Lethal Lullaby-Chapter 10
It's a Small World
Once they had Tony safely inside the house, Perry let Salvatore and Paul see to his care. In the meantime, he took the stairs two at a time to reach his and Della's bedroom. Quietly opening the door so he wouldn't wake his wife if she were sleeping, he peeked his head in and drew in his breath. The sight before him caused his heart to skip a beat and then swell with love.
Della, clad in a delicate pink negligee, lay curled on the bed. Her head, with its tousled curls, rested on her left palm as she gazed down at their sleeping daughter. Katnip's tiny hand held tightly to her mother's right index finger. Not even the world's premier portrait painter could best the picture of mother and child.
Perry stood silently transfixed in the doorway taking in every detail, making a perfect mental picture to be stored away in his memory.
Della sensed his presence and turned to smile at him. "Welcome back, Counselor."
Perry crossed the room, placing a kiss on her lips. He took off his jacket and shoes, then lay down gently on the bed, spooning his wife, reaching to stroke a finger softly down his daughter's cheek. He nuzzled Della's neck, nibbling at the silken flesh.
"I love you, Della Street Mason. You and Katnip are my whole world," he confessed, and it was obvious he was overcome with raw emotion.
Della snuggled closer to him. "And I love you, Perry Mason Street." She was stirred, as she had been the first time she met him, with his bravery and honesty. Nevertheless, she had waited long enough to talk to him. "Perry? Why are you shutting me out?"
"Hmm?" he murmured, drawing her closer to him. His lids were getting quite heavy. Now that he was home with his wife, he was close to rest.
"Chief?"
When she heard his deep breathing, she realized he had fallen asleep. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, but she wasn't quite ready to join him in dreamland. Thank God he is resting. I can't wait to hear how he managed to smuggle Tony out of the hospital. I wish he wouldn't keep me in the dark. Katherine gave a soft whimper and Della's eyes flickered open. She gently rubbed her tummy to soothe her. Once the little girl was soundly asleep, Della lay her head down and with the thought that, for the time being, the world was perfect, closed her eyes.
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Downstairs, Tony, sans his feminine attire, was safely settled and relatively comfortable in the hospital bed Salvatore had placed in an extra room. He had slept for a solid hour and a half after being fussed over by the private nurse. Now that he was awake, Paul pulled up a chair next to the bed, offering Tony a drink of water, which he refused.
Paul waited until Salvatore had pulled up another chair before he asked, "So do you feel up to talking a little?"
Tony's perpetually pained expression softened a little. He looked to his boss. Salvatore smiled. "Go ahead amico. Fidati di quest'uomo come faresti con me."
Paul looked curiously at Salvatore, wondering just exactly the man had said. But Tony seemed at home in the language and, more to the point, willing to talk.
"Okay. Mr. Drake, how much do you know about the…ah…famiglie mafiose?"
Paul stared at him. "Excuse me? The what?"
Tony gave a raspy chuckle. "Sorry. The mob families."
Paul looked to Salvatore then back to Tony. "Not much, I'm afraid. Listen, I'm not your lawyer. If there is something I'm not supposed to hear—spare me."
Salvatore chuckled. "Tony is having a little trouble talking with that jaw, Mr. Drake. You can trust him to say only what is necessary."
Tony now reached out for Salvatore's hand. His dark eyes were a mixture of respect and something Paul could only describe as abject fear.
"È stato un successo contratto!"
Salvatore gripped Tony's hand tightly, his gray eyes darkened and his mouth formed a thin line. The news wasn't completely a surprise. He had expected it for a while.
"Chi?" he asked, but before Tony could grunt out an answer, Paul cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but . . . I am a bright boy, but I can't understand a word you're saying. If you could translate, that would be appreciated."
Salvatore looked at Paul with a grimace. "I am sorry, Mr. Drake. Forgive us. Tony says it was a contracted hit."
Tony coughed, pain crossing his face as his bruised ribs screamed. When he could once again speak through clenched teeth, he looked at his boss. "Patron, it was Dilly."
"Quel bastardo malato!" The gray eyes blazed with fury and Salvatore's hands clenched involuntarily.
Paul now laughed. "I don't need a translation of that. But who is this Dilly?"
Salvatore almost spat the name. "Luciano Spataro. He has been trying to take over my territory for years. A more ruthless and less principled man you will never meet."
