Rondell kept the pressure on Michael’s neck.
“Time to stop the pretense now, Danny Boy.” With Rondell’s mouth no more than two inches from Michael’s left ear, Michael could feel his warm breath as he spoke.
Michael pushed back with his feet, but his leather-soled shoes struggled to get a grip on the polished wooden floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was difficult for Michael to take in enough air, let alone speak.
“I’m disappointed with you. We were getting along so well and all. Why did you have to spoil things?” Another tight squeeze on Michael’s windpipe.
Finding it increasingly hard to breathe, Michael tried to wriggle free, but the lock was too tight.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Rondell said.
When Rondell released his clasp a little, Michael said, “I don’t know what you think I’ve done.”
“I had a visitor recently, Danny Boy. He told me all about your little trip to his tattoo shop. Now call me judgmental, but you don’t strike me as someone who’d need a tattoo.”
“A tattoo? What are—?”
Another wring on the neck. “He said you paid him to kill me.”
“He’s lying.”
Rondell compressed Michael’s windpipe so he couldn’t breathe at all. “Funny how he was able to show me a picture of you in his shop. Explain that one to me, you little shit.”
Kicking against the sofa, Michael, now becoming desperate for air, pushed both of them along the shiny floor, but Rondell’s grip held steady.
“I know all about your meetings with Caravini, too. Did you really think I’d be that easy, falling for your crazy story about BIX? I’ve had to deal with much smarter men than you, my friend.”
Michael stopped pushing when Rondell released some of the pressure. He gulped in air, filling his lungs. As his oxygen level recovered, his brain kicked in. Rondell knew everything. Not only had Duane informed on him, but it was clear Rondell knew all about Caravini’s BIX scheme, too. How was that possible? That must be why Caravini was so desperate to try another deal. Somehow, he knew Rondell was onto them and was never going to buy BIX stock. In that case, he would have known he was sending Michael into a potential trap this time.
“What happens now?” The fight had gone out of Michael’s voice.
“We carry on where we were.”
“How is that possible?”
“We’ll deal with Caravini. The same way we had to remove one of his team when he started getting in our way before.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“He was the one who told us all about your trips to Federal Plaza to see Caravini. That was just before we threw him into the East River with a bullet in his head.”
“How long have you known all this?”
“Long enough.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I had to have time to teach you a lesson, something to get your attention so you wouldn’t try anything stupid again.”
“What lesson?”
“That bit of tail you had your eyes on at Corton Zander. She paid the price for your little game with Caravini. Pity. She was a looker. Next time, it will be one of your daughters.”
Pure rage erupted within Michael. This animal had killed Amanda and was now threatening to murder one of his girls. He kicked out and then rammed his elbow deep into Rondell’s groin. For a moment, the hold around his neck was released, and Michael rolled over, punching Rondell in the face as he curled up in pain.
When Michael clambered to his feet, Rondell lunged at him again, but this time, he was able to kick Rondell’s feet from underneath him. Rondell fell backward, and there was a loud crack as the back of Rondell’s head collided with the sharp corner of the metal desk.
Michael stood ready to continue, fists clenched and his knees slightly bent, waiting for Rondell to get to his feet, but he didn’t. Rondell just lay flat on his back, his glazed eyes partly open, his lips moving, but there was no speech. Seconds later, a pool of blood began to seep from the back of his head and onto the wooden floor.
Sullivan Street was still quiet when Michael peered out of the front door of the warehouse. Glancing around, Michael crossed the road to the car park and climbed into the Lexus. He looked at his bloodied knuckles. His hands were shaking, his breathing rapid. What had he just done? Was Rondell dead?
He reached inside his jacket pocket and took out his car keys. As he started up the car, Michael realized he would be an obvious suspect. He had plenty of motive, and Caravini knew he was going to be meeting Rondell sometime over the next few days. But there was still something he could do. Turning off the ignition, he reached over to the glove box and took out the loaded pistol.
When Michael walked along the corridor, approaching Rondell’s office, there was a slight scraping sound. As he opened the door, Rondell was still lying on his back, but he’d managed to slide a couple of feet along the floor, leaving a blood trail behind his head. Rondell’s right hand was reaching for the telephone cable hanging between the handset on the desk and the wall socket.
Rondell made a half smile. “I knew you’d come back, Danny Boy,” he said, as if each word was a painful effort. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me like this.”
Michael kicked the cable, ripping it from the wall socket, and then stood over Rondell and stared into his eyes. “This ends now,” he said, lifting the pistol and pointing it at Rondell’s head.
“Please, Danny—”
After the first shot, Michael said, “That was for me.”
He let off another round. “And that was for Amanda.”
Minutes later, Michael was in the Lexus, heading away from the port. As he drove, a wave of calm washed over him. Maybe, just maybe, the nightmare was finally over.
Chapter 59
WHEN CARAVINI RANG HIM at the beginning of the following week, Michael had long been expecting the call. By now, he must have learned of Rondell’s death, but Caravini gave nothing away during their short conversation. Rather than talk on the phone, Caravini insisted on a face-to-face meeting at his offices, so they agreed to meet the following morning.
