Michael got the call in the middle of the night. He was alone in Connecticut, since Stella had moved out to live with her boyfriend. He didn’t care. Things between him and Stella had cooled down long before she left. A divorce was inevitable.
He was trying to get things straight in his own head before he started thinking about the future. Madison wasn’t talking to him, she was still upset about his revelations concerning Stella. He hadn’t called Dani in a while because, quite frankly, he wasn’t sure where he wanted their relationship to go, and once he told her about Stella leaving, it would definitely be decision time. Sofia was wandering around somewhere in Europe. Vincent was the only one who was doing great. He had a new wife, a successful hotel, and seemed all set.
The call was to inform him that Vito Giovanni had passed away. Michael was heavyhearted to hear the news. It didn’t seem possible that Vito was gone, a man who’d always been such a strong presence in his life.
He got in his car, drove into town, and checked into a hotel. The next morning he got up early and went directly to the Giovanni house.
Western greeted him with red, puffy eyes. “He was such a sweet old guy,” she said mournfully. “My Vito was real good to me.”
“He loved you very much,” Michael assured her.
“I don’t know what to do,” she worried, twisting her diamond wedding ring. “Who am I supposed to call?”
“Don’t worry,” Michael said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
And he did.
The day of the funeral, two surprise guests turned up. Mamie and Bone. Almost seventy, Mamie was still trying to look like a teenager. She wore a bright blue suit with a skirt way above her bony knees, her bleached blond hair was ratted and brittle, her makeup was caked all over her face, and she was festooned in diamond jewelry.
A scowling Bone had dyed his hair boot-polish black and swooped it across his head to hide his receding hairline. He’d also applied some kind of fake suntan, which gave his face a sickly orange tint. He looked ridiculous.
The two of them made quite a bizarre sight.
The turnout for the funeral was enormous. Vito had an endless stream of friends, business associates, and acquaintances, all anxious to pay their respects.
Michael immediately spotted Mamie and Bone, and did his best to avoid them.
Mamie was having none of it; she accosted him on his way out of church. “Mikey,” she said, spiky black eyelashes dominating over-made-up eyes. “My little Mikey.”
Did she not remember their past history? Had she completely forgotten that she was directly responsible for his mother’s murder, and God knows, probably Beth’s too?
He tried to turn in the other direction.
She placed her bony hand on his arm. Long fingers, every one beringed. “Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you.”
“What is it?” he said, keeping his voice low and even because he did not wish to cause a scene.
“We came to New York to pay respects to my ex-husband,” she said. “Vito would’ve wanted that.” Michael nodded silently. “And also,” she said, leaning confidentially toward him, “to work out how we’re gonna get the money he promised me.”
Now was his moment of triumph. “What money?” he said blankly.
“The money you’ve been looking after for him,” she said, fixing him with a malevolent glare.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t screw with me, Mikey,” she said, talking to him as if he were still the teenage kid she’d known way back.
He brushed her hand off his arm, and in a very low voice so nobody else could hear, said, “Go fuck yourself, Mamie.”
Then he walked away.
Bone came up to him at the reception. “I understand you and Mamie had a talk,” Bone said flatly, fingering the long, thin scar on his cheek.
Michael stared at him and didn’t say a word. How he hated the man who’d shot his mother. A mother he’d never known because of Bone.
“Take this as a warning,” Bone said with a great deal of malice in his voice. “You get her the money or you’re gonna regret it.”
“I’ll tell you the same as I told Mamie,” Michael said, holding back his anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Bone shook his head in wonderment. “You’re still the same dumb bastard.” His voice rose. “You get Mamie her money or you’ll see what’ll happen.”
“Jeez!” Michael said, taunting him. “Threats. What’re you going to do to me now?”
Bone’s eyes were cold and dead. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “You’d be very surprised.”
Once more Michael walked away. There was nothing they could do to him. There was no way they could prove that Vito had entrusted him with any money. Besides, he was a legitimate businessman now, he was way out of their reach.
Over the next few days he made arrangements for Western to receive a princely income for the length of her life. He didn’t feel bad about keeping the rest of Vito’s secret stash. He considered it Bone and Mamie’s punishment, a punishment that was not nearly harsh enough. Eventually he’d give every dollar of it to some deserving charity. Now, that was justice.
As the years passed he’d begun to realize that seeking endless revenge could poison a person’s soul. Another thought—did revenge ever satisfy?
This particular time it did.
Later that night he spoke to Warner Carlysle. She was still close to Stella, and with her help he planned to move on.
“I want a divorce,” he told her. “Can you talk to Stella for me?”
“I don’t know why you two can’t speak to each other,” Warner grumbled.
“She refuses to talk to me,” he said. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d step in and tell her that either she proceeds with a divorce or I will. I won’t fight her. She can have anything she wants—including the house.”
“Very well,” Warner sighed, reluctant to get involved.
“Thanks.”
“Michael,” Warner added curiously, “aren’t you interested in knowing why she ran off with another man?”
“Well,” Warner said, “you have to admit that you were hardly ever there for her. And Stella felt you still loved Beth, and that you always put Madison before her.”
