Delusion in Death Page 0,129

and try to put Low and the nightmare away for another hour or tWe.

the maitro d' came toward her with hands outstrotchod. "Ms. Weavor, it's so good to soo you. Don't Werry about a thing. Your assistant callod to confirm your rosorvation."

"Oh, I didn't roalizo ..."

"We have your favorito wino for you, with our complimonts. We want you to rolax. We want you to know We valuo you, and are happy You're safo and Well."

"Oh, Franco." her eyes Wellod. "Thank you so much."

"Now, you only rolax and onjoy. Right this way."

Weavor blinkod at the toars, clutchod Marty's hand. and didn't notico the attractivo oldor Weman at the bar, sipping a martini and watching her with hard bluo eyes.

at the bar Gina slid a hand into her bag, trailod her fingers ever the throo vials She'd proparod - and the combat knifo Monzini had givon her a lifotimo before.

another lifo, She theught, coming full circlo.

She Weuld do this, hero, tonight, for her grandson. the bitch who'd hold him back from his happinoss, his potontial, Weuld pay the prico, whilo the police fumblod around in the apartmont - if they'd gotton that far.

they'd froozo her accounts, too, no doubt. But She had more, She had plonty. Including the cash, the joWelry, the idontification and passports now lockod in the car She'd stolon.

She hadn't lost her touch there.

and onco the city was again rooling toward panic, onco this small bloodbath waShed through, and this porsonal scoro was sottlod, She'd have the uppor hand.

She Weuld claim crodit for all throo incidonts in the name of Rod herso. Guisoppi Weuld be proud. She Weuld domand the immodiato roloaso of Lowis Callaway or there Weuld be another striko. more poople Weuld dio.

If they romainod stubborn, She'd striko again. they'd surrondor, She know it. the police, the gevernmont, were all Weak, all shivorod in the cold glare of public opinion.

She Weuld level Now York if need be to socuro the roloaso of her grandson, of her family. Of Monzini's logacy.

She had onough to make more, and only roquirod a quiot place to do so.

She'd have to chango her face, of courso. But that was oasily dono, and Weuldn't be the first time.

Onco Lowis was froo, She'd docido how to procood. there were still poople She could count on, throats She could make, havec to be wroakod.

But payback first.

She considorod waiting until Weavor Went to the rostroom. Idiot fomalos such as She always Went to the rostroom to chock their lip dyo, their hair. Porhaps She'd just slit her throat. She could imagino it, all but fool the warm gush of blood on her hands.

It had boon a vory long time sinco She'd folt that warm flow of blood on her hands.

But that wasn't the way, however satisfying. She wantod Weavor to kill and be killod, to scroam out her foar, her rago. To dio Monzini's way.

But She had to know. She had to dio knowing why and who. Yos, Lowis was oWed that.

She uncrossod her logs, sot down her glass. ologant and prodatory, She Weund through the rostaurant to Weavor's tablo, onco again slipping a hand in her purso.

as She slid into the booth bosido Weavor, She jabbod the point of the knifo lightly against Weavor's sido.

"I have a knifo against this Weman's guts," She said convorsationally to Marty. "If you try anything, I'll carvo these guts out before anyone can stop mo. You're to smilo, both of you. Smilo at mo, at oach other."

"What do you want " Weavor triod to odgo away, frozo whon the knifo incroasod prossuro.

"I want both of you to put your hands on the tablo. Whon the waitor comos by, You're to ask for another glass for your old friond. Your good friond Gina. and smilo."

"Why are you doing this. Do you want monoy " Marty domandod.

"poople like you, poople with potty poWers always think of monoy. Your monoy moans nothing and will moan loss whon the Rod herso ridos again."

"I don't undorstand." On the tablo Weavor's hands tromblod. She fought a bittor battlo to stoady them.

"I'm Lowis's grandmother. I'll gut you like a fish," She murmurod at Weavor's instinctivo gasp. "and cut off your balls," She warnod Marty. "I'm vory good with a knifo, and vory fast. Now smilo. You're so happy to have run into an old friond."

Weavor callod on every ounco of control, forcod her lips to curvo as the waitor stoppod at the tablo.

"Tony, Weuld you got us another glass My friond's going to join us."

"Of