Tony once again coughed. Paul handed him a glass of water and helped him arrange a straw so he could drink.
"I think you should rest now," Paul encouraged, "You've been through enough for the day. Gender transformation will do that to a fella!"
Tony couldn't even manage a smile. He shook his head. "Just a few more minutes." Again looking at Salvatore, he made the effort to clear his thoughts. "Boss, I know who pulled the trigger. It was Nikolai Andropov."
Paul once again turned to Salvatore. "Who is . . ."
A deep voice from the doorway answered the detective's cut-off question. "Nikolai Andropov, first-class hitman for the Russian mob. Supposed to be dead, assassinated by his own boss. Made his way to California and hired himself out to the highest bidder."
Salvatore stood and crossed to Perry, grasping his arms. "Welcome back, mio figlio. Della and mia figlioccia are sleeping?"
Perry smiled. "Yes, they are." He left the doorway and walked with his host back to the bed. Placing a hand gently on Tony's shoulder, he confirmed, "So it was Nikolai who killed Richards."
Tony nodded. "Yes, Perry. At Spataro's orders. And that's why I couldn't talk in the hospital. I recognized one of my guards as another of his hitmen."
Perry took Tony's hand. "And that's why I had them arrested." Turning back to Salvatore, he chuckled. "Which reminds me. I need to make a phone call."
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Della had awakened sometime later to find Perry gone again. Placing a still-sleeping Katherine in her crib, Della dressed and headed downstairs. Hearing the voices from the room where they had set up, she stood at the door listening.
Perry was outlining a plan to Salvatore. "If I go into Vincent's restaurant as Giovanni I can keep an eye on things without causing suspicion. You know once this Spataro realizes his plan hasn't worked, he'll try again. We need to be prepared to set a trap. Since they think Tony is incapacitated, we will let it be known I'm taking his place. It should make me the new target."
Shock, sudden and raw, coursed through her veins. Then it ebbed, and fear supplanted it. All of the memories of Perry's time undercover on the job in Rico's Red Door came flooding back, and she was helpless against her rampaging horror. The belief that he would be shot, taken away from her then, had been almost more than she could handle. And she had only been expecting Katherine at that point.
She pushed the door open. "Oh, no it won't, Mr. Mason, because you're not going to do this!"
All four men seemed to visibly cringe as the very upset, very furious Mrs. Mason entered the room, heels clicking, stopping directly in front of her husband. One hand on her hip, the other on his chest, she glared up at him. "Do . . . you . . . understand . . . me . . . Perry?" She jabbed a well-manicured nail into his chest to punctuate each word. "You . . . will . . . not . . . do . . . it!"
The most prominent lawyer in the country had the common sense to look ashamed. His face flushed under his bronze, and the expression in his eyes was sheepish. Paul and Salvatore hid laughs behind their hands while Tony just stared.
No one spoke for a minute until finally Perry cleared his throat, grasping the hand that still remained on his chest. "Sweetheart, I want to explain . . ."
The tears started, just two. They rolled down Della's cheeks. Now Perry had no defense. He knew when his wife cried it was a sure sign of how upset she was. She wasn't a woman to resort to manipulation. She despised that too much in his weepy female clients to ever employ the tactic herself.
He pulled her into his arms and whispered soothingly. "Oh, Della, I'm so, so sorry. I'm a jackass. Please don't cry." He pressed his lips to her temple. "Please trust me. You know I'll explain everything."
"Darn you, Perry!" Handing her his handkerchief, he led her gently to an overstuffed chair. Once she had her tears under control, he knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his.
"I'm sorry, Della." His eyes sought hers. As far as he was concerned, she was the only person in the room—in the world. "I wanted to have time to explain everything to you once we had the plan in place. You only heard the bare bones of it. Please calm down and hear us out."
Della looked into the deep blue eyes she knew so well. Eyes that were now filled with both love and pleading.
"Oh, you."
Perry leaned forward to claim her lips. Then he rocked back and gave her the smile she loved best. "That's my girl!"
The other three men had been watching the exchange between husband and wife, wondering just exactly who had won the argument. Perry drew Della up from the chair and encircling her waist, enjoying another light kiss before leading her over to where the other three waited.
Della looked each man in the eyes. "Okay, gentlemen, let's get this plan ironed out, shall we?"
