Darkfall by Dean Koontz Page B

city and had settled for three days at this fine old landmark, and even that had been an extravagance. They’d had a memorable honeymoon, nevertheless, three days filled with laughter and good conversation and talk of their future and lots of loving. They’d promised themselves a trip to the Bahamas on their tenth anniversary, something to look forward to. But by the time that milestone rolled around, they had two kids to think about and a new apartment to get in order, and they renegotiated the promise, rescheduling the Bahamas for their fifteenth anniversary. Little more than a year later, Linda was dead. In the eighteen months since her funeral, Jack had often thought about the Bahamas, which were now forever spoiled for him, and about this hotel.
    The murders had been committed on the sixteenth floor, where there were now two uniformed officers—Yeager and Tufton—stationed at the elevator alcove. They weren’t letting anyone through except those with police ID and those who could prove they were registered guests with lodgings on that level.
    “Who were the victims?” Rebecca asked Yeager. “Civilians?”
    “Nope,” Yeager said. He was a lanky man with enormous yellow teeth. Every time he paused, he probed at his teeth with his tongue, licked and pried at them. “Two of them were pretty obviously professional muscle.”
    “You know the type,” Tufton said as Yeager paused to probe again at his teeth. “Tall, big hands, big arms; you could break ax handles across their necks, and they’d think it was just a sudden breeze.”
    “The third one,” Yeager said, “was one of the Carramazzas.” He paused; his tongue curled out, over his upper teeth, swept back and forth. “One of the immediate family, too.” He scrubbed his tongue over his lowers. “In fact—” Probe, probe. “—it’s Dominick Carramazza.”
    “Oh, shit!” Jack said. “Gennaro’s brother?”
    “Yeah, the godfather’s little brother, his favorite brother, his right hand,” Tufton said quickly, before Yeager started to answer. Tufton was a fast-spoken man with a sharp face, an angular body, and quick movements, brisk and efficient gestures. Yeager’s slowness must be a constant irritant to him, Jack thought. “And they didn’t just kill him. They tore him up bad. There isn’t any mortician alive who can put Dominick back together well enough for an open-casket funeral, and you know how important funerals are to these Sicilians.”
    “There’ll be blood in the streets now,” Jack said wearily.
    “Gang war like we haven’t seen in years,” Tufton agreed.
    Rebecca said, “Dominick ... ? Wasn’t he the one who was in the news all summer?”
    “Yeah,” Yeager said. “The D.A. thought he had him nailed for—”
    When Yeager paused to swab his yellowed teeth with his big pink tongue, Tufton quickly said, “Trafficking in narcotics. He’s in charge of the entire Carramazza narcotics operation. They’ve been trying to put him in the stir for twenty years, maybe longer, but he’s a fox. He always walks out of the courtroom a free man.”
    “What was he doing here in the hotel?” Jack wondered.
    “I think he was hiding out,” Tufton said.
    “Registered under a phony name,” Yeager said.
    Tufton said, “Holed up here with those two apes to protect him. They must’ve known he was targeted, but he was hit anyway.”
    “Hit?” Yeager said scornfully. He paused to tend to his teeth and made an unpleasant sucking sound. Then: “Hell, this was more than just a hit. This was total devastation. This was crazy, totally off the wall; that’s what this was. Christ, if I didn’t know better, I’d say these three here had been chewed, just chewed to pieces.”
    The scene of the crime was a two-room suite. The door had been broken down by the first officers to arrive. An assistant medical examiner, a police photographer, and a couple of lab technicians were at work in both rooms.
    The parlor, decorated entirely in beige