’s stockinged toes had reached the top of his sock and were drawing it down around his ankle. He felt as though he was being undressed by an expert.

  “It is an Amerone,” Bianchi was saying. “The grapes are dried in the sun before they are pressed. It concentrates the flavor.”

  “Just wonderful,” Stone said, trying not to giggle. She was tickling his leg now. Carefully, he drew his foot away from hers. From a corner of his eyes, he saw her make a moue.

  “Dolce,” Bianchi said to his daughter, “you are unusually quiet; you must entertain our guest.”

  “Yes, Papa,” she said, sliding a glance in Stone’s direction.

  When they had finished dining, Bianchi stood. “All of you, please return to the little sitting room, where Pietro will serve coffee.” They all rose and filed out. Bianchi turned to Stone. “Mr. Barrington, perhaps you will join me for a glass of something?”

  Before Stone could reply, Bianchi had turned and departed through another door. Stone hurried to catch up.

  29

  E DUARDO BIANCHI LED THE WAY INTO A richly paneled study, all walnut and leather. The shelves were filled with gorgeously bound books, and the paintings on the walls were newer than those in the rest of the house, but very good.

  “Will you join me in a glass of port?” Bianchi asked.

  “Thank you, yes,” Stone replied.

  Bianchi went to a butler’s tray across the room and read the label on a bottle from which the cork had been drawn.

  Stone took the opportunity to pull up his sock.

  “Pietro has decanted a Quinto do Noval Nacionale ‘63 for us,” he said, setting down the empty bottle, picking up a beautifully blown Georgian decanter, and pouring two glasses. He handed one to Stone, indicated that he should sit in one of a pair of wing chairs, side by side, then sat down beside him. He raised his glass. “To the future,” he said. “May it be less uncertain.”

  Stone wondered what his host meant by that. He sipped the wine, which filled his mouth with the most wonderful flavors. “It’s superb,” he said.

  Bianchi nodded. “The Nacionale vineyard at Quinto do Noval is very small, containing the last of their oldest vines that have not yet been attacked by the phylloxera pest that wiped out most European vineyards in the last century. We will not always have this wine to drink.”

  Stone sipped it gratefully.

  “I have heard a great deal about you over the years,” Bianchi said. “From Dino and Anna Maria—she prefers a more American version of her name. And, of course, I have heard of you from others.”

  “Others?” Stone could not prevent himself from asking.

  “We have acquaintances in common.”

  “We do?” Stone bit his tongue. He must stop responding like a trained bird.

  “I am occasionally represented in some matters by Woodman and Weld, with whom, I believe, you are associated.”

  Stone nearly choked on his port. Woodman & Weld was representing a Mafioso?

  “Perhaps this surprises you?”

  “Well, no,” Stone lied.

  “I understand that most, perhaps all of what you know of me is from Dino.”

  “Well…”

  “My daughter’s husband and I subscribe to, shall we say, different philosophies of life. And Dino is not so tolerant as I when judging others; therefore, something of a gulf exists between us, one that I fear may never be bridged.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. I have the greatest respect for the intelligence and integrity that my son-in-law brings to his work. His manners are another matter.”

  “Dino is, sometimes, a bit too frank.”

  Bianchi laughed for the first time, revealing magnificent dental work. “One could say that. He is not, you understand, disrespectful—not to my face, at least. But as a modern Italian-American, he does not fully grasp the meaning of my family’s history. Dino is from a northern Italian family, whereas we are Sicilian. Our customs are very old, and they still shape our daily lives in ways that Dino cannot fully appreciate.”

  “I see.”

  “Perhaps you do; perhaps not. It is paradoxical that honor is so important to both Dino and me, and yet, we take very different paths to the upholding of honor. Dino does not yet understand that I approved of his marriage to Anna Maria.”

  Stone could not resist. “Approved? It was my understanding that you insisted on it.”

  Bianchi laughed again. “Well, yes, I suppose I did. A wedding in the presence of a shotgun is not unknown in my family. In fact, there was one present at my own marriage. And my wife and I had a richly rewarding marriage for forty-one years, before her death last year.”

  “I believe Dino and Mary Ann have such a marriage,” Stone said.

  “I hope you are right,” Bianchi said. “What I know of the marriage tends to come from Anna Maria, and sometimes I am not sure whether she is more motivated by loyalty than by love.”

  “I assure you, she is not.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Barrington; you have made an old man feel better.” Then his face clouded. “A man’s daughters are important to him,” he said, hesitantly. “And when I heard that an attempt had been made on Anna Maria’s life, I was very angry.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Since I have no sons, my grandson is extremely important to me, and now he cannot even attend his school.”

  “I know.”

  “But I have held my temper. I understand that it is Dino’s place—both by dint of his place in her life and by his work—to correct this situation. It is only right that he should have that opportunity. However, to date, his best efforts have been insufficient.”

