couldn’t catch my breath. I didn’t believe the headline at first. But the photograph said it all — a man slumped in a chair on the dance floor of the Lido. The man Nate had asked me to spy on.
My heart went triple time, and I pressed one hand to it. I tried to swallow. Quickly, I snatched the paper from my neighbor’s mat, grabbed my milk, and slipped back inside. I winced at the sound of the door slam. I felt faint, and I sank down into the chair.
I smoothed the newspaper out on the kitchen table. I tried to read the article, the type jumping in front of my eyes. My hands pressed against my heart as if I could stop its thumping.
Ray Mirto, “reputed crime boss in Frank Costello’s operation,” had been shot sometime last night, right in the club. I looked again at the gruesome photograph of the dead man. A thin sliver of light illuminated one outflung hand. His white shirt was stained black with blood.
I want you to tell me if Ray Mirto is there.
All that interest in Ray Mirto and when he was at the club, how long he stayed. Nate had asked me to sit at his table last night! To keep him there?
Was Nate involved in the murder?
Because if he was, I was, too.
I ran to the sink and splashed cold water on my face. I grabbed the faucet and hung on, trying to think. What should I do? I had reported back about a man who turned up dead.
When the phone rang, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I ran for it.
“Hello, Kit, it’s Ted Roper.”
I sank down on the carpet, holding the receiver hard against my ear. What did Ted Roper know?
“Did you see the paper?” he asked.
I swallowed. “Yeah.” My voice came out hoarse and barely there.
“I’m calling all the girls, just to reassure them. The club is safe. The cops were all over it this morning, but we’re set to open tonight, like usual. And you know they caught the guy.”
I sat up straight. “They caught the killer?”
“It’ll be in the next edition. Come on, you’re kidding me, you didn’t know?”
“Why would I know?”
“It’s all over the radio, kiddo. I guess Mirto was skimming off the top, the lunkhead, and Costello ordered the hit. Some button man from the organization.”
“What?”
“You know, a hired killer. The guy’s got a good lawyer, though. C’mon, you really don’t know?” Ted paused. “Benedict’s the lawyer.”
“Nate Benedict?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“There’ll be reporters at the club tonight. If I were you, I’d come in early and get out fast. It won’t be long before they start kicking up some dirt on your boyfriend.”
On Billy? But how would reporters know about Billy?
“Listen, it sells papers. Don’t worry about it. Keep your head down and your powder dry, right?”
“This is all so awful,” I said.
“Sell, sell, sell, doll. That’s New York.”
COPS NAB LIDO KILLER
Francis Maretti Arrested and Charged
Providence Lawyer Nate “No Witnesses”
Benedict to Defend
Reputed hit man Frankie “No Bones” Maretti got a surprise this morning when he picked up a bag of donuts for his usual breakfast in Fort Lee, New Jersey. Police surrounded Maretti and slapped on the cuffs. Protesting his innocence, Maretti was led away, even while he insisted he’d already paid for his Boston creams.
The phone sat on the table, black and squat. I dressed and sat there, staring at it, waiting for Billy to call. What would I say? I couldn’t tell him that his father had asked me to keep tabs on a guy who’d been murdered. Then the whole story would come out, how I was living in Nate’s apartment. Billy must never know, I thought suddenly, with horror. Before, I’d figured that we could tell him eventually. But he wouldn’t understand. He would never understand. He thought I’d made my own way in New York, that I was that strong. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t strong at all.
I had to talk to Nate. I had to see him face-to-face and ask him about Ray Mirto. I didn’t know if he’d tell me the truth or not, but before I talked to Billy, I had to talk to his father. I had to know if I was in the clear.
I was waiting for the ring of the phone, but it still startled me. I picked it up after two rings and said hello.
Billy’s voice was low and deep, still husky from sleep. “Good morning,