1 Murder Takes Time

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  I sat at the bottom of the bed with her feet draped over my thigh. I dabbed lotion onto my hand then gently massaged the lotion into her skin, making sure to cover all the parts of her feet, even between her toes. I rubbed it in until her skin soaked it up, then moved to the other foot. I looked up to her and gave her a smile to match the one she wore.

  She moved, rolling to the side. Her left foot brushed against me.

  “Don’t, Gina. It’s bad enough already.”

  “Why don’t you rub some lotion up my legs a little?” If her words weren’t invitation enough; her voice was. I moved up beside her, my face close to hers. “Gina, there is nothing in the world I want more right now than to make love to you. But I’ve got to tell you, it’s been a long time for me. If I get started, I don’t think I can stop.”

  “I don’t want you to make love to me,” she said.

  I tensed, dejected, but as I let her go, she pulled me back. “I want you to fuck me.”

  The smile that popped on my face must have gone from ear to ear. “I love that filthy mouth.”

  Her feet dug into the bed, lifting her ass up. She slid out of her panties. “I haven’t been with a man in two years.”

  As I kissed her, thoughts of Angela popped into my head. Fortunately I was able to push them out quickly.

  We didn’t rip clothes off like they do in the movies, but we were passionate. Maybe hungry was a better word. Very hungry. And I ate every part of her, from top to bottom, front to back.

  It didn’t last as long as either one of us wanted, but it was more than fantastic. Afterwards we lay there, talking, laughing. Then laughing some more. “You can curse any time you want.”

  She wrapped one of her legs around mine and stretched her arm across my chest. “Now I don’t want to.”

  We got up in a few minutes and both took a shower, then about forty minutes later had a repeat of the lovemaking. Less wild, but still great. We slowed down enough to really enjoy it. Two hours later we showered again, and again we made love. This one I really took my time with, enjoying every scent of her, every taste. Someone could have come in and stuck a gun to my head and I wouldn’t have known. Worse, I wouldn’t have cared. This felt that good. As we lay there, wrapped around each other, it was easy to forget that we were running for our lives. I thought about doing it again, but thinking was all I could do. There was nothing left.

  Gina had fallen asleep, but I couldn’t. I stared at the ceiling, wondering about what happened in New York. Tito obviously knew Gina was alive, which meant he knew I didn’t kill her.

  So why didn’t he kill me? Because he wanted her too. I thought a little more on that. If I were Tito, I’d let it leak to Tony, then follow him, knowing he’d tell me. From there it would be easy to tail me to Gina.

  I relaxed and closed my eyes, satisfied that the thought process was complete and that I got away clean. Twice I almost drifted off to sleep, but a nagging thought kept popping into my head no matter how hard I tried squashing it. Tony could have been in on this. He might have known about the plan and set me up. That made more sense.

  But why would Tony do that? I rolled over several times, careful not to wake Gina. I ended up on my back, staring at the ceiling again. Finally I banished it for good.

  He wouldn’t. No way Tony would do that.

  CHAPTER 53

  A NEW LIFE

  About 1 Year Ago

  We ended up in Cleveland. I don’t know how she talked me into going there, but it might have had something to do with sex. No matter, we were there and trying to find a semi-permanent place to live. I already had an apartment for us, an efficiency that we sublet and would use as our official residence for the identification we carried. But I planned on finding another place to live under a different name. The subterfuge worried Gina.

  By midafternoon, we found a nice place to rent, a small ranch in an older section of the city. The way it was situated we could walk to the grocery store, and there was a butcher and a fruit stand nearby. To top it off, there was a family-owned bakery that still made sfogliatelle. If asked to sum up my new life six weeks into it, it would have been easy. I had Gina, fresh fruit two blocks away, and sfogliatelle only three blocks past that. What more could anyone want?

