Doppelgangster Part 7

We also had many customers who shared the mannerisms and unfortunate fashion sense of wiseguys (loud shirts, shiny shoes, gold jewelry, and an ill-advised fondness for colorful sweat suits), but who weren't criminals. Sometimes it was easy to tell them apart from the mobsters, but not always.

"So, besides Charlie, who else dines at Bella Stella who's a Gambello?" Napoli asked me. "You must have some ideas. Some guesses?"

I blinked. "You're a lead investigator at the Organized Crime Control Bureau. Don't a lead investigator at the Organized Crime Control Bureau. Don't you you know?" know?"

"I'd like to hear your take on it."

"Why?"

"You seem like an intelligent woman."

"You don't think that," I said irritably. "You think I'm a ditz! You're hoping I'm so eager to feel important that I'll show off by trying to lecture you about stuff you already know-or d.a.m.n well should should know, since it's your job to know! And in the course of rambling on about life at Stella's, maybe I'll let some important information slip. Except that I don't know, since it's your job to know! And in the course of rambling on about life at Stella's, maybe I'll let some important information slip. Except that I don't have have any important information, Napoli!" any important information, Napoli!"

"Then tell me the truth about Charlie's death!"

"I have have told you the truth!" told you the truth!"

"It doesn't work, Miss Diamond. Based on the only possible trajectory of the bullet that killed Charlie, you had had to have seen the killer." to have seen the killer."

I blinked. "What?"

"If you were near Charlie when he got shot, then you saw who killed him. There's no way you didn't."

"That's what this is all about? You don't believe me?"

He shook his head. "Your story doesn't hold up against the evidence, Esther."

"I'd prefer that you keep calling me 'Miss Diamond.' "

"So I'm wondering why you're lying."

"I'm telling the truth," I said wearily, beginning to suspect there was no way I'd ever convince him of this.

"Are you trying to protect the killer?"

"Do I look look like I'd protect a killer?" These questions were getting on my nerves. "Do I look like someone whose protection a Mafia hit man would like I'd protect a killer?" These questions were getting on my nerves. "Do I look like someone whose protection a Mafia hit man would want want?"

"So Charlie was killed by a Mafia hit man?" he pounced.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that's the case, Detective."

Napoli suddenly switched tactics, making an attempt to look concerned and sound sympathetic. "So maybe you're afraid of what the Gambellos will do if you tell the truth about what you saw. I can understand that."

"You don't do 'good cop' well," I said. "It just doesn't work for you."

He scowled. "Are you afraid of the killer, then?"

"Generally? Of course! Because the killer is, you know, a killer killer. But specifically? No. Because the killer must know I didn't see him. I mean, if he thought I did, wouldn't he have shot me, too?"

Napoli changed the line of attack again. "Maybe you're trying to avoid trouble with the Gambellos? Maybe you knew knew they wanted Charlie dead, and you're afraid to talk about it." they wanted Charlie dead, and you're afraid to talk about it."

I frowned. "Did the Gambellos want him dead? I thought he was a good earner." the Gambellos want him dead? I thought he was a good earner."

"So you do do hear them talk business!" hear them talk business!"

"No. Charlie told every waitress in the place that he was a good earner. He also told us he was good in bed."

"Or maybe you you wanted him dead," Napoli suggested. wanted him dead," Napoli suggested.

"No, he tipped me well." After a moment, I said, "That came out wrong."

Coplike, he changed the subject without warning. "Did Charlie ever talk about the Corvino family?"

"Not to me."

"To who, then?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I'd be pa.s.sing his table and I'd hear him say something like, 'Those f.u.c.king Corvinos. ' I don't remember anything more specific than that."

"Does anyone else at the restaurant ever mention the Corvinos?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Almost everyone."

"What do they say?"

"About five times a night, they say, 'Those f.u.c.king Corvinos.' " I had not observed much originality of expression among the wiseguys at Stella's.

"Did anyone mention the Corvinos after Charlie got shot?"

"Not that I remember. Mostly, I screamed a lot, then there was a stampede of departing wiseguys and screaming tourists, then Stella screamed a lot, then cops showed up . . . I don't remember much conversation, and certainly nothing about who might have killed Charlie."

"So you think they already knew knew who did it?" who did it?"

" 'They,' who? There was me, Stella, three freaked-out waiters, our accordion-playing bartender, and a couple of tourists from Colorado who didn't see a thing but thought they should wait for the police, even so. No one else stayed inside the restaurant with the corpse before the cops arrived."

"You know more than you're saying."

"You're wrong."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"That I don't like your shirt. Tan isn't your color."

"By lying to me about what you saw," Napoli said, "you put yourself in more danger, Esther, not less."

"What's the matter matter with you? This is the third gang-land murder at Bella Stella in five years! Why is it so hard for you to believe I'm just a law-abiding waitress who was unlucky enough to see the latest killing while working there?" with you? This is the third gang-land murder at Bella Stella in five years! Why is it so hard for you to believe I'm just a law-abiding waitress who was unlucky enough to see the latest killing while working there?"

