Dopplegangster (43 page)

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Authors: Laura Resnick

BOOK: Dopplegangster
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“It is?”
“Our adversary combined vastly different traditions—competing schools of thought, you might say—to enact his plan. Doppelgängerism is an abstract, elusive, and isolated mystical phenomenon. But the use of personal tokens in the practice of magic is common and widespread among multiple disciplines—all of them entirely unrelated to the highly esoteric mystery of doppelgängerism!” He shook his head in wonder. “I am forced to congratulate our foe on his imaginative practice of his art.”
“Max, if we could cease the thunderous applause for a moment, I’d like to point out that our imaginative foe is trying to kill
me
.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. How thoughtless of me, Esther.” He pulled himself together. “Do forgive me.”
“Let’s look at motive, means, and opportunity,” I said, using
Crime and Punishment
as my tactical guide. “The motive is evidently to destroy—or at least severely damage—the Gambellos and Corvinos by manipulating them into a new mob war when both families would much rather avoid that.”
“Agreed.”
“The means is innovative, devious, and mystical. So the person behind this is someone who combines a shrewd intellect with the ability to conceal his true nature from others.”
“I’m convinced of it.”
“Which brings us to opportunity,” I said.
“Indeed. We must determine who has had the opportunity to steal tokens from the known victims.”
“Someone who’s a good pickpocket, I suppose.” A moment later I gasped as I realized what I had just said. “A
pickpocket
.”
“Esther?”
My heart was pounding. “The day I saw Chubby Charlie’s perfect double.” My God, had it been a week ago? How time flies when you’re fighting Evil. “Now I know!”
“Know what?”
“Which one was the duplicate!” I turned to Max.
“Charlie thought of himself as a sharp dresser, and he paid special attention to accessorizing. He always wore matching socks, tie, and pocket handkerchief. The evening that
two
of him came to the restaurant, the first one had all his accessories. The second one, utterly identical in every other way, was missing the pocket handkerchief. I noticed it because I had just seen Charlie, and I had
just
straightened that thing for him.”
“And the second one was missing it?”
“He said it had been stolen. And I remember wondering who’d be reckless enough to pick the pocket of a Gambello killer!”
“That was the token!” Max said. “The handkerchief was stolen and used to create the doppelgangster that you encountered at Bella Stella’s that evening, shortly before the
real
Chubby Charlie came to dinner.”
“Okay,” I said. “We know that Michael Buonarotti took the widow’s necklace. But I don’t see how he could’ve have taken the handkerchief, too. Not without getting caught. I think Charlie would’ve noticed the don of a rival family getting that close to him.”
“Don Michael took the widow’s necklace in violence and without stealth or secrecy. So, no, he doesn’t seem a likely prospect for subtly extracting a valued accessory from the pocket of an experienced Gambello captain.” Max added, “I doubt that Chubby Charlie would have been an easy target for theft. Therefore, I propose that the thief was someone he felt comfortable with. Someone whom he trusted, in a sense.”
“But who did Charlie trust that Danny Dapezzo trusted, too?”
“It might help if we had some idea what token Doctor Dapezzo . . .” His eyes widened. “Oh!”
I realized it at the same moment he did. “His reading glasses!” At the sit-down, Danny was using a new pair that he didn’t like.
My old ones are missing, goddamn it. Those frames were
real
gold, you know.
Max said, “So we’re hunting an adversary who was able to get close enough to steal Doctor Dapezzo’s gold reading glasses as well as Charlie Chiccante’s handkerchief.”
“But
I
wasn’t pickpocketed,” I said. “I was just careless. I left my wrap in the church crypt. How did the killer know? Was I followed?”
“The widow told you there have been thefts at the church lately. Perhaps the killer lurks there and stole the wrap out of habit, upon seeing the opportunity.” Max slapped his hand on the table, making me jump. “And now we know how the victims are chosen!”
I blinked. “How?”
“Opportunity.”
“Oppor—Oh! I see! He didn’t set out to kill Charlie.
He found an opportunity to steal a token from Charlie, and that turned Charlie into a victim.”
“Yes! Similarly, Doctor Dapezzo became a victim
because
of the loss of his glasses,” Max said. “The killer’s objective was to create murder victims in each
famiglia
and to do so without his accomplice, who actually committed the slayings, being identified. However, it didn’t particularly matter to him
which
family members died violently.”
“Just as long as long as their deaths led to a war.”
Max said, “This is why even Lucky, who knew the victims well, was unable to see a basis for how they were being chosen. Because the basis was, in a sense, quite random. They were simply the individuals from whom it had been possible to steal a token.”
“But why duplicate
me?
I’m not a Gambello or a Corvino.”
“And, indeed, the killer may have originally intended to restrict his victims to Gambellos and Corvinos. But then he realized you posed a threat to his plans. Just as Detective Lopez did. And so, since he had already stolen your wrap, the killer then overcame any scruples he may have had, and he duplicated you.”
“Well, that certainly didn’t take long,” I said sourly.
“I don’t believe there was ever any serious possibility that the killer would remain selective about his victims, even if he commenced his activities with that intention,” Max said. “Evil is always voracious.”
I thought of the widow and realized how right Max was. She had been targeted for death just because she rejected a rough pass. “This guy really
is
evil.”
“I suggest that he is also fully aware of our investigation.”
“Right. I didn’t get duplicated just for hanging out too much in a church lately.” I felt icy insects all over my skin again. “But why duplicate me, rather than you or Lucky? Don’t both of you pose a bigger threat to the killer than I do?”
“Don’t underestimate yourself, my dear!” Max added, “In any case, I am not, to my knowledge, missing any of my belongings. Nor has Lucky mentioned the loss of any personal possessions.”
