Invasion of Privacy

pause.
    “Olga?”
    “I am trying to think, but I cannot.”
    It hurt to hear her say the words. “Is Claude Loiselle there?”
    “I am not sure.”
    “Maybe it’d be a good idea for you to speak with her. I can keep looking into this, but I’m afraid that what I’ve found suggests Mr. Dees is involved in something very wrong.”
    No response.
    “Olga, are you still there?”
    “I think you must be right about—’Andrew,’ can that even be his real name?”
    “I don’t know. If you want, I can approach him directly, and maybe—”
    “No. No, please, do nothing further until I speak with you, yes?”
    “Okay.”
    A very sad sigh. “Thank you so much.”
    Somehow that was even harder to hear.
    After hanging up, I tried Nancy again, but got the same secretary with the same information about her being on trial, so I left the same message. I considered checking my answering service and telephone tape machine one more time, but figured if Primo was on them again, I’d be back in Boston sooner if I just started driving.

    I pulled the Prelude into the night-darkened space on Fairfield Street behind the condo building. I was thinking about Nancy , about the reassuring message I hoped was waiting for me, and so I missed spotting the car until I heard the voice.
    “Cuddy!”
    I ducked, and my empty hand told me I wasn’t carrying a weapon just a split second before I recognized the voice and face.
    “Primo.”
    Zuppone had started to duck himself, still standing at the open, driver’s side door of the Lincoln when he saw me reach behind my back. “Christ, the fuck were you gonna do, shoot me?”
    “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
    “Something else, huh? Let me tell you about something else.” Primo slammed his door. “What’s the matter, you don’t return your fucking phone calls no more?”
    It was the first time I’d seen Zuppone do anything but baby the Lincoln, and there was an edge to his voice I’d heard only once before. When Pd been in a lot of trouble with his employers.
    “What’s going on, Primo?”
    He came up the sidewalk toward me, taking the toothpick from his mouth and throwing it violently to the ground. “What’s going on is I been calling you non-fuck-ing-stop at your office, at the condo here, I even thought about leaving a message for your girlfriend the DA, asking her to pretty please get you the fuck in touch with me.” We were almost nose-to-nose. “Don’t ever call her, Primo.”
    “I didn’t.”
    “Ever.”
    Zuppone drew in a deep breath. “All right, all right. Let’s both calm down a little, huh?”
    The “situation guy” was rattled, and I didn’t like that at all. “Primo, what do we have to calm down from?”
    He let out the breath with a whooshing sound. “You and me got a problem.”

    “Where’re we going?” I said.
    The Lincoln turned soundlessly onto Storrow Drive , the potholes and speedbumps we’d hit on Back Road barely noticeable through the land yacht’s suspension system. Zuppone was thumping his right thumb against the cradled car phone, and I didn’t like the fact that no New Age music was coming from the speakers.
    “Primo, where?”
    “ Logan .”
    “Why the airport?”
    Zuppone glanced over, then checked all his mirrors before focusing on the traffic ahead of him. “That picture you gave me. Of your guy, remember?”
    “I remember.”
    A fresh toothpick moved from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Yeah, well, I said I thought something rang a bell somewheres, but I wasn’t sure?”
    “Go on.”
    “So I show his photo to some friends of ours, including this one friend, does some coordination work between us and Providence , us and the Outfit.”
    “The Chicago organization?”
    “Yeah, that’s what they call themselves in the Windy fucking City. And I even went out there with this coordinator once, kind of show the flag a couple, three years ago. But you told me your guy was South Shore or some fucking thing, right?”
    “That’s right.”
    “I mean, that’s where the property company and all was from.”
    “Yes.”
    A reverse migration of the toothpick as Zuppone drove past the exit for Government Center . “Okay, so that’s what I’m thinking when I show his picture to our friend the coordinator this morning. Only thing is, the friend takes one look at the photo and another at me, then says, ‘Primo, keep an eye on this guy, understand?’ ”
    “Keep an eye on him?”
    “Yeah, and