CHAPTER 013

AGAIN TOMORROW

CAT was quick to forgive my lengthy absence in exchange for the contents of the takeaway bag. I promised we would head over to the pet relief area once he’d finished with the lamb and I was done speaking with Frankie Denaro.

“No chance you’d be interested in a trade, huh?”

He gnawed away, not even dignifying my proposal with a response. His hair seemed glossier than usual, and perfectly flattened, like groomers had stopped by while I was gone to give him a good brushing. I didn’t recall that being a service advertised on the Express, but at this point nothing would surprise me. I gave him a hearty scratch to set his hair back astray and put in a call to Denaro.

I had forgotten to factor in the time difference, but he answered before I could change course.

“Is it true?”

I wasn’t sure what all he had heard yet, so I made sure not to unwittingly commit to anything I couldn’t vouch for.

“Matteo was found dead in his room.”

“Motherfucker.” The anguish in Denaro’s quiet utterance transcended the common usage of the phrase. “I knew something like this would happen.”

“You knew that Matteo was in danger?”

“No, but I knew that something was going on, that he seemed in over his head. He came to me with this cockamamie scheme to let him run security on the Express. By himself. I figured what’s the harm? You’ve seen the guest list. It’s not exactly a murderer’s ro—” Denaro caught himself. “Oh, Jesus.”

I hastened to put the unfortunate analogy behind us. “Not with his brothers?”

“Somewhere along the line he got it in his head that he needed to prove he could function on his own, not just part of the team. I don’t know if he was trying to impress someone or if it was some kind of self-esteem thing, or what.”

“And you didn’t think he could? Function on his own, I mean.”

“Matteo’s a…was a great kid. They all are. Up until Gabby and I had Gianetta, they were the closest thing we had to our own.”

I let his non-answer dangle. It didn’t feel right to push him any harder than need be. Not now.

“But those boys are better off together. They’re a package deal. Marco’s got the brains but has a tendency to rub people the wrong way. Luca…well, you’ve met Luca. Not someone you’re gonna pick a fight with but needs somebody else to do his talking.”

“And Matteo?”

“He was the glue that held the group together. He was a spokesman for the other two while keeping them away from each other’s throats.”

“Marco and Luca don’t get along?” That was news to me.

“You ever spend a week with one of your siblings, working and living in a box the size of my shoe closet?”

I shuddered at the thought. “No, but I can imagine.”

“Good. Now think about what it would be like if one of you was twice the size of the other. That’s where Matteo came in. He kept the peace.”

I could see that. He’d been instrumental at putting me at ease during my initial meeting with Frankie Denaro. That image contrasted wildly with the Matteo I’d encountered at Bello and then again in the ballroom. He’d been aggressive, agitated, and unpredictable. Not exactly the traits of a master diplomat.

“Do you have any idea who he might have been trying to impress? Could it have been you? Maybe he was looking for recognition, a promotion.”

Denaro pshawed the idea. “Like I said, the boys are family. They’ve got nothing to prove to me. Even if they thought they did, I like to think they’d come to me about it first.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“How about a significant other? Was he in a relationship with anyone? Did he want to be?”

“Okay, when I say the boys are family I still draw a line somewhere. He was an adult. His personal affairs were his business, not mine. But he never had any trouble with women if that’s what you’re getting at. He was constantly punching out of his weight class, if you know what I mean. It was like his superpower. And with a mug like that? I’m telling you, the broads I’d see him with…”

Denaro’s wistful reminiscence was somewhere between a proud father and a pensioner pining for his bachelor days. I tried to guide him back on track.

“But no one in particular he’d been seeing recently?”

“Not off the top of my head. But like I said, not my business. If you want I can ask around. You think someone might have offed Matteo over a girl?”

“I think it’s too early to jump to any conclusions, but getting in touch with everyone who’s spent time with him recently might help narrow it down.”

“Consider it done. I’m gonna have the balls of whatever prick hurt my boy.” The seriousness of the threat was in no way undercut by the slight quaver in his voice toward the end. If anything, it spoke to its sincerity.