  Two months later we drove to a small town in Tennessee and got married by a Justice of the Peace, though I still promised her a Catholic wedding. In the third month, Gina got a job as an accountant, and I hired on as a salesman for a tile company. Not my life dream, but it kept me busy and put a few dollars in our pockets. When I got my first paycheck, I stopped at the bakery and picked up cannoli and sfogliatelle.

  I was whistling when I walked in the door. “Guess what I have?”

  Gina was at the table, a small oval one tucked into a neat corner of the tiny kitchen. There were tears in her eyes. I rushed to the table, setting the boxes down, then knelt before her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  She sobbed. Hugged me. “I’m okay now that you’re home.”

  “What happened?”

  She held on to me for a long time. “I’m sorry, Nicky. We got a new client today at the firm. His name was Martelli.” Gina tried holding back the tears, but they came. “God, Nicky, when I heard that name, I lost it. All I could think of was Tito. I couldn’t work the rest of the day. I was watching over my shoulder the whole time, wondering if he had already gotten to you.”

  I stood, walked around. Instinctively went to the window and peered out. “You checked, though. No one followed?”

  “You can bet I checked. It took me an hour to get here because I took so many detours.” She drank some water. “No one followed me.” Gina stood and put water on for tea. She was trembling.

  I stood too and rubbed her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Keep going, day after day. Go around like it’s nothing, when inside you’ve got to be falling apart. You’re human aren’t you? I mean, you didn’t come down here from some goddamn spaceship.” She balled her hands into fists, squeezing the tension out. “I can’t do what you do. I’m tired of being scared.” She put the kettle on the burner but just stood there with her hand on it, as if it offered her support. “Sometimes at night I think about dying, calling Tito and saying, ‘Here I am. Come get me.’”

  I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the side of her head. “It takes time,” I whispered. “Someday we’ll look back on this and…well, we might not laugh, but we’ll find good memories.”

  She let loose a few tears. “Don’t you ever get scared?”

  “All the time, baby. All the time.”

  She stepped back, looking at me as if it were the first time. “Why don’t you ever tell me about it?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t do that stuff, Gina. I’m not trying to be macho or anything. I just grew up different.” I kissed her forehead, then turned her around and rubbed her neck. “But you can talk to me anytime you want. I’m a great listener.”

  She pulled my hands over her shoulders and held them, silent until the tea water boiled. “I feel better now. Thanks.”

  “Remember, Gina, every day will get better.” I walked to the window and peeked out again, then let go of the curtains and moved to the table. “Brought you some cannoli.”

  She set her tea on the table and grabbed one. “Thanks. I need it tonight.”

  I walked to the other window, pulled that curtain aside, checked the street again.

  “I’m sure I wasn’t followed.”

  “I know. I like to check, though. That’s how you stay alive.” I smiled at her. “Not doing a good job of making you feel safe, am I?”

  She laughed. “I’m all right.”

  I watched her for a moment in silence. She was doing a good job of regaining composure. “Maybe we should get that Catholic wedding you’ve been wanting.”

  She set the cannoli down. “Are you proposing again?”

  I got o
n my knees. “Guess I am.”

  A sexy smile popped onto her face. “I can think of other positions I’d rather have you in.”

  It only took me a millisecond to stand up and lead her to the bedroom. “Before or after?” I asked.

  “Hmm. I think both.”

  “No, I mean do you want me to propose before we make love or after?”

  “And I meant what I said. I want you to make love before you propose, and, after you propose.” She laughed. “And if you’re good, maybe later, too.”

  “You’re going to kill me.”

  I WOKE EARLY AND cooked her favorite breakfast—sausage and eggs, with a wheat bagel—made coffee, and put it all on a tray, along with a rose I picked from our neighbor’s garden. As I opened the bedroom door and said, “Room service,” I laughed. The look on her face was priceless.

  Her eyes lit up, and a smile as big as any I’d seen covered her face. She sat up, propping pillows behind her. “I can’t believe you did this.” I thought she was going to cry. “Nobody has ever done something like this for me.”

