Blindsight

“I’d love to have dinner,” Laurie said.

“Wonderful,” Jordan said. “How about Le Cirque? I know the maitre d’ there and he’ll give us a great table. Is eight o’clock okay?”

“Eight is fine,” Laurie said, although she began to have second thoughts as soon as Jordan suggested Le Cirque. For a first date she would have preferred a less formal environment.

“What the hell time is it?” Tony asked. “My battery must have died in my watch.” He shook his wrist, then tapped the crystal.

Angelo extended his arm and glanced at his Piaget. “It’s eleven eleven.”

“I don’t think Bruno’s coming out,” Tony said. “Why don’t we go in and see if he’s there?”

“Because we don’t want Mrs. Marchese to see us,” Angelo said. “If she sees us then we got to do her too, and that’s not right. The Lucia people might do that kind of stuff, but we don’t. Besides, look. Here comes the punk now.” Angelo pointed to the front entrance of the tiny two-story row house.

Bruno Marchese emerged into the night dressed in a black leather jacket, freshly pressed Guess jeans, and sunglasses. He paused for a moment on the front steps of the house to light a cigarette. Tossing the match into the shrubbery, he started toward the sidewalk.

“Get a load of those shades,” Angelo said. “Must think he’s Jack Nicholson. My guess is that he’s going socializing. He should have stayed home. The trouble with you young guys is that your brains are in your balls.”

“Let’s get him,” Tony urged.

“Hold on,” Angelo said. “Let him round the corner. We’ll nab him when he walks under the railroad tracks.”

Five minutes later they had Bruno cowering in the backseat, staring into Tony’s smiling face. The pickup had gone even more smoothly than it had with Frankie. The only casualty had been Bruno’s sunglasses, which ended up in the gutter.

“Surprised to see us?” Angelo asked after they had driven a short while. Angelo looked at Bruno in the rearview mirror.

“What’s this about?” Bruno demanded.

Tony laughed. “Oh, a tough guy. Tough and dumb. How about I give him a few whacks with my gun?”

“It’s about the Cerino incident,” Angelo said. “We want to hear about it from you.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Bruno said. “I never even heard of it.”

“That’s funny,” Angelo said. “We’ve had it from a friend of yours that you were involved.”

“Who?” Bruno asked.

“Frankie DePasquale,” Angelo said. He watched Bruno’s expression change. The kid was terrified, and for good reason.

“Frankie didn’t know crap,” Bruno said. “I don’t know anything about any Cerino incident.”

“If you don’t know anything about it, how come you’re hiding out at your mother’s house?” Angelo asked.

“I’m not hiding out,” Bruno said. “I got kicked out of my apartment so I’m just staying there a few days.”

Angelo shook his head. They drove to the American Fresh Fruit Company in silence. Once they were there, Angelo and Tony brought Bruno to the same spot they’d brought Frankie.

As soon as Bruno saw the hole in the floor, his tough-guy stance melted. “All right, you guys,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“That’s better,” Angelo said. “First sit down.”

Once Bruno had complied, Angelo leaned toward him and said, “Tell us about it.” He took out a cigarette and lit up, blowing smoke up toward the ceiling.

“I don’t know much,” Bruno said. “I only drove the car. I wasn’t inside. Besides, they made me do it.”

“Who made you do it?” Angelo asked. “And remember, if you give me any bull now, you’ll be in deep trouble.”

“Terry Manso,” Bruno said. “It was all his idea. I didn’t even know what was going on until after it was all over.”

“Who else beside you, Manso, and DePasquale were involved in all this?” Angelo said.

“Jimmy Lanso,” Bruno said.

“Who else?” Angelo demanded.

“That’s all,” Bruno insisted.

“What did Jimmy do?” Angelo asked.

“He went into the place early to locate the electrical panel,” Bruno said. “He made the lights go out.”

“Who ordered this hit?” Angelo asked.

“I told you,” Bruno said. “It was all Manso’s idea.”

Angelo took another long pull on his cigarette, then tilted his head back as he blew out the smoke. He tried to think if there was anything else that he needed to ask this punk. When he decided there wasn’t, he glanced at Tony and nodded.

“Bruno, I’d like to ask a favor,” Angelo said. “I’d like you to take a message back to Vinnie Dominick. Do you think you could do that for me?”

“No problem,” Bruno said. A bit of his earlier toughness returned to the timbre of his voice.

“The message is-” Angelo began. But he didn’t finish. The sound of Tony’s Bantam made Angelo flinch. When it wasn’t your own gun, it always sounded louder.

Since they hadn’t tied Bruno to the chair, his whole body sagged forward and crumpled to the floor. Angelo stood over him and shook his head. “I think Vinnie will get the message,” he said.

Tony looked at his gun with a mixture of admiration and pleasure, then took out a handkerchief and wiped the soot from the muzzle. “It gets easier every time I do it,” he said to Angelo.