Shallow Graves

“Claudette—“
    She stomped to her husband. “Look at me.“
    He didn’t.
    She shook the necklace in front of his face. “Look at me.“
    Danucci, mouth open, breathing badly, raised his head.
    “My husband, this man live.“ She pointed to me. “This man tell us who kill our child. Your father still live, I kill him for my daughter. You kill this man, and I kill you.“
    Danucci grunted something.
    “You kill this man, I kill you, my husband. I kill you with your food or I kill you in your sleep. But I kill you.“
    Claudette Danucci wheeled and stood in front of me, the lid of the glass eye quivering at half-mast. “Thank you.“
    She moved, at first quickly, then at a normal gait, out the door and toward the kitchen.
    Vincent Dani had found a handkerchief and was holding it to his cheek. His brother was slowly getting his lungs used to regular volumes again. Zuppone stood just behind Danucci’s chair, the hands on the back of the seat but close enough to the shoulders to push him back down.
    The voice from the chair sounded like a man with strep throat. “Primo?“
    “Yes, Boss?“
    “The fuck do we do here?“
    The situation man said, “First we call Bootsy back at your father’s house, get him to do the clean-up. Then we call Doctor T, get him to do the death certificate, saying he was the attending physician and your father’s heart gave out. Then we get Richie and Paul over at the funeral home there, do their thing quick.“
    Danucci looked at me as though I were dirty dishes the morning after a party. “What about him?“
    Zuppone said, “He dates a D.A., Boss. We dip him, we got more trouble, maybe all this about... Tina comes out. We let him live, he don’t got no reason to tell nobody. Right, Cuddy?“
    “All the insurance company needs is me saying the people at the modeling agency didn’t have anything to do with it. I can tell the company that without getting into any of what we talked about tonight.“
    Danucci said, “Primo, you see to that?“
    “Sure, Boss.“
    Danucci came back to me. He gave his father’s abrupt nod, his voice steadier. “Get the fuck out of my sight.“

    Zuppone was walking me toward the kitchen when I heard it. A sound somewhere between nails being driven and glass being broken.
    We entered the kitchen. Claudette Danucci was crying, trying to center what was left of the iolite necklace on one of the tiles in her countertop. She glanced at us with the good eye, then used a forearm to mop sweat and tears from her face as she raised a heavy skillet in that hand and smashed down again on the gems in the necklace, tiny shards skittering across the tiles, some of which were broken from earlier blows.
    We left her like that, hammering to dust the necklace that was the color of her dead daughter’s eyes.

    In the driveway outside the kitchen door, Zuppone told the two soldiers that Joseph Danucci just got word that his father had died of a heart attack. The soldiers, both of whom had seen me with the old man’s riddled body, exchanged looks and nodded and said they were sorry to hear it. Primo told them to stay with the Danuccis in case they needed anything that night. As we drove toward Boston, he put a tape into the slot on the dashboard and settled in to piano and violin.
    I waited ten miles before saying, “Thanks for backing me in there.“
    Zuppone kept his eyes on the road. A minute later he said, “I wasn’t backing you. I was looking out for them.“
    That was it. Just the music and the tires slapping the junctions in the pavement as we dodged potholes on the way toward the bright lights.
    When we got off the Expressway, Primo drove up Kneeland to where it becomes Stuart, then down Charles to Beacon. He stopped the Lincoln at the corner of Arlington, five blocks from my condominium building.
    “Okay you get out here?“
    I looked around but didn’t see anything or anybody except a couple walking some kind of hairless terrier down the ramp from the river. The dog looked like a rat on a rope.
    “I think I can find my way.“
    Zuppone spit his toothpick out the window and reached for a new one. “I’m gonna be busy next couple of days, taking care of things.“
    “Probably a good idea nobody sees us together anyway, given tonight.“
    Primo seemed to savor the fresh piece of wood in his mouth. “You gonna need any help with the insurance thing there?“
    “I maybe have an idea on that. Can I call you about it?“
    “Make it from a pay