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EVEN AS ADDITIONAL DETAILS were released by the police and she continued putting together her story, Richardson remained skeptical about the events that were unfolding so suddenly.

No one had yet offered any explanation as to why Tommy Arena would have wanted to kill Richie Cardella. Jenna couldn’t believe that any labor dispute in which they represented opposing sides would provoke Arena to seek revenge of that sort on his adversary, even one in which a long and difficult strike occurred to the detriment of the Teamsters. She knew she’d be researching the Herald files on Thursday to find out whether Arena and Cardella ever locked horns in that serious a battle.

She wondered whether Johnny Baldacci was ordered to say he was hired by Arena to do the killing. Baldacci didn’t hide the fact that he was a member of the DePaolo family in Cleveland. He told the police that Dave DePaolo advised him to turn himself in when he learned that a member of his Family had committed the murders for which the Tarantinos were being blamed. The questions that Baldacci answered made it clear that DePaolo’s advice wasn’t something he was in a position to disregard if he wanted to continue breathing. On that basis, Jenna thought, Baldacci may have incriminated Arena because he was told to do so, even if he was really paid by the Tarantinos to execute Cardella.

That wasn’t the end of Jenna’s misgivings. There was the concern that maybe Arena was forced to slit his wrists in the bathtub at the Marriott just to avoid a death more horrible than that. She recalled a similar situation in the Godfather movie, something the Tarantinos might get a kick out of imitating. The confession they found was in Arena’s handwriting, but maybe he did it with a gun to his head. It was possible that he was set up and then forced to kill himself before the authorities could find him and ask questions about Baldacci’s allegations.

Still, Jenna had to admit that all the pieces seemed to fit into place. The story about Baldacci broke first on Channel 10 at 12:28 p.m. and was all over the radio dial a few minutes later. The police assumed that Arena heard it while he was in his car and realized they were probably out looking for him. In that case, the only way he could have any privacy to think things through was to take a hotel room under an assumed name. At first, Jenna couldn’t figure out why a man who was going to kill himself would lay out ninety-five dollars to use a bathtub at the Marriott instead of his own, but then realized that Arena didn’t have the option of going home.

She learned that he checked into the hotel under the name of Carl Russo shortly after one o’clock. That made the timing right, as it probably took him ten minutes or so to stop for razor blades along the way. (Richardson already knew that neither the shop in the hotel lobby nor the dispensing machine on the fourth floor carried the brand of single-edged blades that Arena used to slit his wrists.) His car was in the back of the parking lot, its doors locked, and the keys were in his jacket in the room. The fingerprint people were still checking to see whether there were any other prints on the steering wheel or the door handle. Jenna gathered from what she heard that no one expected to find anything there. In fact, as Gerry Quinn told them during a short question and answer session at 7:30 that night, “Everything points to an out-and-out suicide, girls and boys.”

There were three details about the hotel scene that disturbed her. First, Jenna couldn’t understand why Arena bothered to take his briefcase up to the room if it was empty. Quinn couldn’t answer that one either, except to speculate that it was a matter of habit for him to carry it wherever he went, to look like a businessman.

Second, it was difficult for her to believe that he wouldn’t call his wife with some message before taking his life, even to say something like “I love you,” or just “Good-bye.” But, as she had to admit to herself, the shame he felt over being found out may have stopped him from doing it once he realized that his wife, a strong Catholic from what Jenna picked up, knew he caused two people to die.

Finally, Jenna was certain that if she intended to end her life that way, she wouldn’t have failed to fasten the sliding chain lock on the door, to guarantee that there would be no interruption of the act. As it was, the maid entered the room at six o’clock to change the towels and discovered the body.

Richardson’s phone rang. It was Reardon.

“Hi. Just wanted you to know I was getting ready to leave. It’s almost nine in case you hadn’t noticed. I’ll buy the drinks if you’ve got your story done.”

“This won’t be finished until tomorrow, Terry. I’ve got to think about what it means, or what I might have to say now, considering everything I wrote about the Tarantinos last week. But I’d love a drink. Meet you in the lobby in five minutes.”

* * *

For some reason he couldn’t explain, Reardon chose to bypass the closer establishments and walk the three blocks over to Chi-Chi’s. They sat side by side in a booth, near the front of the bar. He listened patiently as Jenna took the devil’s advocate position that Arena was falsely accused of what happened and then forced to commit suicide before he could publicly deny the charge.

