Ace Is Wild (12 page)

Daniel didn’t like the idea of Vivi and pillow talk, so he tabled that in favor of the other obvious connection: her job. The kind of people who’d put out a contract hit on him tended to be superstitious. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she . . . counseled one of them. It was definitely something to look at. First opportunity, he’d have Mike send somebody in to check her books, if she kept any.

In the meantime, he had to stop being a complete idiot. Vivi was right that he’d pigeonholed her. He was stuck in lawyer mode, treating her like a suspect. She might turn out to be one, but interrogation was only effective when there was leverage, and the best leverage in the world was proof. Which he didn’t have. Coincidence wasn’t proof, neither was suspicion. Or skepticism. So he didn’t believe she was getting messages from the Great Beyond, what did that matter? He had to think like an agent, and an agent would play along until he could pin down her source of information. Or until he could gain her trust.

Meanwhile, Anthony Sappresi.

Like Daniel had told Vivi, he was looking at his cases, open and closed, won and lost. Tony Sappresi was open and ongoing, and even though Daniel could think of a hundred reasons why the man would be a moron to have him killed, Tony’s intelligence might not rise to that level.

Daniel was prosecuting Sappresi for murder, with a side of attempted kidnapping. Alex Scott was supposed to have been the kidnap victim. Tony had been unsuccessful, thanks to the fact that Alex was nobody’s victim, and Tag Donovan was watching her back. The murder victim was Tom Zukey, FBI agent and Tag Donovan’s partner.

Alex’s ex-fiancé, Bennet Harper, had sold Tony a share in a treasure map, then pinned the failure on Alex when the payoff didn’t come through. Long story short, Tag had busted the case wide open, and Bennet Harper had rolled on Tony Sappresi for the murder to keep himself out of jail. Harper was currently in witness protection, with Tag and Alex waiting in the wings to testify, and Tony was going away for a long, long time.

And damn, Daniel thought as he turned his rental car into Sappresi’s neighborhood, wasn’t it good going in to know his case was a slam dunk?

Tony’s house sat on a quiet street in Savin Hill, one square mile of real estate that overlooked Dorchester Bay and traced its roots back to the months before Boston was settled. Currently it was crowded with one- and two-family homes, the more expensive of them boasting views of the water.

Real estate rarely went on the open market in Savin Hill, more often moving by word-of-mouth. Rumor had it Tony’s wife had taken a fancy to the Victorian house where they currently resided. Coincidentally, the owners had decided to move not long after. Tony’s neighbors probably weren’t pleased to have a capo living next door, but none of them were stupid enough to say it out loud.

And none of them were stupid enough to walk into Sappresi’s house uninvited.

“You got balls, Pierce,” Sappresi said when Daniel was shown into the man’s home office, “I’ll give you that.”

Daniel looked over his shoulder.

Sappresi waved off the henchmen, not missing Daniel’s inference. “I’m guessing you’re not here to insult me, especially since the law would frown on . . . what’s this called? Ex-parte communication?”

“The law frowns on murder, too.”

“Sounds like I should be calling my lawyer. He finds out you’re here, maybe he can figure a way to make my infraction go away.”

“Killing an FBI agent is a little more than an infraction.” Daniel sat, choosing a chair that not only put his back to the wall, but was firm enough for him to get out of in a split second, even with his bad leg. “But you’re free to call your lawyer,” he sent another glance at the guy still standing in Tony’s doorway, “if you’re that worried about talking to me all by yourself.”

Tony snorted. “My mouthpiece says your case is Swiss cheese.”

“He’s telling you what you want to hear. It’s part of the service.” And probably some sort of personal pep talk on the lawyer’s part, reassurance that he could win the case and not miss his next birthday.

“He could be right if you happen to get dead before I go to trial.”

“You’ve heard about the contract.”

“Just what I read in the funny papers.”

“Now’s the time you tell me you aren’t behind it.”

Sappresi shrugged. “Killing the U.S. attorney who’s prosecuting my case would be complete stupidity. If I was going to hedge my bets, I’d take out the witnesses.”

“Not if you can’t find them.”

“Donovan and the woman wouldn’t be that hard to track down.”

“And Bennet Harper?”

“Witness protection?” Sappresi laughed, almost silently, just his belly shaking and a puffing sound coming from his mouth. “You’re pretty naïve for a former fed and acting U.S. attorney. Maybe that’s why you keep losing your cases.”

“I don’t see how I can lose this one.”

“If you’re still alive to try it. Way I hear it, odds aren’t in your favor.”

“The evidence won’t change whether or not I’m there to present it.” But his murder would prejudice any potential jury on the East Coast, considering Sappresi would be the prime suspect. Then there was the speedy trial issue, and while another prosecutor was getting familiar with the case something unfortunate could happen to the witnesses. “I imagine your defense team has a pretty strong incentive to win.”

“Maybe you should be talking to my lawyers,” Sappresi suggested again.

“Maybe I should be talking to Andalucci.”

That did it. Tony wasn’t looking smug anymore. Bringing up the underboss in charge of the Boston capos was taking all the fun out of Tony’s day. “I haven’t talked to Niko since my arrest.”

“He’s not worried about what you might say?”

“You know how this works as well as I do.”

A capo ran his crew without instruction or interference, as long as he ponied up his cut of the profits and didn’t screw up. Tony had screwed up. Big-time. And he knew it.

