King Con

Chapter Thirty-five.

NOBODY KNEW WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO TOMMY OR Joe Rina. They had completely disappeared. Both had been missing for almost two days when Victoria walked into Gil Green's office in Trenton, unannounced and uninvited, and stood across the oak desk from the bland District Attorney.

"Victoria," he said without warmth, "surprised you had the nerve to show up. You're, of course, guilty of half-a-dozen or more crimes… not to mention possible complicity in the death of several Federal Agents in the Presidio."

"I had nothing to do with anybody's death, Gil. If you had me followed, then maybe it's your fault. As I recall, tailing me was not part of our deal."

He sat and looked at her, and then he started to fidget with the pen on his desk. "I suppose we could argue that indefinitely," he finally said softly.

"Sure we could, and I'd win. I wasn't wanted for anything. You can't prove I had prior knowledge of Beano Bates's record, so cut the bullshit."

"I suppose you had some reason to make this visit." His vacant expression was all-consuming.

"Maybe there's a way we can still save a few parts of our original deal, Gil, but it's gonna have to change in a few key areas."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because you aren't holding good cards anymore. Matter of fact, your cards are terrible, especially if you factor in the political aspects. You fumbled this investigation badly. You lost three Federal Agents by screwing up your end. You tried to frame your own prosecutor. The list of 'Oh shits' is awesome," she said.

"I see."

"Do you?"

"And what is it you're proposing?" he said, knowing she hadn't come here to spit this furball up on his desk.

"What if you could still have most of it? What if Tommy Rina is still willing to come forth and testify against his brother?"

"You're harboring Tommy Rina?"

"I'm not 'harboring' anyone; he's not wanted for any crimes, Gil, despite the fact that he's been committing them all his life. But he knows his brother won't rest till he's dead. He'd rather do seven years for second-degree murder than an eternity for profound stupidity."

"Okay, so Tommy comes forward. But nobody's seen Joe. He won't be anywhere around if Tommy is gonna testify against him."

"I can have Joe dropped off on your doorstep."

"And what is Tommy going to say?" Gil asked.

She reached into her briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of papers and handed them to Gil. He looked at them quickly, skim-reading the pages. "It says here that Tommy declares under penalty of perjury that Joe gave him direct orders to kill Carol Sesnick, Bobby Manning, and Tony Corollo," he said, laying the papers down on his desk. "But this confession isn't signed."

"I have the signed copy in a safe place."

"I see…"

"I also have Tommy ready to testify, but you're going to have to do a few things to earn all this political good fortune," she said.

He let some time tick off the antique grandfather clock in the corner of his office. It tick-tocked the seconds loudly and Victoria sat and looked out the window, trying not to show any concern for his decision.

"Okay. So what's the price?"

"Three things," she said, reluctantly shifting her gaze back to him. "One: You promise to try Tommy Rina on second-degree murder, not first, and you arrange with the court for him to have a sentence with a seven-year cap."

"He's the one who pulled the trigger."

"I know, but it's the only way I can get him to play."

"He's a murderer."

"He also has an enemies list longer than Qaddafi's. Tommy's killed too many players. He probably won't even survive the seven-year jolt."

"And what's number two?"

"If he lives out his sentence, you guarantee him the Federal Witness Protection Program."

"And the last?"

"You arrange for all of the Federal charges pending against Beano X. Bates to be dropped."

"I see. Of course, I'm only a New Jersey District Attorney. The Federal Government doesn't generally do what I tell them."

"Hey, Gil, stop fooling around. You and I both know the FBI Organized Crime Strike Force is all over the Rinas. How much do you think they spent last year building a case against Joe and Tommy?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Four hundred and fifty-nine thousand dollars, not including expenses and overtime. Let's round it to half a million in surveillance costs per year. They've been swinging at those two curve balls like Little League outfielders and haven't even hit a pop-up. They'll deal, Gil. They'd like to drop both these bad boys and you get to be the hero. You get to take the bows at the press conference. It's your party. All you've gotta do is broker the deal."

"Beano Bates is on the Ten Most Wanted List. They aren't gonna deal on him."

"He's a white-collar criminal. He's not violent, and besides, that's what it's gonna take to get this done." She looked at him for a long moment and he studied her back, without expression.

Finally, Victoria stood and clicked her briefcase closed. She headed to the door.

"You know I've filed a brief with the New Jersey Bar to get your license yanked. I'm surprised you don't want to trade on that."

