Doppelgangster Part 50

Max nodded. "Mercury Retrograde. Such things happen."

"So you can close your jaw," Lucky said. "I didn't break any legs."

"By the way," I said hesitantly. "I know I got a little snappish with you this past week, Lucky. I'm really sorry."

"Ah, forget it kid. Doppelgangsters, panicky wiseguys cursed with death, seeing Charlie whacked right in front of you, an evil sorcerer trying to screw up your audition, problems with your boy-with Lopez . . ." He shrugged. "Who wouldn't wouldn't get a little cranky?" After a moment, he added, "Speaking of Lopez, here he comes." get a little cranky?" After a moment, he added, "Speaking of Lopez, here he comes."

I caught my breath and followed Lucky's gaze. Lopez was emerging from a car that was parked down the street. He was wearing a pale gray suit with a dark coal gray shirt and tie, and his black hair was neatly combed. His blue eyes looked alert and serious as he approached the church.

"Max," I said suddenly, "what do you think happened in the church that night? When the lights came on?"

Max's head turned sharply, his expression surprised as he met my gaze. "Oh! I didn't know you realized . . ."

"Realized what?" I prodded.

"Realized that one possible explanation for the sudden illumination was the unconscious imposition of his will on matter and energy at a moment when he feared for your life."

"But Max, you don't really think . . . I mean . . ."

"Think what?" Lucky said, his intent gaze fixed on the approaching cop. "What does Max not really think?"

"I think," Max said, "that we should keep our minds open to the possibility that Detective Lopez has talents of which he is unaware."

"Madre di Dio!" Lucky said. Lucky said.

Which was more or less my reaction, too.

"No," I said. "I don't believe it. No way. And Lopez certainly certainly wouldn't believe it." wouldn't believe it."

Max said nothing as he watched Lopez approach.

"Max and me will be inside," Lucky said to me, "paying our respects to the departed."

Max said, "Perhaps if I spoke with Det-"

"Leave Nelli with Esther." Lucky took her leash from Max and handed it to me. "Just in case."

I frowned at Lucky. "Lopez is not not a dopp-" a dopp-"

"We'll be lightin' a candle to St. Monica while you talk to the cop."

Lopez's gaze followed them briefly as they retreated, then moved back to me. My heart was thudding as he walked up to me. He looked so handsome, and Lucky was right, he was was looking at me like he . . . looking at me like he . . .

But if he really did feel that way, he sure didn't look happy about it.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

Nelli sniffed his hand, then gave a little wag of her tail.

Lopez looked at my throat and frowned with concern. He reached out as if intending to touch me, but then stopped himself and lowered his hand. "How'd you get those bruises?"

I told a semi-truth. "Buonarotti."

His expression darkened. "Does it hurt much?"

"Not so much now. I can't sing, of course, but that'll come back in a few more days."

"So you're okay?"

I nodded. He didn't say anything else.

"So . . ." I shrugged. "You didn't attend the service."

"Well, I've suggested the deceased was an accessory to murder, and I've refused to swear that his death wasn't suicide. So I thought he might climb out of his coffin if I showed up." He added, "But it seemed like a good idea to keep an eye on who did come."

"Oh."

After an awkward silence, he said, "I see the Shy Don is quite taken with you."

"He was just being polite." I reached into my purse and pulled out Lopez's cell phone. I had brought it along, thinking he might come today. "Here."

"Hey!" He was obviously pleased to get it back. "Thanks! Where did you find it?"

"The priest stole it from you. At Vino Vincenzo."

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h. So he was a pickpocket?"

"Yes."

He looked at me. "How did you you get ahold of it?" get ahold of it?"

"Dumb luck, you might say."

He evidently decided not to ask any more about it. He put the phone in his pocket.

We gazed at each other.

I thought again about that moment in the church: I want LIGHTS! I want LIGHTS! And then . . . And then . . .

I said suddenly, "Have you ever . . ."

When I didn't continue, he prodded, "What?"

I wasn't sure what I wanted to ask. "Have you ever felt strange?"

"All the time, since I met you."