  I didn’t know what to do. Had not expected that reaction. “I got tired of giving foot massages to get sex so I thought I’d try this.”

  She reached her arms out to me, looking for a hug. I set the tray at the foot of the bed and hugged her. “Morning, babe. Hope it’s done right.”

  She kissed me, then picked up the rose and smelled it. “Nicky, I love you. Promise you’ll stay with me forever.”

  “You know I will. Now will you please eat. I’ve got another surprise.”

  She perked up even more. “What?”

  “I thought we’d go shopping for a new house today.”

  “We can’t afford a new house.”

  Gina was always the practical one. Good thing, too, because I tended to spend recklessly when it came to her. “I’ve got money saved. We can use that.”

  “You can’t buy a house with cash. Not these days.” She looked lost in thought. “But that does bring up a question. When are we going to Indianapolis to get my money? Remember, I have quite a lot in a safe deposit box there.”

  It was Tuesday, and the weather was nice, with a good forecast. “Why don’t we take off Friday and drive over? Make a weekend out of it.”

  “Long drive,” she said.

  “Yeah, but if we get an early start we can be there before noon, take care of business and have the rest of the weekend to ourselves.”

  She thought, smiling the whole time. “Why not? Let’s do it.”

  WE GOT UP AT five, ate breakfast, had coffee and got out of Cleveland before six-thirty. By eight o’clock, Gina was a nervous wreck, worrying about every sound, and every car that stayed with us for more than a few minutes. Finally I had enough of it.

  “Gina, why don’t you tell me about this whole thing with Tito. Isn’t it time?”

  She seemed afraid to even talk about it, but she nodded and then started talking. She told me how her father, Carlo, had worked with Tito when he was coming up, how they killed a guy one night, some accountant who wasn’t cooperating. Things got testy during the getaway, and Tito gave the gun to Carlo to get rid of it. Carlo didn’t; he kept it. Knowing Tito as he did, he wanted something to hold over him if things got bad.

  As Tito rose through the organization, he wanted to get rid of his liabilities. Carlo was one of them. Carlo got wind of the contract on him and went to the FBI for witness protection, but he never gave them the gun. Before they got him to testify, he disappeared. Things went fine for a while, but neither Gina nor her father liked their new lifestyle. When he died, she decided to do something about it, and blackmailed Tito. She still had the gun—and the name of the guy he killed—Danny Zenkowski.

  “Took balls to do that, Gina. Not saying it was smart, but it did take guts.”

  “I had no choice. Do you know what they pay teachers—especially in Catholic schools?” She shook her head. “A single person can’t live on that.”

  “We’ll get your money, and combined with mine, plus what the two of us make, we’ll be all right.” I drove in silence for a while, but then I couldn’t stand it. “Gina, you’ve been scared ever since I met you. Why don’t we put this to bed?”

  “Meaning what?”

  “You said you have the gun Tito gave Carlo?”

  “It’s in the safe deposit with the money.”

  “Let’s turn it in.”

  Her head shook so hard I thought her neck would break. “No way. No goddamn way.”

  “I know a detective in New York who can help.”

  “I told Tito if he gave me the money I’d forget him.”

  “The only way to stop Tito is to put him away. If he’s gone, nobody will be after you.”

  “What about you?”

  I thought for a minute. Didn’t want to lie to her, but… “They’d probably even forget me. The only one I offended was Tito, so I doubt anyone else is going to risk it.”

  For maybe half an hour we drove in silence, then she shook her head. “I can’t do it, Nicky. I won’t do it.”

  “No problem. I’ll take care of it.”

  She laughed, then when it hit her what I was saying, she hit me. “Bullshit. You’re not doing that. No way I’m letting you go after Tito.”

  “If he’s gone, we’re safe. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “I’ll leave if you do. I’ll flat out leave.” She rolled the window down, then up again. “Goddamnit, Nicky, I love you, but I’ll leave your ass if you try it.”

