Deadly Deception

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Sure, Doll,” Vince agreed quickly, obviously relieved. “Take your time. I’ll wait right here.”

  Dani suddenly turned and walked to one of the bookshelves. Taking out a book, she handed it to Canelli. “Here, Vince, you can read this while I’m cleaning up.”

  Canelli looked down at the book, reading the title aloud: “The Holy Bible—New International Version.” He grinned. “You’re a piece of work, Doll—never give up trying to convert a guy, do you?”

  Dani shook her head. “Start on page one, Vince. It’ll do you good.” She left the room. Canelli stared after her with reluctant admiration. He threw himself in a chair, opened the Bible and read aloud, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. . . .”

  Dusk was closing in on Twelve Oaks, the fortresslike home of the Lanza family, as Vince pulled up to the ornamental iron gate. A smallish man dressed in a pair of white slacks and a wildly decorated Hawaiian shirt opened one of the massive gates and came to stand beside the car. He bent down, peered in, and nodded. “Okay, Vince.” He stepped inside to open both gates, and Vince moved the Lincoln inside. The gates closed with a resounding clang.

  As Vince drove slowly along the winding road, Dani saw men with rifles watching them carefully. “Security is pretty tight.”

  “Yeah. Too bad Phil and Lorraine had to get wasted to wake them up.” Vince had been garrulous enough on the way, in his usual bluff fashion, but as he pulled into the circular driveway in front of the big house, he seemed nervous. Jumping out of the car, he ran around to the other side and opened the door for Dani. As he walked her up the steps, he quickly warned her, “Don’t let Mr. Lanza bother you, Doll. He’s an old man—and he’s sick. And he’s just lost his favorite son.”

  Dani stepped inside the door, which was opened by a tall, thin man with a pair of steady gray eyes and a shock of white hair. He was wearing a dark suit and a burgundy tie. “Miss Ross?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yeah,” Vince said. “This is Thomas Rossi, Dani. He’s been with Mr. Lanza longer than anyone.” He glanced at Rossi apprehensively. “He ready to see her?”

  “Yes. Come with me, Miss Ross.”

  Dani turned to follow Rossi. Vince explained, “I’ll be in the family room when you’re finished, Dani.”

  Dani couldn’t repress the memory of her last visit to the Lanza house. To shake it off, she spoke comfortingly, “I know Mr. Lanza must be grieved over his loss.”

  The tall man nodded. “Yes. I’ve been with him for forty years, but I’ve never seen him like this.” As they reached the end of a long hall, he added, “He’s not young anymore—and he’d pinned all his hopes on Phil.” Pausing before a huge walnut door, he knocked gently, then apparently heard something, for he nodded. “Go right in, Miss Ross.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.” Dani opened the door, then stepped inside. It was an enormous room, larger than many apartments. Against one wall stood a long, blue couch, flanked by matching chairs and low teak tables. The east wall was a picture gallery with fine oil paintings, each carefully illuminated by a brass light. One of them, Dani noted, was a Matisse.

  It probably cost more than I’ll make in ten years, she decided.

  Walnut bookshelves filled the opposite wall, and far to her right a massive rosewood desk gleamed richly. Beside it a complete computer system rested on a walnut-and-black-leather table that curved gracefully into a U-shape. Everything was rich and tasteful and expensive.

  The man who had risen from a tawny leather chair and stood waiting for her was not nearly so impressive as the room. Dani had seen several old photos of Dominic Lanza, which had portrayed a dynamic personality. Now she saw that Lanza had lost most of the fire and drive that had enabled him to survive the savage crime wars. He was a small man, not more than eight inches over five feet, and he had the thinness of an invalid. His hair was pure white and his cheeks were sunk in. Only his dark eyes had any life, and they stared at her out of his skull-like face with a glowing interest.

  “Miss Ross,” he addressed her in a high-pitched voice. “Thank you so much for coming to see me.” He motioned to a chair at his right. “Please sit down. Will you take something to drink—some wine, perhaps?”