  “It is a difficult case,” Stone said. “In a situation like this, Dino is at a very great disadvantage.”

  “Revenge is always difficult, even tedious, when it must be accomplished within the framework of the laws of this country,” Bianchi said.

  “You do understand, though, that the only way Dino can deal with this is within the law?”

  “I do understand, and that is why I have been so patient. However, my patience is not inexhaustible, and I am not required to operate under the same constraints as Dino.” He gazed at Stone. “Neither, for that matter, are you.”

  Stone did not reply to that.

  “I understand that you, too, were once a policeman, and that now you are a lawyer, and that your background and inclinations may cause you also to feel constrained.”

  “Yes,” Stone said.

  “But, perhaps, not so much as Dino.”

  Stone was wary, now, and said nothing.

  Bianchi crossed his legs and sipped his port. “I am aware that you spent some days in California last year.”

  “Yes, I did.” What was the man getting at?

  “And word has reached me that, when you felt wronged by another man, you took the extraordinary step of sinking his very large and very expensive yacht.”

  Stone was astonished. “Did you hear this from Dino?”

  Bianchi shook his head slowly. “I was, shall we say, indirectly acquainted with the yacht’s owner.”

  “I see.”

  Bianchi raised a hand. “Only in the most legitimate sense, you understand. I have interests on the West Coast, and they sometimes coincided with the interests of the gentleman in question. He did, after all, run a large banking business—in addition to his other interests, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “W
hat impressed me about this incident was the very carefully crafted nature of your vengeance.”

  Stone wondered for a moment if this conversation was being overheard by some federal representative, but then he remembered that the feds were very aware of the incident. “I wasn’t thinking very carefully at the time,” he said.

  “Then your instincts speak well of you. Somehow, you looked at this man and knew that little else could hurt him as much as the loss of his beloved status symbol.”

  “I suppose there’s some truth to that.”

  “I’m glad you and I understand each other, Mr. Barrington.”

  We do? Stone thought.

  “You see, just as you were protecting a cherished woman at that time, you are now protecting yet another woman important to you.”

  “Yes,” Stone agreed.

  “As am I,” Bianchi said. “Do you understand?”

  “Up to a point,” Stone replied.

  “You understand that I would like to help bring an end to this business?”

  “Of course.”

  “And that I cannot tread on Dino’s toes, as it were.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then perhaps it might be possible for me to help you, instead of Dino.”

  “You must understand, Mr. Bianchi, that Dino is my closest friend, that I owe him my life, quite literally.”

  “Of course. I know all about that, and I understand completely. I am not suggesting that you should do anything to violate that friendship.”

  “Good.”

  “I am merely saying that there may arise information that Dino would not wish to be privy to, and that our sometimes awkward relationship prevents me from offering him.”

  “What sort of information?”

  “Then you will accept this from me?”

  Stone was uncomfortable. “I’m not certain what I would be accepting.”

  “I understand that this Mitteldorfer, on being released from prison, has disappeared.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Perhaps I can help you find him.”

  “How can you do that?”

  Bianchi shrugged. “Let us just say that I have…acquaintances who have acquaintances who have friends who might be able to help. If I should request it.”

  “I must tell you, I am uncomfortable with this.”

  Bianchi held up a hand. “I understand completely.” He reached into the ticket pocket in his jacket, produced a card, and handed it to Stone.

  Stone examined it. It contained only a Manhattan telephone number.

  “If you should feel you need my…advice, please telephone this number and leave a recorded message. Someone representing me will be in touch.”

  Stone pocketed the card and gave Bianchi his own, which seemed only courteous, in the circumstances.

  “I will wait to hear from you before making inquiries,” Bianchi said. “Shall we join the others?” He replenished their glasses, and they walked slowly toward the door. “Perhaps, if you will permit me, I will just speak a name to you. The name is Judson Palmer.”

  “It doesn’t ring a bell,” Stone said.

  “Mr. Palmer is a minor theatrical producer,” Bianchi said, taking Stone’s arm.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “It was he who was having an affair with Mitteldorfer’s wife when she was murdered.”

  “Does Mitteldorfer know who he is?”

  “That is uncertain.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bianchi stopped walking. “Stone—may I call you Stone?”

  “Of course.”

  “And please call me Eduardo.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I have very much enjoyed our evening together. I don’t go out much since my wife’s death, but it would please me if you would accept another invitation to dinner here.”

  “Thank you, Eduardo; I’d be very pleased to come.”

  The two men walked back to the small sitting room and joined the others. A large woman in an old-fashioned black dress had joined the group.

  “Allow me to introduce my sister, Rosaria,” Bianchi said.

  Stone took her hand. “Dinner was a wonderful experience,” he said. The woman blushed. Bianchi sat next to her.

  Stone chose a seat as far as possible from Dolce Bianchi.

  30

  D INO SLAMMED THE CAR DOOR. “ALL right, what went on in that room? You came back arm in arm with him; I’ve seen that before, and it means he wants something from you. What did he want? What did you give him?”

