CHAPTER
37
IF GUS’S LIBRARY WASN’T as large as my entire apartment with the inner walls removed, it didn’t fall short by much. There were even lots of books. A couple of walls full of them—from waist-high on up almost to the beamed ceiling, plus a couple of those ladders that run on wheels along rails so you can get the topmost volumes down. From the bottom shelves down to the floor, all the way around, were hand-crafted cabinets made of what I took to be birdseye maple, stained a golden color.
Of course, the very thought of Gus settled under a floor lamp in one of the comfy-looking chairs that were scattered around, cradling a volume of—let’s say—Cooper’s Leatherstocking Tales and transported to the pristine forests of upstate New York, was ludicrous. My guess was the lamps Gus used most in his library were the ones in the tanning bed that sat in one corner with its top up, looking like an open casket at a wake.
Besides the easy chairs and their floor lamps, there were four well-stuffed sofas, several library tables with carved legs and lion’s claw feet, lots of table lamps of various styles, and even a huge—and, I suspected, interior-illuminated—globe.
It was plenty warm in the room, although there was no fire burning in the white brick fireplace. The predominant smell wasn’t old books, but Old Spice aftershave—which I wasn’t especially fond of, and which therefore I attributed to Dominic Fontana. His left arm was hanging in a narrow black cloth sling, and he wore a gray suit with a sort of a shine to the fabric. He was standing with Gus beside one of the library tables. The table was obviously used by Gus as his desk, because it held a telephone and a green-shaded desk lamp and several copies of racing forms in various colors. Gus himself was decked out in black-and-green plaid pants and a brown wool cardigan, unbuttoned, over a cream-colored shirt.
The two men were standing near the opposite end of the room from the door we entered, and beyond them was a wide, tall set of windows. The view was to the south, where the expanse of snow on the yard glowed with a rosy tint in the dying light of the afternoon sun. Gus wasn’t enjoying the view, though. He’d spun around when Lammy and I stumbled into the room, pushed forward by Steve. After waving Dominic down into a nearby chair, Gus stood for a long moment, not saying anything and clearly not enjoying this view, either.
Goldilocks was there, about ten feet this side of Gus, his hands deep into the pockets of a dark blue blazer that he wore over a white shirt, open at the collar. When I got my balance I nodded to him and he nodded back, as though we were both happy to see a familiar face—and maybe we were. There was other muscle in the room, as well. Two average-sized, hard-looking men I’d never seen before—they could have been twins, actually—both wearing dark suits and narrow ties. Gus’s version of secret service bodyguards. One stood off to our left near the fireplace; the other behind Gus, to the side of the windows beyond which the snow was already fading from rose to gray as the rapidly waning afternoon gave way to evening.
Not far from Gus and Dominic, at one end of a sofa that could have held three more people with room to spare, a solemn little dark-haired girl in white sneakers, light blue pants, and a pink sweatshirt sat with her hands locked between her knees, her body pressed close against the side of a thin, gray-haired woman in a plain black dress and flat-heeled shoes. The woman’s arm was around the little girl’s shoulders. Something about the look on Rosa’s face said that Trish was under her protection now, once and for all, and she wouldn’t give her up to anyone. Not Gus, not Dominic, not even Steve—not while Rosa had any breath left in her.
And, I decided, not while I did, either.
Everyone stared at everyone else, until finally Gus spoke up. “Steve,” he said, pointing our way, “you know nobody brings a weapon into my house.”
“Sorry,” Steve said, and then tapped me on the shoulder with the Beretta. “But I took it off this—”
“Put it in your pocket.”
“Jesus Christ, Mr. A.,” Dominic said, “that’s—”
“Watch your mouth, both of you,” Gus said.
“Sorry,” Dominic said. “But Steve’s got—”
“Yeah, I know. Steve’s got the pervert. I see that.” Gus turned toward the sofa where Rosa and Trish sat, then looked across the room at the man near the fireplace. “Raymond.” His voice was strong, but not harsh. “Take the child out of here. She should not—”
“No,” Rosa said, staring at Raymond and freezing him in his tracks. She turned back to Gus. “I told you, Gustavo, I have something to say. I told you I would wait to say it until Steven arrived. Now he is here, and that this unfortunate young man is with him I take to be a sign from God. I wish to speak in front of him, and everyone.”
