5 Bad Moon (18 page)

She sipped her soda and nodded, but she was looking at her glass, not him.

“I’ll be right back. Five minutes.” Tozzi got up and carried his beer through the crowd. He had to talk to John.

This was getting ridiculous with Stacy. She thought he was jerking her around, and he couldn’t bring himself to explain his problem to her. Sure, she was a wet dream, but maybe she
was
too young for him. Scanning the faces of the aikido crowd at the table, he realized that he was one of the oldest guys here. He was also the only guy here who got shot at on a regular basis. It was a cliché but in this case it really was true: He
was
no good for her. That really struck home after he found her in that room at the nuthouse the other day with Sal Immordino and that loony-tune guard. Stacy was in danger just being around him, and that wasn’t right. She needed someone closer to her own age, someone who could make her feel safe. She needed a nice guy who’d stay with her, take her places, treat her right. A guy who wasn’t out of order. Basically she needed a guy like John.

Tozzi worked his way through the crowd toward John, forcing himself from looking back at Stacy. If he did, he might change his mind about this.

Tozzi extended his hand across the table as he came up to his friend. “Hey, John. Congratulations.”

John shook his hand. “Thank you.” It wasn’t the cold shoulder Tozzi had expected, but it wasn’t exactly a hearty handshake either.

“You looked pretty good out there.”

John shrugged. “Yeah, I got through it.”

Tozzi moved around the table and hunkered down next to him. “Stacy was very impressed.”

“Oh, really?” Now he was cold.

“Oh, yeah. She was. Really.”

“From down on the mat, it looked like she only had eyes for you, Toz.”

Tozzi knit his brows and shook his head. “Don’t believe everything you see. She was just fooling around. She was goofing on me.”

“C’mon, will ya, Tozzi? I’m not stupid. I know what I saw. Everybody saw you two up there.”

“I swear to God, John. It’s not that way. There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Who you trying to bullshit, Toz? She’s with you all the time. You told me yourself.”

“No, not really. I haven’t been seeing her all that much. I took her to testing tonight only because she asked to come. You know, ‘cause she’s interested in exercise and sports and that kind of thing.” Tozzi could tell from John’s face that he wasn’t buying any of this.

John nodded toward Stacy. “She doesn’t look very happy. What’d you have, a fight?”

Tozzi ignored the question. “Why don’t you come over and say hi? C’mon.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“C’mon, will ya? She wants to ask you about your test.”

John looked him in the eye. “You’re fulla shit, Tozzi, you know that? What’s she gonna ask me that you can’t tell her?”

“All right, you’re right. I am fulla shit. But will you come over and talk to her? What do I need, a blackboard with you? I’m trying to fix you up.”

“I don’t wanna be fixed up, okay? She wants you, not me.”

“She doesn’t
know
you, for chrissake. Come get to know her and maybe she’ll like you better.”

“Why would she like me better?”

Tozzi bit his knuckle and looked up at the ceiling. “Because you’re a black belt now and I’m only a brown belt. How’s that?”

“Forget it, Toz.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s leaving. Look.”

Tozzi looked up. John was right. Stacy was leaving. He stood up and sidled around the table. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

When he caught up with Stacy, she was pushing through the front door, going outside. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Stacy, where ya goin’?”

She pulled away from his touch, then spun around and turned on him. “You must think I’m a real bimbo.”

The floodlights over the front door put a golden aura around her head. Her face was mostly in shadow, but he could still see that she was angry from the attitude of her posture. “I don’t think you’re a bimbo, Stacy. I’ve never thought that.”

“Then why do you treat me like one?”

“When have I ever treated you like a bimbo?”

“Come off it, Tozzi. What were you doing just now with John? I didn’t have to hear what you were saying. It was in your face. You’re trying to fix him up with me. You were egging him on. What am I, a cow? You think you can trade me to your buddies, pass me around?”

Tozzi’s mouth hung open. “Stacy, I—I don’t know what to tell you. You’re misreading the whole situation here.”

“The only thing I’m misreading is you. I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you, and you aren’t telling me. Are you gay? Is that it?”

The question hit him like a cannonball in the chest. “No, I’m not gay.”

“Then why do you treat me like I have a disease? Whenever we get close, you push me away.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Well
…
It’s difficult to explain
…
I can’t—”

“Never mind. Go back to your friends. I’m going home.” She turned and headed for the parking lot.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Don’t run away on me. You want to talk? Let’s talk.”

