Bloodline (49 page)

“Take this. It will help you get started. Take your wife out. Become a free man again. Sleep late. In a few days, when you are ready, come to see me. There will be time enough for work then. Now, go surprise your wife.”

Nilo nodded briskly and turned away.

He took a moment to find their apartment number on the mailbox and walked up the two flights of stairs. He unlocked the door of the unfamiliar apartment and went inside.

The place was quiet. For a moment, he thought of calling out Sofia’s name, of telling her that he was home, but he did not. Instead, he stood in the entrance to the living room and admired the vastness of it. He relished the unbarred windows, the clean smell, the quietness.

And then he realized the apartment was not quiet. There were sounds coming from the bedroom. Unmistakable sounds. Sofia was laughing; in a way he had never heard her laugh before.

Nilo stood quietly clenching his fist. He considered turning around and leaving.

Caesar was right. We believe what we want to believe.

He thought of that calmly and then everything inside his brain went red. Nilo went quietly into the kitchen and, using the dim light coming through the window, carefully selected a butcher knife, the biggest, sharpest one there.

He crossed back to the bedroom door, which was ajar, and eased it open. Sofia was in bed on her stomach and someone was over her, but it was not a man; it was a woman. Both women were wearing bras and panties. The woman’s hands were all over Sofia, all over her back and her buttocks, and Nilo stood watching them. They were oblivious to everything except each other.

He undid the fly of his pants and took himself in his hand as he watched. The two naked women—and now he recognized the other as Tina Falcone—were twisting and moving as though they were being jolted with electric shocks. Nilo stepped back, shook off his jacket, and dropped it on the floor. He stepped out of his shoes and stood transfixed, breathing quickly. They were beautiful. He wanted them both. He stepped out of his pants and started across the soft carpeted floor, toward the bed.

Then Tina, who was on top, made a half turn and saw him, saw the knife in his hand.

She looked at him with slowly mounting terror; he smiled back at her and her face calmed. She made no effort to move off Sofia, whom she was straddling. Nilo smelled the aroma of liquor in the room and saw two brandy glasses on the end table.

He had been too long without a woman. He could not help it. He moved forward and then Sofia saw him and screamed.

The world went blank for just an instant, and when he knew what he was doing he had Tina by the hair, pulling her from the bed, fighting off Sofia, cursing and shouting at both of them.

Nilo dragged Tina from the bedroom, shoved her out into the living room, and slammed the door behind her. Back in the bedroom, Sofia was huddled in the far corner of the bed, looking like a small frightened, very beautiful animal. Nilo grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. There was no fight in her, just a strange heaviness, almost a sort of passive lethargy.

Nilo carefully opened her legs. She made no effort to fight him off. Slowly he took off the rest of his clothing, then sat on the edge of the bed and began caressing her breasts and her belly. She shuddered under his touch but made no effort to escape. He climbed on top of her and began working on her as hard as he could, hoping not to satisfy but to punish, not to give pleasure but to inflict hurt.

She lay with her eyes closed and merely accepted him. When he was done, he laid his face next to her throat and said, “Your husband’s home.”

“I prayed every night that you would die in prison,” she said.

Nilo laughed aloud.

He went into the bathroom to wash. When he came back out, Sofia was in the kitchen making coffee.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked him.

“I want you,” Nilo said.

She followed him back into their bedroom, the same half-dead expression on her face.

*   *   *

T
OMMY CAME UP
the steps three at a time. Just a small whisper in the back of his mind told him to be careful, but there was no shelter, no place to hide, and the stairway was too well lighted for stealth.

All he could do was pray that Nilo was not waiting at the top with a gun, ready to blow his brains out.

He put his hand on his revolver in his jacket pocket, then listened at Sofia’s apartment door. It was quiet inside. He thought of knocking, then decided not to. He tried the door, and as the knob turned under his hand the door was flung open and Nilo was standing there, dressed in slacks and an expensive-looking white dress shirt. He seemed as surprised to see Tommy as Tommy was to see him.

“Tommy.”

“Is everything all right?”

