& Wesson 9mm. automatic from its Bianchi belt-holster. I showed the inanimate steel to Casey Deakin.
“Too quick,” he said. There was a deeper timbre in his voice. “Too good for him.”
I reholstered the automatic. “Sometimes quickness is ahead of both godliness and cleanliness,” I said with attempted lightness. “Didn’t you have papers protecting you from a Colisimo takeover?”
“Not at first. But Espada gave me a paper when he was sure he was dying.” Deakin grimaced, his lopsided features contorting grotesquely. “I was lyin’ on the floor of my office when Rubelli took it out of my safe an’ burned it. I never—”
“Espada?” I said, risking interrupting the flow. The sound of the name had vitalized me as though I’d been suddenly plugged into a 660-volt line.
“Lou Espada. I never held nothin’ against him,” Deakin continued. “He was just Colisimo’s money man. His front man. I had all my dealin’s with him. But after he was dead an’ Colisimo got out of the jug, Bolts sent Rubelli to take over. I hear they moved the business to Tampa now.”
Lou Espada. Hazel’s second husband had been a man named Lou Espada. And Hazel had confided to me once that despite her normal wifely curiosity Espada had gone to considerable trouble to keep her from learning the source of his considerable wealth. “Rubelli cashed in Espada, too, because Espada gave you the paper?” I asked.
“No, no,” Deakin replied impatiently. “Lou was dead of cancer before Rubelli ever came around. Lou knew he was dying and told me I’d need the paper after he was gone. Turned out I needed a hell of a lot more’n that.” Deakin was brooding again. “My own fault. Thought I could operate without ‘em. So they showed me.”
“What business was Espada in?”
“Monkey business. Oh, he had an office, an’ he bought an’ sold things. Stocks, bonds, leases, mortgages, businesses. But principally he was a moneylender.”
“Colisimo’s money?”
“Correct.” Deakin shuffled his feet, then sighed deeply. “How d’you think you’re gonna get to Rubelli?”
“Right this minute I don’t know.”
But I was going to get to him, of that I was sure. Rubelli was bound to have answers to questions I was interested in asking. Lou Espada’s name had added a whole new dimension to the puzzle in Hudson, Florida. As Espada’s widow, Hazel could be involved in a manner I hadn’t dreamed possible. “Thanks for your help,” I added.
Deakin waved my thanks away. He had turned inward again. In reliving his own situation he had neglected to inquire about mine. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. In his half-shattered mind we were now partners, with Rubelli the target. “Give him an extra shot for me when you find him,” he rasped. “Preferably right up his asshole.” He sighed again, this time hungrily. “Sure wish you could bring him around here so I could watch you nail him to the cross.” A gleam of his former caution returned. “But you be goddam careful,” he warned.
“I’ll be in touch,” I said.
I whistled to Kaiser who was exploring the boat dock, and together we left the aura of decay that enveloped ex-trucker Casey Deakin and his dismal surroundings.
I wanted to confront Jed with this recent development, but it would have to wait until Jed concluded his real estate business. I drove back toward the cabin, stopping once to do my shopping. I was able to get everything except the machete.
Kaiser followed me into the cabin. I was looking around uncertainly for something to do to kill the necessary time until I could see Jed when Kaiser looked up at me and yawned hugely.
Before I knew it I found myself yawning back.
“Maybe you’ve got the right idea, boy,” I told the shepherd. My comparatively brief slumber on Hazel’s couch the night before hadn’t totally erased the weariness accumulated in two days on the road.
This time I made up the bed and crawled in.
In a minute Kaiser jumped up
“Too quick,” he said. There was a deeper timbre in his voice. “Too good for him.”
I reholstered the automatic. “Sometimes quickness is ahead of both godliness and cleanliness,” I said with attempted lightness. “Didn’t you have papers protecting you from a Colisimo takeover?”
“Not at first. But Espada gave me a paper when he was sure he was dying.” Deakin grimaced, his lopsided features contorting grotesquely. “I was lyin’ on the floor of my office when Rubelli took it out of my safe an’ burned it. I never—”
“Espada?” I said, risking interrupting the flow. The sound of the name had vitalized me as though I’d been suddenly plugged into a 660-volt line.
“Lou Espada. I never held nothin’ against him,” Deakin continued. “He was just Colisimo’s money man. His front man. I had all my dealin’s with him. But after he was dead an’ Colisimo got out of the jug, Bolts sent Rubelli to take over. I hear they moved the business to Tampa now.”
Lou Espada. Hazel’s second husband had been a man named Lou Espada. And Hazel had confided to me once that despite her normal wifely curiosity Espada had gone to considerable trouble to keep her from learning the source of his considerable wealth. “Rubelli cashed in Espada, too, because Espada gave you the paper?” I asked.
“No, no,” Deakin replied impatiently. “Lou was dead of cancer before Rubelli ever came around. Lou knew he was dying and told me I’d need the paper after he was gone. Turned out I needed a hell of a lot more’n that.” Deakin was brooding again. “My own fault. Thought I could operate without ‘em. So they showed me.”
“What business was Espada in?”
“Monkey business. Oh, he had an office, an’ he bought an’ sold things. Stocks, bonds, leases, mortgages, businesses. But principally he was a moneylender.”
“Colisimo’s money?”
“Correct.” Deakin shuffled his feet, then sighed deeply. “How d’you think you’re gonna get to Rubelli?”
“Right this minute I don’t know.”
But I was going to get to him, of that I was sure. Rubelli was bound to have answers to questions I was interested in asking. Lou Espada’s name had added a whole new dimension to the puzzle in Hudson, Florida. As Espada’s widow, Hazel could be involved in a manner I hadn’t dreamed possible. “Thanks for your help,” I added.
Deakin waved my thanks away. He had turned inward again. In reliving his own situation he had neglected to inquire about mine. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. In his half-shattered mind we were now partners, with Rubelli the target. “Give him an extra shot for me when you find him,” he rasped. “Preferably right up his asshole.” He sighed again, this time hungrily. “Sure wish you could bring him around here so I could watch you nail him to the cross.” A gleam of his former caution returned. “But you be goddam careful,” he warned.
“I’ll be in touch,” I said.
I whistled to Kaiser who was exploring the boat dock, and together we left the aura of decay that enveloped ex-trucker Casey Deakin and his dismal surroundings.
I wanted to confront Jed with this recent development, but it would have to wait until Jed concluded his real estate business. I drove back toward the cabin, stopping once to do my shopping. I was able to get everything except the machete.
Kaiser followed me into the cabin. I was looking around uncertainly for something to do to kill the necessary time until I could see Jed when Kaiser looked up at me and yawned hugely.
Before I knew it I found myself yawning back.
“Maybe you’ve got the right idea, boy,” I told the shepherd. My comparatively brief slumber on Hazel’s couch the night before hadn’t totally erased the weariness accumulated in two days on the road.
This time I made up the bed and crawled in.
In a minute Kaiser jumped up
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