Bury the Lead - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,56
instant they are watching Marcus as he holds a gun on Gorilla, who is trying to shake the cobwebs from his head. The gun is dark, shiny, and rock-hard, just like Marcus, and it looks as if he has merely grown an extension on his hand, in the shape of a gun.
The driver of the car gets out, also holding a gun, which he points in the direction of Marcus, Tara, and me. Gorilla, less groggy now, takes out his own gun and joins the pointing club. Tara and I are the only ones without guns, though her teeth are bared and seem just as threatening as their weapons.
The driver speaks first, in a surprisingly calm voice. “There’s two of us, friend.” He’s talking to Marcus, and the implication is that there are two of them in the fight, but only Marcus on the other side. It’s demeaning to me, though true enough.
“Yuh,” says Marcus, seemingly unperturbed by the imbalance.
“So drop the gun, friend,” says Driver.
“Nuh,” says Marcus.
“He bit my fucking leg,” says Gorilla, misstating Tara’s gender but making his point.
“Nobody has to get hurt,” Driver says. “Mr. Petrone just wants to talk to the lawyer.”
He means me, so I force my mouth to speak. “In my country, we have friendlier ways to arrange conversations.”
Driver smiles. “He thought you might not respond to an invitation. Hey, if he wanted you dead, you’d be dead. We would have driven by, and you’d be lying on the cement, with your brains all over the grass.”
I look at Marcus and he nods slightly, which I take as a sign that he agrees with Driver. “Where is he?” I ask.
“Get in and find out.”
Marcus nods again. “Okay,” I say. “But Marcus and his gun go with us.” I turn to Marcus. “If you’re willing.” He grunts, but his head moves slightly up and down in midgrunt, so I take that as a yes.
I tell them to wait for me, and I walk Tara home. When I enter the house, Laurie sees the look on my face. “What’s the matter?” she asks.
I quickly relate what’s happened, and she asks a bunch of questions. I notice that the one question she doesn’t ask is the one I’ve had in my mind all along, which is, “What the hell was Marcus doing there?”
“You don’t seem surprised that Marcus was there,” I say.
She doesn’t hesitate. “I’ve had him watching out for you. You’ve been annoying some dangerous people.”
“You should have told me,” I say.
“Then you would have stopped it, and Marcus wouldn’t have been there to save your ass tonight,” she responds.
Laurie isn’t happy that I’m going to meet Petrone, and less happy when I refuse her request to go along. “This is real man’s work,” I joke as I walk out the door. She doesn’t think it’s that funny, and neither do I.
The truth is, I’m scared shitless.
• • • • •
THERE’S NOT TOO MUCH chitchat in the car on the way to Dominic Petrone’s. In fact, the only thing that is said is when I apologize for being late. I explain without much subtlety that, while I was at home, “I called my friend Pete Stanton of the Paterson police and told him where I was going. Just in case we have an accident.”
No one seems impressed by this maneuver, or if they are, they neglect to mention it. Marcus and Gorilla share the backseat, and I’m in the front with Driver. All the guns have been put away, which has a calming effect on everybody but me. I’m a nervous wreck.
Intellectually, I know there’s not much to worry about, at least for tonight, but the prospect of being summoned by Petrone is more than a little intimidating. My fear is that he’s going to make me an offer I can’t refuse, and I’m going to refuse it.
Driver drives us to a quiet West Paterson neighborhood, known by everyone, even me, to be the area in which the biggies in the mob reside. Rumor has it that there hasn’t been a robbery in this neighborhood since Calvin Coolidge was president.
Petrone’s house, at least from the outside, is modest. It’s a traditional colonial, two stories, and the property is both well kept and well defended. An ornate but imposing iron fence surrounds the grounds, and we drive up to a gate with three security men, all about the size of Gorilla.
They wave us in, not taking their eyes off Marcus as we go by. We enter the