Michael had already been over the events at Sullivan Street a million times in his mind, and still he felt the same: Rondell was an evil killer who would never have stopped, and the only way to prevent him from shattering more lives was to take him out. It was strange but, over the past six months, Michael had not slept as well as he had during these last few days. It felt right.
Once Abi showed Michael into Caravini’s office, Caravini’s face said it all. It was a mixture of anger and resignation.
“I guess you’ve heard about Grannis?” Caravini asked before Michael could even sit down.
“I read something about it in The Journal. I can’t say I’m sorry for the man. Any idea who did it?”
The corners of Caravini’s mouth rose slightly. “I know no more than you do.”
“My guess is a man like Grannis had a lot of enemies. From what I read, there’s speculation it was a professional killing.”
Caravini stared at the bruises and abrasions on Michael’s knuckles. “What happened to your hands?”
Michael withdrew his hands from view. “Nothing. Just some heavy yard work over the weekend.”
“Is that right? I didn’t have you down as the gardening type.”
“What did you want to see me about?”
“Did you go see Grannis with the latest deal?”
Michael shook his head no. “Never got to see him. When I called him last week, he told me he was heading out of town for a few days, so we agreed to meet up when he returned.”
“I guess he never made his trip?”
“Looks that way.”
Clasping his hands together, Caravini leaned forward onto the table. “You know this doesn’t change anything.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Grannis wasn’t the only crook down at Cedar Street. They’ll continue running the fu
nd in his absence. I still intend to bring them down—all of them. We’ve got too much invested in this thing.”
“You don’t need me for that.”
“Sure we do. They never did trade the BIX deal and, as you say, you never got to share the latest one with them.”
“You really expect me to carry on as though nothing has happened?”
“Sure, but let’s wait for them to make their move. I want to see who takes over from Grannis first. Once we know that, we can decide where we go from there.”
“We have an agreement.”
“I know, and it requires you to deliver another deal.”
“That was for Grannis, and he’s dead.”
“Conveniently for you.”
After the meeting, Michael decided to walk from Federal Plaza back to his offices. The clean, fresh air felt good in his lungs as he strode. It was clear Caravini suspected Michael had something to do with Rondell’s killing. But what could he prove? Even if they found Michael’s DNA at Sullivan Street, he could say he’d been there several times before, some of which were at the request of the FBI. Their written agreement would be evidence enough for that. Besides, Rondell would have had a whole line of enemies, many of them higher up the suspects list than him. Any one of those could have done this. And while Caravini made a big noise about carrying on with his investigation, without Grannis at the helm, the hedge fund was likely to wither away. Caravini would soon find bigger, higher-profile targets to chase.
Finally, this thing looks like it’s over.
Chapter 60
THREE WEEKS AFTER RONDELL’S SLAYING, Caravini was enjoying a late breakfast at home. Cindy had just left the house to go to her jazzercise or aerobics class, or whatever the hell it was that made her leave dressed in tight Lycra every Saturday morning, when there was a knock on the front door. Caravini exhaled loudly through his nostrils, put down his slice of whole wheat toast, and muted the TV in the kitchen before answering the door.
“What have you forgotten?” he said as he opened it.
“Your wife looks cute in a leotard,” said Bull Neck, filling the doorframe.
“Who the fuck are you?” Caravini went to close the door, but Bull Neck’s foot was jammed in the way.
“Is that any way to greet a visitor?”
“We’re coming in,” Glass Eye said from behind Bull Neck before they barged into the hallway.
Bull Neck pinned Caravini to the wall by wrapping his right palm around the front of his neck, making it difficult for him to breathe.
“Ease off a little,” said Glass Eye, shutting the door behind them. “I need him to be able to speak.”
Caravini gasped for breath when Bull Neck released his grip. “What do you want? Who are you?”
They bundled Caravini into the kitchen. Bull Neck held onto his arms, pushing him against the kitchen island, while Glass Eye drew the blinds.
“Is there anyone else in the house?” Bull Neck asked.
“No. I’m alone.”
“We can make this real easy for you,” Glass Eye said, scanning the room for weapons. “Or you can have it the hard way, like your man Crouten.”
Caravini flinched when he realized who they were. “What’s the easy way?”
Glass Eye threw a knowing smile at Bull Neck. “I told you that’s what he’d say. Hand me the photos.”
Bull Neck took one hand off Caravini, pulled an envelope out of his inside coat pocket, and then passed it to Glass Eye.
“Recognize these people?” Glass Eye asked, holding up the first photo in front of Caravini’s face. It showed Caravini kissing Abi at what looked like an expensive restaurant.
Caravini stared at the photo. “Jesus. How did you get that?”
“This one’s better.”
Caravini looked at the next photo. This time, it showed him with his hand on Abi’s butt while his tongue was obviously down her throat in a car park. “Okay, I’ve seen enough.”
“I was just getting started. They get better.”
“I don’t need to see them.”
“I’d imagine Cindy would have something to say about these. She’d want to see the full set, wouldn’t she? Let’s wait until she gets back.”
