All He Saw Was the Girl (25 page)

    He
looked at her but didn't say anything.

    "How
many people have you kidnapped?" She could see him start to smile.
"It doesn't seem like you know what you are doing." Angela paused.
'You have to make them think you have a partner — you are not alone."

    "I've
got another idea," McCabe said.

    "I
hope so."

    "You'll
be in a hotel room in Piazza San Pellegrino. I tell Joey to meet me in the
square, he looks up, sees you in the window."

    "You
know what happens then? He sends Mazara in the hotel and up to the room to get
me."

    "He's
supposed to come alone," McCabe said.

    Angela
said, "You think he's going to play by the rules?"

    Her
expression serious now. "If you really want this money I suggest you think
about it a little more."

    McCabe
said, "You kidnap someone, you don't expect them to give you advice on how
to collect the ransom."

    Angela
said, "You sound like you need some help."

    "Whose
idea was it to take me?" McCabe sipped his wine, eyes on her.

    "Mazara
was telling me about this rich American he met in Rebibbia and read about in
the newspaper. He was thinking of kidnapping him, making some easy money. He
told me what he was going to do. I listened, and said, 'That is never going to
work.' He said, 'You have a better idea?'"

    "Sounds
familiar," McCabe said.

    "I
planned everything. I arranged to rent the farmhouse and volunteered to try to
meet you, hoping you would notice me and you would be interested."

    "How'd
I do?" McCabe said.

    "I
also chose the transportation and the route the senator would take, sending him
to three churches. The last one was Santi Giovanni e Paolo because it was built
over a house of worship, and there are tunnels and underground passageways that
would give us a perfect way to escape with the money.

    "I
knew the carabinieri would be involved, brought in for counsel, and they would
use a tracking device or a transponder to follow the money and they did. We
agreed to split the ransom five ways. Mazara told his crew I deserved a full
share. 'For what?' Sisto said. 'Shaking her ass. That's what she does, what she
is good at.'"

    "Sounds
right to me," McCabe said.

    "Be
careful, you want my help or not?" The wind blew her hair and she
straightened it and tucked it behind her ears. "Mazara didn't tell his
crew that I was the one who had planned and organized everything, so, of
course, they thought he did it. I was thinking, based on all I had done, I
deserved at least half of the money, let them divide the rest."

    McCabe
said, "Why'd you do it?"

    "I
have bills to pay like everyone." She could see he didn't believe her.

    "Your
father is head of the Roman Mafia and you need money?"

    "He
found out I was seeing Mazara and cut me off."

    "They
give you your share? You can hand it over, save a step," McCabe said.

    "I
told you. I have received nothing," Angela said. "Not a single
euro." She picked up her glass and drank some wine. "Did you talk to
Joey, tell him the details? What you want him to do?"

    "Not
yet," McCabe said.

    Angela
said, "When do you think the exchange is going to take place?"

    "Tomorrow,"
McCabe said.

    "And
you have not talked to him?"

    "No."

    "How
do you know he will be ready?"

    "He
better be."

    "McCabe,
do you think this is just going to happen? They are just going to arrive in
Viterbo and hand you the money? Say, here you are. Good luck."

    McCabe
grinned now and said, "What're you getting so excited about? It's all
going to work out."

    "You
know your first idea might be okay," Angela said.

    "You
mean taking Joey into the council chamber?"

    Angela
said, "Palazzo dei Priori."

    "It's
a municipal building," McCabe said.

    "Exactly."

    "How're
you going to get in?"

    "I
know a way," Angela said. "You want me to tell you?"

    Ray
trained the binoculars on a girl in a peasant dress, getting out of a VW
microbus in a 7-Eleven parking lot. Her brown hair parted down the middle and held
in place by a headband, barefoot, the tops of her milky white breasts visible
as she leaned forward, stepping out of the front passenger seat, closing the
door and going in the store. It was like being in a time warp. Seeing her
reminded him of the time he was on a detail to protect Tipper Gore at a
Grateful Dead concert. A1 was a US senator at the time, Bill Clinton's
vice-presidential candidate on the Democratic ticket. The girl looked like the
Deadheads he'd seen that afternoon and night in their pastel tie-dyes, braids,
beads and flowers, hippies throwing Frisbees and playing hacky-sack in the RFK
Stadium parking lot.

    Ray
had just completed his first year as an agent. He was on temporary assignment
in the Washington office. Protective Services was short-handed, so that's how
he happened to be sitting on a riser, stage left next to Tipper Gore on June
14th' 1991.

    He
remembered the caravan of spotless black Chevy Suburbans following two Virginia
State Troopers, driving into the parking lot past the VW bugs and microbuses,
Deadheads looking like some bizarre tribe, staring at Ray and his fellow agents
like they were aliens.

    He'd
called Sharon after the concert and told her about it.

    "There
were guys wearing these weird headdresses just standing in front of the stage,
smiling, and guys dressed as skeletons and some as Uncle Sam."

    "They
were high," Sharon said.

    Ray
said, "They were more than that. I saw a guy drink water out of a
bong."

    "God's
herb," Sharon said.

    "God's
herb, huh?"