She spun around and turned on him again, her hair flying in the floodlights. “No. I don’t think I do want to talk now. I mean, what’ve we got to say? You’ve made it pretty plain what you think of me. I’m a nice piece of ass that you don’t want, but I’m okay for your friend.”

Tozzi felt terrible. “Stacy, you are so wrong, I don’t know where to begin with you.”

“You and John weren’t talking about me? Go on, deny it.”

Tozzi spewed out a long breath that appeared like a storm cloud on the cold night air. “Okay, I’ll level with you, Stacy. I didn’t know how to say this to you before, but let’s face facts. It’s never gonna work out with us. You are half my age. You’ll still be a good-looking babe when I’m in the old-age home waiting for a nurse to change my Depends. You should be going out with guys closer to your age.” It tore him up inside to say this because he didn’t believe any of it.

“And you think John is the guy for me. Is that it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Stacy, look at me, for chrissake. I’m only old enough to be your father.”

“Oh, please. Does that really matter to you?”

“Well
…
” He swallowed hard. “Yes. It does matter. There’s a moral issue involved here. I am Catholic, you know.”

Or used to be. He was gonna burn in hell for that one.

“Fine. Then good-bye. I’m going.” She turned and stomped off to the parking lot.

“Stacy! Will you hold up?”

“No!” She kept walking.

Tozzi rubbed his arms. It was cold out there. “Stacy, wait in the car for me. I’m just gonna go in to get my jacket. I’ll be right out.”

She didn’t answer. All he could hear were her angry footsteps on the gravel.

“Stacy, please. Just wait one minute for me. I just have to get my jacket. I’ll be right out. I don’t wanna leave it like this.”

No answer.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.” He hobbled back to the front door and rushed in.

Sal stopped breathing when he heard the key going into the lock. The driver’s door opened. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. His grip tightened on the butt of the gun.

The Jeep shook a little as someone got in.

“Bastard!”

It was her, muttering to herself. She was mad about something.

He took little breaths, not daring to move, wondering whether Tozzi was coming, wondering whether she’d take off without the son of a bitch and with him stuck there in the back. His heart started pounding as he waited for the other door to open, waiting for Tozzi. He listened, not moving a muscle. All he could hear was her sniffling. She was crying. What’d that bastard do, smack her around? Yeah, Dudley Do-right, the FBI man. See what you get for hanging out with guys like that, honey? And they talk about wiseguys.

He heard footsteps on the gravel outside then. He stopped breathing again.

“Oh, shit,” she grumbled.

The footsteps stopped on the passenger side. Sal heard him trying the door handle, but it must’ve been locked.

“Go away,” she said, real POed.

Sal pressed his lips together. No, honey. Let him in.

He heard the door handle again. “Stacy?” The muffled voice came from outside.

Sal’s face was dripping. C’mon, kid. Let ’im in. Open the door before he spots me back here.

She mumbled something under her breath, and Sal felt the Jeep jiggle a little, then he heard her unlocking the door for him. It opened and Sal felt the weight of a bigger body getting in. Neither one of them said anything, but you could feel how pissed off she was.

Sal moved very slowly, very carefully, getting up on his elbow just far enough so that he could peer over the seatback. There were two silhouettes up front, their profiles obscured by the headrests. Sal grinned. Bingo.

“Why don’t you get out?” the girl said. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Stacy—”

Pfittt-pfittt!

Inside the closed Jeep, the first shots made Sal’s eardrums pop despite the silencer, and it startled him. Couldn’t stop now, though.

Pfittt!

The holes in the vinyl upholstery on the back of the passenger seat smoldered. Sal could see the body slumped to one side. Sal scrambled to his knees, extended his arm, and took aim at the head.

In the name of the Father
…

Pfittt!

And the Son
…

Pfittt!

And the Holy
…

Pfittt!

Ghost
…

Pfittt!

Amen.

Sal swung the barrel to the driver’s side and took aim at all that blond hair on the other side of the headrest. She was frozen, her hands cramped like claws on the steering wheel, looking at the dead guy in her car, not believing it had happened, frozen in the half second before the scream. She didn’t look back. She just stared at her lover boy. Sal suddenly thought about Charles and how much he still needed him.

