Lethal Lullaby-Chapter 9

Lullaby In Blue

In the corridor of the hospital where the bay of telephones was situated, Perry stood, his eyes scanning the surrounding area as his left hand gripped the receiver with a force that turned his knuckles white. Around him normal hospital noises were hushed, as though everyone on the wing could sense the tension radiating off of him. He forced himself to concentrate as the voice on the other end of the line described each guard assigned to Tony's protection detail in rapid, Italian-laced English. When Salvatore described the last man, Perry knew his instincts had been right.

Salvatore's fear came through the wire. "Perry, tell me—what is it that has happened? Why do you need this information?"

Years of courtroom surprises had trained him to school his voice to a level tone. Upsetting Salvatore would only complicate matters. So, Perry forced himself to relax. Only the knuckles gave him away.

Softening his voice, he assured, "It's nothing I can't handle, Salvatore. I just want to let them in on the plan. I'll see you soon."

He hung up quickly before Salvatore could ask any more questions. His left hand lingered on the phone and his head was bowed as he allowed himself a moment. There were things he needed to do now that he knew who to trust. With a long sigh, he pushed away from the telephone and headed back to Tony's room.

Thank God I had the foresight to give Paul instructions to shoot on sight! If something had happened while I was talking with Salvatore . . .

He reached Tony's room and drew up short. Four men were huddled together, seemingly in a heated discussion. The largest of the men, the one Salvatore had described as a fortress unto himself, was Luca. His face, which was as broad and muscular as the rest of his physique, was turning the shade of eggplant. There was only one emotion to read: fury. While Perry watched, he gesticulated toward the door, and unleashed a string of Italian words that would shame a sailor and make a Marine blush.

Just as Perry was ready to call out, he heard the man finish with, "That gumba said he'd shoot anyone who opened the door. Jerk is crazy, I'm tellin' ya."

Perry's mouth curved up at the corners as he walked over to the group. "Those were your boss's instructions, Luca. You can call him if you want. I'm sure he'll verify it." He looked at each man directly, holding their gazes before looking at Luca again.

The big man backed down. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mason."

"Quite alright. Would you come with me for a minute? I'd like a word in private."

There was a mixture of confusion and trepidation in his dark eyes, but he nodded. "Sure thing, Mr. Mason."

The two men walked a short way down the hall, but not out of sight. Perry took out a gold cigarette case, a wedding gift from Della, and offered Luca one of its contents before selecting one for himself.

Looking back at the other three guards, Perry took a long drag on the cigarette, blowing a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. The time for stalling had come to an end.

"Luca, how well do you know those men? Do you trust them?"

The big man stared at Perry for a moment before answering. "Linc and Al have been with the boss as long as I have. But," he paused, smoking thoughtfully, "There is one that I've only done one other job with. Him, I don't know to speak to. The blond one."

They both looked back at the group and found that they were also the subject of scrutiny. The man in question was watching them closely. He was shorter than the other two men, but not so short as to draw attention to himself in a crowd. Blond, with a natural wave to the hair, and a firm jawline. It was impossible to tell his eye color.

"Pete," Luca identified, then continued, "He started working for the boss about a month ago. You know, Mr. Mason, I thought it kinda strange the boss would send a new man for this job, seein' as it's Tony."

Perry's look of concern was obvious, but his voice was even. "That's because he's not supposed to be here. Salvatore told me the fourth man is supposed to be Angelo." When Luca would have moved toward the men, Perry quickly grabbed his beefy arm. "Luca, we need to be smart about this. I think he's been sent to eliminate Tony."

"What!" It was an explosion. "Why?"

The lawyer's sigh was long. "Because he knows who killed the former Attorney General." He met Luca's steel gaze and held it. "Pete has obviously been waiting for the right time to strike. That's why I told Paul to shoot anyone who isn't the doctor or me."

Luca looked at the lawyer with a newfound respect. The man was quite definitely on their side.

"So, what do we do now? I could take him down easily."

Perry paused in thought. We need to handle this with tact and aplomb. I don't want an alarm raised, and I don't want anyone to come to harm.

"Luca, I need to make a call. I'm going into Tony's room. I need you to go back to your guard post and act as if nothing's wrong."

Luca smiled. "Okay, Mr. Mason. If the boss trusts you, so do I."

Perry returned the smile. "Thank you, Luca."

The two men walked back together, Luca joining his men, Perry cautiously entering Tony's room.

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Salvatore once again sat in his private santuario. Something about Perry's call had rattled him. Why would he need a description of the men? He must suspect one of them.

Picking up the phone, Salvatore called the guards' quarters.

"Hello?" It was a clipped, lightly accented voice Salvatore knew all too well.

He gasped, "Angelo!? Why aren't you at the hospital with Tony!?"

There was a sharp intake of breath. "But boss, Pete told me you wanted him to go with Luca and the boys. He said you wanted me to stay here and organize protection for the house." When Salvatore didn't answer, Angelo knew something was wrong. "Boss? What is it?"