    Sharon
said, "You and Tipper expand your consciousness? Drop any blue
Osley?"

    Ray
said, "What's that?"

    "Acid."

    "Sure,"
Ray said, "we do it all the time in the Service."

    "Did
you feel a connection with the band?"

    Ray
said, "I wouldn't go that far."

    "Did
you feel like part of the family?" Sharon said.

    "No,
I felt like I was protecting the wife of a vice-presidential candidate."

    "Why'd
Tipper want to see the Dead?"

    "She
said she likes their music."

    Sharon
said, "How'd she like it after a twenty-minute Jerry solo?"

    "Not
too much I guess," Ray said. "We didn't stay very long."

    "They
do 'Big River'?"

    "I
don't know," Ray said.

    Sharon
said, "How about 'Dark Star'?"

    "You're
enjoying this," Ray said, "aren't you?"

    They'd
gotten along in those days, liked each other and had a good time. Sharon sold
space in
Rolling Stone
and got a big kick out of Ray, the straightest
guy she knew, going to a

    Grateful
Dead concert with Tipper Gore. He saw Teegarden glance over at him.
"What're you looking at?"

    "Nothing,"
Ray said. He lowered the binoculars and glanced at Teeg. They were in his Jeep
parked behind Desmond Funeral Home on Crooks Road in Troy. The 7-Eleven was
next door. They were watching people leave after Joe P.'s visitation.

    "Think
it's a coincidence?" Teegarden said. "I give you the man's address,
the next day he's dead."

    "Yeah,"
Ray said, "I can see why you might be a little suspicious, but the
Free
Press
said he died of natural causes." "Massive heart
attack," Teeg said. "I'd say it was a stroke of luck," Ray said.
"Is that supposed to be funny?"

    Ray
grinned. "You think I'd be that callous and insensitive?" Teegarden
shook his head.

    "I'm
looking for Joey," Ray said. "This seems like the perfect opportunity
to find him."

    Teegarden
aimed his binoculars at the rear entrance of the funeral home. "You see
them? They're all here," he said. "There's Vito Uno himself."

    "Guy
in the black suit, I'll bet," Ray said deadpan, looking at a dozen guys in
black suits.

    Teegarden
looked over at him. "You're in a good mood, I see."

    Ray
flashed a grin.

    "Vito's
the tall silver-haired guy. Walking with his brother Santo 'Big Sam' Corrado,
his consigliere."

    "Who's
that in the tan outfit?" Ray said, pointing to Anthony from the used car
lot.

    "Antonio
'Tony the Barber' Barbara."

    Ray
said, "He cut hair?"

    Teegarden
looked at him with a hint of a smile. "He's an enforcer works for Joey, or
did. His weapon of choice is a straight razor."

    "That's
Mrs P., I'll bet." Ray trained his binoculars on a silver- haired woman
with a black scarf over her head. He remembered her from a framed photo on the
desk in Joe P.'s office.

    "Angela
Palermo," Teeg said. "How'd you know it was her?"

    "She
looks like a grieving widow."

    "What
are you, an expert on grieving widows?" Teegarden lowered his binoculars.
"I see the whole Detroit Mafia but I don't see Joey. Which is odd. His dad
passes, he should be here don't you think?"

    Ray
said, "Where's Joe P. from?"

    "Sicily.
Town called Ribera."

    "Maybe
that's where Joey is," Ray said. "You see
The Godfather
?
Michael Corleone shoots the New York cop, hides out in the village where his
father was born."

    "Seems
kind of obvious, don't you think?"

    "Yeah,
probably." But Ray was thinking you never knew. "Maybe he's somewhere
they can't get in touch with him."

    "Where's
that? I could call you from the summit of Mount Everest."

    Ray
agreed, expected Joey to be there. He didn't show up at the funeral either, a
high mass at St Hugo's Church celebrated by Monsignor Tocco, the good monsignor
praising Joseph Palermo for his strong Catholic faith and his many
contributions to the parish and the community.

    Ray
stood in back, every seat taken, and watched Mrs P. and the other family
members in the first pew, but no sign of Joey. He wasn't at the gravesite, Holy
Sepulchre on Ten Mile in South- field, black Caddy limos lined up on the road
near the grave. Again, well attended by the top brass of the Detroit Mafia.

    "Who's
the old guy in the gray suit next to Mrs P.? Right there. He's got his arm
around her." Whoever he was, he obviously knew her well to be holding her
like that.

    "I
don't know," Teegarden said. "Never seen him before but I'll find
out." He picked up his camera with the long lens, like the kind sports
photographers used, and aimed it at the guy and Ray heard the speed-winder
clicking.

    "He's
probably a visiting dignitary. Could be from a Chicago or New York family,
paying homage to Vito Uno or Joe P. himself."

    "How
about the skinny dark-skinned guy?" Ray said.

    "No
idea," Teeg said. "Not a clue."

    "Get
him, too, will you?"

    Teegarden
aimed the big camera again and clicked a couple of shots, and looked over.
"Seen enough?"

    Ray
nodded. He started the Jeep and made a U-turn and drove through the cemetery.
On the way downtown he told Teeg Sharon had disappeared.