  “Nothing for me, Mr. Lanza,” Dani said. She sat down and began at once, “I never know what to say at times like these—but I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

  Lanza had seated himself, and now he nodded slowly. “Thank you. That’s the way, isn’t it? When death takes one of us, what is there to say, after all?” He lifted the crystal goblet on the table beside him, took a sip of an amber liquid, then put it down carefully. He wore a blue silk dressing gown, and on his left hand an enormous diamond blinked, reflecting the many-faceted glow of the large chandelier overhead.

  He seemed to have forgotten her. Finally he lifted his eyes to Dani’s. “You are wondering why I asked Vince to bring you here, of course.”

  She only nodded.

  His thin lips curved into a brief smile. “You do not talk much, Miss Ross. That is a quality I admire—and one I rarely find in people.” He studied her with the patience that old men sometimes have and seemed satisfied.

  “Vince has been trying to persuade me to hire you. I understand that you are a private investigator. Would you work for me?”

  Dani asked carefully, “Doing what, Mr. Lanza?”

  Her answer pleased Lanza. “Ah—you are cautious! I like that very much.” He stirred in his chair, placed his hands on his lap, then confided slowly, “I built this place for security, Miss Ross, many years ago. But it was not secure enough. My son and his wife are dead.” He spoke in a flat voice, but a flicker of pain reached his dark eyes as he mentioned his loss.

  “You know as well as I that if an assassin wants to kill badly enough, there’s no way to prevent him,” Dani excused him.

  “Yes, but there are measures that a man can take. I am an old man now, and I blame myself that I didn’t take those measures. My son would be alive if I had.”

  “You can’t carry the burden of a guilt like that, Mr. Lanza. There would always be something more that one could do to improve security. The security here is excellent.”

  “Excellent is not enough!” Lanza snapped, and anger lit a sudden fire in his eyes. “I have children and grandchildren in this place. They must be protected!”

  Dani commented, “Well, you have money enough to hire a small army.”

  “Ah, that is what I would like to do!” Lanza nodded. “But my son Frank, he says the children must not grow up with armed men right beside them all the time. Perhaps he is right.” He gave her a probing look, adding, “Vince has talked to me. He thinks you can help.”

  “I don’t know why he thinks that.” Dani shrugged. “You have plenty of guards. I’d just be one more.”

  “They are stupid!” the old man exclaimed. “Not a mind in the bunch—except for Faye and Vince. But Vince has told me about his experience with you.”

  “You mean about the Maxwell Stone affair?”

  “Yes. He says everyone would have died in that place if it had not been for you.”

  “That’s not true. Ben Savage got us out of there.”

  “And he works for you, doesn’t he? Vince says the two of you are what I need.”

  “Ben could help you, but what could I do?”

  Lanza hesitated, then leaned forward. “You could find out who in my organization set up Phil and Lorraine.”

  Dani stared at him. “A traitor?”

  “That has to be it.” Lanza nodded. “You know what’s happening. Sal Martino and I circled each other for years, looking for a way to get control of this city. But both of us were smart enough to know that the other was too strong. When Sal died, his second in command, Johnny Ring, all but took over. Joe Martino hasn’t even tried to control Ring. Johnny’s as ruthless a man as I have ever met, and he’s gotten to somebody in my organization. That’s the only way anyone could have gotten to Phil.”

  Dani studi
ed Lanza thoughtfully. This was not at all what she had expected, and she shook her head. “I don’t think I could help much, Mr. Lanza.”

  “Is that what you really think—or is it that you won’t work for a man like me?” Lanza stared at her. “Vince has told me that you have very high moral standards. Maybe you wouldn’t work for a man who’s done what I’ve done.”

  Dani flushed slightly, for the thought had crossed her mind. She straightened her back and looked Lanza full in the face. “I think your way of life is terrible—but that’s not why I won’t work for you.”

  “Is it money?” he asked. “I have plenty of that.”

  She laughed shortly. “No, I need the work—but honestly, Mr. Lanza, I’m not much good with a gun.”

  Lanza nodded. “We have plenty of people who can shoot guns.” He seemed to think over what she had said, then got to his feet. Going over to the window, he peered into the darkness, then came back and stood over her. “Vincent has an idea. I thought little of it at first, but he’s a persistent man—and very shrewd.”

