Cloaked in Blood (15 page)

Datello’s turn to hiss curses.  “He
told me he had a file that he was going to give to you.  It
would’ve corroborated everything the government suspected about
Sully.  He was terrified, said someone was following him.”

“Oh, someone
was
following him. 
Eddie Franchetta,” I said.

“So he did see what happened that
night.”

“He claims he did.”

“Soule told me that Franchetta said someone
is trying to pressure him to implicate you.  The FBI doesn’t
believe that Rick was murdered now.  They bought the suicide
story, and Franchetta confirmed it.  He said you were there,
that you and Rick argued, but that Rick suddenly pulled a gun and
put it to his head and pulled the trigger.  He said you took
the gun.”

My stare at Dad intensified.  “And
still you doubt it?”

Datello sighed heavily.  “I don’t trust
Eddie Franchetta.  How could I ever trust the man who pulled
the trigger the night my father was murdered?”

“I’m sorry.”

“None of this is why I’m here, Helen. 
Your father told me about Preston’s dying declaration, about
Destiny Gerard’s statement implicating me before she committed
suicide.”

I looked at Dad.  “You’ve been busy,
Daddy.  I don’t recall giving you half that information.”

“You said more than you recall.  Either
that or that endearing habit you have of mumbling what you know and
what you suspect hasn’t abated over the years.”

I grinned.  “A couple of other people
have noticed that.”

“I am not involved with human trafficking,”
Danny said.  “And I’m not leaving here until I find out who
used me, used my business for such a heinous crime, Helen.”

I glanced at him again.  “We already
know you were just a scapegoat.”

“By whom?  Eugene Sherman?”

“You know about him?”

“He was a political ally, for years.”

I frowned.  “Didn’t Sherman support Joe
Collangelo?”

“He did.  What makes you think I didn’t
support him as well, Helen?  The man’s a democrat.  He
has the same views on labor, the environment, the economy, social
programs as I do.  Whether you choose to see it or not, I’m
nothing like the Marcos family.”

“Old habits die hard.  Why were you so
dead set against Collangelo in the upcoming election?”

Danny chuckled.  “Seriously?  Do
you really have to ask me that question?  Your husband was a
pain in the ass private investigator.  When he announced to
the world that no, he’s really the head of Joe’s special police
force, I was livid.  He was wasting not only time, but the
public’s money trying to build a case against me.  And what
for?  A stupid vendetta over a prank when I was a kid.”

“Sister Agnes and that altar you
burned?  I think there was a little more to it than that,” I
said.  I hadn’t forgotten the story Johnny told me months ago
about what initially convinced him that Danny Datello was a bad
guy.  True, it probably was a juvenile prank gone awry, but
given Danny’s family connections, it wasn’t much of a leap to
assume he hadn’t grown into someone more civic minded and
responsible, even though the evidence thoroughly supported it.

“I know that Gwen Bennett told him that Sal
Masconi would never hurt another child again,” Danny said.

“And Johnny never forgave himself for
looking the other way, for letting a little karma accomplish what
he believed was a failure of the criminal justice system.  But
you have to understand that Johnny knew who took care of
Masconi.  If you could do it once, in his mind, you’d do it
again, or had done it before.”

“Yet he has no qualms about overlooking what
you’ve done,” Danny said.

It was hard to argue with that kind of
logic.  I simply shrugged.  “Rick was a criminal,
Danny.  Unlike you, he was regularly breaking the law, hiding
it from his wife, and then tried to use his connection to you to
blackmail me into destroying evidence.  He told me that he’d
ruin me if I didn’t help him.”

“What did you say?” Datello asked.

“I told him I was leaving to tell David
Levine what he was trying to do.  Then he told me that Sully
had someone watching him, that he was afraid for his life.  I
didn’t believe him.  If Sully had one of his thugs following
him, the FBI would’ve known about it.  They’d have scooped him
up and put him in protective custody and offered him a deal not
even he could’ve been stupid enough to refuse.”

“He would’ve refused it,” Danny said
bitterly.  “He didn’t want anything to change.  Remember
what I said to you last year when you told me that Gwen was
dead?”