“Whatever you want, Rosa. But not the child. She should go. Look at how she’s starting to shake.” It was true. Trish still sat pressed to Rosa’s side, staring down at her hands between her knees. Her body was trembling visibly. “She shouldn’t even have to be in the room with this … this scum,” Gus continued. He was pointing at Lammy. “Dominic’s lady friend’s watching TV back in the old housekeeper’s room, behind the kitchen. Raymond can take Trish back there.”
“No,” Rosa said. Her voice was strong. “I will not let anyone take her from me.”
“Well then, take her yourself, for God’s—” He stopped. “Take her yourself and leave her there and come back and get whatever you got to say over with.” He turned his head and looked out the window. “I don’t like this.”
Gus was losing patience, and Rosa seemed to sense that she ought not press him too hard, certainly not in front of so many men. “Gustavo, please,” she said, pleading, dropping any hint of challenge. “I beg you. Let her stay. I need her to stay.” When Gus didn’t answer, Rosa went on. “And it’s good that this Fleming man should be here, too, because … because he is not the one who causes this child to tremble.”
“What is this?” Steve said, speaking up from behind Lammy and me. “What the fuck is she—”
“Shut up!” Gus roared. Then, in a softer, but still ominous tone, he added, “In front of your own daughter. Think, for once.” Gus seemed happy to have someone to be mad at besides Rosa. “Everyone … shut up and sit down.”
“Sorry,” Steve said. Then he grabbed me by the shoulder. “What about this guy?”
“I thought I said to shut up and sit down,” Gus said. Then he pointed at Lammy and me. “You,” he said, “go on over by Raymond.” He gestured to our left.
Lammy and I walked across and sat on a couch by the fireplace, facing Gus. Raymond stood behind us. Steve took a chair beside Dominic, opposite Rosa and Trish. Gus sat, too, on a chair behind the library table. Goldilocks and Raymond’s twin, like Raymond, stayed on their feet.
“All right,” Gus said. “My sister Rosa has something she wants to say. She says it’s very important, so we’re all gonna be quiet and listen. Everybody understand?” When no one said anything, Gus nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “Go ahead, Rosa.”
“Very well,” Rosa said. She pulled Trish tighter against her side. “Dominic and Steven know, but Gustavo, you maybe do not know, that this poor child has scarcely spoken one word to anyone—not since she talked to the police on that night when … on the night of the incident, when the police and the lawyers kept pressing her to say who it was who attacked her. Finally she satisfied them, but since that night she will not repeat what she said, will not explain any further. Nothing. Not to the police. Not to the lawyers and their social workers. Not even to me. And I know why this is so.” She paused. “It is because she is afraid. She is afraid because … because she did not tell the truth that night, about who attacked her.”
Both Dominic and Steve were on their feet at once, but Gus lifted his hand. “Sit down.”
Only two words, but both men obeyed. Men of violence, both still young and strong, probably both psychopathic. But when Gus spoke, they obeyed. And when they did, Raymond let out a long low breath behind me. They might be family, but Raymond h
ad his own responsibilities.
“Rosa,” Gus asked softly, “what are you saying? That the child lied?”
Trish’s head was bent back and she was staring up at Rosa, her eyes wide, her little body rigid with fear.
Rosa twisted around until she was facing Trish on the sofa. She took the little girl’s hands in her own and held them in her lap. “Don’t be afraid, child. Nana will take care of you. You can say the truth now. Only answer the questions that I ask, and it will be okay.”
“My God, Mr. A.,” Dominic said, “the woman’s gone crazy. We all know who it was.”
“My little girl would never have lied about something like that,” Steve said. He leaned toward Rosa and Trish. “You didn’t lie, did you, honey?” The child said nothing, kept her eyes only on Rosa. “Trish! Look at me. I’m your daddy. Please.” Steve’s voice was rising. “Goddamn you, Trish! Look at me.”
“Rosa’s gone crazy,” Dominic repeated.