Shit.

Sal rolled over on his back, kicked the hatch open, and jumped out. He hit the ground running. Charles’s Chevy raced up to the Jeep, and Sal got in.

“Go! Go! Drive!”

Charles gunned the accelerator and kicked up gravel. “You kill her?”

“Wha’?” Sal felt like he had cotton in his ears.

Charles raised his voice. “Did you kill her?”

Sal shook his head. “Didn’t have to. She didn’t see me. Got him, though. Got him good.” Sal’s heart was doing a slam dance against his rib cage. He was excited as hell.

As Charles pulled out of the lot onto the road, Sal thought he could just barely make out the girl’s screams. They must’ve been pretty loud for him to hear through closed windows all the way out here in the street.

Charles sped off down the road, gripping the wheel tight with both hands. His face was drenched.

“Slow down, Charles, slow down. Just do the limit. You don’t wanna look obvious.” Sal turned around in his seat and watched Larry’s Woodside Bar and Grill until it disappeared around a bend. When he turned back around, he frowned at the road ahead. “How about turning your headlights on, genius?”

Charles fumbled with the switch and turned on the windshield wipers before he finally found the lights. The mook was scared shitless. Sal half expected him to turn white.

Sal closed his eyes and shook his head.
I should have my fuckin’ head examined.

“You wanna juice, Sal? Here, take it.”

The attendant’s voice crackled through the speakers on the wall. Through the one-way mirror, Tozzi could see the man carrying a cardboard box full of paper juice packs, handing them out to the patients on the ward. Sal Immordino was sitting at his favorite table, the one with the checkerboard printed right on the tabletop. As usual, he was mumbling to his hands, oblivious to the attendant standing over him trying to give him his juice.

Bastard!

Leaning back in his chair, head against the wall, Tozzi stared at Immordino’s face, hearing the sound of that zipper over and over again. He felt washed out, empty inside, beyond anger. He couldn’t stop thinking about John, his head on the dashboard of Stacy’s Jeep, the blood puddle on the floor mat, and he couldn’t stop thinking that Sal was the son of a bitch behind it. The mob hits could’ve been Juicy Vacarini’s work, could’ve been anybody’s work actually, anybody who had a beef with the Mistretta family. But not killing John. That had nothing to do with anything. It was obvious to Tozzi that those shots were meant for him, and only Sal Immordino needed him dead that badly. The sound of that zipper kept ripping through Tozzi’s head, the zipper on the body bag they put John in. Immordino was definitely behind it, Tozzi was convinced. The only question was how they were gonna nail the big ugly bastard. Tozzi had already made up his mind that Sal was going down one way or another, and the law wasn’t gonna get in his way.

“Are you all right, Tozzi?”

Madeleine Cummings sat down next to him. He was still trying to get used to her in her undercover disguise. It wasn’t just the white nurse’s uniform. It was the henna-brown bouffant wig Gibbons had insisted she wear because her own hairstyle didn’t look right for a loony-bin nurse. It was too boring and sedate for someone in the real world, according to Gibbons. Then there were the glasses, the big pink plastic frames. Gibbons thought her own glasses looked too classy and expensive. These pink ones were as big as Sister Cil’s, but not as impenetrable. Cummings looked perfect now. The only thing wrong was her Ph.D. manner of speaking.

“You’ve been through quite an ordeal. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?”

“No, really. I’m okay.” Tozzi glanced at Gibbons sitting at the long table, hunched over the reel-to-reel with a pair of headphones on his head. He was checking out the equipment, making sure it worked right before they sent Cummings out on the ward.

“You’re thinking about your friend John, aren’t you?”

Tozzi rolled his head against the wall and looked at her. “How can I not think about him? That was supposed to be me.”

“Yes, obviously. But it wasn’t your fault that it happened. You’re not to blame.”

Tozzi pressed his lips together and shook his head. “John was just trying to be decent. I’d just had this big fight with Stacy, and John was kind of in the middle of it, even though I don’t think he even realized it. He felt bad that she was pissed off because I was trying to push him and Stacy together. All he wanted was to go out and apologize to her, let her know that he hadn’t asked me to fix them up. When John got into the car to talk to her, the son of a bitch must’ve figured it was me. Seven shots. Three in the head.” Tozzi looked up at the ceiling and blinked away the tears.

