"One of his bodyguards. Gian-Carlo Rosselli, also known as Charley Russell."
"Who has eight people ready to swear he was in Atlantic City taking the sun with his wife and kids?"
Washington nodded.
"Tony the Zee ripped off the pimp?" Wohl asked. "How?"
"Drugs, what else?" Washington replied.
"You don't sound as if you believe that," Wohl said.
"I think that's what Savarese wants the family to think," Washington said.
"Why, do you think?"
"I think Savarese had DeZego hit, and doesn't want the family to know about it."
"Why?"
"Why did he have him hit? Couple of possibilities. Maybe Tony went in business for himself driving the shrimp up from the Gulf Coast. That would be enough. Tony the Zee was ambitious but not too smart. He might have figured, who would ever know if he brought a kilo of cocaine for himself back up here in his suitcase."
"Interesting," Wohl said.
"He was also quite a swordsman," Washington went on, "who could have played hide-the-salami with somebody's wife. They take the honor of their women seriously; adultery is a mortal sin."
"Wouldn't Savarese have made an example of him, if that was the case?"
"Not necessarily," Washington said. "Maybe the lady was important to him. Her reputation. Her honor. He might have ordered him hit to remove temptation. It didn't have to be a wife. It could have been a daughter-I mean, unmarried daughter. If it came out that Tony haddishonored somebody's daughter, she would have a hell of a time finding a respectable husband. These people are very big, Peter, on respectability."
Wohl chuckled.
"You never heard of honor among thieves?" Washington asked innocently.
They both laughed.
"Why the hell are we laughing?" Wohl asked.
"Everyone laughs at quaint native customs," Washington said, and then added, "Or both of the above. Bottom line: For one or more reasons we'll probably never find out, Savarese decided Tony the Zee had to go; he didn't want his family to know that he had ordered the hit, for one or more reasons we'll probably never find out, either; imported those two guys in the photos Dolan took to do the hit; and then had Gian-Carlo Rosselli, aka Charley Russell, hit Lanier, conveniently leaving the shotgun the imported shooters had used on Tony at the crime scene; and finally, pointed us at the pimp. We would then naturally assume that Lanier had gotten popped for having popped Tony DeZego and tell Mickey O'Hara and the other police reporters, which would lend credence to Savarese's innocence. He almost got away with it. He would have, if it hadn't been for Dolan's snapshots and those two Highway cops hassling the pimp and coming up with another shotgun."
Wohl exhaled audibly.
"One flaw in your analysis," he said finally. Washington looked at him curiously. "You said, 'He almost got away with it,' " Wohl went on. "He did get away with it. What the hell have we got, Jason? We don't know who the professional hit men are, and we're not likely to find out. And if we did find them, we don't have anything on them. The only witness we have is a socialite junkie whose testimony would be useless even if we got her on the stand. And we can't hang the Lanier murder on Rosselli, or Russell, or whatever he calls himself. So the bastard did get away with it. Goddamn, that makes me mad!"
"You win some and you lose some," Washington said, "that being my profound philosophical observation for the day."
"On top of which we look like the Keystone Kops in the newspapers and, for the cherry on top of the cake, have managed to antagonize H. Richard Detweiler, Esquire. Christ only knows what that's going to cost us down the pike.Damn!"
"What I was going to suggest, Peter," Washington said softly, " presuming you agreed with what I thought, is that I have a talk with Mickey O'Hara."
"About what?"
"Mickey doesn't like those guineas any more than I do. He could do one of those 'highly placed police official speaking on condition of anonymity' pieces."
"Saying what?"
"Saying the truth. That Tony the Zee was hit for reasons known only to the mob, and that What's-his-name the pimp, Lanier, didn't do it. That would at least embarrass Savarese."
Wohl sat for a long moment with his lips pursed, tapping the balls of his fingers together.