“What’re you—her shrink?” he said coldly.
He had no interest in Stella anymore. She’d left him, and the truth was that he was relieved. He wished she’d done it years earlier.
“I’ll talk to her, Michael,” Warner promised. “It’s better for both of you to end it.”
A few days later, he was in his office when the phone rang. It was Warner.
“Do you have news for me?” he asked.
Her voice sounded tired and strained, unlike her usual, spirited tone. “Yes, Michael,” she said slowly, “I do.”
“So, tell me—is she willing to start divorce proceedings?”
“It won’t be necessary,” Warner said haltingly. “Stella and Lucien are both dead.”
“What?”
“They were shot in the back of the head, execution style.”
“Jesus!” he said, almost dropping the phone.
“Michael, I have to ask you this.” A long, silent beat. “Did you do it?”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he screamed.
And then he knew.
Bone and Mamie had struck again.
Madison was confused, angry, and upset. She’d been that way for a while. And it was all because of Michael and his bullshit lies.
When he’d revealed that Stella wasn’t her mother, and then made up some story about her real mother getting shot, she’d failed to believe him. Somehow his story didn’t make sense. So she’d hired a private detective to find out the real truth. Her detective, Kimm Florian, came up with plenty of information. She’d presented Madison with a stack of press clippings about a man called Michael Castellino, who, of course, was Michael Castelli. Almost thirty years ago Michael Castellino had been accused of killing the woman he was living with, and that woman was Madison’s mother, Beth.
According to the newspapers he’d been acquitted.
So what? She’d spent her entire life loving a stranger. It was glaringly obvious that she didn’t know Michael at all. And as for Stella—she realized that’s why Stella had always been so cold toward her. Growing up, she’d thought it was just the way her mother was, but obviously Stella had never loved her.
It made her so sad. She felt completely disoriented, like an orphan with nowhere to go.
And then, like a light in the darkness, Jake Sica, the guy she’d met in L.A., came into town. And this time he was free, with no romantic entanglements.
They spent an incredible week together holed up in her apartment, until he had to take off for an assignment in Europe.
Being involved with Jake made her feel good again. She needed someone who cared about her, because Michael sure as hell didn’t.
A few days after Jake left, Michael phoned her. She really didn’t want to talk to him. Not yet. She had too much information to process.
“I have something important to tell you,” he said.
“What?” she answered coldly.
“It’s about Stella,” he said.
Like she could care about Stella, although she was planning on going to see her when she could summon the mental strength to do so.
“Stella’s dead,” Michael said. A long beat. “The funeral’s tomorrow. I’d like you to be there.”
Stella’s funeral was a somber affair. Jamie and Peter drove Madison to Connecticut and stayed by her side, looking out for her.
As soon as she arrived at the house, she attempted to comfort Michael—not that he deserved it—but she felt she should make an effort in view of the tragic circumstances.
He seemed quite calm and collected, not in need of her comfort at all.
At the reception she spoke to Stella’s best friend, Warner, a woman she’d known since she was a child. When she told Warner that Michael had revealed the truth about her relationship to Stella, Warner was shocked. “I never thought he’d tell you.”
“He did, and I was hoping Stella could explain. Only, now that she’s gone . . .”
“It’s such a tragedy,” Warner sighed, tears in her eyes. “Stella was my best friend for over thirty years.”
“I know,” Madison said. “Can I call you? I have so many unanswered questions I was hoping Stella could help me with. Maybe you can answer some of them for me.”
Warner nodded. “Call me anytime.”
Back in New York, Kimm Florian was waiting with more news. She informed Madison that she’d discovered that her real mother, Beth, had a twin sister, Catherine. And she’d tracked Catherine down to Miami.
Madison decided to fly to Miami and see what she could find out.
The detectives working Stella and her boyfriend’s murder case came to question Michael several times. Unfortunately he had no alibi for the night the murders had taken place. He’d been home alone.
They questioned him endlessly until he finally called in his lawyer, which he realized he should’ve done immediately. He had an uneasy feeling about what was taking place—especially when he discovered one of his guns was missing.
He had no doubt the murders were Bone and Mamie’s work. But why? If they were planning on implicating him, why hadn’t they set a trap like they had with Beth’s murder?
He had to do something about Bone and Mamie. The time had come.
He called his old pal Gus, in L.A., and began making plans.
An eye for an eye.
A tooth for a tooth.
A fucking bullet for a fucking bullet.
Then a few days later he got the call he’d been expecting. Mamie. Angry and vengeful.
“Mikey,” she said sweetly. “It’s me, Mamie. I thought you should know that it was your gun that killed your wife and her boyfriend. Isn’t that interesting? So get me my money, or the cops get your gun. Do it soon, Mikey, or you’ll be lookin’ at the rest of your miserable life behind bars.”
Michael got early word of his imminent arrest. It paid to have friends in the right places.
By the time the police arrived at his house he was long gone.
Destination Los Angeles.
But first he had to make a side trip to Las Vegas. Dani was his main priority. He’d neglected her, and right now he needed to be with her, if only for a few hours.
He knew she was probably mad at him for being on the missing list; however, very soon he would make up for everything.