“But I was careless with my wrap,” I said grimly. “So I became a target of opportunity.”
“Opportunity,” Max said again, dwelling on the word. “Our adversary is an improviser. He thinks on his feet and continually adapts his plan to new events and information.”
“And he’s filching stuff from a
church
.” I was annoyed. “I loved that outfit.”
“You’ve spent more time at St. Monica’s than I have,” Max said. “Whom have you noticed lurking there?”
“The Widow Giacalona, certainly.” I shrugged. “Other women, I guess. They’ve got the hots for the priest.”
“Ah, yes. Well, he is an appealing young man, and it’s amazing how often celibacy creates an aura of . . .” Max sat up straighter, looking stunned. “Good gracious! The
priest
lurks around the church.”
“Yeah, but that’s his job,” I said dismissively.
“Which means his lurking would pass unnoticed!”
“Oh, but, Max, he’s such a nice . . .” I went blank for a moment, and then a shower of recollections fell on me. “
That’s
what the victims have in common!”
“The church! The
priest
.”
I nodded. “Danny was a parishioner there. Lucky said that Charlie went to Mass and Confession every week. And Charlie certainly knew Father Gabriel. He mentioned him the night he died.”
Max said, “We have seen Don Michael Buonarotti there ourselves, whom we believe is the accomplice. And he seems to be on congenial terms with the priest.”
“Buonarotti even courted the widow at the church.”
“Johnny Be Good occasionally went to the church to pray for positive results in his gambling exploits,” Max said. “And by all accounts, he was a careless man from whom it would have been quite easy to collect a token.”
“
So
easy, it’s probably not even worth trying to figure what the token was.” I recalled, “Johnny must have known Father Gabriel for years. The priest told me a little about Johnny’s youth and said that he—Gabriel—grew up around the Gambellos.” I brought my hands up to my cheeks as I realized what
else
the priest had told me “Oh, my God!”
“What?” Max rose halfway out of his chair. “What is it?”
“Father Gabriel was the one who planted the suspicions about Elena in my head. Mind you, her own comments made that easy. But he told me at length about her reasons for hating both the Gambellos and the Corvinos.” Looking back at the conversation with a new perspective, I could see that he had incited my curiosity and made leading comments that encouraged me to ask him for more information. “And the information he gave me about her past was so incomplete that it misled me!”
He’d
certainly
neglected to mention that Don Victor had forgiven Elena for marrying a Corvino and gave her his blessings. After hearing Elena’s version of the past from her doppelgangster earlier tonight, I had assumed that Father Gabriel had merely been misinformed, relaying the popular gossip to me. But now . . . now I saw that he had been deflecting the possibility of suspicion falling on him by directing it elsewhere: to the thrice-widowed Elena.
“Oh, Max,” I said, feeling guilty. “He also . . .” I nodded. “Father Gabriel also tried to drive a wedge between me and Lucky, and it almost worked!”
“How?” Max asked.
“He, uh . . . he told me something bad about Lucky that wasn’t true. But I believed him until tonight.”
“Ah, of course he would try that, upon realizing you were working together. Divide and conquer.” Max nodded. “I gather that Father Gabriel’s lie is the reason for your irritability toward Lucky lately?”
“Yes.” I frowned. My revulsion had intruded on our relationship, but it hadn’t ended our work. “But if the priest intended me to stop cooperating with Lucky, why didn’t he tell a bigger lie?”
“We’re dealing with a subtle individual,” Max said. “He chose a lie that would distract you and, as you say, create a wedge between you and Lucky. But he avoided the mistake of telling a lie so big that you would either disbelieve it or immediately confront Lucky with it.”
“Crafty,” I said.
“Father Gabriel no doubt also underestimated your commitment to confronting Evil. He may have hoped that telling you something disturbing was enough to make you abandon your quest. It would be a common reaction, after all.”
“He pretended to help me look for my wrap after he had filched it, and he used his minutes alone with me to mislead me. And I fell for it.” I folded my arms. “Lopez was right. I’m naive.”
“But since we know that the Widow Giacalona is not the killer, you can rest assured now that your talking to her about Detective Lopez is not what led to
his
being duplicated.”
“I still may be the cause of that, Max. The widow was being courted by Buonarotti. Maybe she told him what I said to her.”
I remembered that Buonarotti recognized me easily the night of the sit-down despite my disguise as a mob girl. Had the widow told him about my presence in the church? Or had Father Gabriel told him after he left the crypt and I remained down there alone for a few minutes? Had the priest and the don been meeting somewhere in the church before I arrived? If they were conspirators, it seemed likely.
I also remembered how the priest had encouraged the Widow Giacalona to accept Buonarotti’s company that evening. Perhaps he had done it to keep Buonarotti happy, but perhaps he also wanted Buonarotti to get a full account of what Elena and I had discussed. “Besides, she’s a devout woman who’s always at church. Father Gabriel has influence over her, and she no doubt confides in him.”
“We confided in him, too.” Max’s expression was heavy with self-reproach.
I nodded. “At the sit-down.” We hadn’t questioned the priest’s presence there as peacekeeper. “He found out exactly how much we knew.”
“And, being well practiced at deceit, he convincingly pretended to find our theories absurd. He also encouraged Lucky to believe that, despite their denials, the Corvinos were indeed murdering Gambellos.”
With a sinking heart, I recalled, “Today he urged me to go straight home and rest my knee when I pretended that I had hurt myself as an excuse to leave quickly. At the time, he seemed so nice, so concerned. Now . . .”
“Now you’re wondering if he was trying to arrange a meeting between you and your doppelgangster by directing you to go home?” Max said. “I think it very likely, my dear.”

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