York. He promised me he would not let anyone harm her. I did not like him, to be honest. He was older. He had been close to Castro. I was not sure what he believed. I donât think Susana ever saw him in New York. She telephoned me one last time to say she was waiting for him. Thatâs all I know. They all wore the tattoo. Susana was proud of it when she was here, she would say, âMama, look, this is for our country.â But he, he wore a shirt with long sleeves, he covered it up.â
âWere they planning something, do you think?â
âYou mean an attack? I believe they were going to New York to stop something. Susana kept saying this, even in her sleep. âWe must stop it, Mama,â and then she left. âStop.â I would hear her saying over and over. âStop.â â
âIâm so sorry for your troubles,â I said.
âRiccardo was not a bad man, but he was a zealot,â she said. âHe felt betrayed by the revolution. He thought of nothing else.â
âIâll be in touch.â
âYes, of course.â
âOne more thing.â
âWhat is it?â
âWhy didnât you tell me about your daughter earlier? Whatâs the truth? There must be a reason. I know you were in mourning, terrible grief, of course, but I knocked on doors all summer long, I canât believe you didnât answer just because you worried the cops were on the take.â
âI didnât trust you.â
âI see. Why?â
âRiccardo, my daughterâs friend, he was a peasant, a man of no family, but he spoke perfect English, and several times I heard him on the phone speaking in Russian, and I wondered why. He had been very well educated, and I asked myself, by whom? You have Russian friends, is that not so, Detective?â
âI know a few of them. Theyâre not my friends.â
âWe knew about your part in the investigation from the newspapers that reported our daughterâs murder. But one of our friends also saw an article in what is it called, the Village Voice? This past summer? About a Soviet student, a certain Mr Maxim Ostalsky, isnât that right, Detective? It mentioned that you were his friend. Surely this Mr Ostalsky must be a Soviet agent if they allow him to study in the United States. I wondered why a New York etective, perhaps an Irish Catholic from your name, why does he have such a close friend who is a Communist? You saw the article, I imagine, and will forgive my little bit of detective work.â
âI saw it, sure,â I said. âWhen it came out.â
âYes,â she said and reached into the pocket of her black skirt. âI kept a copy.â
âI see.â
âThen you understand. I must go upstairs now. You are ill,â said Mrs Reyes. âYou should go home. Itâs cold. Winter is coming,â she said sadly, as if mourning the season as well as her daughter.
âLet me ask you one more thing.â
âWhat is it?â
âDo you know a Captain Logan? Did he ever contact you?â
Quickly, she shook her head, then walked too quickly back to her door.
CHAPTER SIX
October 18, â62
S OMEBODY HAD BROKEN INTO my place. I usually left a pin in the doorjamb so I could tell if somebody
had bust in while I was away. If the pin fell out, someone had been by, and this time, soon as I got home from Jersey, I saw it: the pin was on the floor. I got out my gun and my keys at the same time. I unlocked the door carefully, then shoved it in fast as I could, still holding the weapon.
The apartment was empty. I looked it over. Nothing was missing as far as I could see. Maybe a certain fear, some kind of paranoia was on me, had been since I found the dead man on the pier earlier in the week. Riccardo. His name was Riccardo, according to Mrs Reyes.
After I checked on Tommy, who was at home in his apartment upstairs and confessed he had been into my place looking for
Ashley Beale
Michael Willrich
The Courtship Wars 2 To Bed a Beauty
Elizabeth Lowell
George R.R. Martin, John J. Miller
Gary Heyward
Virginia Kantra
Kim Falconer
Rachel Trautmiller
CM Doporto