To Save a Son (30 page)

“I knew,” she said.

“I'm coming back.”

“You told me before.”

“And I meant it before. And I mean it now.” She wouldn't believe he'd asked Ronan to allow her to go with him, so there wasn't any purpose in telling her.

“Maria's coming,” said Tina in a sudden switch.

“Coming where?” said Franks, not immediately following her.

“To the house. For dinner tonight. And to stay. I said you were going away and asked her to keep me company. She called up this morning.”

“You told her I was going away?”

“Not
where,”
said Tina. “Stop panicking. I just said you had to be away for a few days.”

“I wasn't panicking,” said Franks. Christ, let this night pass and bring another day so I can leave, he thought. “I would have thought you'd have kept the last night free, before I went away.”

“Is it the last night?” she seized at once.

“I didn't mean like that! And you know it!” Franks was uncaring that his voice was loud until he saw the children turn back just before the house to stare at them. He waved. They responded halfheartedly.

“Well done!” she said.

“Shut up, for God's sake!”

“We invited Maria whenever she felt like coming. So today she called. Did you expect me to put her off?”

Franks thought briefly. “Yes, why not? Why couldn't she have come tomorrow?”

“Okay, so I made a mistake. Is that such a big deal?”

Franks turned and looked behind him. The FBI men were following four abreast. Two were talking to each other and they all appeared sufficiently far away not to have heard. “I'm glad she's coming anyway,” he said, trying to defuse the mood worsening between them. “It's good you'll have company.”

“What about you?”

“What's the matter with you?” he said. “I told you Waldo and Schultz were coming with me.”

“Sure!”

“You're being ridiculous!”

At the house Franks announced that he was going to pack—not needing to yet, but to separate himself from her—and David asked if he could help and Franks said of course. Franks made a game out of it, sending the boy to drawers and cupboards and then letting him pack the things, actually enjoying the child's company. They'd almost completed one suitcase when David said, “Why do you and Mommy shout at each other so much?”

“We don't,” said Franks.

“Yes, you do. Since I came back from England you've always been arguing.”

“Everyone has arguments.”

“You didn't used to. Not you and Mommy.”

“Mommy's worried about something,” said Franks. Realizing it seemed as if he were shifting the guilt to Tina, he added, “I've been worried, too.”

“Is that why these men are here, with guns?”

Franks winced, glad he had his back to the boy and was bending over a suitcase. He said, “They're looking after us, for a while.”

“I don't understand,” protested David. “Why do they need to look after us?”

“There are some bad people who don't want Daddy to do something; something I've got to do. The men are here to stop those bad people coming here and telling me not to do it.” Franks was hot with discomfort; he would have liked the explanation to have been better but decided it wasn't too bad.

“What must you do?”

“Tell some other people—a judge—just how bad they are.”

“You going to be in a court, like on television?”

“Yes,” said Franks.

“Can I come to watch?”

“No,” said Franks.

“Why not! Please let me!”

“Children aren't allowed in courts.”

“I think that's shitty.”

“Those are the rules,” Franks said, refusing to respond to the language.

“Is it in England?”

Franks turned, frowning. “What?”

“The court?”

“No.”

“Why are you going to England then?”

“There's some business I have to do there; I go back and forth all the time. You know that.”

“You
are
coming back, aren't you?” said the boy. “You're not leaving us?”

Franks sat on the edge of the bed, holding his arms out to the boy. David hesitated and then fell forward into the embrace, clutching at Franks.

“Of course I'm coming back,” he said. Damn the argument with Tina after the picnic.

His voice muffled in Franks' shoulder, David said, “There are boys at school whose parents aren't together. I always want you and Mommy to be together.”

“Mommy and I will always be together,” said Franks. “We love each other, don't we?”

“Promise?”

“Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“I don't know,” said David. “I don't think so.”

“I haven't,” assured Franks. “And I'm promising you now that Mommy and I will always stay together.” He held the boy away from him, conscious of the effort David was making not to cry. “Okay?” he said.

“Okay.”

Remembering the bed-wetting, Franks said, “Do you and Gabby talk about it?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is Gabby worried?”

“I think so.”

“Think we should get her in on this conversation?”

“I don't know,” said David.

“Or would it be better if you told her we had a kind of grown-up talk, and let her know what I said?”

“Maybe better if I told her,” said the boy. “If we call her in she'll think I've been splitting on her: telling tales.”

“Aunty Maria is coming tonight. Going to stay with us a while,” said Franks.

“And Uncle Nicky?” asked the child.

Damn, thought Franks again. “No,” he said, “not Uncle Nicky.”

“Why not? Aren't they together anymore?”

Franks pulled the child into his shoulder once more, unable to go on facing the trusting stare. “He's had to go away on business, like me,” said Franks. Was it right not to have told him? One uncertainty prompted another. Should he have brought Gabby in, to tell her everything was all right between himself and Tina? He'd avoided—run away from—both questions, and he shouldn't have done, Franks decided. It was too late now to go back on either.

“Perhaps he'll come later,” said the boy.

Franks stood abruptly, looking at the suitcases. “Didn't we come here to do a job?” he said. Still running, he thought.

Franks was relieved when the nanny came to take David away for his bath. He prolonged the packing, not wanting to go down to Tina. But at last he did. He saw she'd changed, which meant she'd visited the dressing room next door to the bedroom, and wondered if she'd heard any of the conversation between himself and David. She made no reference to it. He supposed he'd have to tell her, but not yet; later, so there'd be less time for any dispute. Tina said she didn't want anything to drink. Franks was finishing his second when Maria arrived. Maybe it was a good idea after all that she'd come tonight instead of tomorrow, thought Franks; it might cut down the bickering between himself and Tina. Then again, it might not. Franks carried her suitcases, and Tina kissed her sister-in-law and took the children up for their baths, promising them they could come back for a visit with their aunt. Tina remained upstairs, to help the nanny with the baths, which left Franks and Maria alone in the small sitting room. She chose a martini and Franks had another one, too.

