Lethal Lullaby-Chapter 13
Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight
By the time Della returned to the dining room, lunch was being served. Perry, or rather, Giovanni, rose from his seat and came to greet her. Even with the darker makeup, the scar and the brown eyes, he was unmistakably himself. She stared up at his face as he approached, her mouth opening into a small "O" as she drew in her breath. He gathered her to him, kissing her quickly and lightly on the mouth. Then, when that wasn't enough, he crushed his lips to hers before remembering where he was, and that eyes might be on them.
"Darling, where have you been? I missed you! You weren't here to approve the final product." He pouted a little and she nearly laughed. "I've been worried."
Shaking her head at him, she returned his kiss, clinging tightly to him. "Just roaming the grounds, thinking."
"About me?" Perry frowned. He knew she was holding something back but he also knew by the look on her face it would be useless to pursue the issue. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he led her to a chair at the table and seated her, nuzzling her hair. "You smell wonderful. We just started lunch. What may I get for you?"
Della looked up into his brown eyes and found herself momentarily staring. Then giving herself a mental shake, she gave him a brilliant smile. Over the course of her pregnancy she had become accustomed to Perry waiting on her, a habit he enjoyed. He looked deep into her hazel eyes, and there was no disguising the love and ardor in his own. No amount of makeup could remove that.
"The salmon and potatoes look delicious," she managed to whisper, "And a glass of the Pinot Noir, please."
Perry straightened and quickly filled her request, setting the plate before her. Then he added the wine and took the seat beside her.
Picking at her fish, Della looked at Perry. "When are you leaving?"
Perry looked away, a sure sign he was stalling. Then he took a sip of his own wine, stalling longer, knowing how hard this was for her. After a full minute, he answered, "Right after lunch. Luca is coming with me. He'll be staying with me."
She liked the sound of that. "Okay. I like Luca. Will you contact Salvatore when things are set up?"
Perry set down his wine and cupped her chin in his large hand, turning her face to his. "I promise I will keep in constant contact with Salvatore and Paul and," he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, "you."
"I hate this," she whispered. A single tear escaped to roll down her cheek.
Perry kissed her cheek, catching the tear on his lips. "None of that, Mrs. Mason. I won't let anything happen to your husband."
Della gave him a small smile, running a finger down the scar. "Well, don't let anything happen to Giovanni either. I'm rather fond of him."
"I'll be good."
She arched that eyebrow.
"Well, I'll be careful."
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Della, holding Katherine, together with Salvatore and Mae, stood on the steps as Perry and Luca drove away. Salvatore placed a strong arm around Della's shoulders.
"Don't worry, mia figlia. Luca will protect him. Next to Tony, Luca is my most trusted friend."
She studied his face, saw the strength in the gray eyes. "I know, Salvatore. But I also know my husband. He thinks he's invincible."
Mae reached out to take Katherine from Della. "I think I'll take this young lady for some playtime."
Salvatore placed a gentle kiss on the baby's head, then, to Della's surprise and delight, a kiss on Mae's cheek. Della hid her smile as she saw her aunt's deep blush.
Salvatore watched as Mae walked into the house. Giving an exaggerated clearing of her throat, she put a stern look on her face. "And just what, Mr. Pinelli, are your intentions toward my aunt?"
Salvatore had the good sense to not laugh. He looked at Della and, taking both of her hands in his, he replied in a somber voice. "I find your aunt a delightful and gentle lady. She has brought joy back into my life, much the way you and Perry have. But she is a very strong-willed woman, much in the way you are, mia figlia, and I give you my word I would never do anything to upset or hurt her."
Della smiled at him, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I hope you know what you're getting into, because my aunt is a handful."
Salvatore gave a deep, hearty laugh. "This I know already. Come, let us go check on them."
Della pulled away. "I think I'll go to the solarium for a while. I love your flowers. They help me focus."
Salvatore looked closely at her, wondering at her sudden interest in flowers. But seeing nothing amiss in Della's face, he smiled. Bowing a little, he encouraged, "Very well. Enjoy your solitude."
"Thank you."
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When Della entered the solarium, she found Mr. Tuttle just putting the finishing touches on his work.
"My great-Aunt Lucy's diamonds! I never would have believed it possible!"
Tuttle gave a small bow. "Thank you, Della. I need to put a few more touches on the jawline. Do you think it will fool people?"
"If I didn't know who he really is, I'd never know who he was."
"Thanks, Beautiful," Paul grinned, but it wasn't exactly Paul, at that.
Tuttle now turned to Della. "Are you ready to change, Mrs. Mason?"
"Ready."
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Vinnie's Piccolo Napoli restaurant was a fine Italian dining establishment. The dining room featured murals on the walls of famous Italian landmarks. Dark mahogany tables were covered in red and white checked tablecloths. Dripping candles on the tabletops added to the soft overhead lighting. Waitresses in classic dress of white ruffled blouses, green front-laced bodices and green, red and white swirl skirts flitted between tables, taking orders, serving wine, making sure everything was correct and the patrons were happy.
On a small stage tucked away behind false greenery, three violinists played softly, adding to the ambiance.
On the opposite side of the front entrance was the bar. Again, dark mahogany was everywhere. Smaller tables than those in the dining area gave a more intimate flair to the area. Next to the bar along the back wall was a grand piano. Vincent's eldest son, Michael, played more popular tunes. He had recently graduated from Juilliard and had suggested putting the piano in the bar and adding a small dance floor. Vincent had agreed and was pleased to realize it added to his business.