  “Dino,” Stone said, starting the car and driving away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What did Eduardo talk about? That’s what I want to know.”

  Stone shrugged. “He seemed to want to get to know me a little. Maybe that’s why he invited me to dinner.”

  “Eduardo never has reasons as simple as that for doing anything. In all the time I’ve known him, you’re the first person I’ve ever seen sit at that table who wasn’t family.”

  “Speaking of family, why did you never tell me that Mary Ann had such a beautiful sister?”

  “You knew she had a sister.”

  “But I never had an inkling that she was so…”

  “Yeah, she is, isn’t she? Stay away from her; she’s dangerous.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, for a start, she has a real snake for an ex-husband.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Johnny Donato.”

  “That has a familiar ring.”

  “It should; he was a capo under Big Paul Castellano, before Gotti had him capped. Word is, he was supposed to be driving the Paul that night, which means he would have got it, too, but Paul sent him on some errand or other, so he survived. He disappeared after that and didn’t turn up again until Gotti and Sammy Gravano were in jail. Now he’s running a supposedly legit concrete business, taking up where Sammy left off.”

  “And how did a girl as elegant as Dolce end up with a guy like that?”

  “Pretty much the same way Mary Ann ended up with me. He was a guy from the neighborhood, working for a bookie and running his own little protection racket on the side. He tried to get a weekly paycheck out of my old man for not burning down his candy store, but when I heard about it I took him aside and discussed it with him.”

  “You mean, you beat the shit out of him?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So why didn’t he and his friends retaliate?”

  “I made sure I got him alone, made it personal; nobody saw it, so he didn’t have to salvage his pride. Besides, by that time I was a cop, so he didn’t want to mess with me.”

  “Dolce looks too smart to get mixed up with somebody like that, let alone marry him.”

  “She is smart, but she was eighteen, nineteen, and for a while, she was stupid. He was a very slick item, drove a convertible, dressed well, flashed money around. Eduardo had her on a tight leash, and she didn’t like it. By the time he got a handle on the situation, they were in Miami on their honeymoon.”

  “So Eduardo brought her back?”

  Dino shook his head. “That’s not his style. He gave her some rope, and Donato hung himself. They hadn’t been married a month before he was fucking around. She got smart and went home.”

  “What’s she doing now?”

  “She’s Eduardo’s right-hand man, and I use the gender advisedly. She’s got more balls than any four guys I know.”

  “An Italian of Eduardo’s generation makes a business associate out of a daughter?”

  “What’s he gonna do? He’s got no sons, and it’s fifteen years before Ben could step up to the plate.”

  “You think he wants to bring Ben into his business?”

  Dino shrugged. “He’ll try like hell, but the kid has an independent streak. Anyway, it might not be a bad thing, if he wanted it. Eduardo will have the whole thing scrubbed clean before then. It’s a generational thing: Eduardo’s grandfat
her was an out-and-out, leg-breaking extortionist and pimp; his father was up-to-his-ears Mob, but he had a legitimate fruit business, and he was a good family man. Now Eduardo is a trustee of Columbia, he’s on the board of the Metropolitan Museum, he’s a papal knight, and he’s got a portfolio of businesses that would turn Warren Buffet’s head. You think anybody cares where the money came from?”

  “Except you.”

  “Except me, but I’m a cop.”

  “The police commissioner doesn’t care, but you do.”

  “Call me crazy, but yeah. I just can’t cozy up to Eduardo.”

  “I think he likes you, Dino.”

  “Huh?”

  “He told me he has the greatest respect for your intelligence and integrity as a police officer. Those were his very words.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “He also told me that he approved of Mary Ann’s marrying you.”

  Dino snorted. “He gave you some of that Quinto de somethingorother port, didn’t he? It makes you hear crazy things.”

  “I think you’ve underestimated Eduardo, Dino.”

  “That, I would never do.”

  “I mean as a man, as a father. He’s growing old; he wants to see his family happy…and safe.”

  “And he thinks I can’t protect them? The son of a bitch!”

  “Has he interfered in your investigation in any way?”

  “Not yet, but just watch him!”

  “Maybe he can help you.”

  “I don’t want his help. He’s not gonna make me dirty.”

  Stone sighed.

  “That’s what your little talk was about, wasn’t it?”

  “He made it clear he wants to help, but he doesn’t want to get in your way. He just said to call him if we need help.”

  “I told you, I don’t want his help.”

  “He might have sources that aren’t available to us.”

  “If he knows something, he can call the precinct and report it.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think he’s accustomed to doing things that way, do you?”

  “He wants to be the hidden hand, the way he’s always been, but this time, he wants to manipulate me; he wants to pull the strings with the law. I hate that.”

  “Dino, you would use any pusher or pimp on the street as a snitch, but you won’t accept out-of-channel information from your own father-in-law?”