The mention of Chucky’s name so unexpectedly and so totally out of context has the impact of a punch in the gut, and it drains the color from Deuce’s face. The cops know the score immediately.
“Well, the word is, well . . . he’s dead,” one of the cops says. “The mob shot him a few days ago. What’s your real name?”
Deuce’s face is a pale blank; he says nothing.
The cops leave Deuce alone in the empty room for two hours.
It’s the FBI agents who return.
“Do you know Chucky Flynn? He’s dead because of you.”
Deuce’s voice is soft, low, almost pleading. “I just want to make a phone call,” he says.
Instead, Deuce is taken to a glass-walled, high-security cell with three other prisoners. Guards stationed outside stare in at him constantly.
Deuce is left numb by it all. Too much has happened too fast. There are too many pieces to sort out, too many players, but the one that concerns him the most—after himself of course—is Chucky. It’s true that he hasn’t heard from Chucky since their confrontation a week ago. Would the bastards really kill Chucky for not following John Ouimette’s order to kill Deuce after that story came out? Of course they would. Deuce asks again to make a phone call, but he gets no answer.
The next day brings three new men. They introduce themselves: Rhode Island State Police Det. Anthony J. Mancuso; Pasquale Rocchio, acting chief of Providence detectives; and Providence Det. William B. Giblin.
Deuce is haggard and strung out. “I don’t give a damn, ya know? All I want is a lawyer,” he says.
“We know you’re Bobby Dussault,” Giblin says. “We know you did the Bonded Vault robbery, and we’ve got to tell you that Chucky Flynn is dead and that Joe Danese did it.”
Giblin looks straight into Deuce’s eyes and he does not blink.
“The people who killed Chucky will kill you too,” Giblin says.
Deuce is angry now, and he figures Giblin is right. If those bastards would kill Chucky—a guy who’d been loyal for years and earned them a lot of money—if they’d kill Chucky just for stepping out of line this one time by refusing to kill him, they sure wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head. Fuck ’em. They killed Chucky, he’ll make them pay. He’ll send the whole miserable lot of them to prison.
Deuce looks back at Giblin and says, “Yeah, I’m Bobby Dussault.”