  “What sort of idea?”

  “That you come to work here not so much as a bodyguard as a keeper for my grandchildren. What’s the word? For a woman who keeps children . . . ?”

  “A nanny?” Dani smiled.

  “Ah! That’s it! Vince tells me you’re highly educated. We can’t risk sending the children to school. Too easy for Ring to get at them. So they’ll have to have tutors. You can do that, can’t you? You’ve been to college, Vince says.”

  Dani shook her head doubtfully. “I’m not a teacher. It’s not a matter of being smart, Mr. Lanza. Those who teach children have to have a very special sort of patience.”

  Then Dominic Lanza did smile, and his eyes lit up. “You’ll need patience with my grandchildren, Miss Ross!” he agreed. Sobering, he added, “I want you to come here as a—a nanny. I want you here—in this house—and I want your man Savage as well. He can serve as a physical-education teacher—something like that.”

  Indecision moved Dani, and Lanza said impulsively, “Come with me.” Dani got to her feet and followed him to his desk. He picked up a framed picture and handed it to her. “See—these are my grandchildren. I want them to live. Will you help me, Miss Ross?”

  From the stiffness in his manner and an odd expression in his dark eyes, Dani realized suddenly that Dominic Lanza was not a man who was accustomed to asking favors. Dani knew he had tasted violence and lived an abysmal life—but now he was aware that not all the money he had accumulated had been able to protect his son’s life. He stood there waiting patiently as she studied the picture.

  It was a family portrait. The man was a younger version of Dominic Lanza—lean with sharp features and black eyes. The woman was a pretty blond with a sweet face. There were three children. The oldest was a boy of about fifteen, with black hair and dark eyes. Beside him was a girl, perhaps twelve, with a shy expression, and finally a sturdy boy not over four or five.

  “My son Frank and his family,” Lanza explained. “He is the oldest now that I have lost my firstborn. His wife is named Rosemary. These are Matthew, Rachel, and Patrick.” He hesitated, then nodded. “To me, family is everything. I will pay any price to keep them safe. I think you can help me to do this.”

  Dani looked at the picture steadily, then lifted her head. Some sort of warning seemed to rise in her mind, but at the same time she was attracted by the challenge. Finally she warned, “Mr. Lanza, I’m not sure you understand what it means to be a teacher. It’s not just a matter of learning dates or how to work a math problem. Children usually pick up values from their teachers—and my values and yours are worlds apart. I’m a Christian, and I can’t be anything else. It’s not that I would deliberately set out to convert your grandchildren—but what I believe, I must say!”

  The old man studied her thoughtfully. He seemed to be weighing her words in a set of balances. Finally he nodded. “I understand. As for me, I have no religion. Some men go through a form of religion just for appearance. I could never do such a thing. I am what I am—and if I have chosen wrongly, I will answer for it before God.” He paused, and another thought came to him. “And that will not be long, Miss Ross, the doctors assure me. Whatever immortality I have will be what I leave on earth in my sons and their children.”

  “There’s more than that to being a human being, Mr. Lanza,” Dani said evenly.

  Again the dark old eyes fastened on her. “That may be, but it’s more than I know. The honor of the family, that is my religion. Someone has killed my son. I cannot allow the honor of my family to be stained. While that is being done, I must do all I can to protect my flesh and blood. Now, will you help me? I ask for the last time, Miss Ross.”

  Dani nodded slowly. “I will do what I can.”

  “Good! But I must ask you one more question. If a man came into this house, and you saw that he was going to shoot one of my family, could you shoot him, kill him if you had to?”

  The room was very quiet. Dani could hear the gentle ticking of an antique gold clock on the mantel over the fireplace. Thoughts pulled at her, and confusion disturbed her mind. Finally she nodded slowly. “I have thought about this many times, and it is a terrible decision. God has said ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ but he also ordained order in this world. I believe that policemen and soldiers are not wrong when they use arms to protect the lives of citizens. So if I must use a gun to protect your family, I will do it.”

