Gino Patelli’s mansion might have belonged to a movie star. Many of the homes in Bel-Air did. Few belonged to crime bosses. Such clientele were discouraged, but Gino Patelli passed muster on two counts. First, he presented himself as a vintner, and while this pretense fooled no one, it was hard to dispute, since he owned enough vineyards to have stocked every tavern on the West Coast. In fact, he barely produced enough wine for his own table, and couldn’t care about the rest. Still, it gave him bragging rights on the one hand, and a legitimate front on the other.
The other thing that made Gino Patelli hard to ignore was the fact that people were afraid of him. Men who crossed him fell upon hard times. Cause and effect was always hard to prove.
Donnie Martel rang the buzzer at the iron gates, and identified himself for the camera mounted there. He wasn’t asked his business. He was not getting in unless his business was already known.
After a few moments, the massive gates swung open. Donnie drove up the long, tree-lined drive, and parked in the circle in front of the mansion. He got out and went up to the front door. He could practically feel the X-ray from the scanner checking him for a weapon.
The door was opened by two silent goons who double-checked the scanner and patted him down for a gun. Finding none, they turned him over to a nondescript man in a faded suit with a paisley tie who looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly. Donnie knew better. Sylvester was Gino Patelli’s right-hand man. People who crossed Gino had a habit of disappearing. Sylvester was rumored to be the reason why.
Sylvester walked Donnie down the long, wood-paneled hall to the double-doored office at the end. Another goon patted him down again before opening the door.
Donnie took a breath and followed Sylvester in. The door closed behind him. Donnie had to fight the impulse to look back. He and Sylvester stepped up and stood in front of the large oaken desk.
Gino Patelli was young for a crime boss, particularly one of such prominence. He came into power on the death of his uncle, Carlo Gigante. For Gino it had been a rude awakening. The young Patelli was a ne’er-do-well playboy with a weakness for drinking, gambling, and loose women. His father had died shortly after he was born. His uncle raised him and spoiled him rotten, while teaching him the family business. For young Gino it was the ideal situation. He had all of the experience with none of the responsibility.
With Carlo Gigante’s death, Gino was suddenly thrust into power. He took to it with a vengeance, and soon began bossing everyone around unmercifully. His meanness enhanced his standing. He was a bad man to disappoint.
Donnie shifted from one foot to the other. Gino had not looked up from his desk. Donnie knew better than to open his mouth before he did.
Finally Gino raised his eyes to the unfortunate young man in front of him. “So, your man failed.”
“Chaz was arrested.”
“Why?”
“The window was connected to an alarm.”
“You said your man could disarm an alarm.”
“He did.”
“What happened?”
“There was a backup.”
Gino was not surprised. He hadn’t actually expected Donnie’s man to complete the mission.
Since succeeding his uncle as crime boss, he’d been trying to find Carlo’s murderer. Recently he’d had a breakthrough while watching the Golden Globes, when Desperation at Dawn had won Best Dramatic Picture. Producer Billy Barnett had accepted the award. The name rang a bell. Gino remembered his uncle’s troubles had started when a couple of his men had gotten arrested trying to abduct a producer’s wife. The producer had been Billy Barnett.
Gino couldn’t be sure if this Billy Barnett was just a coincidence or pay dirt. He’d sent Donnie’s man as a test. It was a simple job. Break into the producer’s house and kill him. If he did, Billy Barnett was innocent. But if Barnett lived, it would prove he was far more protected than a mere producer had any need to be.
Gino stared Donnie down. “So, your man didn’t check for a backup system and got himself arrested. What did he tell the cops?”
“Nothing. He didn’t talk, and we bailed him out.”
“That either means he said nothing, or he spilled his guts.”
“Chaz wouldn’t do that.”
“So you say. This man is a loose thread. Remove him.”