  I kept silent after that. We didn’t bring up the subject of Tito that night, or the next day, but there was tension between us. About halfway home on Sunday, she blurted out, “All right. You win. Call your friend, and I’ll turn in the gun.” She only waited a second, then added, “But I’m not testifying; in fact, I don’t even want to meet him.”

  I felt relieved for the first time in days. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to meet him or anyone else.”

  “God, I hope so. Could this really be over?”

  “You bet it could. Hell, it is over.”

  AFTER WE GOT HOME, Gina was in a great mood, and I planned on keeping it that way. I called Bugs three times in the first two days but never got an answer. “I’ll get him tomorrow night,” I said, “no matter how many times I have to call.”

  The next day, I went to work with a new sense of happiness. This was as good as life got. When I came home, Gina was sitting at the kitchen table with a letter in front of her. I saw the stern look before I recognized the torn corner of the envelope. An awful feeling grew inside me. Gina was holding the letter from Angie. As I approached, she waved it at me.

  “What’s this?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” There was venom in her voice. She could do that when she got angry. Especially when she was jealous.

  I tried to be understanding. “It’s an old letter, Gina.”

  “How old?”

  “When I was in prison, back when I was maybe nineteen.”

  She scoffed, turning her head. “It’s nothing, but you kept it all this time?”

  I stared, resolve growing firmer. “It’s a memory—that’s all.”

  She lowered her head and read part of the letter aloud. “‘Find me, please? No matter where I am, Nicky, Find me.’” Her voice was poison.

  I reached for it, but she drew back, gripping it with both hands as if she would tear it.

  I grabbed her. “You touch that and…”

  “And what? You’ll kill me? Is that what you were going to say?” She yanked her arm away.

  “No. It’s just—”

  “Just what?”

  I stared at her, but without hatred, and probably without enough love. “It’s a letter from a girl I knew a long time ago.” My head lowered again. “I’ve been a coward. Afraid to throw it away. So it sat in my briefcase, reminding me of my cowardice.” A tear came to my eyes. “It reminds me that Nicky the Rat ain’t shit.” With that, I went
to the bedroom and flopped on the bed.

  She didn’t come to me that night. When I got up in the morning, the letter was back where it belonged. I wanted to burn it. Shred it. What was I doing with my life? It had been so long since I felt anything.

  Then came Gina. I now had a life with a woman I loved…and I was going to let an old letter and a woman who didn’t give two shits about me ruin it? Come on, Nicky.

  I left without seeing Gina, but when I got home she was there, happy as a lark and acting as if nothing had happened. I went to her, took her beautiful face in my hands and kissed her softly. “I love you.”

  “Nicky, I—”

  I shook my head. “No. I love you, Mrs. Krasner.” I took out the letter and tore it up in front of her.

  She tried stopping me. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to. It’s long past time for it.”

  She kissed me again then laughed. “That’s a horrible name you picked out. Krasner, for God’s sake.”

  I kissed her again. “If it’s your name, I’ll take it.”

  She pushed me back. “I don’t know if I feel the same, Richie.”

  I hugged her and squeezed. I thought about the letter Pops had left. About how much he had loved Sister Thomas, but how he had grown to love my mother. That struck a chord. I think Gina was like that. I did love her. Really did. And nothing was going to break us apart.

  I headed toward the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Whatever you make,” she said. “And remember, you have to get hold of your friend Bugs tonight.”

  CHAPTER 54

  LATE-NIGHT CALL

  9 Months Ago

  Frankie trudged up the steps, worn out from another long day dealing with frustrating people and even worse cases. He opened the door to the apartment, lighting a cigarette before he hit the kitchen. He felt sorry for Paulie, was worried about Nicky, and disgusted with Tony. Maybe he felt sorry for himself too. Tired of living the life he did.

  A bottle of water accompanied him to the chair, where he sat in silence, pondering his situation. Pretty soon he fell asleep, not waking up until the phone rang. He looked at the clock—1:00 AM. Who the fuck is calling this late?