“That’s not much of a welcome-home greeting,” Nilo said.

“Welcome home. Where’s Sofia?”

“She’s inside. Could I get you a drink or something?” Nilo asked. “I’m not sure what we’ve got. I’ve been away, you know.”

Tommy shook his head. “I just came to see if Sofia was all right.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Tina called me and sounded upset. She seemed to think you were about to hurt Sofia.”

Nilo did not answer immediately. Instead, he poured himself a drink from the small bar in the corner of the living room, then sat in a soft armchair.

“I suppose you’d like to see Sofia to be sure she’s not hurt?”

“Yes. I suppose I would.”

“You’re asking as a policeman?”

“Call me a friend of the family.”

“I used to call you brother,” Nilo said. When Tommy did not answer, Nilo walked to the bedroom door, opened it, and stuck his head inside.

“Tommy’s here. He’s worried that you might have been hurt. Come out here.”

Tommy could hear some sounds from inside the bedroom. It seemed to be an objection to Nilo’s request. It was all sort of awkward, and the longer he was in this place, the sillier he was beginning to feel.

He heard Nilo snap, “I don’t give a damn. I want you out here. Now.”

Tommy bridled at the words. It was not that he cared particularly for Sofia; it was just that he had always been taught that men did not talk that way to women. He started to say something, then checked himself. It was none of his business. None of this was, and he shouldn’t even have been here.

Sofia came reluctantly into the room. She was wearing a sheer nightgown with a silk wrap over it. Tommy thought the white gown was very like the one she had been wearing that day, so long ago. She looked as beautiful as ever, Tommy thought, then realized he was staring.

“Hello, Sofia,” he said.

“Hello, Tommy.” Her voice was cool, totally without inflection.

“Tina was worried about you. Asked me to come and check in on you.”

“I’m fine,” Sofia said. “Tell Tina not to worry. There’s nothing wrong. My husband’s just come home and I want to spend some time with him.”

Tommy looked around the room. “Where’s the baby?”

“He’s fine, too. With my mother,” Sofia said.

“Oh. Okay.” Tommy felt awkward and out of place and was not made more comfortable when Nilo started to laugh.

“Now you can go, Tommy,” Nilo said.

“I’m going.”

“All these years in the can, I thought you were bopping my wife,” Nilo said.

Tommy saw Sofia shaking her head.

“I come home today,” Nilo said, “and I find my wife and your sister in bed.”

“She was giving me a massage. My back is hurt,” Sofia said.

“Sure,” Nilo answered.

Tommy walked over to Nilo’s chair and loomed over him. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

“You’ve got no business here,” Nilo said casually. “I’ll invite you back if I decide that the four of us should have a party.”

Tommy looked down at him. “Don’t ever go near Tina.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you do, I’ll kill you,” Tommy said.

Nilo’s face was impassive. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I don’t think you have it in you.”

“I should have let them fry you. Before that liar got you turned loose.”

“You didn’t do it for me. You did it for that big stupid thing you call justice. Well, I’ve been three years in the big house and I’ve made my own plans for justice.”

“Touch my family and you’ll get more justice than you’re counting on,” Tommy said coldly.

“It’s funny,” Nilo said. “You saved me once and I saved you once. I guess that makes us even,” Nilo said. “No more debts to repay.”

“No. No more debts,” Tommy said, and felt a wave of revulsion sweep over him. He walked from the apartment, slamming the door behind him as he left. By the time he got back to his apartment, his teeth were chattering, even though it was a warm day. He poured himself a glass of red wine to try to chase the shivers and downed it in three quick gulps.

*   *   *

B
ACK IN
N
ILO’S APARTMENT,
Sofia said again, “Tina was only giving me a massage. She’s been doing that. My back hurts since having the baby.”

“We will not talk about it anymore. No matter what kind of perverted slut you are, you are my wife. You are the mother of my son. We will go on. You will do what I say, act as I tell you, perform when I order you.”

He poured himself another glass of wine. “You are garbage, but you are my garbage. Don’t ever forget it.”