  Lanza’s expression remained unreadable, but he finally directed, “Very well, Miss Ross. You will come to my house with Savage as soon as possible. My lawyer, Max Darrow, will draw up the contract. You may name your own fee. Now, I must ask you to excuse me.”

  Dani stood up to leave, but as she moved away, Lanza stopped her. “Miss Ross—”

  “Yes?”

  Lanza seemed to have difficulty saying what was on his mind. Finally he blurted out, “Perhaps sometimes—when you are not busy teaching the children—you might have a little time for an old man. One who has suddenly become very interested in what comes after this life.”

  Dani smiled and almost reached out to touch Dominic Lanza but admitted only, “Yes. I would like that very much.”

  She left the room and went at once to Vince. “Well, are you taking the job, Dani?” he wanted to know.

  Dani nodded, then smiled wryly. “Yes, I am, Vince. It looks like Dani Ross is going to be a nanny with a thirty-eight!”

  3

  Shoot to Kill

  * * *

  Dr. Jacob Strauss reached for the heavy brass doorknob, but the door swung back suddenly, striking his outstretched fingers. He stepped back quickly, and Frank Lanza halted abruptly. “Oh, sorry, Doctor.” He glanced quickly at his father, then asked, “How’s he doing?”

  The burly physician studied the younger Lanza, shrugged, and finally grunted, “See he takes his medicine.” He left the room rapidly, throwing back over his shoulder, “Don’t give him any liquor.”

  Frank scowled at the door, muttering, “Don’t see why that man can’t be made to give a civil answer!” Walking over to where his father sat in a delicate Queen Anne chair, he tried again, “What did he say, Pop?”

  Dominic was buttoning up his shirt with slow care. He looked up briefly, and a touch of anger tinged his voice. “Said I was dying. Bring me some of that Scotch from the bar.” He buttoned the last two buttons, then gave Frankan impatient glance. “Didn’t you hear me? I said bring me a drink.”

  “I heard what the doctor said. No more liquor.”

  “Blasted old fool!” Dom snorted. He heaved himself to his feet and walked slowly across the room toward the bar. “No use having him back in this house.” He pulled a bottle from the cabinet, removed the top, and poured an inch of amber fluid into a glass. “Have a drink, Frank,” he ordered.

  “Not now—and you don’t need one either.” At thirty-eight, Frank Lanza was much like what his father had been at that age—on the lean side, with black eyes that dominated
a narrow face. He had straight black hair, heavy black eyebrows, and sharp features. A thin upper lip and a full lower one lay under a trim black mustache, and he had the pallor of a man who lived indoors. His voice was not loud, but edged with authority. He used it now, pointing out, “That stuff will kill you.”

  Dominic gave a humorless laugh. “Too late for that. I’m like an animal. They always know when they’re going to die.” He moved across the room and stared out the window, the blinds making a pattern of horizontal marks on his ravaged face. “Don’t know why a man’s got less sense than an animal. People ought to go off and die in a thicket—not be a bother to anyone.”

  Frank stared at the old man with sudden surprise. “Don’t talk like that, Pop,” he objected. “You’ve got a lot of living to do.”

  Dom spoke quietly, without turning his head. “Don’t be a fool, Frank. You were raised better. Didn’t I always teach you to look things in the face? Well, it’s my time. Not complaining. I’ve had some good things—more than most men.”

  The younger man stood there silently. There was something in Dom Lanza that he had never seen before—a surrender of the spirit, perhaps. Dom had always been the dynamic force of the family, controlling it as a man will captain a huge ship. Never had anyone doubted who would decide matters; always the small fist of Dominic Lanza held power over his family as over his business. Now, Frank realized, that was changing. It had started the moment the shotgun blasts snuffed out the life of Phil Lanza.

  “You’re grieving over Phil,” he observed quietly. “He was always your favorite.”

  There was no envy in his voice, but Dom turned to give him a sharp glance. “He was the firstborn, Frank.” That meant much to the old man, and he came a step closer, adding, “Now he’s gone. You’re the firstborn now.”

  “I’m not Phil,” Frank warned, shrugging slightly. “I’ll do the best I can.”