Salvatore gripped the phone. He looked heavenward, as though he expected the answer to the question to come directly by means of an angel. Then he cleared his throat. "It's okay, amico. Not to worry."

"Okay, boss," Angelo started, but Salvatore had already hung up.

Now he called the number at the hospital in Tony's room, slamming the receiver down when all he got was a busy signal.

He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes, sending up a silent prayer that Perry had figured out what was going on.

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Paul was still guarding the door as Perry made his call. Tony listened as Perry talked to the police lieutenant, outlining his plan. Even from the hospital bed, the man could tell Tragg was not happy about what Perry proposed. Proposed? Demanded was the more accurate word. He clearly heard Tragg grumble about the lawyer using the police department to do his personal bidding. And, in the end, the lieutenant agreed to be at the hospital in ten minutes.

There was a knock on the door. Paul, gun drawn quickly, shot a quick look at Perry. Tony shifted on the bed, then groaned as his ribs protested again. Perry was tense, coiled, ready to spring.

"Mr. Mason, it's Luca. May I speak to you?"

Perry visibly relaxed. Paul, keeping his gun trained on the door, opened it slowly. Perry checked and, seeing that it was indeed Luca and that he was alone, nodded at Paul to lower his weapon.

Luca stepped in, closing the door quickly, and leaning against it.

"Mr. Mason, I'm having some problems with the men. They don't understand why the boss's orders are being ignored. And that Pete is being especially arrogant."

Perry's eyes darkened, but he forced a smile. "That phone call I told you about? I made it. But I need you to know the police will be here shortly to arrest all of you."

Luca's eyes widened. "What the hell!"

Perry lifted his hand. "Let me finish. The charge will be 'disturbing the peace,' and the complaint will have been filed by several of the nurses."

"But why—"

"I promise you won't spend more than a couple hours at headquarters. I need just enough time to get Tony safely out of the hospital, then I'll get you released. Please trust me, Luca."

The man hesitated for a moment before he asked a question. "Are you really on retainer with the boss?"

There was a long moment of silence as Paul watched Perry closely. How he answered that question mattered more to him than to Luca or Tony.

"I am not a family lawyer, Luca. But I am representing Salvatore Pinelli's interests while he is in Los Angeles."

The answer seemed to satisfy Luca. He shrugged his worry away. "Alright, Mr. Mason. It won't be the first time I've gone to jail on a trumped-up charge."

Perry grasped the man's hand, shaking it firmly. "Thank you for your trust."

Slipping out of the hospital room, Luca spotted the first of the police presence step off the elevator. Perry heard rather than saw them arrive. The gruff, low voice of Tragg, coupled with the heavy footfalls of Sgt. Brice, were unmistakable. Moments later the order to cuff the "offenders" was given, and several police officers slapped the cuffs on them. With a glance back at Perry, Luca stepped forward to comply with the officers.

Lieutenant Tragg, after a very demanding day of being named a godfather, followed by the news of the high-profile murder and the arrest and then release of both Salvatore and Tony, looked like he was at his rope's end. His battered brown fedora was shoved back on his head, and his shoulders were stooped, as though the weight of the world had bowed them. He caught Perry's eye, and his mouth compressed into a grim line. Then without a word to him, Tragg entered Tony's room. Paul was standing there, gun leveled at the door, looking more serious than he had ever seen him.

"I'd put that away if I were you, Drake."

Paul's jaw rippled. "Look, Tragg, I'm not leaving Tony vulnerable."

The sour look on Tragg's face convinced him better than an argument could. Lowering the gun, he slipped the gun back in its holster.

Now Tragg turned his attention to Perry. "Now, Mason. Would you care to explain what's going on?"

Perry ran a finger around his collar. His mouth curved up and he flashed a quick smile at both godfathers. Then he shoved a chair towards the Tragg and encouraged, "Have a seat, Lieutenant, and I'll explain everything."

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In the nursery once more, Della sat on a small quilt with her back against one of the walls, holding her daughter's attention with a rattle. Katherine, flat on her back and looking intermittently between her mother and the rattle, gurgled and cooed adorably while Aunt Mae sat watching her niece.

"What's bothering you, my girl?"

Della smiled at her aunt. "Nothing much, Mae. Maybe I'm just a little tired."

The older lady leaned forward, placing a weathered hand on Della's shoulder. "Don't you dare give me that load of bul . . . baloney. I know you better than you think and you're worried. Does it have to do with Perry?"

Katherine reached up for the rattle, and Della smiled down at her. "Did you hear Aunt Mae call Daddy's name? Did you? Daddy is Aunt Mae's favorite nephew. Yes he is!"

The baby smiled, and both women drew in their breath. But it was Mae who exclaimed, "Well, would you look at that? She has your smile, both those are sure enough his dimples!"