As much as I wanted to promise that he would, I’d spent enough time in Denaro’s shoes recently to know better. Revenge was a dangerous motivator even without the complication of empty promises. I looked for the right words to calm him down, trying to remember what helped me get through my darkest times, but a wet, smacking sound kept distracting me.

I turned to find CAT flat on his back, spread out across the chaise lounge. Between his forepaws he precariously gripped a lamb bone, its meat long stripped away. Noticing me watching him, he returned my inquisitive gaze for a moment before going back to daintily licking the bone.

Maybe Denaro really did need to get a dog of his own.

“You know, I understand that there are certain risks when dealing with the types of people that Matteo did,” Denaro reasoned. “I really do. But I can’t see him getting wrapped up with someone who’d have him killed, at least not without me knowing about it.” Denaro choked down a sob. “And on my Express to boot. The disrespect.”

Disrespect. The word hit me like a ton of bricks.

My dinner conversation with Tamsworth rushed back to me. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t dare broach the subject of Vance Wilder, not now. The last thing I needed to do was put Denaro on the warpath while in such a fragile state of mind.

“Do me a favor.” The emotion had drained from the businessman’s voice, leaving it with a raw, vulnerable quality. “Keep things quiet. We can’t get Matteo back, but there’s no sense in letting these motherfuckers win. If word gets out that my own security guard got himself killed on the most exclusive ship in the system, my reputation is shot. That’s gotta be what they want. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble.”

My training told me to remind Denaro that we didn’t have any evidence Matteo had been murdered, but my instincts told me not to waste my breath. Wilder was right. He didn’t die of old age. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good, because you’ve got your work cut out for you. If that Benoit bitch catches wind of this we’re done for.”

Uh oh.

“Michelle Benoit?” I asked lamely. I couldn’t imagine it being any other.

“Pardon my French if she’s a friend of yours. I’m sure she’s a perfectly lovely lady. Lord knows her sister Emilia was, bless her soul.” That was why Michelle’s name sounded familiar. Not only did she share it with the former Stellar Engines employee that had recently been killed, but they were related. “Michelle’s a damn fine reporter, even if she’s a bit rough on us tech guys. I respect her for it. She stands by her word.”

“But you’re worried she’ll run with the story if she somehow happens to find out.” I could almost hear the word if straining under the heavy lifting it was doing in that sentence.

“Ever since her sister passed she’s been hounding us, trying to figure out how it was our fault. Even after the police pointed out that it was probably a random attack she wouldn’t let up. It’s nonstop.”

“Have you filed a cease and desist? Threatened to have her charged with harassment?”

Denaro cringed at the suggestion. “No, of course not. Everyone grieves differently. Fortunately, most of them don’t have a readership in the millions, or a hard-on for fucking up my business. Matter of fact, I tried to smooth things over by sending her a ticket for the Express. Asked her to write one of those, what do you call them, puff pieces in exchange. Did I care if she actually followed through with it? Not really. The important thing is I tried.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a couple questions about Emilia Benoit?” I heard a couple of voices in the background. I hoped Denaro was too distracted to notice the lack of a segue or wonder what she might have to do with Matteo’s death.

“I’m sorry, Marco and Luca just got here. We’ll have to pick this up later.”

Before I could offer my condolences he was gone.

I dropped my comex to the mattress and fell face-first after it. The pillow rose up to meet me. After months split between the cot in my office and the sofa in the cabin, it was like discovering the concept of comfort again for the first time. I did my best to block out the growing list of names cycloning around my brain, choosing instead to focus on the promise of a good night’s rest that lingered well within reach. All I needed to do was close my eyes.

Four furry feet padded across the room. A cold, wet nose burrowed under my hand.

“Walk.”

CAT was right. I had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I couldn’t expect to hit the ground running. I wondered when he’d gotten so philosophical.

“Poop.”

I sat up and shook the sleep from my eyes. I could always try again tomorrow.