Shallow Graves

from the smaller buildings downtown giving a halo to the horizon. “Primo, did you know Tina that well?“
    A shrug. “I seen her from time to time. She was younger, I’d give her rides here and there.“
    “Talk to her much?“
    “Naw. It was just like, ‘Uncle Primo, please take me to the mall, please?’ Like that.“
    “Uncle Primo?“
    “Yeah.“ The half-smile. “I’m not really family, but her mother, she’s a real stickler for respect to elders. So Tina’d call me ‘Uncle Primo’ instead of ‘Mr. Zuppone,’ you know?“
    “What do you know about her life since?“
    The smile winked out. “Just what I told you. She was a daughter and a model and now she’s dead.“
    “Anything about boyfriends, enemies?“
    “No. She was outta the house down there and into the South End for—what, like a year?“
    “I think so.“
    “Girl that age. Cuddy, a year’s like a fucking century to you and me.“
    I waited a minute, trying to figure a back way to asking where Zuppone was when Mau Tim was killed. “How did you hear she was dead?“
    “I was out, running around for this gentleman I know. Got the word her mother’d called with the news.“
    “Who was the gentleman?“
    Just the half-smile. “No big secret, Cuddy. I was grocery shopping.“
    “On a Friday night?“
    “I go to the Star over by Fenway Park . The college kids, they got partying on their minds. So long as the Sox are playing on the road, it ain’t too crowded.“
    Fenway Park was less than a mile from the apartment building on Falmouth Street . “You drive all the way across town from the North End to go food shopping?“
    Zuppone caressed the steering wheel, the way he had on the drive south. “They got good parking, nice wide spaces. I buy the big items, the heavy stuff there, then shop the specialty stores back in the neighborhood.“
    Speaking of neighborhoods, we were approaching the Chinatown exit.
    I said, “This time of night, probably Kneeland would be the fastest way back to my place.“
    Zuppone went by the turnoff and down into the tunnel without slowing. “We ain’t finished with your visiting yet.“
    The lights inside the tunnel shimmered briefly across the hood and windshield. Then we were out and heading up on the Central Artery toward the Boston Garden/North End exit. Zuppone picked up the telephone, hit the number “one,“ and waited. Then, “It’s Primo... Yes, Mister—... Less than that... Right.“
    I moved my tongue around in my mouth. There wasn’t much doubt who we were seeing next. “Should I be getting worried, Primo?“
    The turn and half-smile. “Hey-ey-ey, enjoy the music, huh?“

- 12 -

    We inched down a North End street no broader than the alleys in other parts of the city. Cars were parked up and onto the sidewalk but didn’t sport any orange tickets beneath their windshield wipers. Zuppone pulled the Lincoln past a driveway that was barely a curb cut, then used the power steering to back into it. I figured I’d wait for him to get out first.
    Primo turned off the ignition and shifted sidesaddle in his seat. He nodded toward a nondescript doorway with a small aluminum awning. The door led into one of the buildings off the driveway. “I think it’s just gonna be you and me and this other gentleman upstairs, but he’s got like a rule of the house.“
    “Which is?“
    “Guests, they got to check their guns at the door.“
    I looked at him.
    “Hey-ey-ey, Cuddy, we’re gonna clip you, we let you take it inside, then we hit you over the fucking head, take it away from you.“
    “I don’t like the number of times you’ve told me how I don’t have to worry about getting killed just yet.“
    “You have my personal word, you got nothing to worry about up there. The gentleman wants you out, it ain’t gonna be in his living room, right?“
    I took the Smith & Wesson Chiefs Special from the holster over my right buttock, swinging out the cylinder and unloading it. I put the bullets in my right jacket pocket and extended the weapon to Zuppone, cylinder still out.
    He looked hurt. “What, you think we’d whack you with your own piece?“
    “It’s been tried before.“
    Primo took my weapon, closed the cylinder back into the frame gently, the way you’re supposed to, and slid the revolver into the pocket of his leather coat.
    I let him lead me from the car to the doorway, sounds of a radio station coming down from a third-story window in another building. On the outside sills