Cummings took off the glasses and held them in her lap. “How about Stacy? How’s she taking this?”

“She was sitting right next to him, for chrissake. How do you think she’s taking it?”

“I would imagine she’s shaky, nervous, anxious, frightened.”

“Try hysterical.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Cummings nodded and grunted like a hundred-dollar-an-hour shrink, which was almost funny with her in this nurse getup. “Have you done anything for her?”

Tozzi crossed his brows. “Whattaya mean, have I done anything for her?”

“Did you at least stay with her last night?”

He hesitated before he answered, wondering if this was a trick question. Was she digging for dirt so she could run back and tell Lorraine? “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “I did stay with her last night. At a hotel. With another agent. A woman agent.”

“Good. She’s going to need a lot of support now.”

Tozzi just looked at her. He could see the analytical Dr. Cummings through the wig and the pink glasses, and although she seemed genuinely concerned, he was still suspicious of her. In a lot of ways, she was worse than Lorraine. He felt that she was always judging him.

Gibbons sniffed and snorted, swiping his nose with a handkerchief, still fooling with the tape recorder. Cummings was looking at Tozzi as if she expected him to say something.

“I didn’t sleep with her, if that’s what you want to know. I’ve never slept with her, okay?”

Not that I haven’t wanted to.

Cummings’s face remained placid. “It makes no difference to me whether you have or you haven’t slept with her.”

“Yeah, right.” Tozzi looked back at the ward through the one-way mirror.

“It does bother your cousin Lorraine, yes, but I don’t see anything that wrong with your relationship with Stacy.”

He squinted at her.

“Actually I’ve been trying to convince Lorraine that she’s been prejudging you on this.”

“Really?” He was suspicious.

“Yes. Really.”

Gibbons honked into his handkerchief. He pulled off the headphones. “She’s all set. You ready to go check some heads, Doc?”

Cummings put her hands on her knees and stood up, but she didn’t acknowledge his question. He was getting a big charge out of seeing her dressed like a nurse. Gibbons had been dying to knock her down a few pegs.

Gibbons stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket. “Let’s just hope Sal has something to say today. Maybe when his sister shows up to get him. Judge Newburry wasn’t all that keen on issuing the warrant for this. Had to bring out the dog and pony show, explain to him that Sal was checking outta here today because he thinks you’re dead, Toz, and this could be our last chance to get anything out of him. I finally convinced Newburry to give me the warrant, but he wasn’t happy about it. He thought I was stretching probable cause a little too far.”

“Frankly I agree with him,” Cummings said.

Gibbons rolled his eyes up at her. “Don’t complain. You’re getting to go undercover. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Now you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren about it.”

She ignored him.

He didn’t give a shit. “You wanna go over it again? Just one more time? For me?”

“No. I know what I have to do. I go out on the ward and start checking the men for head lice.” She tried not to make a face. “When I get to Mr. Immordino’s table, I drop my comb, stoop down to pick it up, and place the electronic bug under the table.”

“Have you got the move down?”

She smirked at Gibbons, but demonstrated anyway to show him that she’d practiced, stooping down and steadying herself on the edge of the table, her thumb on top, her fingers on the bottom. She’d hold the bug between her index and middle fingers. It had an adhesive backing so it would stick wherever she put it.

“You got the bug?”

“Yes.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in my pocket.” Testy.

“Check.”

She jammed her hand in her skirt pocket. “It’s there.” She was determined not to lose her cool.

Gibbons nodded. “All right, but just remember to be natural when you’re out there. Don’t rush, but don’t drag your ass either. Remember, you’re a nurse. You’ve got work to do. You’re there to check heads and move on.”

Cummings inhaled sharply. She was dying to tell him off.

Gibbons pointed at her head. “Fix your wig. It’s crooked.”

Cummings bit her tongue and adjusted the wig. Tozzi could see that she was burning up inside. She turned and marched toward the door then, chin up, shoulders back. But before she went out, she paused and let her drop-dead gaze settle on Gibbons. She looked like she was about to say something, but then changed her mind and left, banging the door closed behind her.

Gibbons shook his head. “That woman wants to tell me to go fuck myself in the worst way, but she just can’t bring herself to do it. Never met such a tight-ass in my life. Ivers included.”

“Aren’t you being a little hard on her, Gib?”

“Nope.”