“How are things?” he asked.

“Kind of suspended, in limbo,” she said. She smiled and added, “Know what I thought on the way here?”

“What?”

“How I wouldn't like to be a president or a world statesman or something like that, surrounded by bodyguards all the time.”

“I guess you get used to it,” said Franks. She looked far more relaxed than Tina. The grey dress was silk and tightly cut. Franks thought back to his poolside comparison between Maria and his wife and this time didn't feel embarrassed.

“I'm not sure I would,” said Maria. “How are things with you?”

“Okay,” said Franks.

“There didn't seem a lot of reassurance in that.”

Franks could have turned the remark aside, but he decided he didn't want to. He said, “I wasn't just making small talk at the funeral. Something's moving, against Pascara and Flamini and Dukes.”

Maria had been sitting with that faint, mocking smile playing at the corners of her mouth but at once she became serious. “For Nicky's murder!”

Franks shook his head. “In the strictest confidence, right?”

“Of course,” she said.

“I don't think Enrico should know, not until it starts,” insisted Franks.

Maria hesitated and said, “Doesn't he deserve to?”

“His was the original association.”

“Do you think that matters, now?”

“I can't take the risk,” said Franks.

“You?”

“Yes,” said Franks. “It's all to do with the company.”

“Will they be jailed?”

“Yes,” said Franks.

“How can you be sure?”

“Everyone's very confident.”

“Will Nicky's murder be involved?”

“It's bound to be part of the evidence, I would have thought.”

“You'll be a witness?”

“Naturally.”

“So it's going to be dangerous for you?”

How completely would they be removed from everyone they knew when they entered the protection program? The separation couldn't be absolute. He said, “Yes, it'll be dangerous.”

The smile came back, an admiring expression, he thought. Maria said, “Aren't you frightened, after what happened to Nicky?”

Franks realized that he was enjoying impressing her, but thought that to say he wasn't frightened—which he genuinely wasn't—would sound too boastful. He said, “Let's say I'm aware of what it could mean.”

“Are you?” she said. “Fully aware?”

“I think so.”

Maria made a sweeping gesture, to encompass the grounds and the unseen protectors. “It's going to mean this goes on for some time, surely?”

“For quite a while,” agreed Franks.

“Don't you find it difficult?”

“Quite a lot,” admitted Franks. “I think it's getting to Tina more than me.”

“I thought she looked tired,” said Maria.

He saw her glass was empty. She surrendered it to be refilled, their hands touching when he took it from her. With his back toward the woman while he made the drinks, Franks decided that he wouldn't let the conversation settle upon his wife. He said, “How are things up there?”

“Suspended, like I said. I think Mamma still expects Nicky to walk in, at any time. Enrico, too. They still talk about him in the present tense, like he isn't dead.”

Franks returned with her drink, careful this time there was no contact between them. She smiled up at him. “That can't make things easy for you,” he said.

“I've sort of turned myself off from it,” she said. “I must say I'm glad to come here for a while.”

“What about later? You're welcome to stay here for as long as you like. You know that. And I guess with all the protection they'd like us to remain fairly stable, in one or two places. But it'll have to end, sometime. What are you going to do then?”

“I don't want to keep the brownstone in New York,” she said, positively. “It's too big, and anyway I don't think I want to stay on there. Not sure about Manhattan at all. I don't think there'll be the need to work, but I don't think I can go on doing nothing. If I'm going to work then the city's the best place to be. Which will mean an apartment there, I guess.” She looked toward the windows and the unseen guards. “How long
will
this go on?”

“I'd say for you, only until immediately after the trial.”

“When will that be?”

“I don't know, not yet. Everything seems to be moving quite quickly.”

“Nicky and I were having problems, you know,” she confessed abruptly.

“No,” said Franks. “I didn't know.”

Maria was looking down into her drink. “Personal things; stuff like that. Even talked of a divorce.…” She brought her eyes up to him. “I want you to know,” she said.

“Sure,” said Franks.

“It's important, you see. Because I want you to understand. Although I don't think that I
loved
him, not like I should have done, I still thought a lot of him. Which is why I hope somebody is going to be tried and jailed for his killing. I
want
somebody to be punished for it. I'd do anything to see that happen.”

“I told you everyone seems very confident,” said Franks.

“But you said it was the company,” reminded Maria. “Not for the killing. That's what I want. Someone punished for the actual murder.”

“They'll be in jail,” said Franks. “I think I can understand the way you feel. But they'll be in jail for something, even though the conviction won't be for murder.”

“Will it be for a long time?”

“I don't know that,” said Franks. “I still know very little about American law. Certainly that's the impression I get.”

“Thank you,” said Maria.

“What for?”

“Being brave enough to confront them.”

“You don't feel like Enrico then? Or like Nicky did?”

“I've never liked weakness, Eddie. I discovered it in Nicky a long time before you did. I only wish I had realized it before we got married. So no, I don't think you should back away.”

They heard the children approaching and turned toward the door. Franks remembered the suitcase-packing conversation with David and waited apprehensively for a question about Nicky. But it didn't come. Instead the boy produced the photograph of himself with the guns and showed his poison ivy rash, and Gabby sat tightly on Maria's lap and demanded, when Franks announced the visit over, that Maria put them to bed, which she agreed to do.