"I know," Della confided, "And she has his eyes, too. A heartbreaker in the making, aren't you, Katnip?" Picking her up, Della put her daughter on her shoulder, rubbing her back.

Mae gave her a moment, then returned to the subject of her niece's anxiety. "You were going to tell me about what's worrying you."

Della sighed. "He's keeping me out of this investigation. He always included me before, even when I was expecting Katherine."

"Sweetheart, he is only trying to protect you and the baby."

Della smiled as Katnip let out a delicate hiccup. Oh, no! I'm starting to call her that in my mind! She was beginning to really like the nickname her husband had given their little girl.

"That's exactly what Salvatore said, too. But when I agreed to marry Perry, he promised that nothing would change." The hiccups continued, and she continued rubbing Katherine's back. "But it seems that now that Katnip is here, that promise means nothing."

Mae looked curiously at Della. "Katnip? What happened to Kathy?"

Della laughed, causing the baby to gurgle happily at her mother. "It's Perry's idea of a nickname. At first I was going to counter with Kathy or Katie or Kitty. But I'm—I'm actually getting used to it."

Mae chuckled. "It is very fitting." She collected the baby to allow Della a chance to get up. "Now, as for Perry keeping you out of this . . . Honey, the man loves you and this little lady more than his own life. Weren't there times when, although you knew all the particulars of a client's case, he still chose to take Paul out to investigate instead of you? And wasn't that because he knew only you could handle things in his absence?"

Della shrugged. "I suppose."

"Suppose, my Aunt Darcy's fine china! You're upset because of your pride. He will tell you what's going on; just be patient with him. He's being pulled in all directions right now, trying to keep everyone safe."

Della looked at her sweet aunt. "You're right, as usual."

Mae arched an eyebrow. "Of course! Now, this little lady is going to get cranky if we keep her up any longer."

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Back at the hospital, Tony's double was in place and Tony now lay on a gurney in the morgue. His discomfort was extreme, but as he had grunted to Perry through his wired jaw, a little pain was worth a lifetime of safety.

Perry and Paul were waiting in the large black Cadillac as a hearse pulled into the alley.

"Perry, are we sure about the personnel at the funeral parlor?" Paul didn't bother to look at his companion. "This could go South in a hundred different ways."

"Of course I'm sure. It's owned by another of Salvatore's sons. That's him driving."

Paul watched as a younger version of Salvatore climbed out of the hearse, touching the brim of his cap as he passed in front of Perry's car.

Within a few minutes the gurney with a sheet-covered body was wheeled out and placed in the back of the hearse. With another touch to his cap, the man climbed behind the wheel and pulled away. Perry followed close behind.

It was a short drive to the funeral home, where the 'body' was wheeled through a set of basement doors. The sheet was pulled back, exposing Tony's nude frame. All of the horrible bruises, including the nasty-looking one on his midsection and ribcage, were evident. He opened his eyes slowly, as though afraid of what he would see.

His gaze rested on the man staring down at him. A trace of a smile flickered across his mouth. "Help me sit up," he grunted. The man moved to assist him. "Marco, thank God it's you. Never thought to see you professionally."

The other man broke into a wide grin. "You, with the jokes? After that business with my brother, I'm surprised you can smile, let alone laugh."

"It hurts," he admitted.

Perry and Paul entered. Seeing the closeness of Marco and Tony, Perry relaxed a little. "Glad to see you alive, Tony."

Tony tried to extend his hand, but once again his injuries prevented him. "Thanks to you, Mr. Drake, and you, Mr. Mason." He looked at Salvatore's son. "Marco, the boss's lawyer—for now, and his private eye."

"Mr. Mason, this is Marco Pinelli. Rico's older brother, Vincent's younger."

Marco stepped forward, shaking hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. And thank you for helping Tony."

"Glad to help."

Tony looked around the room, quite obviously the embalming room. "So . . . when are we leaving?"

Perry gave a small grimace. "We need to get you disguised first."

"Why do I have a feeling I am not going to like this? Slap a mustache and a dark hat on me so I can get home."

Paul had to cough to hide his laugh, while Perry just smiled. "It's a little more complicated, my friend. Paul," Perry suggested, "See if Tony can support his own weight."

Twenty minutes later the men managed to get Tony into a dressing room. An hour after that, Perry and Paul walked out of the funeral home, supporting a blonde woman dressed in black, her head bowed so that her long hair covered her face.

They eased her into Perry's car. Paul climbed in the passenger seat. Perry slipped behind the wheel. The car pulled into traffic and headed toward Salvatore's estate and the refuge it offered.

At last, the blonde raised her head. "I'll get both of you back for this," the muffled voice promised. "The boss is gonna laugh his head off."

Paul couldn't hide his laughter anymore. And soon Perry was laughing, too. Tony flipped the blonde hair over his shoulder, grimaced, then said, "Ow. Nothing about this is funny."

"Dead men don't get a vote," Paul quipped, and this time they all laughed.