“C’mon. You started busting her balls the minute you laid eyes on her.”

“That’s a two-way street, Tozzi. She’s been busting mine, too. And she’s got help.”

“You mean Lorraine?”

Gibbons blew his nose again and nodded. “They’re a real pair, those two. It’s like a freakin’ girls’ school over at our place. It’s like they’re back at Barnard again. They stay up all night talking about all kinds of shit, stuff I don’t even
want
to understand. If I turn on the TV, they give me shit about what I watch. I pick up the newspaper, they wanna know why I don’t read the
Times.
When I won’t eat the health-food crap they make for dinner, I’m no good again. I’m telling you, Toz, I’m ready to move in with you.”

“You just like to complain.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to live with them.”

“What’s the big deal? They enjoy each other’s company. Anyway, it’s not forever. Cummings goes back to Quantico in four or five weeks.”

“I could be dead by then.”

“Of what?”

“Left-wing pseudo-intellectual bullshit.”

“Get outta here.”

“Yeah, sure, Stacy doesn’t drink oolong tea with alfalfa honey and yammer on about Leonard and Virginia Woolf at seven o’clock in the morning—whoever the fuck they are. I’ll bet Stacy doesn’t drive you nuts, rattling the windows with opera records on the hi-fi either.”

“She does eat tofu.”

Gibbons wiped his nose. “Hey, if Cummings looked like Stacy, Christ,
I’d
eat tofu.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

Gibbons scrunched his mouth to one side and thought about it. “You’re probably right. I wouldn’t.” He blew his nose again.

“You taking anything for that?”

“What, the hay fever? Never. The pills make you dopey. It’s all the trees they got down this end of Jersey. Soon as we get back on the turnpike and hit the New Brunswick exit, my sinuses will start drying right up. By the time we get up around Linden, Elizabeth, the oil refineries and the airport and all that, I’ll be perfect.”

“You’re just a Jersey kind of guy, huh, Gib?”

Gibbons shook out his handkerchief, looking for a dry space. “I always wondered why they called this the Garden State. Now I know. Hey, look, there she is.”

Through the one-way mirror, Tozzi could see Cummings at the far end of the ward, talking to the guard on duty. She was explaining what she was doing there, telling the guard about the bogus lice problem and which doctor had sent her to check the patients. The guards hadn’t been told about this. Guards get chummy with certain patients, the ones that aren’t completely out of it, the ones who do favors for them. According to Cummings, it happens at all mental institutions. They didn’t want it getting around the ward that the new nurse with the funny wig was actually planting bugs, not looking for them.

They watched as Cummings moved into the room. She looked around and hesitated before she went up to one of the nuts sitting on a bench, staring out into space. Tozzi wished she were a little more bossy and matter-of-fact about it, a little more like a real nurse, determined to get the job done any way she had to. Cummings stood over the pale, unshaven man and picked around through his scalp with the comb. It was obvious that she didn’t like touching his greasy hair.

“Jesus, look at her.” Gibbons croaked into his handkerchief. “She’s gonna fuck this up. I know it.”

“Give her a chance. She’ll get into it.”

They watched her move around the room, going from one patient to the next. She picked all the docile ones first, the ones who lived in their own worlds. They didn’t give her any trouble, and it seemed to bolster her confidence. She was starting to act more like a nurse.

Gibbons sneezed again. “Shit!” He stood up. “I gotta go find some toilet paper or something. I’ll be right back.” He went out the door, wiping his nose with the limp handkerchief.

On the ward Cummings was moving on to the more active patients, following one of the nervous pacers, walking behind him to get a look at his scalp. He was a grizzly-looking, gray-haired guy in his late fifties. Tozzi winced as she went through his thick, matted hair. It looked like it hadn’t seen shampoo in some time. The guy kept pulling away from her, but she stayed with him. Suddenly he swung an elbow at her. Tozzi sat forward, worried that she’d been hit, but she seemed unfazed by the blow. Apparently it didn’t have much power behind it. The guy was just lashing out in annoyance. Cummings stayed with him and finished her check, then moved on. Tozzi nodded at the glass. She was doing all right.

She started checking a guy with no teeth who was leaning against the windowsill near Sal’s table. Sal was in his usual position, hunched over, staring at his hands. She’d have to check him next.

“Okay,”
she said as she finished going through the toothless man’s hair.