I WAS STANDING WHERE THE land met the water at the far edge of Seward Park. The park was closed. It had closed at dusk, a lifetime or two ago. Before I’d seen Luce. Before Dono had died. A sodden mass of clouds blocked any moonlight from above and refused to reflect the city lights from below. All I could see of the horizon was a flat, leaden gray.
Goddamn it, Dono.
I finally get it. Why you asked me to come back.
You hadn’t planned on getting rich—that was your problem.
Sure, the Talos shipment was too good to pass up. How often does a chance at six million in untraceable rocks cross your path? Maybe you rushed the job, finding a crew you could get on short notice. Unstable assholes like the McGann brothers.
When Boone McGann was busted for violating his probation, did you see that as a good thing? One less guy who might betray you? With Boone and Burt together, it wasn’t hard to imagine Dono and Sal Orren as the ones left to bleed out on the floor of that abandoned airplane hangar, instead of Burt and Sal killing each other.
I’d call you lucky, Dono. But that luck just kicked trouble down the road a little way.
You wound up with the whole shipment. Handed maybe a quarter of it to Ondine, and she was satisfied. Gave a few hundred grand in cash to Cristiana Liotti for the information. And you kept the rest.
So what then? You weren’t going to buy a damn mansion. Sure as shit you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life getting fat lying on some beach drinking umbrella drinks.
I thought I knew your way of thinking before I came back. But after the last few days of hell, I understand you a little better.
With a pile of diamonds suddenly in your hands, you started thinking about your legacy. Giving things away. You were handing over the reins of the bar to Luce and passing your share to Mike. And you wrote me a letter.
Because you had something to offer me, too. The diamonds.
I might not accept them, of course. You would have known that. It probably didn’t matter. It wasn’t just about offering me money. You’d be trusting me with the knowledge of what you’d done. A capital offense, with two men dead during the commission of a felony.
Just like the two dead skinheads ten years ago. So what if I hadn’t pulled the trigger on those men? You hadn’t killed Sal and Burt either.
Waves lapped softly against the low cement wall at my feet. I turned around and began walking through the forest trails of the park, back to where I’d left the car. The huge old trees blotted out the sky, until I made my way as much by feel as by sight.
The running had served a purpose while Dono had been alive. I’d wanted to tell him myself that we’d caught the man who’d shot him. See his face. My own olive branch to offer.
But Dono was dead now. And Detective Guerin would run Boone McGann to ground.
Staying at large was just kicking my trouble down the road, like Dono’s luck.
I reached the start of the trail, where I’d left the Honda. My personal phone was in the duffel bag. I replaced its battery—so what if Guerin learned where I was now—and turned it on. I’d find a motel, crash for a few hours. And then turn myself in.
The phone brought up the last Internet search I’d done, on the Talos robbery. There were fresh headlines: HOMICIDE VICTIM LINKED TO ARMORED CAR ROBBERY. Cristiana Liotti. The press had caught up to what the police already knew.
It wouldn’t be long before Dono’s name was mentioned in articles about the robbery, too. Maybe he was already news. I clicked on the first link.
It was a full spread on Cristiana, with biography and a picture. The biography was padded with details about her high school in New Jersey, her volunteer work, anything that would make a short life seem richer. The photo was from a formal party, Cristiana smiling broadly, champagne flute in hand. Her dress was dark blue, a good color to show off her curled brown hair. People standing next to her were cropped out.
Behind her I could see part of a large banner, hanging on the wall. The banner had a design on it in dark green and gold. The photo resolution wasn’t great. Two thick gold lines on a green background. On top of one of the lines was a notch.
Then the notch became a barb, like at the end of a fishing hook, and the lines became two of the prongs of a trident.
And the design became the emblem of the Emerald Crown Yacht Club.
Ondine’s club.