“Shut up, both of you,” Gus said. “I won’t repeat that again. And you, Rosa, do not make a fool of me.”
“Trish,” Rosa said, ignoring her brother, “tell Nana who it was. Who did the bad things that night? No one will hurt you. I promise.”
Trish opened her mouth as though trying to speak, then closed it. She tried again and finally, on the third try, she said, “I can’t.” Her voice was high and thin, tremulous, but clear in a room that was otherwise as silent as death. “He made me promise. ‘If you tell,’ he said, ‘I will kill your nana.’ Please … don’t make me tell.”
“Kill me?” Rosa said. “That’s what he told you?”
Trish didn’t answer. She was shaking again, and she threw herself forward, pressing her face into Rosa’s lap.
“It’s all right,” Rosa said. “You don’t have to say who it was. But I want to ask one other thing. Raise your head, Trish, please, look at Nana. Just for a minute.”
Trish slowly lifted her head. There were tears on her cheeks.
Rosa gently turned the child’s head our way, and then pointed at Lammy. “Do you see that man, Trish?” she asked. Trish nodded and Rosa said, “Tell me his name.”
“His name … his name is Mr. Fleming.”
“Okay. And Trish, was it Mr. Fleming who … who did bad things that night?” Trish was trembling uncontrollably now, and her breath came in gasps. But Rosa was determined. “If it was not Mr. Fleming,” she said, “I won’t ask you who it was. I promise. I just want to know if it was Mr. Fleming. That’s all. Was it Mr. Fleming?”
Trish’s lips were moving, but again she couldn’t get any words out. It didn’t matter though, because the shaking of her head was very clear. “No,” she finally managed. “No, not Mr. Fleming.”
There couldn’t have been a person in the room who didn’t know that Trish, whatever she’d said before, was telling the truth right then. No one moved or made a sound for a long time.
“My God.” It was Gus who finally broke the eerie silence. “Make her say who it was then, Rosa. Make her tell, damn it.”
Trish turned slowly and stared at Gus, both her hands covering her mouth.
“No,” Rosa said. “I promised.” She wrapped her arms around the child. “Trish,” she said, “everything is okay. You must go now. Go with Raymond. He will take you to watch the television with Karen. Raymond is a good man.”
I knew better than that, and so did Rosa. But she knew, too, that Raymond would protect Trish with his life, or give that life up—painfully—to Gus. Raymond looked at Gus and Gus nodded. “Take her back to that room where Dominic’s puss … Dominic’s lady friend is,” Gus said. “You got the key, right?”
Raymond nodded.
“So leave Trish there. Then you stay nearby, in the kitchen, till I call you.”
Raymond went across, took Trish awkwardly by the hand, and walked her to the door. Trish looked back over her shoulder at Rosa all the way, tears running down her cheeks, but said nothing.
“It’s all right, Trish,” Rosa said. “You like Karen, and Nana will be with you in a few minutes.”
Trish nodded solemnly, and left the room with Raymond.
At a gesture from Gus, Goldilocks took Raymond’s place behind Lammy and me. Meanwhile, I kept an eye on Dominic and Steve. Both of them sat silently, unmoving, as though frozen in place by the obvious truth of Trish’s words.
It was Dominic who spoke first. “Jesus, maybe it was a neighbor. Or maybe some bum passing through. Yeah, that’s it. One of those homeless people.”
“This is all bullshit,” Steve said. “Trish wouldn’t lie. Not that night, and not now. But she’s confused, out of her mind from what she’s been through.” He turned and stared at Lammy. “It was you, all right, you fucking cocksucker. Goddamn freaking—”
“No!” Gus’s soft voice cut through the room. “The child is not confused. Rosa is convinced of that, and I am convinced also. Trish is afraid, but she is telling the truth. She lied before, because someone frightened her.” He paused. “Someone still frightens her.”
“Yes,” Rosa said. “And who? It could not be some stranger, someone passing through, because a stranger would not know the one thing that would most frighten the child. The threat of taking me away from her.”
“It was Fleming,” Steve said. “He lives on the block. He knows Trish’s mother is dead. He could guess what would scare her the most.”
