She stared at him, her gaze holding weight. “We’re on the same page then.”
“Always.” He sat back in the chair, feeling abruptly exhausted. His left side ached, and there was no way he could manage the chair and the IV on his own. “Antonio!” he called. He turned to Kate. “I need to rest, cara.”
“We’ve had a bit too much excitement these last few days, haven’t we?”
“A bit. But some of it was good, yes?” He was so happy he barely cared that someone wanted them dead. Kate was his, finally his. He’d sort through the rest later.
“Very, very good,” she said, smiling.
Kate watched Antonio come in and take Enrico away. When they were gone, her mind drifted back to what Domenico had said to her. It was a nice, pretty speech on the surface. But he was warning her, telling her that Enrico was marrying her for the baby, that he’d never love her the way he loved Antonella. And that last bit at the end, he was reminding her that she was part of all this now. Part of the family. Part of the Mafia.
And the only way out was in a pine box.
CHAPTER 26
Enrico wasn’t surprised to see Fuente at his hospital room door the next day. He was surprised, however, by Fuente’s high spirits. “By your grin, I take it my situation amuses you?” Enrico asked.
Fuente removed his cap and smoothed back his dark hair, shaking his head. “It’s not that, signore. It’s merely that you seem to be thrust into a dangerous game, one with little hope of escape. Luckily—”
“You’re not in the middle of it.” Fuente shrugged, and Enrico finally understood. “Ah, you’re glad you’re on the winning side.”
The glance Fuente gave him was knowing. “You are beset on all sides, signore. No one to trust. Except perhaps me.”
Enrico laughed hard, grabbing his left side when pain flared through him. He blew out for a second, waiting for it to pass. Then he looked at Fuente. “You? Why would I ever trust you?”
“I can help.” Fuente picked up the vase of flowers sent by Giacomo Parini and looked at it, then set it back down.
What was Fuente up to now? “How?”
“That evidence from the Dinelli case. The gun that mysteriously disappeared….”
“Yes, let’s talk about that. Why did only one gun involved in that case have fingerprints on it? That was quite convenient for Carlo.”
Fuente gave him a quizzical look. “And what would Signor Andretti have to do with that?”
“He stood to lose as much in front of Judge Dinelli as I did. He framed me.”
“Not too well. He lost the witness and then most surprisingly the evidence. Do you expect me to believe that’s what happened?”
Enrico flushed, hoping it looked like he was in pain. It was best to say nothing sometimes. This was one of those times.
“The cat has eaten your tongue, I see.” Fuente sat down and stroked his mustache as he looked at Enrico.
“I’m innocent. I was not involved in the death of Judge Dinelli.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. But you are not innocent, signore. Never that.”
Enrico couldn’t find the words to argue. He hadn’t ordered the murder, but he’d certainly exacted his revenge on the one who’d betrayed him, and he’d certainly tampered with the process of justice. “So what do you think you can do for me, Maresciallo Capo Fuente?”
Fuente pointed to the badge on his shoulder. “I’m a second lieutenant, now, thanks to you.”
“Congratulations, Sottotenente. Again, I wonder what you think you can do for me.”
“I have heard, perhaps, that this missing gun can be found. Avoiding a long prison sentence, that would be worth something, yes?”
Was he bluffing? “It would be. But someone wants me dead. I’m more concerned about that.”
“And if I could help you with that matter?”
“That would indeed be worth something to me.”
Fuente seemed to be deliberating some matter. Then he said, “My children’s tuition has gone up again.”
“Escalating costs are a certain path to ruin.”
“Not if you know the right people.” Fuente grinned and leaned forward. “I’ll let you have this tidbit for free though. Franco Trucco is out for blood.”
“That’s not news to me.”
“Ah, but I think there’s a detail you do not know. Trucco has revealed something to Signor Andretti that has enraged him. A secret of yours. About a son in England?”
Enrico went cold to his core. “How did you hear this?”
“A friend.”
His heart racing, Enrico grabbed his mobile phone. “I have calls to make, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course.” Fuente stood up, placing his cap on his head.
A question occurred to Enrico. “Why did you tell me this?”
“I might find having a Lucchesi in Interpol useful someday. And I think I might find you doubly generous in the future.”
He nodded. “Your children will have the best educations money can buy.”
“You are a saint among sinners, Signor Lucchesi.”
As the door was closing behind Fuente, Enrico punched in the number of his top man in London. There was much to arrange, and little time, if any, to do so.
When Tyrell answered, Enrico rapidly explained what was needed and why. “Use discretion, but keep him safe. Do not contact him directly or tell him anything unless you need to.” Tyrell gave him his word, and Enrico told him he would call back later.
He snapped the phone shut, his stomach in a tight ball. Please God, don’t let Nico die.
Enrico and Kate were discharged from the hospital a couple days later, both of them sore from their wounds, but fully on the mend. Tyrell assured Enrico that his son was safe, that he’d made all the arrangements with Nico’s supervisor to keep him away from London and out of reach for several weeks. It was the best they could do without telling Nico anything directly. If all went well, he’d never suspect a thing.
