Deadly Deception

by Gilbert, Morris

  “So they knew exactly when the delivery truck was coming,” Dom noted quietly.

  Sixkiller nodded. “Wouldn’t have been too hard to find out, I guess. But the people at the furniture store look clean. No connection at all with Martino. The owner did tell us that somebody called and asked what time the delivery would be made. Didn’t give a name.”

  “Max said it would be coming about one o’clock,” Frank informed him slowly. “That’s why he and Helen couldn’t come to see the kids perform.”

  “How many people knew about the delivery?” Sixkiller asked.

  “We all knew it,” Frank said. “And the men at the gate were notified so they would admit the truck.” He added disgustedly, “We might as well have had Snow White guarding the gate. Frenchie went out to the truck, and one of the guys stepped out and pushed a gun in his face. They tied him and Legs up like trussed chickens! One guy stayed with them at the gate until the truck came back.”

  Dom interrupted, “Is that all the questions, Lieutenant? Frank can take care of any details.” He got up and left the room, looking tired and sick.

  Sixkiller rose, warning, “Don’t hold your breath until we get a suspect on this one, Lanza. It was a slick job.” Frank nodded, and then the policeman demanded, “I want to talk to Miss Ross.”

  “She’s with the children. Savage, show the lieutenant, will you?”

  As soon as the two men left the room, Faye burst out, “Frank, now will you listen to me? This is twice they’ve tried to wipe us out. We gotta hit Martino and do it quick!”

  Frank stared at Dietrich, but shook his head. “Maybe that will come, Faye, but not today. You know what my father says. If we hit back, it’ll start a full-sized war.”

  “He’s sick, Frank,” Faye protested. “He’s not the man he used to be—and you know it!”

  Faye Dietrich’s words struck hard at Lanza. Indeed, he had been wrestling with the problem since the shooting had taken place. He knew that Faye compared him unfavorably with his brother Phil, and it cut him. Though he wanted to lash out at Faye, doubt had slowed his decisionmaking processes to a crawl. Phil would have taken some action, he decided. His father had not mentioned the older brother’s name, yet Frank knew Dominic had looked to Phil to keep things together. Despite the temptation to give in to Faye’s insistent demand to move quickly, to hit Martino with all he had, Frank did not let his thoughts show in his face.

  “I’ve got to see to Rosemary, Faye. And the kids. If trouble starts, they’ll be right in the middle of it.” He saw the stubborn anger in Faye’s cold, blue eyes, but before the man could speak, he snapped, “You’ve got plenty to do! Whip those clowns you call guards into shape! If they’d been on their toes, we wouldn’t have lost Vince. He was worth the whole bunch of bums you’ve hired—so get them on the ball or get rid of them!”

  With Savage, Sixkiller walked down the hall toward the study room. “How’s Dani taking it, Ben? Icing that punk down, I mean?”

  “Hasn’t had time to think about it much,” Savage answered. “She’s been too busy keeping the kids from folding.” He paused outside the door and turned his eyes on the policeman. “But you can bet it’ll fall on her like an anvil when she gets alone.”

  “I figured. Any new word on Mrs. Lanza?”

  “She’s going to make it, I guess. Frank is visiting her a lot in intensive care. He’s only here now because you are.” Ben added slowly, “This may open the ball, Luke. Dom’s been sitting on Faye for a long time. Now I think he’ll have to do something—and there’s only one thing a guy like him knows to do.”

  “He didn’t get where he is by turning the other cheek,” Sixkiller agreed. “Well, let’s see the teacher.”

  They entered the room and found Dani sitting in a chair reading to the children. Sixkiller saw at a glance that the girl was in the worst state of the three. Her thin face was almost colorless, and her eyes held the same expression he’d seen many times in the faces of survivors of a very bad wreck. The older boy, he noted, was pale, but trying to tough it out. The smaller boy listened to the story as if nothing had happened. Sixkiller thought, Kids can throw things off—but it’s just buried. It’ll catch up to him, especially if his mother dies.

  Then he spoke, “Hello, Dani. Sorry to interrupt your class.”