“You’re a loose cannon, Tony. Andalucci’s going to be as happy to see you in jail as I am. Hell, I’m doing him a favor putting you away. It’ll save him from having to deal with you himself.”

“First,” Sappresi said, holding up his thumb, “if I was behind this I wouldn’t have botched the job. Second,” up went his forefinger, “I ain’t the only one who’d like to see you dead.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“You want information from me, you gotta have something to trade,” Sappresi sneered, “which you don’t. Ain’t nothing in this life free, and I only take debts from people I think’ll be around to repay them.”

TAG RANG UP DANIEL ABOUT FIVE MINUTES AFTER he’d cleared Sappresi’s place. “Call Mike and get the other agents back,” he said.

“You lost her.”

“Not exactly. I picked her up when she left the court-house, just like we discussed.”

“And?”

“And then I bought her lunch.”

Daniel slammed his palm into the steering wheel but his voice was even. “She made you.”

“Personally, I think she’s going to make any tail. There’s something spooky about her.”

“Christ, Donovan, not you, too,” Daniel said, thinking who’d have believed a conversation with Tony would be the high point of his day?

“We had a long talk.”

“And you bought her story?”

“She told me Tom said, ‘Hi’.” There was a bit of a hesitation, then, “And he’s sorry he didn’t listen to me.”

“Shit.”

“That was my reaction, too.”

“It wouldn’t have been that hard for her to find out your partner was killed in the line.” And a blind woman could have seen Tag was blaming himself for it.

“She didn’t know I was shadowing her,” Tag said. “Hell, I didn’t even know it until this morning. When did she have time to research me?”

Daniel mulled that information over, not liking where it was taking him.

“I don’t think she means you any harm,” Tag said.

“She knows more than she’s letting on.”

“Could be, but maybe she’s afraid of someone.”

That put Daniel completely off his stride. Vivi had always seemed so confident and so fearless, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might be afraid to tell him who was behind the contract.

“She said she was going home,” Tag said into the silence. “Says she’s been neglecting her clients lately, and she has appointments back-to-back all afternoon.”

Daniel felt a smile coming on. “You’re not one of them, are you?”

“No,” Tag said, sounding glum, “I know what’s in my future. My mother keeps renting reception halls, and one of these days Alex is going to shoot her.”

“You’re letting her carry concealed without a permit?”

“It’s a shotgun. She was carrying it when we met, and if she gets pissed off she doesn’t make any effort to conceal it.” And Tag disconnected.

Daniel laid on the horn and sped around a driver who’d swerved into his lane, resisting the urge to run the jackass off the road. He took a deep breath, wrestled his frustration under control, and speed-dialed Mike. “Put the agents back on her,” he said.

Mike responded by laughing uproariously, which didn’t do much for Daniel’s temper.

“And maybe you could find the time to send a guy into her place to check her books, see if there are any interesting names in there—when you’re done rehearsing for your new job as a sitcom audience member. Wouldn’t want to interfere with your retirement plan.”

“At least I’ll need one.”

“WHAT’S SHE DOING?” DANIEL ASKED ONE OF THE LATEST pairs of agents assigned to watch Vivi.

“Sitting in an ancient pickup truck, watching your place,” the guy reported via cell phone.

Daniel lived on a narrow street in an old neighborhood of custom homes. His house was a Cape Cod, two bedrooms down, along with the normal complement of living and cooking areas. It was professionally decorated, spotlessly clean, and completely soulless. The upstairs consisted of one big room he’d converted to an office himself. Mismatched furniture, cluttered surfaces, an ancient sofa, and a minifridge. Ninety percent of his time at home was spent there. Being a target fell within the other ten percent. No exits upstairs—unless he wanted to jump from one of the dormers.

The front of the house was graced by a large bay window. Daniel went to it, pulled back the curtain, and there was Vivi, sitting in a vehicle with a bulbous hood, and a steel grille and bumper that had seen some serious action in the last fifty years. She’d parked about a half block away, facing the house, slouched down in her seat, and looking like she’d settled in for the duration.

“She alone?” Daniel wanted to know.

“Yep. Nobody came to her shop and she didn’t go out— or at least she didn’t come back in.”

“Wait, she didn’t have any customers this afternoon?”

“No visitors, no friends, no pizza delivery.”

Which Daniel found strange, since she’d made a point of telling Tag she had readings all afternoon.

“Two calls on her landline,” the agent was saying. “Neither call lasted more than a minute and unless they were talking in code, the conversations had nothing to do with you. She didn’t leave the place until about an hour ago, when she walked to a lot not far from her house, got in the truck, and drove to your house.”

“Who is the truck registered to?”

“Her. Former owner Katerina Totchka.”

“The grandmother,” Daniel said absently, wondering what the hell Vivi was doing camped outside his house. And afraid he knew. “Thanks,” he said to the agent on the phone, “you guys can take off.”

“But—”

“I’ll keep an eye on her tonight.”

There was silence from the other end of the line, the kind that included some sort of wink-wink, nudge-nudge routine. Daniel might have felt a need to set the record straight if he wasn’t busy considering the possibility of imminent death. It had been a couple nights since the last attempt, and his gut was telling him to expect trouble. So was Vivi’s presence. She’d attended both of the previous murder attempts so her being there struck him as prophetic, which might have been troubling if it hadn’t suited his purposes.

With Vivi keeping secrets, his only other hope was to get a firsthand look at the gunmen. That meant being a target. Having a couple of feds parked down the street would be counterproductive to that goal, which was why he’d cut them loose.