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The Gate House :: Demille Nelson
Страница: 434 из 490Not my problem, as long as none of those roads led back to Grace Lane.
I thought, too, of Anthony in hiding, or in exile, and I wondered if he had normal human feelings of missing his family, and not knowing when or if he’d see them again. On the other hand, this was the life he’d chosen. And then, of course, I thought about my own exile. That was not the life I’d chosen – well, maybe it was – but it wasn’t my first choice.
Anyway, Anthony Bellarosa didn’t even know where London was, and he thought Paris was the name of a Vegas hotel. So this was a good idea, and we’d have fun while Anthony was trying to figure out if he was the boss, or if he was in trouble.
I said to Mr. Mancuso, “We’ll call you Tuesday from the airport.”
“Please do.”
I asked him, “Other than being called to the scene of a murder, did you have a good Father’s Day?”
“I did, thank you. And how about you?”
“I had a wonderful day with my children, and my fiancée.” I added, “My mother and future in-laws were here, too.” I informed him, “Everyone will be out of here by tomorrow morning.”
“That’s good.” He asked us, “Are you being… cautious?”
“We are,” I assured him. “However, Susan and I did go to Giulio’s for coffee and pastry on Thursday.”
“Did you? Well… that was probably a good thing.”
“It was, actually.”
He stayed quiet a moment, then said to me, or really to us, “I’ve often wondered… what would have been different in all our lives if you hadn’t stopped him from bleeding to death.”
“Well… you can be sure I’ve wondered about that myself a few times.” I glanced at Susan, who wasn’t looking at me, and said, “But I would never have let him bleed to death.”
“I know that. And neither would I. But I mean, if you couldn’t have saved his life, and he’d died then and there… well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“We would not.” And Susan wouldn’t have killed Frank on Felix Mancuso’s watch, and I wouldn’t have divorced her and been in self-exile for ten years, and Anthony would not now be a threat to our lives. But who knows if something worse might have happened in these last ten years? Like me running off with Beryl Carlisle. I said to Felix Mancuso, but also for Susan, “Well, if we believe in a divine plan, maybe this is going to have a better ending than if Frank Bellarosa had lost one more pint of blood on the floor in Giulio’s restaurant.”
He stayed quiet a moment, then said to me, and to Susan, “I’ve thought the same thing.
I thought, too, of Anthony in hiding, or in exile, and I wondered if he had normal human feelings of missing his family, and not knowing when or if he’d see them again. On the other hand, this was the life he’d chosen. And then, of course, I thought about my own exile. That was not the life I’d chosen – well, maybe it was – but it wasn’t my first choice.
Anyway, Anthony Bellarosa didn’t even know where London was, and he thought Paris was the name of a Vegas hotel. So this was a good idea, and we’d have fun while Anthony was trying to figure out if he was the boss, or if he was in trouble.
I said to Mr. Mancuso, “We’ll call you Tuesday from the airport.”
“Please do.”
I asked him, “Other than being called to the scene of a murder, did you have a good Father’s Day?”
“I did, thank you. And how about you?”
“I had a wonderful day with my children, and my fiancée.” I added, “My mother and future in-laws were here, too.” I informed him, “Everyone will be out of here by tomorrow morning.”
“That’s good.” He asked us, “Are you being… cautious?”
“We are,” I assured him. “However, Susan and I did go to Giulio’s for coffee and pastry on Thursday.”
“Did you? Well… that was probably a good thing.”
“It was, actually.”
He stayed quiet a moment, then said to me, or really to us, “I’ve often wondered… what would have been different in all our lives if you hadn’t stopped him from bleeding to death.”
“Well… you can be sure I’ve wondered about that myself a few times.” I glanced at Susan, who wasn’t looking at me, and said, “But I would never have let him bleed to death.”
“I know that. And neither would I. But I mean, if you couldn’t have saved his life, and he’d died then and there… well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“We would not.” And Susan wouldn’t have killed Frank on Felix Mancuso’s watch, and I wouldn’t have divorced her and been in self-exile for ten years, and Anthony would not now be a threat to our lives. But who knows if something worse might have happened in these last ten years? Like me running off with Beryl Carlisle. I said to Felix Mancuso, but also for Susan, “Well, if we believe in a divine plan, maybe this is going to have a better ending than if Frank Bellarosa had lost one more pint of blood on the floor in Giulio’s restaurant.”
He stayed quiet a moment, then said to me, and to Susan, “I’ve thought the same thing.