  Dani rose. She moved carefully, and Sixkiller saw that she was keeping a tight control over herself. There was a “stretched” quality in her face, such as one sees in the expressions of men who are about to go into battle. “Hello, Lieutenant,” she answered quietly.

  “Got time for a talk?” he asked.

  “Of course. Ben, would you take the children out for some exercise? I’ve kept them at their studies pretty hard.”

  “How about a swim, you guys?” Ben suggested. He spoke easily, as if nothing had happened, and no sign of strain showed in his face. Pat cried, “Yes!” at once. Matthew was slow to respond. He was thinking of the shooting and wanted to refuse. But Ben came over and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Be better to go now,” he observed quietly. “When you take a fall, go back and try it again right then. Easier that way.” He reached out his hand and invited, “How about it, Rachel?”

  The girl looked up at him, her eyes enormous, but something in Savage’s face gave her what she needed. “All right, Mr. Ben,” she uttered. She took his hand, and the three of them left the room, Savage talking cheerfully as the door closed.

  “Is that the way?” Sixkiller raised one heavy black eyebrow. “Those kids had a rough deal. Pretty soon to take them back in there.”

  “Ben thinks it’s best,” Dani pointed out. “He had some bad falls when he was with the circus. He says the longer you stay away from what hurt you, the harder it is to go back to it.” She shook her head and added, “I don’t know, Luke. I guess he’s right. Ben’s pretty smart about things like that.”

  Sixkiller considered her, then suddenly demanded, “You been back in there, Dani?”

  His question startled her. “Why—no, I haven’t.”

  “Let’s go have a look,” he advised.

  He saw, then, what he expected to see. Dani stiffened her back, and her lips drew into a thin line. Her eyes suddenly widened with what looked like fear. “Why— why do you want to do that? We can talk here.”

  “Same reason Savage wanted the kids to go. You’ve been ducking this thing, Dani. Time to take a look at it.”

  Dani licked her suddenly dry lips. “Are you taking up psychiatry as a hobby, Lieutenant?” she snapped. She turned and walked over to the wide window, her back straight and tense. “I don’t need any amateur shrink working on me!” she exclaimed, staring into the yard.

  He came over and stood beside her. Keen gusts of March wind bent the tall oaks and sent ripples through the green hedges that outlined the house. Overhead the sky was busy, large thunderheads rolling along high in the sky, their edges tinted amber. Even as he watched, a sudden flash caught his eye—far away a forked tongue of white light licked at the earth. He counted the seconds until the faint rumble came to his ears, noting that it was at least ten miles away.

  Then he shared, “The first time I saw action in Nam, my buddy got it. He was no more than five feet from me when he went down. After the fight, I wanted to run away and cry. But my officer wouldn’t let me. He said, ‘Go back and help with Tom.’ I told him what he could do with his army, and he explained, ‘Luke, if you don’t go back, he’ll never be dead to you.’” Sixkiller was quiet, and Dani turned slightly to see that his stolid face was softened. “It took all I had, Dani, but I went back. Helped put him in a body bag.”

  He said no more, but Dani suddenly knew what he was trying to tell her: Face up to the problem. She suddenly breathed, “All right, Luke. Let’s go to the pool.”

  A smile lifted the corners of his lips, and he put his hand on her shoulder. “That’s a good soldier,” he encouraged her.

  Dani led the way out of the house and down the back walk toward the domed pool. It too
k all the courage she could muster to open the door and enter, but she tried to let none of the sudden fear that stirred her nerves show in her face. It helped some that Savage had the kids in the shallow part of the pool, teaching them a butterfly stroke. Pat was yelling as usual, and the other two were functioning, at least. “Hey, look at me!” Pat cried and thrashed awkwardly in the water.

  “Good, Pat!” Dani called out.

  She turned to Sixkiller. “Well, this is it.” She glanced involuntarily at the spot where the body of the gunman had fallen. The people from the crime lab had come and done their thing, so no trace of the shooting appeared. Or so she thought.

