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The don pushes both hands out, toward her.
The pistol crack is sharp but not loud. She fires again. Three times in all. At each flash, he jolts and his chest bursts with a red bloom. His eyes stretch wide. But they stop moving. As he slumps and slides down on the chair, she drops the gun onto the linen tablecloth and turns away, shaking all over.
I’m watching Esther. Her face hasn’t moved. Quietly, I say, “You goaded her into that.”
“Mm.” She blinks once as she turns to me with an easy smile. “I hope I’m not giving away too big a secret, little mouse, but running a mafia family means you sometimes need to do things your average civilian would think are really not very nice.” She looks back at the don, sprawled on the floor in a spreading red pool.
“Now and again, though, they can be truly satisfying.”
I ask her, “Do you wish you’d shot him yourself?”
“Rather than watch him get it from his own handpicked slut?” she smiles. Then she turns to look Jago in the eye. “Oh, Mrs. Jago. I’m sorry, are you still here? I’d expected you to have high-tailed it, as they say. I mean, we will have to call the police, you know. There’s a corpse, and there are very strict rules about that sort of thing. It’s leaking on the rug, too.” Her nose wrinkles and she looks back up at Jago with a Cheshire cat grin. “If you want to make your escape, I’d suggest you get to it with haste, right about now.”
Jago plants her face in her hands as she runs. Her footsteps clump, heading for the stairs.
“Oh, Mrs. Jago,” Esther calls out after her. “If you take the time to pack, the police might ask us embarrassing questions about why we didn’t attempt to detain or delay you. It won’t look all that good, will it?”
I step over to look at the don.
His hand twitches. I ask Esther, “You don’t think he could survive that, do you?”
“I certainly hope not. But I’m not a medic, dear.”
I press my lips together and carefully use a linen napkin to pick up the little Beretta. “It would be a terrible shame to put him out of his misery. Since misery is what he deserves.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry,” Esther’s eyes sag as she looks into my face. “I didn’t realize. Really, I had no idea. You had an encounter with him yourself. Before tonight.” Her head tilts to one side. “You’re so beautiful, and he was such a filthy lech, it was bound to happen.” She looks down at him. “Technically, still is, I suppose. A filthy lech, I mean.”
She casts a quick glance his way.
“Darling, do you want me to do it?”
“Hell, no.”
“Well, I think I hear movement upstairs.” She moves to shut the door. “The boys must be coming down.”
I look in his eye. I don’t know whether he can see me or not.
“Say goodnight, Johnny.” The little Beretta cracks one more time. He can’t see me now.
I lay the little gun back on the table, and Esther touches my arm. “Obviously, we do have to call the police, so, let’s be clear. We didn’t see anything.” It’s standard for everybody in the Life. We don’t tell the cops a thing. Ever. “You and I came in here, and we found the room just as it is.”
She inclines her head toward the door. “And we should leave the room now. There’s no need for the boys to see this.” She leads the way.
Guiding me into the conservatory, she takes out her phone. “I’ll call 9-1-1, but after that, I’ll have a word with Commissioner Calhoun. We go back quite a long way.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
The glass conservatory is full of hothouse plants, like an indoor rainforest. The colors and light make it feel like another world from the house.
After the police and the EMTs have all finally left, this is where Esther ushers the Fortuna brothers back to. Alessio is the one Esther is concerned for. Me, too. He seemed to take the news philosophically, though.
When Bruno heard, he sputtered, “Jago?” but he stifled the laugh when he saw Alessio’s hollow eyes. Carlo barely reacted. He looks as if he’d just heard an unusually dull weather forecast.
His eyes flicked rapidly to Alessio, then to Bruno.
Since then, I saw him calculating. Anticipating.
They all were.