“No,” Rosa said. “You heard the threat the man made. ‘I will kill your nana.’ Would this poor Fleming know to say that? Who would say such a thing? Not a stranger. Not even a neigh—”
“Wait a minute,” Dominic said. “Mr. A., what the hell is she talking about? Rosa, what are you saying?”
“I am saying I know who it was that abused my granddaughter. I know who pulled down her panties and … and did those things. I know who must be sent away to prison.” Rosa was on her feet now, moving forward, stretching out her hand, pointing her finger like an avenging angel.
Everyone knew it was Dominic she was accusing. It was Dominic the angel had selected. I might have intervened, right then. But during my whole time in that room no one had spoken my name, no one announced my presence. That seemed important at the time. So I decided to wait.
If I had spoken up, things would have turned out differently. Probably not any better, just differently.
CHAPTER
38
“YOU, DOMINIC,” ROSA SAID. “You are the one.”
The blood drained from Dominic’s tanned face, leaving only the pallor of fear and death. “Rosa,” he said, “how … how can you say that? Trish could not have told you that.”
“But I know it. And soon, when she feels safer and stronger, Trish will say so to everyone.”
Steve stood up and stared down beside him at Dominic, then turned and walked over to the windows and stood looking outward into the darkness—or maybe at his own reflection in the glass.
“But it wasn’t me,” Dominic pleaded. “I was—”
“Quiet,” Gus said. “Rosa, why do you say such a thing? Please, sit down.” When she took her place again on the sofa, Gus continued, “You know that Dominic is close to me, Rosa. He has proven himself loyal to me, to the business. You know Dominic went to prison rather than betray me.”
“I know nothing of such business matters, Gustavo. I close my ears to them and do not wish to hear of them. I know only that Dominic is my son-in-law and that … that his wife, my second daughter, is dead now also, and—”
“See, Gus,” Dominic broke in, “she’s freaked out over Tina’s death. She’s off the deep—”
“Rosa,” Gus said, “are you saying also that Dominic killed Tina?”
“I know he is a vicious, evil man. I know how he used to beat Tina. But that ended in the past, and I have forgiven him for that.” Maybe Rosa believed she’d forgiven Dominic, but the venom in her voice betrayed her and I finally understood what I’d been unable to understand till then. “… beat my Tina many times,” Rosa was saying, “but I
do not know that he killed her. I leave that to the police, and to God. Nothing will bring Tina back, and now I have no daughters, no children. Only my grandchildren, Trish … and Lisa, too, if it is not too late for her. I will protect them.” She took a deep breath. “It was Dominic who attacked Trish.”
Steve turned away from the window and looked at Rosa. “What proof do you have? Trish didn’t tell you who it was, so what is your proof?”
“We all know Trish was at Dominic’s house,” Rosa said. “I left her there myself, with Lisa. Tina was at work. Later, Lisa went to her room to talk on the phone, perhaps one of those boys who call her constantly. Trish was left to watch the television by herself, and Dominic was the only other person in the house. Trish told the police that when her father was late picking her up she was bored and decided to walk home.” Rosa paused and looked around. “Does anyone who knows Trish … you Steven, or Gus, or Dominic … does anyone believe Trish would do such a thing?” There was silence. “No. It is not possible.”
“Wait a minute.” Dominic started to stand up, but at a warning look from Gus he sat back down. “Wait a minute. You all know what my … what Karen told the cops. She was with me the whole time.”
“Karen was not truthful with the police,” Rosa said. “Poor Karen. I have come to like her, even though she is your … your woman. She and I have talked, most often when I would leave Trish at your house, or pick her up. But she was not there that night. Lisa said she wasn’t.” Rosa turned to Gus. “I do not approve of this Karen … and her relationship with my daughter’s husband. But the marriage of Dominic and my Tina died many years ago. I can tell Karen regrets becoming involved with Dominic. I can see she fears him now, too.” She turned back to Dominic. “She would say whatever you told her to say.”
“But she was there.” Dominic’s voice was rising in pitch, becoming strident. “We were … well, I can’t say in front of you what we were doing. But she was there.”
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