  “I was standing over here, Luke.” She took him to the spot and was about to continue, when he looked down at the tiles. Two of them were broken, not five feet away from where she had stood.

  Sixkiller stared at the broken tiles. “He came pretty close, Dani. If you hadn’t gotten him, he’d have wiped out the whole family—and you in the bargain.” He watched her as she studied the scarred tiles. He had been around violence in many forms and well knew that some individuals were incapable of handling it—just as others loved it. Finally he remarked, “Savage told me how you jumped in front of Dom. He thought that was pretty good.”

  Without lifting her eyes, she commented, “I didn’t think about it, Luke.” She paused, then lifted her head, and he saw the anguish in her eyes. “It was—the other thing that I can’t get over.”

  He stood there, considering her with a pair of steady black eyes, and shook his head. “Do no good to tell you this, but the guy you put down was a bad one. Been in jail most of his life and had no future. He’d killed three men and one woman, and he’d kill more, if he was alive.” Then he stopped and shrugged. “But you can’t see it like that.”

  “He was a human being, Luke,” Dani whispered. “And I killed him.”

  “You’d rather see those kids dead?” Sixkiller demanded. “Forget about Dom and Frank. They know what they’re doing, but Rosemary Lanza and those kids, you’d swap them for that two-bit hood?”

  Dani blinked at his blunt attack, but only shook her head. Ever since the shooting, she had thrown herself into the task of keeping the horror of the affair from scarring the children. She had closed off the blinding memory of the moment when she had centered the muzzle of the .38 on the masked figure and had pulled the trigger. But the details were not obliterated. She had already discovered that if she allowed a break from the activities, the scene would begin to unroll like a video. More than once, when she had let the barriers of thought down, she found herself looking across the swimming pool at the gunman, hooded like a ghastly specter. And she touched the cold metal of the gun as she drew it from the holster, felt the kick as she pulled the trigger, and smelled the acrid odor of cordite. She saw the slug strike the man, driving him backward.

  Her hands began to tremble as the scene rose before her, and she shook her head jerkily. “I can’t answer that, Luke. I just can’t!”

  For a moment he stood there silently, wanting to help, but knowing nobody could do that. “Dani, get out of this thing,” he advised finally. “Some people are tough enough for this game, but I don’t think you’re one of them. Leave it to hardcases like Ben and me.”

  Dani stared at him, her gray-green eyes as serious as he had ever seen them. “I may have to do just that, Luke,” she agreed finally. “There may be another thing like this, and I’m not sure if I could—do it again.”

  “Be best if you got out,” he told her gently. Then he shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Well, I got to go catch some criminals. If it gets bad, I keep a shoulder available.”

  “May take you up on that, Lieutenant.” She smiled wanly.

  They walked out of the pool area, Dani waving to the children.

  When Sixkiller left, she found Rossi waiting for her. “Mr. Lanza would like to see you.”

  “How is he, Thomas?”

  “No better.” Thomas shrugged with an air of fatalism. “All this hasn’t helped him any.”

  “No.” Dani left and went to Lanza’s room. He answered her knock, and she went in at once. He lay in bed with a book. A reading lamp over his shoulder provided the only light in the room. She went over and drew a chair beside his bed. “How do you feel?” she asked.

  Lanza’s face was skull-like, more than usual, Dani thought. He shrugged, but made no comment. He was tired of the question, though he realized that Dani and others asked it out of concern. “How are the children?” he demanded. His voice was thick, for he was heavily sedated. “Are they all right?”

  “Yes. Ben’s got them in the swimming pool. We thought it might be best to get them back to a routine as soon as possible.”

  He nodded, then questioned suddenly, “How are you, Dani?”

  “Me? Why—I’m fine,” she said, surprised at the question. “I didn’t get a scratch.”

  “Not all wounds are in the body,” he pointed out, watching her eyes. “I think maybe you are hurting, yes?” She shook her head, not wanting to burden him with her problems, but the medicine had not dulled Dom’s discernment. “I am sorry you had to shoot that man,” he asserted slowly. “You put yourself in front of me—which I will tell you never to do again. Not that I am ungrateful, but it is futile. The children, the family—they are the ones.”