Sick of being cooped up in the hospital, Enrico had taken Kate out to the back terrace to get some sun and fresh air. They hadn’t been home more than a few hours when Ruggero sought him out. “Antonio was right.” He held up a small black device in a plastic bag. “This tracker was on the Maserati.”
Enrico extended his hand for it. He turned the bag over, studying the device that had almost been their death. “Are there others?”
“I am checking all the cars myself. So far, no.”
“How do we find out who planted this?”
“I will have it checked for fingerprints.”
“Do the polizia know about it?”
Ruggero shook his head, and Enrico handed the tracker back to him. “Anything from the surveillance?”
“Nothing conclusive.”
“I don’t like not knowing.” Enrico tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair.
The grim lines of Ruggero’s face hardened. “Neither do I. We will have an answer soon.”
“I hope we have it in time.” Enrico reached out and took Kate’s hand. Then he looked back at Ruggero. “There are three of us counting on you now.”
Ruggero nodded. “I will not fail you.”
Giacomo Parini arrived later that afternoon with a large black case. He met privately with Enrico in his study. “I have brought what you asked for, Don Enrico,” he said, opening the case.
Enrico studied the rings before him. “Which would you give to the woman who owned your heart?”
“This one.” Parini pointed to a ring in the middle row. “It’s not the most expensive, nor the largest. But the diamonds have the most clarity, the most sparkle.”
Enrico held the ring under the lamp on his desk. The diamonds refracted the light beautifully, sending out prisms of color. “I’ll take it.”
“Bene.” Parini smiled, then his face sobered. “I’m worried, Don Enrico. This attempt on your life, it was most serious. I’m not the only one who’s concerned. Many merchants have come to
me, questioning whether they should go over to the Andrettis. They fear what will happen if you die.”
“So, to avoid the lava, they would jump into the mouth of Vesuvius?”
Parini shook his head. “I know. Your father told me the reason for Andretti’s exile. About the boy in the barrel. Perhaps more people should know that story?”
Enrico shrugged. “Do what you think best.” He gripped the old man by the shoulder. “If something happens to me, the cosca will protect you. It will go on without me.” It just won’t be the same.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
He smiled at Parini, hoping it reached his eyes. “I have a wife to marry and a child on the way. I have everything to live for. I will see Carlo Andretti in the ground.”
After Parini left, Enrico sat at his desk admiring the ring. Where and when should he give it to Kate? He wanted to make it a moment she’d always remember. He’d love to take her back to Capri, to propose in that lush little thicket where they’d made love. But there wasn’t time right now. He needed something nearby.
What about the gardens at the Villa Carlotta, or maybe that elegant little bistro in Bellagio? Both were nice, but he wanted something more grand.
Then the perfect place came to him: the beautifully laid-out formal gardens of the Villa d’Este. Just the place for a marriage proposal, maybe even the wedding itself. And after he proposed, they could have dinner at the hotel. He called the maître d’ and arranged dinner for the next evening. Any further delay and the wait would kill him.
Fuente called on Enrico and Kate the following day. The three of them met in Enrico’s study. Kate and Enrico took the sofa; Fuente took a chair opposite. The expression on Fuente’s face flashed Enrico back to their meeting just after Kate shot Vincenzo. Fuente had looked then like a cat who’d just swallowed a very tasty canary. He looked even more full of himself today. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
“Are you here to update us on the investigation into Vincenzo Andretti’s death or on the attack a few days ago?” Enrico said.
“We do have so many things to discuss, do we not?” Fuente paused for a moment, until he was sure of everyone’s attention. “Signore, an interesting story has come my way.”
“Interesting?”
“Molto. It seems your name has come up in yet another investigation. Another death.”
“What are you talking about?” Kate asked. Enrico was wondering the same thing.
Fuente stroked his mustache. “Ah, signora, there is much you do not know about this man. I understand you are to be wed?”
“Where did you hear that?” Enrico asked.
Fuente shrugged. “You know how these small towns are. So hard to keep secrets.”
“What’s this story you mentioned?” Kate asked.
Fuente leaned forward, his face lighting up with a cold keenness. “A judge and his family were assassinated some years ago. This judge, Federico Dinelli, was well known for his anti-Mafia views. At the time of his death, a case had come before him. A tax-evasion case. Signor Lucchesi was the defendant.” Kate turned to Enrico.
Where was Fuente going with this? And why? “Yes, there was a case,” Enrico said. “It was dismissed for lack of evidence.”
“But only after Judge Dinelli was killed.”
Blood rose to Enrico’s face. “That was not my doing.”
“No one has been able to prove that it was.”
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“But you had everything to gain from it.”
Enrico looked hard at Fuente. Didn’t they have an understanding? “Mine was not the only case before him. Carlo Andretti was facing charges as well.”
Fuente stroked his mustache again, looking at the ceiling, as if considering Enrico’s words. “That is true.” He played with the cap on his lap. “As you may recall, signore, some of the evidence in that case was lost. I was curious and did some digging. It took me days and days of searching, but I finally found that missing evidence. It had been misfiled, almost lost for good. Do you know what I found?”