Caravini looked at the floor. “What do you want?”
“Don’t make this too easy. I was having fun.”
“Just tell me what you want.”
“You need to forget about your investigation into the Grannis Hedge Fund.”
“There isn’t one. We stopped it when Grannis died.”
Bull Neck punched Caravini hard in the stomach, and he bent forward in pain.
“Do you think we’re stupid?” Glass Eye said before turning to Bull Neck. “Hold him back up.”
“The investigation has a low priority for us now,” Caravini said, wincing. “It’s as good as over.”
“Well, it needs to be completely finished and never reopened.”
Caravini had a look of incredulity on his face. “Is that it? Is that all you want?”
“We told you this was the easy way. We’re not monsters.”
“If I drop the case, the photos disappear?”
“Of course. Besides, we’d hate to ruin your chances of making mayor. You could be useful to us once you’re there.”
Bull Neck leaned into Caravini’s face. “But don’t fuck with us, or you’ll get the same as Crouten got. That’s after you’ve watched us having fun with Abi.”
“Who knows?” Glass Eye said. “You might even find we can help each other. Let’s just say we have a lot of influence. I’m sure that, with our encouragement, some of our business acquaintances would be happy to endorse you for mayor.”
Caravini nodded. “Okay. I get it. I’ll call off the investigation.”
“There’s just one more thing.”
Fear returned to Caravini’s face. “You said that’s all you want.”
“Call it a bit of extra insurance.”
Bull Neck put his hand into his outside pocket, and Caravini stepped back.
“Don’t worry,” Glass Eye said. “We’re not gonna shoot you. We just want a photograph.”
Bull Neck took out a compact digital camera from his pocket while Glass Eye put his arm around Caravini’s shoulder and faced the camera.
“Smile,” Bull Neck said, clicking away. “You need to look like you guys are real good friends.”
Chapter 61
DRAPES TWITCHED AS THE BLACK MERCEDES pulled up on the road outside the Carpenters’ house in Westport. Inside the car, Glass Eye and Bull Neck kept watch on the Hoffman home, leaving the keys in the ignition in case they needed to make a quick getaway.
“When do they normally leave?” Glass Eye asked without looking at his accomplice.
“The service starts at ten.” Bull Neck glanced at his watch. “They should be out by now, but her car’s still here.”
“We can’t do this if his wife and daughters are still around. We’ll have to come back.”
“Hold on.” Bull Neck leaned over the steering wheel to get closer to the windshield. “That’s her now.”
They watched as Caroline helped Hannah and Emily into the back of her Toyota Prius before reversing down their driveway and onto the tree-lined road. As expected, the car drove in the opposite direction to the Mercedes.
“How much time do we have?”
“Every other Sunday I‘ve been here, she’s been gone for at least an hour and a half, maybe longer if she goes to her sister’s after.”
“This shouldn’t take long.”
The two men waited another five minutes to make sure Caroline wasn’t going to return.
“Are we ready?” Bull Neck said, removing the ignition key.
“You’re not coming with me.” Glass Eye reached for the door handle. “I’ll deal with this on my own.”
“What am I? Your chauffeur?”
“Today, that’s all I need you to be.”
Bull Neck sucked in his cheeks. “Okay. You’re
the boss now.”
“You’d do well to remember that.”
“I’m sure you won’t let me forget it.”
“Just keep an eye out for the woman. Sound the horn if she comes back.”
Glass Eye slammed the door shut and sauntered over to the Hoffmans’ house without looking back at the car.
Bull Neck swore under his breath and then turned on the radio.
Since he’d picked all his clients back up, Michael had been swamped with work. The M&A market was booming, and this year looked like it was going to set a new record for the number of initial public offerings, too. The corporate department at Dudek, Collins, & Hamilton was buzzing most days and, during the week, it was now rare for him to get home much before nine. The only exception was Tuesdays, when he still made time to teach at the college.
Caroline could live with his long hours. She’d even accepted their Wednesday date night was a thing of the past, but she wasn’t happy about her husband having to work most weekends again. She kept saying how much she enjoyed having him back during his recent lull. What happened to striking a work/life balance? All Michael could do was apologize but, in truth, he enjoyed immersing himself back into the normality of legal work, even if it was high-pressured. The more he focused on his job, the more distance it put between him and the horror of the past few months. Each day had become a little easier. So far, he’d heard nothing more from Caravini and not a word from the police in connection with Rondell’s death. While his nerves were still raw, he looked forward to the day when this whole episode was just a dim and distant memory.
When the bell rang, Michael rose from his desk in the study and walked to the front door. Through the frosted glass top of the door, he could make out the silhouette of a man standing in the porch, so it wasn’t Caroline.
“Remember me?” Glass Eye asked when Michael opened the door. His breathing was labored, and he stood with a stoop, holding a pistol in his right hand.
Michael recoiled when he saw the weapon and then stepped back into the hallway, immediately recognizing Glass Eye from the time he and his muscle-headed friend had confronted him at Westport’s station car park.
Once a Killer Page 29