"Because your story doesn't fit the evidence," Napoli said.

"That does it." I rose to my feet. "I'm going home."

"I advise against that, Miss Diamond." He rose, too. "You're a material witness in a mob hit. You're in danger now. I want to take you into protective-"

"No."

Everyone on Mulberry Street must know by now that I had insisted over and over to Lopez and Napoli-as well as to Lucky-that I hadn't seen a thing. And whoever the killer was, he must know, too, that I hadn't seen him. So I didn't believe I was in danger of being permanently silenced if I went about my normal life. But I did did believe my normal life would get screwed up beyond recognition if I went into protective custody. For one thing, the killer might wonder if he was wrong and I believe my normal life would get screwed up beyond recognition if I went into protective custody. For one thing, the killer might wonder if he was wrong and I had had seen something, and that was precisely what I seen something, and that was precisely what I didn' didn't want him to start thinking.

More to the point, how was I going to go to auditions while in protective custody? Or earn money to keep paying my rent? And how long would protective custody last? A week? A month? Six months? Until the city ran out of money for guarding me? The rest of my life?

None of those prospects sounded good to me.

"I have nothing to do with whatever business got Charlie killed, and I saw nothing," I said to Napoli. "So the last thing I want is to be treated as if I am am involved or run my life as if I involved or run my life as if I did did see something." see something."

"You're making a mistake," Napoli said.

"I'm a witness, not a suspect, and I'm tired. I've told you everything I know, it's late, so I'm leaving leaving."

"You're not a suspect yet, yet," he said ominously. "But your behavior isn't helping your situation. And don't think that your personal involvement with Detective Lopez will protect you from the law, either."

"I don't need protection from the law," I snapped.

I slung my purse over my shoulder and stomped out of the squad room, wishing a bad case of shingles on Napoli.

It took me hours to fall asleep that night.

In my mind's eye, I kept seeing Charlie's shocked expression as he keeled over dead. I also kept remembering his ranting about how he was marked for death and nothing could change that.

He knew knew he was going to be killed. he was going to be killed.

I hated imagining what that must be like. Charlie had been a loathsome specimen, but I recalled his terror in his final minutes of life, and I felt sorry for him.

I also recalled Napoli's parting comment to me, and I wondered what Lopez was thinking right now, if he was still awake (which seemed likely-I suspected the cops would be working the case most of the night).

Napoli would be hard on him, I had no doubt about that. But did Lopez also think I was lying, since there was a discrepancy between what the cops thought had happened and what I had actually seen?

Oy. He and I really did have a lot to talk about. And, despite how much I had looked forward to his return, I wasn't looking forward to the conversation we were going to have.

It was very late by the time I fell asleep. And it was very early when the shrill ring of the phone startled me awake. I flinched, choked, rolled over, reached toward my nightstand, and grabbed the phone.

"h.e.l.lo?" I croaked.

"Were you asleep?"

"Who is this?"

"It's me! Lucky!" His tone suggested this should be self-evident.

I glanced at my alarm clock. "Lucky? It's six thirty in the morning. On a Sunday Sunday."

"I know. We need to get there early."

"Where?" I asked, my eyes stinging from lack of sleep.

"St. Monica's."

"The church?"

"It's a safe place to talk," Lucky said. "But we gotta get there before people start piling in for the first Ma.s.s."

"I don't want to talk, I want to sleep."

"Time enough for sleep in the grave," he said.

"OhmiG.o.d!" His mentioning the grave made me remember what had happened last night. "Charlie." "Charlie."

"Yep, that's what we gotta talk about. Can you be there in thirty minutes?"

"What? Why? Why?" Then I remembered the cops' conviction that I was in danger. I sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake as a terrible fear flooded me. I was being lured to my death! "Lucky . . . do you have orders to b.u.mp me off?"

"What?"

"Are you-Is this-" I couldn't force out the words.

"Jesus," Lucky said. "Those cops really did a number on you, huh?" Lucky said. "Those cops really did a number on you, huh?"

"I-I-" I panted a little.

"Calm down, kid. Breathe. Breathe Breathe."

Feeling the first trickle of relief, I said, "You're not going to kill me?"

"Madre di Dio, of course not!"

"I didn't see anything," I a.s.sured him.

"No one saw anything," Lucky said. "It don't make no sense. I been instructed to find out what happened. Before the cops find out. That gives me some time, obviously, because they're idiots. But I still need to see you right away. You're the last person who talked to Charlie before he got whacked." saw anything," Lucky said. "It don't make no sense. I been instructed to find out what happened. Before the cops find out. That gives me some time, obviously, because they're idiots. But I still need to see you right away. You're the last person who talked to Charlie before he got whacked."

"I'm not sure about Napoli, he might be an idiot," I conceded. "But Lopez is very sharp. You don't want to underestimate him."

"Then I guess I got less time than I thought," Lucky said. "Be at the church in twenty, instead of thirty."