I nodded.  He accused me of enjoying
Rick’s money, living that lifestyle of wealth.

“It was true.  He liked the
money.  He wanted in, Helen.  My mistake was trusting he
would do what he promised, that he’d use what he knew and give it
to you.  Since I was seventeen years old, the only thing I’ve
wanted is to see Sully pay for killing my father.”

I moved around the dumpster to Datello’s
left and sat cross-legged on the ground.  “I can relate to
that, you know.  My father went to prison for a crime he
didn’t commit, and I was forced to pretend that I hate him for
nearly twenty years.  It eats at your soul after awhile, until
you do something reckless to fix the mistake.”

Datello squatted down beside me. 
“Celeste was right.  She said that she had a feeling that if
you and I could ever sit down and have a real conversation, that
we’d find out that we have an awful lot in common.”

“She said the same thing to me.”  I
looked at him and smiled.  “I’m sorry I arrested you. 
I’m sorry I wasn’t the type of cop you felt you could tell the
truth to, Danny.  It was a mistake, and I was wrong.”

“I should’ve never pushed Rick to pursue
you.  I really thought he was attracted to you at first. 
When I realized that he thought it would be a stronger selling
point to Sully, it was too late.  You already accepted his
proposal and set a date for the wedding.  I figured there was
simply something wrong with the family gene pool, that men in my
family don’t know how to love their wives.”

“I’m glad Celeste disabused you of that
notion.  Somehow, I get the feeling you’re nothing like your
cousin.”

“Wendell told me about what happened to you,
Helen, when you were born, I mean.  He thinks that all of this
is related, your abduction, my Sofia Helene’s kidnapping, the
operation that Gutierrez and Gerard had through my fishing
business.”

I nodded.  “They were all pretty
convinced that you could be the convenient patsy.”

“What worries me is that Sully might be part
of this too, Helen.”

I shook my head.  “I highly doubt
it.  Every single link we’ve found so far exists here and in
Montgomery.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about my
uncle.”

“Would you be willing to share that
information with us?”

Datello frowned.  “
Us
?”

“If you can let go of your hatred of Helen,
I think she’s suggesting that you should also consider putting a
little bit of faith in her husband, Danny.  Orion really isn’t
the enemy.”

He scowled at the asphalt alley.

“He knows the truth, Danny.  Maybe
you’ll understand why I trust him if I simply say that he is my
Celeste.”

“I don’t know,” Datello said.  “You’re
asking an awful lot, Helen.  I’d need guarantees that he’s not
gonna try to arrest me and put me back on trial for something I
absolutely did not do.”

“I’ll tell you what he said to me after
Celeste told me the truth,” I said.  “Johnny reminded me that
when all of this came out in court – and he had no doubt that it
would’ve – that Zack would’ve been the first person to drop the
charges against you.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that he’d love
to have your testimony against Mitch Southerby so the jury can hear
what really happened in Darkwater Bay when ADA Ireland was
murdered, when Johnny and I were assaulted and when he had his men
storm the medical examiner’s office.”

Datello shook his head.  “I can’t let
anyone know I’m alive until Sully is convicted, Helen.”

“Not even Celeste?”

Datello’s sound of distress was muffled in
the back of his throat.  “I’d love nothing more than to ease
her pain right now.  But it puts her in danger again. 
She’s better off in the dark.”

“But will you talk to Johnny Orion?” Wendell
asked.

Datello stared hard at me.  “Only after
you find out why your friend in the FBI has been lying to you about
everything, Helen.”

“You mean about Franchetta’s testimony?”

Danny shook his head.  “About why you
didn’t know you saved my life.  He knows I’m alive,
Helen.  I’ve spoken to David Levine myself.”

Chapter 15

How would I ever begin this conversation
with Johnny?  The temptation to lie was so strong, I could
taste it like bitter acid in the back of my throat.  It was
distasteful, painful even.  I thought about Datello and his
vehemence where Celeste was concerned.  She had to believe he
was dead for her own protection.

Was it right to lie to the only person he
truly trusted simply to keep her safe?  Should I lie to Johnny
and make up some story about how Wendell knew what he knew? 
What would Johnny think of Datello’s distrust of a man I
do
trust?  Johnny does too.  David quickly became someone
that Johnny turned to for help.