Giovanni stood at the far end of the bar, nursing a cup of coffee as he scanned the room, taking note of who was where, who was alone, and most importantly, who was carrying a concealed weapon. Years ago, Paul had taught him how to notice the bulge in a suit-coat, and the cut of a shirt to accommodate weapons. Two of the men in the restaurant so armed were Salvatore's men. One other was a stranger.
A frown marred his features. I need to check with Vincent about that one. If he's no stranger to him, that's one thing. But if . . .
He was about to signal Luca when something shifted in the atmosphere and his senses were activated. Every cell in his body was alert. He swiveled his attention to the entrance of the bar. There, gliding gracefully through the door, was the single most stunning woman he had ever seen. She hesitated, stopping to wait for someone who was obviously her escort. The black lace dress clung to her lithe body in all the right places. Shapely legs clad in black nylons drew his gaze. It took a moment for him to follow the trail to her feet, which were in seemingly impossible high heels.
He drew in his breath. Dear Lord! His eyes traveled upward again. Her blonde hair was artfully arranged in an updo, and simple diamond stud earrings sent off sparks of light. Blue eyes locked on his and her tongue touched blood red crimson lips.
His brown eyes started to smolder, and his mouth went dry. Moving on primal instinct, he had taken a few steps toward her when her escort appeared. The man was tall, taller than he, at any rate, with jet black hair that curled. Although he couldn't be sure, he guessed the man's eyes were brown. They seemed dark, very dark, indeed. A large mustache below a nose that had obviously been broken and not healed correctly helped offset full lips. Instead of a strong jaw, the man had heavy jowls, and his gray suit was well tailored to hide a paunch.
Perry approached the two people, offering his hand. "Welcome. I am Giovanni Franchetto." The accent was impeccable. Those cool blue eyes lingered on his face. He smiled in spite of himself.
The man took his hand, shaking it. "I'm Paolo D'Angelo. This is my wife, Victoria."
Perry took the woman's hand, said quietly so only she could hear, "Not for long." Then he raised it to his lips, feeling her shiver as his lips caressed her palm. "Very pleased to meet you. Allow me to show you to a table."
"Thank you, Mr. Franchetto." Paolo wrapped his arm protectively around Victoria's waist as they followed Perry to a table at the far back of the room. Once they were seated, Perry leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the table.
"Are you both out of your minds?!"
"You couldn't even let us enjoy a damned meal without ruining it, could ya?" Paul glared at him. "Pal, listen. We just wanted to give you some added protection."
Now Perry turned his attention to his wife. Even though he was extremely angry with her, the transformation almost took his breath away. Whether she was Nicky or Victoria or Miss Street, she was his love, his life. And now she had placed herself in danger, once again, for him.
She looked up at him with eyes now the color of a spring sky, but still shining with love and . . . desperation. Determination.
He sighed, reminded himself there were eyes watching, and bit back some well-chosen words. "Fine. Nothing to say or do about it at the moment." He met Della's unnatural eyes and felt his heart lurch. "But you two stay back here and—" Della just smiled. He wanted to strangle her, to spank her, to, well, to smother her with kisses. "Well, just stay put."
With that he turned and went back to his place at the bar. He pushed his coffee cup aside and ordered a double shot of scotch. Just as he took his first sip, Salvatore walked in. Nearly choking on the fiery liquid, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. Who's going to show up next? Maybe Mae dressed as a flapper or Tony on crutches? What the hell was the point of all the planning if I'm the only one following it!
Luca appeared at his side. "Am I seeing right? Is that . . ."
Perry downed his drink, motioning for another. "Yes, Luca. It's like a family reunion. Listen, I want you as close to Salvatore as you can, and stay there. If anything happens, get him out of here."
Luca smiled. "Sure thing, Mr. Ma…Franchetto."
"Thanks, Luca. Oh, and send one of your men to stay with Vincent."
The big man nodded and headed over to his boss's table, stopping to say something to one of his men. The man immediately stood and headed for the office.
Seeing where everyone was, knowing they were as protected as possible, Perry relaxed a little, picking up his drink.
Michael had been on a short break, but returned to the piano, unaware of the new patrons. He started to play one of the popular movie tunes. Couples took to the dance floor, but Perry kept scanning the room. Then he realized the lone stranger with the concealed gun was no longer at his table. Quickly looking around the room, his heart leapt to his throat when he saw the man was now positioned right behind Michael.
As he was about to head toward him, a commotion broke out at the entrance. A tall muscular man, blond and blue-eyed, carrying a large handgun broke free of two of the waiters, shoving them aside like rag dolls. Nikolai Andropov was exactly as Perry expected. Big, mean and bent on murder.
Then several things happened at once.
The man behind Michael placed his gun to Michael's head. Vincent came out of his office only to be pulled back in and the door slammed. Luca pushed Salvatore to the floor, drawing his gun. Perry started toward them, turning to look at the table where Della was looking between him and where Luca and Salvatore lay.
Nikolai paused, looking toward the closed office door, where his obvious target was. Then he spied Luca trying to keep Salvatore covered.
Nikolai shot Luca, who fell to the side, then took aim at Salvatore. As Perry started toward Nikolai, the man behind Michael raised his gun, firing at Perry, catching him squarely in the back. Della's high-pitched scream distracted him enough for Michael to move quickly back, causing the man to fall. Paul ran across the room to grab him and the gun, both struggling for control. Another shot and both men lay still. As Della was trying to make her way to Perry through the overturned tables and chairs, there was a final shot. A surprised Nikolai looked down at the spreading red stain over his heart then back at the gun in Salvatore's hand before he crumpled slowly to the floor.
Della had finally reached Perry, kneeling beside him, her tears rolling unabated down her cheeks.
"Damn you, Perry Mason! Don't you dare leave me!"