  Dani nodded. “I’m going to the hospital to see Rosemary. The doctors say she’s holding her own, but she might need me.”

  Lanza considered her for a long moment, then shook his head. “I wish I had known someone like you when I was younger,” he averred. “But I was convinced that there was no one who cared, outside of the family. It was one of my big mistakes. I know that now. But in the early days, I lived one day at a time. Just to live another week—that was a real victory, Dani! It was a jungle, I tell you! And in a jungle, you grow cunning—and cruel, of course.” He paused and stared down at his hands, where they rested on the book. Then he lifted his eyes and continued, “I built a wall around myself and my family, and I allowed no trespassing. Now I meet you and find that there is love in the world, unselfish love. I never knew that.”

  “Is there anything you need? Can I tell Rosemary anything?”

  “I have not been fair to my daughter-in-law,” Lanza worried, shaking his head. “She’s been afraid, and I’ve done little to help her. Tell her—tell her that I love her and that I long for her to come home.”

  “That’s good.” Dani smiled. “I’ll come and see you tomorrow.” On impulse she reached out and squeezed his hand, then, a little embarrassed at her action, asked, “What are you reading? Is it a good book?”

  Dom Lanza gazed at her. “You’d say so, Dani.” He held up the book, and she saw that it was a hardcover Bible. “I had Rossi sneak off and buy this for me.” His lips drew back in a smile. “He was shocked. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him so shook up! It did me good, seeing Thomas confused for once!” Then he stroked the cover of the Bible, and spoke thoughtfully, “I started in the New Testament, the book of John, as you suggested. It’s not what I thought it would be, though.”

  “What did you expect?” Dani asked curiously. The sight of the dying mob boss with the Bible in his emaciated hands had done something to her.

  “I can’t say. I guess I was looking for a book of rules,” Dom confessed. “But it’s about a man. Jesus was a real man—that’s what’s really gotten to me. I had Him all fixed in my mind as a hazy figure with a halo, sort of like a stained-glass window in a church. But what I keep seeing is a man who got tired, who had to put up with followers who didn’t really believe in Him. Lots of people shouted His name, but none of them seemed to understand Him.”

  “Yes, Jesus was like that,” Dani agreed. “You’ve read it well.”

  Dom stirred restlessly, then looked up. “I read the story of the crucifixion just before you came in.” He fell silent, his face set in a strange expression. She had never seen him exactly like this and sat there waiting. Finally he
added softly, “I’ve been a hard man, but when I read that story, how Jesus died, I found myself weeping, Dani. That’s strange, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think so,” she argued. “I think when we discover that someone really loves us—not for what we’ve done, but in spite of that—it strikes home in the worst of us. I think you’ve just found out what the word gospel is about. It means ‘good news,’ the news that Jesus has died in our place, and now we don’t have to be ashamed before God for all we’ve done that’s wrong.”

  His dark eyes, hooded and enigmatic, were fixed on her. She could not read them, but he nodded suddenly. “Maybe it’s so. I think it’s too late for me. Too many bad things. Too many! But it’s good to know that even a man like me can still weep over a good man.”

  Dani squeezed his hand. “It’s not too late for you, Dom. It’s never too late.” Then she saw that he was almost asleep. “Keep on reading,” she whispered. “I’ll see you when I get back from the hospital.”

  She left the room and went at once to change. She donned a pair of light taupe slacks and an ivory blouse with antique buttons down the front, then paused. The .38 lay on top of her dresser, and she longed to leave it there. The sight of it started memories of the shooting, and she put her hands to her temples suddenly, trying to shut them off. “Help me, Lord!” she cried out in agony. For a few minutes, she stood there, hands pressed against her temples. Then she straightened up. Walking to the dresser, she picked up the belt and holster, fastened it around her waist, then put on the burgundy linen blazer. Fastening the single gold button in front, she turned to the mirror, noting that the loose-fitting garment concealed the bulge of the weapon. Then she picked up a small purse and left the room.