Enrico could hardly breathe. “Please, enlighten me.”
“One of the murder weapons—as it happens, the only one with fingerprints on it—was among the misfiled evidence. And the fingerprints on that gun belong to Sergio Grantini. He worked for you back then, yes?”
Adrenaline flooded Enrico’s body. Someone had just put the first nail in his coffin. Someone who knew where that gun had been hidden. Was it Dom? He focused on keeping his expression neutral. “He did work for me.”
“But Grantini disappeared soon after the murder.”
Enrico nodded. “He abandoned his wife and son.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“How am I to know? Sergio was young and not always faithful to his wife. Perhaps he ran off with a pretty girl.” It could have been the truth. Only Enrico, Ruggero, and Dom knew that it wasn’t.
“Perhaps.” Fuente paused, his eyes boring into Enrico. “If we could find him, he could tell us why he shot the judge and his family.”
“You do not actually know that he did. Someone else could have used the gun.”
“Grantini’s prints are the only ones on it.”
Enrico shook his head. “Gloves. The killer could have worn them.”
“Perhaps, Signor Lucchesi, you should have been one of us.”
“A carabiniere?” Enrico snorted.
Fuente waved the notion away with his hands. “What was I thinking? No man as fine as Enrico Lucchesi would stoop so low.”
“That is not what I meant.”
Fuente’s lips curved up. “Perhaps you meant no man as corrupt as you would think of it?”
There was no winning with this man. Enrico could feel the heat of Kate’s stare. “If you have enough evidence to arrest me, I suggest you do so.”
“Or what? You’ll take care of me too?” Fuente grinned at him aggressively. “Perhaps I’ll end up like the judge? Or perhaps I’ll be ‘misfiled’ in some nondescript place like that gun?”
Enrico sat back, feigning indifference. “You have nothing.”
Fuente leaned forward. “Ah, but I do.” He pulled their passports out of the inner pocket of his uniform and tossed them on the table. “I assume you both would like these back.”
“We would,” Enrico said.
“You are fortunate, signore. I am in a generous mood.”
“Are we cleared?” Kate asked.
Fuente looked at her, a tight smile on his face. “Patience, signora. Such matters take time.”
They don’t have to. He had to get Fuente out of the house so he could talk to Kate. So he could explain. “Is there some… assistance you need with the investigation?” Enrico asked.
“Not directly. But there is a matter that has proved most distracting to me personally, and it has hampered my ability to wrap up the investigation.”
“Is it something I can help with?”
Fuente put on an embarrassed face. “I would not mention it, except it is the matter most pressing on my mind.”
“What is it?”
“As you know, I have four children, and they all plan to attend university. But now three of them have decided they must go to America for that. Even with my recent promotion to third rank, I will be hard-pressed to fund their tuitions. I have heard, Signor Lucchesi, that you have sponsored some local children.”
The audacity of this man. “If they have high marks.”
“My children are exceptional scholars.”
Enrico suppressed a sigh. “Well then, perhaps they would qualify for my scholarship program.”
“I would be most grateful for any assistance you could provide.”
Kate looked from one to the other of them, her disgust undisguised. “Are we done here?” she asked.
Fuente smiled again. “For now. Signora, my business with you is concluded.” He turned and addressed Enrico. “I am still looking for Grantini. We will talk furt
her when I find him.”
“I hope you do. I am still paying his wages to his wife while we look for him ourselves.”
Fuente bowed his head. “You are a most generous man, Signor Lucchesi.” He rose and put on his hat. “Arrivederci.”
As Enrico escorted Fuente to the front door, Kate sat on the sofa, stunned by what she’d just witnessed. How easily Enrico bought whatever he wanted—the outcome of a murder investigation, for example.
What a fool she was. How could she have accepted his proposal so quickly? He was a mobster, for God’s sake. He’d admitted to her that he’d killed people. Killing a judge to stay out of jail? Obviously that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. He’d told her he didn’t kill innocent people, but that was yet another lie. The discussion with Fuente had clearly rattled him.
How could she trust Enrico, now that she knew what he was capable of?
By the time he returned to the study, she could hardly contain herself. “How could you do such a thing?”
Enrico sat down beside her. “I did not do it, I swear. Carlo has framed me.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient. It’s all Carlo’s fault. Again.”
“It is not convenient at all. He nearly landed me in prison, and I suppose he still will, if he does not kill me first.”
“A judge and his family. How could you?”
“I did not, and I would not. Let me explain.”
She held up her hand, palm facing him. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. It’s just going to be more lies.”
“Please calm down.” He reached for her hands.
She slapped his fingers away. “I will not calm down. I will not let you sweet-talk me again. This is it. You heard the man. I’m free to go.”
“Per favore, I can explain.”
“No. I’m packing my things and leaving this country tomorrow. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
His voice deepened. “Carlo still wants you dead. And you are in no condition to fly. Even if you do not care about yourself, you have a child to think of.”
She looked away from him, breathing hard, the stabbing pain from the wound in her chest confirming what he said. She had her passport, but she couldn’t leave yet. “I can’t stay under this roof. I can’t bear to look at you.”
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