“It was especially smart because Scarfone must have known everyone would blame Provenzano, since that was the big rivalry at the time. But it backfired, because none of the old guard under Big Leo wanted to take orders from pissant Sam and his hot-headed buddies.”
That part wasn’t new to me—Joey had told me about Sam and his friends leaving the Scarfone faction to start the River Gang. He’d known some of them from school and thought they were decent guys just doing what they could to make a buck.
I swallowed hard. “But…it was family.”
Enzo shrugged. “Sometimes blood is cheaper than whisky.”
#
Out of the apartment. Down the hall. Into the elevator. Through the lobby. Under the awning. One thought held my mind hostage the entire time.
I know who killed Joey’s father.
And I couldn’t tell him.
Could I?
No. Stay out of this.
As the attendant pulled up in the Packard, Enzo put his hand on my arm. “I need to see someone at the desk a moment. Just wait in the car, OK?”
Another attendant opened the passenger door for me and I got in, my earlier distaste at riding in the wedding gift eclipsed by my anxiety over the information I now had. I knew exactly why Enzo had told me—he wasn’t sure he could trust me and this was the test. Enzo wanted to see if I would run to Joey with the knowledge of who killed his father, which would mean I was loyal to Joey over him. Not that I had any guarantee Enzo had given me the truth—when had he ever done that? Giving me false information was just as effective a test as giving me the real names.
I thought of Joey, agonizing over the decision to give in to Enzo’s demands in exchange for the information he’d wanted for years. If he did, he’d betray Angelo, who might then be tempted to put Sam wise to the scheme. Sam, whose nickname was the Barber because of his skill with a razor, who’d ordered the murder of his own uncle in order to gain a bigger share of the black market spoils.
What would he do to Joey if he found out about the opium?
“God, Joey,” I whispered as my eyes filled. “What a fucking mess. Why didn’t you just stay in Chicago to begin with?”
My nose began to run a little, and I sniffed, wiping at it with my hand. I needed a handkerchief, but I’d forgotten to put one in my purse. Maybe Enzo had one in here somewhere. I checked the glove compartments in the doors. Nothing. Twisting in my seat, I glanced into the back and thought I saw a bit of white peeking out from under the seat. Enzo was always tossing his coats in the back, so maybe one had slipped out. I opened the door, waving off the attendant who came immediately to assist me. Pulling the rear door open, I leaned into the back and slipped my hand under the seat. My fingers closed around a piece of cloth, and I pulled it up. It wasn’t a handkerchief.
It was a pair of women’s silk underwear.
I dropped them as if they had scorched me and backed out of the car.
Heart racing, I slammed the rear door and jumped back into the front, tucking my hands between my knees. What the hell was going on? Some girl had been in the back seat of this Packard and left without her knickers? That meant at some point, she’d removed them—or they’d been removed, I thought, scowling—and there was only one reason a girl doffed her underwear in the back seat of an automobile.
Bastard.
Seething, I crossed my arms over my chest. I had no idea what to say to him—part of me wanted to claw his eyes out and tell him he could go fuck himself in his nice apartment because he’d certainly never fuck me there. I recalled the one physical flaw on Enzo’s body, a crescent-shaped scar at the top of one sharp cheekbone near his left eye.
Maybe I’d give him a matching one on the right.
Thank God I didn’t sleep with him tonight.
The moment he got in the car and turned to me, I slapped him again. “You bastard!” I shouted. “Want to tell me what a pair of women’s underwear is doing in the back seat?”
“What?” Enzo grabbed my wrists so I couldn’t smack him again, but he struggled to look into the back seat. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the lacey little knickers on the floor back there.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“You’re not denying anything either.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve never gone parking with Gina in this car, like we did the other night?” My blood boiled as I imagined Enzo in here with me one night and her the next.