Why would he let me suffer in guilt when he
knew Danny Datello didn’t die at the hands of Alfred Preston?

An even better question popped into my
head.  Why wasn’t I suspicious over the odd appearance of Joel
Soule at the hospital the day Danny died?  Or the day I
thought he died.  How had they explained the absence of a body
to his wife?

By the time Danny was buried, I’d been
abducted and was out at sea trying to figure out how I could
possibly kill the next person who tried to approach me.

Johnny and Crevan met me at the doorway in
the garage after I parked the Expedition.

“You look rough,” Crevan observed.

“Did you tell him where I went?”

Johnny glanced at Crevan.  “Yeah, but
we decided that at least for the time being, we’re the only people
who should be aware that Wendell is actually in Darkwater Bay.”

I couldn’t disagree.  Given Devlin’s
poor reaction to how I liberated Dad from Attica, I was pretty sure
he’d simply arrest Wendell and ship him back to prison.  And
he’d probably start harping on Dad’s likely involvement in this
case that for over two months we hadn’t made much progress
solving.

Johnny steered me into the kitchen and
nudged me into a chair.  Food appeared on the table in front
of me.  I pushed the plate away.  “I have no
appetite.  And I really don’t know how to begin this
conversation, Johnny.  I don’t think I can do it for an
audience.”

“I’m not leaving,” Crevan planted his feet
with the resolution of a mountain and crossed his arms over his
chest.  “Start talking, Helen.  We’re not having secrets
anymore.  You’re family, and we don’t hide things from
family.”

I drew the straw out of the strawberry
protein shake Johnny supplied, let it squeak back and forth through
the lid several times as I plunged it in and out of the slush.

“Why is he here?” Johnny asked.

I shrugged.  We’d never actually got
around to discussing more than my protection.

“He doesn’t think we can keep you safe, does
he?” Crevan asked.

“Probably not.  At least, he doesn’t
believe you’re willing to go to the lengths he will to protect
me.”

“Dammit,” Johnny said.  “Did you ask
him about Sanderfield’s murder?”

“He swears he had nothing to do with
it.”

“But do you believe him, Helen?” 
Crevan started pacing.

“Yeah, I actually do.  From what I
gathered, Dad has simply been catching up on what I’ve been doing
for the past couple of decades.  He knows an awful lot of
information about what’s been going on in our investigation,
though, and I have no idea how that’s possible.”

“We talked about having a leak.  Maybe
we do,” Johnny said.

“He’s posing as a priest,” I admitted. 
“So maybe he’s getting his information in the confessional. 
Come to think of it, that’s probably why Dad chose that particular
disguise.”

“What church?” Crevan demanded.

“Maybe you should leave,” Johnny
suggested.  “We’ll discuss everything later, Crevan. 
Right now, I think I’d like to have a private conversation with my
wife.”

“Why are you here?” I asked Crevan before he
could argue.

“He came to pick up the keys to the house in
Downey, Helen.  Crevan, I’ll call you later.  Call Devlin
and have him route his reports to you for the time being.  His
flight should be in New York soon.”

“Are you –?”

“Go,” Johnny interrupted tersely.

I waited until he left.

“What parish is he in, Helen?”

“He said, but I honestly don’t
remember.  The rest of the conversation, the things I learned,
were so jarring, Johnny, I’m not sure I know where to begin, or
even how to tell you what I learned.”

He sat beside me and pulled the plate of
sliced fruit and vegetables close.  “Is it because you’re
still having issues with trust?”

“No,” I said.  “Absolutely not. 
It’s… I’m not sure how you’ll react to what I learned.  I’m
not quite sure what to make of it myself, Johnny.”

“Has Wendell done something illegal
again?”

“Other than posing as a priest?”

He chuckled.  “I’m not sure that’s
actually a crime unless he stole a real priest’s identity.”

“I’m starting to question whether or not we
can trust David.”

Johnny frowned.  “What on earth could
your father have said to make you doubt David?  Helen, he’s
helped us so much.”