*   *   *

T
OMMY THINKS ALL THE DEBTS ARE PAID,
but he’s wrong. A lot of people have to pay me back for those three years I lost. Tommy. His family. All the rest. And they’re going to start paying up soon.

That thought was on Nilo’s mind as he strolled into Mangini’s Restaurant. Nothing had changed. He had been away for three years, but the restaurant seemed to him to have been frozen in time.

The tables were in the same location they had been years before and still bore identical red-and-white-checked tablecloths. The lights were still small hanging chandeliers over the center of each table.

Sofia’s mother still stood anxious guard over the cash register; her father still greeted guests. Rosalia Mangini looked no older than she had when he had last been there, but then she had always looked like an ancient gnome. Matteo was still the same archetypically handsome Sicilian peasant, only now there were white blazes along the sides of his black hair. He seemed also to be stooped, not standing as erect as he once had been.

There was still raucous noise coming from the open door of the private back room, a room still guarded by two hard-faced men who sat at a table near its entrance. They studied Nilo as he entered; he did not even favor them with a glance.

Matteo hurried up to meet him, all waving arms and big smiles.

“Look, Mama, it’s our son-in-law,” he called out to Mrs. Mangini, who looked at Nilo with frank disinterest.

“I’m looking for Luciano. Is he here?” Nilo asked Matteo sharply.

Mangini was taken aback for a moment. He took a deep breath before answering.

“Just go back and tell him I’m here,” Nilo snapped. He walked off to a vacant table in an empty corner of the room, and before Matteo could even move, Luciano came out of the private back room. Trailed by two bodyguards, he approached Nilo’s table, smiled warmly, and shook Nilo’s hand.

“I heard that you were being released,” Luciano said. “When’d you get back?”

“Yesterday.”

Luciano sat down, across from Nilo.

“So?” he said. “How is your baby? Your wife? It’s odd, isn’t it, that we are now sort of relatives, since you married my cousin?”

“A man picks his friends; he is stuck with his relatives,” Nilo said, still smiling. “He also picks his bodyguards, and you ought to get better ones than those two.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because they saw me smiling and they instantly went to sleep. Their hands are out of their pockets, on the table. I could shoot you now and have time to shoot them too before they even got their hands on their guns. And the one with gloves is stupid. He was stupid when you used him as a spy, driving for Maranzano. I don’t think he’s gotten any smarter. You can afford better, Charlie.”

“You seem to have gotten very smart yourself in prison.”

“I learned some things. Someday I’ll tell you about them. Is the linguini here as good as I remember?”

Luciano shook his head. “After you’ve been in the can, nothing is as good as you remember. But it is still very good. Join me for dinner?”

“Thanks, but I haven’t got time,” Nilo said. Luciano, he thought, was growing impatient.
He should try prison. It teaches a man to take his time, to wait.

“So did you want to say something to me?”

Nilo nodded. “Back in prison, I thought I would have to kill you. For turning me in, for trying to shoot me down in the street. But I was young then.”

Luciano showed no expression. “And now?”

“I believe you did what you had to do. I find no fault with that.” Nilo stood up to leave. He leaned over to Luciano. “We are on different sides, Charlie. But it’s business. It doesn’t have to be personal.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. And in the meantime, if there’s anything I can do…”

“No hard feelings, Charlie. But I’m owed for three years. Maybe someday, you’ll do me a favor.”

“I do lots of favors.”

“The day may come when you want to do me this favor.”

“Yeah?”

“I want Tina Falcone,” Nilo said. “I thought you might be getting tired of her.”

“You thinking of opening a nightclub?” Luciano asked.

Nilo was surprised that Luciano had misunderstood him. But he answered, “Possibly.”

“It’s a tough buck. I’m thinking of quitting,” Luciano said. “If I do…”

Nilo shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything now. As I said, the day might come.” He turned toward the door. “And please, Charlie, do something about those bodyguards. They’ll get you killed if you’re not careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Luciano said.

*   *   *

A
FEW NIGHTS LATER,
toward the end of his shift, the thought of retirement popped into Tony’s head unbidden, as he sat moving papers around in his Italian Squad office.