“Maybe the Tarantinos arranged this whole thing,” she said. “They could do it easily. Baldacci was ready to say anything he was told, just to stay alive. All Sal Tarantino had to do was speak to Dave DePaolo in Cleveland. It’s just been wrapped up too fast and too neat, Terry, don’t you think?”

He didn’t agree with her. He said that she had essentially broken the case open by realizing that Cardella was the target that night. “Don’t you see what happened? Your story put tremendous heat on the Tarantinos, especially the way you connected the Family to Doug Fiore’s campaign. The Tarantinos recognized the killings as the work of a professional—you told me that yourself after you met with them. They probably asked the other Families to check and see whether one of their men was AWOL on the Monday that Cardella and Niro were shot.”

“And you think DePaolo found out about Baldacci?”

“Absolutely. It’s my guess that Baldacci blabbed to someone about the job—maybe a girlfriend, who knows? Whoever it was didn’t want to sit on that information, and told one of the DePaolos about it. The Cleveland family was able to do a big-time favor for Sal Tarantino when they learned the details. I’ll bet they gave Mr. Balls a pretty good idea of how dim a future he had if he didn’t come back here and tell the cops the truth. He knew the jig was up. He did what he did because he had no choice if he wanted to stay alive. If the Tarantinos weren’t involved in Cardella’s death, there’s no reason to believe that Arena was set up by anyone. Case closed.”

Terry finished the beer in his glass with a long gulp. “I guess now I know why Arena postponed our meeting that night.”

Jenna looked at him quizzically. “What are you talking about?”

“Richie and I had a date to meet Tommy here at seven o’clock that night to talk about the drivers’ contract at the Herald. Didn’t I tell you that before?”

“No, you didn’t. That means Arena knew that Cardella would be here. What happened?”

“I got a call in my office about 6:30 or so saying that Tommy would be fifteen to twenty minutes late.”

“From him?”

“No. It was a woman. I assumed it was his secretary.”

Jenna frowned. “I doubt she’d still be working at 6:30. Go on.”

“I called Richie’s office to tell him, but he wasn’t there. I didn’t bother to call over here and leave a message. I guess I figured he’d wait until we got here. It was after seven o’clock when I left the Herald. I heard all the sirens on my way over. A few minutes later Arena saw me as I was moving around the back of the crowd.”

“Where was he?” Jenna asked.

Terry leaned over to his left so that he had a clear view out the front window of Chi-Chi’s. “Almost directly across the street, in front of the deli.”

Jenna got up and walked toward the door. She returned a minute later and picked up her briefcase. “The deli’s still open. Give me ten minutes, okay?”

* * *

The manager of Saul’s Delicatessen, whom Jenna asked to see, was Saul, the owner. She soon learned that Saul, his counterman Morris, and the waitress Marge were the same people who were working there the night of the shooting across the street. Jenna took a picture of Arena out of her briefcase and showed it to them. Marge recognized him immediately.

“He came in with another man,” she recalled, “and they ordered coffee at the counter. A few minutes later he called me over and offered me a five-dollar bill to make a phone call for him. All I had to do was read a message he’d written down on a piece of paper, something about his being late for a meeting.”

“Was it to a man named Reardon?”

“I don’t know. He dialed the number, listened for a few seconds and then handed me the phone.”

Marge’s face showed the effort of struggling to recall everything. “He didn’t look like the kind of guy who threw money around, but I knew there were plenty of reasons some people wanted to avoid talking with someone else. I didn’t notice when his friend left because I was busy with a few tables. I think he was gone before this same guy in the picture used the pay phone again.” She started wiping an area of the counter that already looked clean to Jenna. “Then it was just a few minutes afterwards that the police and ambulances were here on the street.”

Richardson went over to the telephone. It hung on the wall in a corner of the store, just a foot from the front window, at the other end of the deli from the entrance. Looking across the street, she could see Chi-Chi standing behind the bar, talking to two men sitting on stools opposite him.

* * *

Jenna slipped back into the booth. “You’re right,” she told Terry, “case closed,” and passed on to him what she just learned.

“Now that we can be sure Arena was involved,” she continued, “the only question is why?” Jenna leaned on her elbow, her hand at her mouth. “Maybe it’s got something to do with that federal hearing he was supposed to have next month. I’ll check it out. Meanwhile, I have to throw a couple of big fish back into the water.”

“What does that mean?” Terry asked, smiling at her.

“It means I’ve got to take the Tarantinos off the hook.”