Sweetheart Read Free Page A

speak for both of us,” he said, his voice dropping. A glass panel sealed their words from the driver, who doubled as a bodyguard. A sign showed the way to the highway, which was reached within minutes, a smooth ride. Rita O’Dea tugged at the collar of her coat. The car was warm, but she shivered. Gardella opened a compartment in the back of the front seat and removed a flask and a tumbler. He poured for her.
    She took a taste. “I remember a time you only bought wop wine.”
    “That’s an aperitif.”
    “I know what it is. I’d prefer a shot of gin.”
    “Show a little class, Rita.”
    “I got all that money can buy.”
    Anthony Gardella studied his hands. His wedding band was a half-inch wide. His nails were manicured. With deliberate cruelty he said, “Why’d you bring that spic up here?”
    For a heavy moment it seemed she would not respond. Her dark head sagged. She was tired. “Does it bother you?” she asked, her large face softened by shadow.
    “Yes, it bothers me.”
    “It’s none of your business.”
    “It’s an insult,” he said bitterly, and she sighed.
    “What should I do, Tony? Be lonely?”
    “You can do better than him.”
    She smiled with hard irony. “No, Tony. I can’t.”
    • • •
    Twice Silas Rogers avoided them, the first time by pretending that he wasn’t home, though it was obvious he was, and the next time by shouting that he was too sick to talk, which in a faint way was true. One of his mongrels was ailing, and he suffered for it. He had five dogs, and during the winter he kept them inside because their bodies breathed heat for the house and life into his solitude. He was a widower. Now, for the third time, the dogs alerted him that the two men were back. He let them knock several times before opening the door just enough to show his crag of a face. “You don’t need to talk to me,” he said with false bravado. “I told everything to Hunkins.”
    Trooper Denton stuck his foot in the door. Lieutenant Wade said, “You’ve been ducking us. What are you afraid of?”
    “Nothing.” The dogs pressed against him from behind, their paws scratching the floor. The dogs were odd sizes and colors, nervous, anxious for air. “You’re upsetting my animals.”
    Lieutenant Wade said, “Do you want to talk here or take a ride to the barracks? We can do that.”
    “You threatening me?”
    “Yes.”
    “I saw what I saw and nothing more.”
    “Let us in, we’ll talk about it.”
    “You think I know more than I do. I don’t!”
    “We’ll see.”
    They got nothing from him. They sat at his bare table, the dogs milling beneath, and interrogated him, the trooper rephrasing questions the lieutenant had already posed. It was a ploy to trip him up, but he was too smart for that. He kept his hands in his lap and his head high and gave out flat answers either negative or neutral. Once he got up to wipe piddle from one of the dogs off the floor. Lieutenant Wade shifted the substance of the questions to the Gardellas themselves.
    “What did you think of them?”
    “They didn’t mean nothing to me.”
    “They lived in the town twenty-five years, I’m told.”
    “We didn’t mix.”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t mix with nobody.”
    “Especially Italians?”
    “You said that. I didn’t.”
    “You don’t say much of anything, Mr. Rogers. Two good people were sadistically murdered, and you sit there blowing smoke up my ass.”
    Silas Rogers reddened. “And you come in here threatening a man. It ain’t right!”
    The lieutenant got to his feet. So did Trooper Denton, a young giant of a man who had played football for UMass. Together they stared down at Silas Rogers, who nervously patted a dog. In a stage whisper the lieutenant said, “He’s only making it worse for himself.”
    The trooper agreed. “He doesn’t give us a choice.”
    “There’s only one way out of this, Mr. Rogers. Put you to a lie detector.”
    For a second Silas Rogers went sick inside, and his face