"Oh!" I blinked, and hoped that maybe . . . but then I saw how sad he looked, and I knew for sure where this was going.

"Esther . . ." He frowned and looked down.

I gathered from the subsequent silence that he had decided not to ask what I was doing at St. Monica's the night the priest had killed himself and Buonarotti had lost his marbles. Or why I had given my phone number to a Corvino capo, who dropped that piece of evidence when he was brutally murdered at Vino Vincenzo. Or whether I still believed I had seen Max decapitate Lopez's perfect double.

I could see him filtering through all the things he couldn't not not think about when he looked at me now, and my heart sank. He was standing within a foot of me, but he was way out of reach. think about when he looked at me now, and my heart sank. He was standing within a foot of me, but he was way out of reach.

Finally, he said, "It's not just your friendship with Max."

"I know."

"And it's not just the crazy things you said the other night."

"Uh-huh."

"Or even just the crazy things you keep doing doing."

"Oh?"

His expression was so unhappy, it made me want to put my arms around him.

In a low voice, he said, "I concealed evidence. I withheld information. I lied to my sergeant and to my captain. I let you and your friends leave a crime scene, and half my report about that night is fiction."

I nodded. I hadn't asked him to do any of that. It didn't matter. He'd done it to protect me. He was afraid he'd do it again.

"The priest is dead, Buonarotti's going to prison, no innocent people got hurt . . ." He let out his breath and shook his head. "But we got lucky, that's all. I can't . . ." He tried again. "You and I . . ."

"This went badly for us, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And you like me and wish things were different."

"Uh-huh."

"But things being what they are, you're not going to call me anymore or ask me out again."

He took a deep breath. "Yeah."

"And since you're the one breaking up with me," I said, "why do I I have to write all your dialogue?" have to write all your dialogue?"

That surprised him into a smile. "Sorry."

I folded my arms. "I wish . . ."

Well, mostly I wished he didn't think I was crazy and possibly felonious. He'd gotten past my bizarre involvement in the disappearances that had started with Golly Gee. It was too much, I could see, to ask him to get past this, too.

He cleared his throat. "Keep my phone number. If you need anything. I mean, if you need help or-"

"As in, psychiatric help?"

"As in, my my help." help."

"Oh."

"If you do, I want you to call me."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Seriously. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Yo, Esther!" Tommy Two Toes said as he pa.s.sed me. "Are you gonna be singing at Stella's tonight?"

I shook my head and pointed to my bruised throat.

"Jesus! Well, don't you worry! That's stronzo stronzo's gonna pay for what he done," Tommy said cheerfully. Then he noticed Lopez and flinched.

Lopez gave him a bland stare.

After Tommy was gone, I said, "I get the impression Buonarotti may not be safe in prison."

"Probably he should have picked a different profession," Lopez said.

Inside the church, Max was talking with a child who, it turned out, was Don Victor's youngest granddaughter. They were engaged, Max said, in a fascinating dialectical discussion of traditional Catholicism.

Lucky was kneeling before the statue of St. Monica, but I guess he wasn't deeply absorbed in praying. When he noticed me nearby, handing Nelli over to Max, he said to me, "Well?"

I came over to join him. "He broke up with me."

"The b.u.m!"

"Maybe he's right, Lucky. He doesn't even know it, but he was cursed with death because of me." My longing for Lopez was swamped by my horrified guilt over having nearly gotten him killed. "He probably would have been just another cop on the case if I hadn't drawn Gabriel's attention to him by talking about him and by my involvement with him."

"Yeah, but-"

"No, Lucky. Lopez could be right about this. Maybe I'm bad for him."

Without having realized I was on the verge of it, I started to cry. I turned my face away from the church pews where Max was deflecting the child's energetic a.s.sertion of an omnipotent benevolent deity. I didn't want him to see how upset I was, since he'd probably blame himself for this.

"Come on, kneel down," Lucky said. "St. Monica comforts the afflicted, even if they ain't Catholic."

I knelt next to Lucky and tried not to think about Lopez's sad blue eyes and dark face as he told me he wouldn't see me anymore. I wiped my tears and sought a distraction as I stared at the berobed statue poised above the flickering candles.