Final judgment

FORTY-ONE

Room service trays stacked with dirty dishes and unclaimed copies of USA Today littered the hallway floor as Mason counted down room numbers, finding 1201 in an alcove at the end of the corridor. He knocked once and Bongiovanni opened the door, looked down the hall as if he was checking for anyone who might have seen Mason, then motioned him inside.

Room 1201 was a suite with a large living room, a mini-kitchen, and a bedroom separated from the rest by French doors. Carol stood at the living room window overlooking the casino and the Missouri River, dressed in a bathrobe, a towel around her head and a cigarette jammed in the corner of her mouth. A king-size bed was visible through the open French doors, the linens tossed as if Carol had slept either poorly or with a friend. It was a high roller’s hangout, the kind the casino would use to reward guests with a track record for dropping big bucks. It was too rich for a blackjack dealer on leave for emotional distress.

“Lou Mason, say hello to Carol Hill,” Bongiovanni said.

The morning sun broke against the window, the glare obscuring her features. She stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray and met him in the center of the room, her hand trembling when she shook his. Fruit-scented soap and shampoo mixed with tobacco smoke in a sweet but trashy off-balance fragrance. Just out of the shower, her skin was pale and a bit rough, the kind of complexion that did better with makeup. Her mouth was small, and he thought her upper lip had been shot full of collagen until he realized it was swollen and that the dark yellow ring round her left eye was man-made. She was wearing a bulky white terry cloth robe that blunted her figure, though she moved enough beneath it that he could tell it was the only thing she was wearing. Stripped, scrubbed, and beat up, she was barely holding herself together. Mason was ready to award her damages for emotional distress, though he wasn’t certain who was liable.

“I’m sorry about standing you up twice on Saturday,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said in a whisper, clearing her throat. “Gotta quit smoking,” she said, coughing again.

“Get dressed, honey,” Bongiovanni said. “I’ll keep Mason company.”

Carol nodded and closed the French doors behind her. Bongiovanni sat on an overstuffed couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and gestured Mason to a chair.

“Nice digs,” Mason said. “If this is a Galaxy employee benefit, tell me where to apply.”

“Try inheritance. Ed Fiori was my uncle. Carol’s too. We’re first cousins. Our mothers were Ed’s sisters. He owned the casino and the hotel, but you knew that.”

Mason did know that. What he didn’t know was whether Fiori had been close enough to Bongiovanni to have shared the story about Mason and Judge Carter. Fiori had been a little bent but not enough that he couldn’t get a gaming license. Mason had never known who Fiori’s lawyers were, but it made sense that he’d consult his nephew the lawyer even about things that were outside Bongiovanni’s practice. Keeping things in the family was another way of keeping things quiet.

“I did know that.”

“You were there when he was killed, if I remember right.”

“I was,” Mason said, not interested in talking about the details. “I’m sorry.”

Bongiovanni waved his hand at Mason. “Hey, don’t be sorry. You didn’t kill him and the bastard that did is dead. Shit happens. But, I’ll tell you what. There was a hell of a mess after he died. Soon as I heard, I raced down to the boat to secure his office before the cops showed up. I didn’t know everything Ed was into, but I didn’t want the cops to find out first. Found lots of interesting stuff. He even had one of those secret tape-recording setups, just like every president since Kennedy.”

Mason studied Bongiovanni, trying to decide if Bongiovanni was playing with him, dangling a baited hook. If Bongiovanni had the tape, he wouldn’t use it to blackmail Judge Carter to rule against his own client, especially since Carol was his cousin. Still, Mason thought he detected a glint in Bongiovanni’s eyes and a curl at the corners of his mouth like he knew what he was doing and was enjoying it. Mason refused to bite, changing the subject instead.

“I’ll bet you did. So, he left you the hotel?”

Bongiovanni laughed. “I was a nephew, not a son. But he did leave me the permanent use of this suite. Those bastards at Galaxy offered me a mint to give it up, but I told them to pound sand. We had to sell the casino and the hotel to pay the taxes on Ed’s estate. After everything that happened with Ed, buyers weren’t exactly lining up. Galaxy practically stole it, but we didn’t have a choice. It eats their ass not to have this suite, though, and I love it.”

Mason began to understand why Carol and her lawyer refused to settle. The lawsuit, whatever its merits, was about getting even.

“What happened to Carol’s face?”

“I called her after you told me about Johnny Keegan. She was crying, hysterical. Mark had been out drinking-came home and beat the crap out of her. I picked her up and brought her over here.”

“Did Mark give you any trouble?”

“I didn’t see him. He left after he beat Carol up.”

“Did she file a complaint with the police?”

“For what? To get a restraining order? I haven’t seen one yet that will stop an asshole drunk like her husband from knocking his wife around.”

“He can’t hit her if he’s in jail.”

“He can’t hit me if he’s dead either,” Carol Hill said.