turned out to be a good business. I have to give Dom that: he could make money. Even on the square.”
“And this real estate business was on the square?”
She nodded.
“Do you think Dominic had been seeing this woman before he hired her?”
Again she nodded. “They’d been seeing each other for two, three months.”
“Then what happened, after she went to work for him?”
“Well, they—they started seeing each other all the time. It got so, once a week, Dom wouldn’t come home. He’d always say it was business, but we both knew he was lying. So, one day, I asked him right out whether he was keeping another woman.”
“Did he admit it?”
“Yes.”
“What explanation did he give?”
“He just said that he loved her, and couldn’t help himself. It didn’t have anything to do with me, he said. He still loved me, he kept saying. It was just that he couldn’t help himself.”
“How old is this Hanson woman, Mrs. Vennezio?”
“She’s about forty.”
“And how old was Dominic?”
“He’s—he was fifty-nine.”
“What about her husband? What happened to him?”
“He drank, like I said, but that’s all I know—except that, just after Faith Hanson went to work for Dominic, her husband disappeared.”
“You mean …” I didn’t quite know how to put it.
“No, it wasn’t like that, I don’t think. I never knew, but I don’t think it was like that. I’d’ve heard.”
“Was the husband ever seen again?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
I sat for a long moment regarding her—trying to decide whether she was evading the question. In assessing her mannerisms, it was difficult to separate guilt from embarrassment.
“You’ve got to tell me everything, Mrs. Vennezio,” I said finally. “Otherwise I can’t help you.”
“I know.”
“And you’re certain Dominic didn’t—do away with Mr. Hanson?”
“I don’t know one way or the other. I told you.”
“What about Mrs. Hanson’s son? Is he living with her?”
“He lived with her for a year. But then, last year, she sent him to a private school. One of those fancy schools in the Ojai Valley.”
“When the boy left, did Dominic actually move in with the Hanson woman?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“They wouldn’t’ve liked that.”
“The Outfit, you mean?”
She nodded.
“But Dominic was the head man down South,” I prodded. “He was the one that made the rules.”
She looked at me briefly before saying, “Dom used to say that the higher you got, the closer they watch you. And it’s true. There were a dozen guys out for his job. Everything he did wrong, it got back East.”
“Did they know about his romance with Mrs. Hanson, back East?”
“Sure they did.”
“And they didn’t mind?”
“Not as long as he used his head and didn’t get out of line.”
“And did he use his head?”
She didn’t reply. As she’d been talking, her gathering tension was more and more evident. Still, I needed information.
“How did the actual murder occur?” I asked. “Tell me everything you know about it—especially anything that might not’ve got into the papers.”
For a moment I thought she hadn’t heard me, or didn’t intend to reply. She simply sat staring off across the room, her lips pressed into a tight, painful line.
“How did it actually happen, Mrs. Vennezio? If I’m going to help you, I’ve got to know. Tell it to me from the beginning.”
She was silent for a moment. Then, haltingly, she began to speak. “He’d gone to the beachhouse. It used to be our beachhouse. They—they spent weekends there. And that’s when it—it happened. On Sunday night.”
“Was Faith Hanson with him when he got killed?”
“She got there just afterward. She found him.”
“Was she questioned by the police?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Just that she walked in and found him lying in the living room, dead. Shot.”
“Did the police think that Dominic knew his