The Villa

choices might have been. He could have pressured Don for more, a bigger cut, whatever. It wouldn't have been out of character for him to have threatened blackmail, in a civilized way, of course. He might have known about the tampering, about poor Signore Baptista. Then Margaret because she wanted more, or because he was afraid she'd find out about the embezzlement. You because he realized there was no way out."
    "Why steal the paperwork?"
    "I don't know, David. He couldn't have been thinking rationally. I suppose he thought you'd be dead, he'd have the files and that would be that. But you weren't dead, and it must have gotten through his head the files weren't going to hang him. He'd already hanged himself. Meanwhile, we have another public relations nightmare to get through. Ever think about ditching us and running back to La Coeur?"
    "Nope. Sophia, why don't you try eating that bread instead of shredding it?"
    "Yes, Daddy." She winced at the petulant sound in her own voice. "Sorry. Jet lag and general nastiness. Why don't I go deal with that packing for you? Since you insist on leaving rather than staying in my sparkling company, you've got a very early flight tomorrow."
     
    He was sweating like a pig. The terrace doors were wide open, and the cool air rising off Lake Como swept into the room. It didn't stop the sweat. Only turned it to ice.
    He'd waited until his lover was asleep before he'd crept out of bed and into the adjoining parlor. He hadn't been able to perform, but she'd pretended it hadn't mattered. How could a man maintain an erection at such a time?
    Perhaps it didn't matter, really. She'd been thrilled with the trip, with his sweeping her away to the elegant resort on the lake, something he'd promised dozens of times in the past and had never fulfilled. He'd made a game of it, given her a ridiculous amount of cash so she could charge the room to her card. He wasn't known there, he told her. He wanted it to stay that way. What would he do if someone mentioned seeing him there with a woman other than his wife?
    He thought that had been clever. Very clever. He had almost believed it a game himself. Until he'd seen the news report. Seen his own face. He could only be grateful his mistress had been in the salon. He could easily keep her away from newspapers, from the television.
    But they couldn't stay. Someone would see him, recognize him.
    He needed help, and knew only one source.
    His hands shook horribly as he dialed New York. "It's Donato."
    "I expected it would be." Jerry glanced at his watch, calculated. Giambelli had the three A.M. sweats, he thought. "You've been a very busy boy, Don."
    "They think I shot David Cutter."
    "Yes, I know. What were you thinking?"
    "I wasn't—I didn't." His English was failing him. "Dio. You told me to get out of Venice right away when I told you what Cutter said. I did. I never even went home to my family. I can prove it," he whispered desperately. "I can prove I wasn't in Venice when he was shot."
    "Can you? I don't know what good that's going to do you, Don. The story I get is you hired a trigger."
    "Hired a… what is this? They say I hired someone to shoot him? For what reason? The damage was done. You said so yourself."
    "Here's how I look at it." Oh, it was getting better, Jerry thought. Better, sweeter than he'd ever imagined. "You killed two people, probably three with Avano. David Cutter," he continued, amused by Donato's panicked sputter. "What's one more? You're royally fucked, pal."
    "I need help. I have to get out of the country. I have money, but not enough. I need a—a—a passport. A new name, a change of my face."
    "That all sounds very reasonable, Don, but why tell me?"
    "You can get these things."
    "You overestimate my reach and my interest in you. Let's consider this conversation a severing of our business association."
    "You can't do this. If they take me, they take you."
    "Oh, I don't think so. There's no way to connect me to you. I've made sure of that. In fact, when I hang up the phone, I intend to call the police and tell them you contacted me, that I tried to convince you to turn yourself in. It shouldn't take them too long to trace this call back to you. That's fair warning, given our previous relationship. I'd hit the road and hit it fast."
    "None of this would've happened—It was your idea."
    "I'm just full of ideas." Serenely, Jerry examined his manicure. "But you'll note, I never killed anyone. Be smart, Don, if you can manage it.