a rodeo, seeing if his calf would bolt. Her gun lay near Fat Tony’s inert form.
“Tony?” I yelled.
“I’m good, Benny. I’m good,” he groaned. He didn’t sound good. Sticks crouched at his side, his eyes skittering from the showdown in front of them to the pale face of his longtime friend.
“Put your gun down, Uncle,” I insisted. “Please.”
“So Bo Johnson can shoot me, nephew? You would choose him over me? You would choose Bo Johnson over family? Jack chose him . . . and Jack died. Maude died. And still you choose him.”
“She’s gone, Uncle. Maude Alexander is gone. Pop’s gone too. And nothing we do here is going to bring them back. Killing Bo Johnson won’t bring them back.”
“He’s not going to kill me, Benny. I’m going to kill him,” Bo Johnson said, his voice low and easy.
“She wanted me. She wanted me, and he couldn’t handle it. So he killed her. He killed Maude,” Sal said, his lips trembling over his clenched teeth.
“She didn’t w-want you, Salvatore,” Theresa moaned, trying to rise. She rolled to her knees and looked longingly toward her little gun. Her giant coat hung from her plump shoulders and her makeup was smeared across her face. She’d lost one of her shoes. “And Bo Johnson didn’t kill her.”
“Do you know what happened to her, Aunt Theresa?” I asked. “Do you know who did?”
Bo Johnson flinched like he’d been punched in the stomach, and his gun jerked. Sal’s eyes widened, and he stared at me in angry bafflement.
“Maude Alexander killed herself,” Theresa insisted. “She killed herself. She was a miserable woman. A terrible woman! She slept with everyone. She destroyed families. She destroyed her own family. And I’m tired of talking about her. She’s gone!”
“Boss. Tony needs a doc,” Sticks interrupted.
“I’m okay, Sticks. Help me up,” Fat Tony insisted. “I hit my head. That’s all. I’m okay.”
Sticks didn’t dare lower his gun. He was trying to cover Theresa while tending to his friend. She was fingering the baubles at her ears like they gave her courage.
“Were those Maude Alexander’s earrings?” I asked softly, suddenly certain Esther was right.
“They’re mine,” Theresa said, but she shrank, pulling her ugly coat close and patting the concrete around her, in search of her shoe.
“Let me see them,” Sal said, shooting his hand out. Theresa froze. Then she rose to her feet, swaying a little. She tugged the earrings from her lobes and set them in his hand.
He studied them, his palm flat, fingers extended, and then he raised his eyes to his wife.
“Where did you get these, Theresa?” he said.
“They’re mine,” she repeated, emphatic.
“Where did you get them?” he insisted again.
“I’ve been wearing them for twenty years. And you never noticed,” Theresa said. “Or did you just never look at me long enough?” She flinched as if her bravery would cost her, and I felt a flash of sympathy for my skittish aunt.
“Where did you get them?” Sal asked, enunciating each word.
“They are mine!” Theresa screeched, and then she immediately cowered, like her own raised voice had scared her. “They are mine,” she said again, softly. “I earned them.”
“I gave those to Maude,” Bo Johnson said. His attention had shifted to Theresa, but his gun had not.
“Maude took something of mine. So I took something of hers,” Theresa said, her tone like a petulant child’s.
“What did she take, Theresa?” Sal asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“She took you.”
“She didn’t. I am still here,” Sal argued, dismissive.
It was the same phrase I’d used several times with Esther and her brothers. I’m still here. Physical presence meant nothing when what mattered most—my heart, my commitment, my loyalty—was elsewhere.
Sal’s defense—I’m still here—angered Theresa as well.
“You have NEVER been here.” She stamped her foot. “You don’t know me at all. You don’t want to know me. But I know everything about you. You were going to leave me. You gave her everything . . . and I had nothing!”
“What did you do to Maude?” Bo Johnson interrupted, impatient. He’d had enough of the drama playing out before us.
“She did nothing,” Sal said, his voice weary. He sighed heavily and lowered his gun, a signal of surrender. “They are simply earrings. Theresa admired Maude. Most women did. Giuliana did. Many women copied her style.”
“I did not admire her!” Theresa cried. “I hated her.”
Sal put a hand on his wife’s arm, but she flung him off like she couldn’t bear to be touched. He tried again, pulling her back from the edge she’d so