"I'm through being a lawyer, Gil. It's no fun anymore, because I figured something out…"

"What's that?"

"I always wanted the law to be about right and wrong, but it's not."

"Then what's it about?"

"It's about legal and illegal. That's a whole different concept that deals with fine points of law that get confessions thrown out of court and evidence inadmissible on technicalities, and I'm just not interested in that game anymore. Call me before close of business today. If you don't call, I'm taking this deal to the Feds. Only reason I brought it here first is, I know once you think about it, you'll fight like a son-of-a-bitch to get it for me… because after all, Gil, once you boil it down, it's still just politics."

Victoria left his office, got in her car, and began the three-hour drive to Wallingford.

When she arrived and saw her parents, she couldn't believe how good it was to be home. She hugged her mother and father and sat in the kitchen with them while her mother made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Her wheelchair was parked up next to the counter and she reached up to cut off the crust.

"'Ut the 'ust off, way you li'," she slurred to Victoria, who took the sandwich and ate it pensively. All her life she had cut the crusts off sandwiches, just like she had cut the crusts off most of her experiences. She wondered why; what event had put her on such a careful and precise path?

Her father was looking at her from across the room, smiling, almost as if he could read her thoughts. "What're you going to do, Sweet-pea?" he asked. He was wearing plaid golf slacks and a pink shirt and socks. Silly as that was, she thought he looked absolutely darling. Her heart went out to both of them.

"I don't know, Dad," she said. "I had some plans, but I'm not sure now."

She told them everything that had happened, ending by explaining that she had cashed her last ticket at Justice to get Tommy checked into the hospital at Lompoc Prison under an assumed name. Tommy's lung had been punctured, but the bullet had not hit anything vital. He'd been sewn up and filled with bottled blood and was glowering at the prison nurse when she left, but he'd agreed to cooperate. Victoria had gotten Tommy's signed confession and his promise to testify against Joe.

The rest had been mop-up. After Victoria got Tommy checked in, Beano told her he was going to go pay off the Hog Creek Bateses the percentage they'd agreed on, and that he would call her as soon as he was through.

It had been John who called a day later and said that Beano had taken Roger-the-Dodger and disappeared for a while. He had taken the $4.5 million in cash with him. She couldn't help herself; she was disappointed that Beano had talked a good game, but in the end had taken the money and run. That he was just a charming rogue who could never change… So that chapter in her life was closed. She could never love a criminal, anyway. She hadn't come that far, but she still felt a sense of loss.

Before she hung up, she had asked John about Cora. "Cora's paintin' number nine oil on the driveways and roofs up in heaven." And even though he meant it to be lighthearted, his voice cracked over the phone when he said it.

Now she felt tired. Victoria went up to her bedroom after lunch and lay on the bed. She looked at the ballerinas, only now she thought she could see, for the first time, what they were really doing. They weren't dancing at all. They never had been. They were simply expressing themselves in the best way they knew how, just as Victoria had always been trying to do. Maybe she had to come all this way to discover that one basic fact.

"Hold on by letting go," she said quietly in the empty room. She had let go and now she was waiting for the right things to happen in her life. She wouldn't force it anymore. She wouldn't bowl everybody over with dedicated energy, but rather nourish herself with the joy of her accomplishments.

Gil called her at seven-thirty. His voice was soft on the phone. "I can't promise Murder Two for Tommy, but I can get him First Degree with no special circumstances."

"Hey, Gil, I want you to listen to this very carefully; speaking for Tommy and using his exact idiom: Go fuck yourself." And she hung up. In seconds, the phone rang again. She let her father pick it up and call for her.

"It's Mr. Green, sweetheart," he called from the bottom of the stairs.

She came back out of her bedroom and picked up the phone again. "Look, Gil, this isn't even tough. You get Tommy Murder Two and you give him the Protection Program after he's out, or I'm gonna just let him go and you can worry about him coming after you, which he might do because he's insane."

"Okay, Murder Two, and I can get him the Protection Program. But I can't drop the Bates charges."

And she hung up on him again. She waited for the call back, and when it came this time, she snapped up the phone. "Don't waste your money calling me again, Gil. This is a package. Make the deal or watch the Feds make it."

"Okay, I can get him probation. Bates pleads guilty and he gets five years' probation. But he's gotta take the felony bust, Vicky. I can't absolve him of that."

"Okay, set up the deal and paper it. Once it's done, I'll arrange for you to get both Tommy and Joe."

Two more days passed, and still she hadn't heard from Beano. She hoped he would call. She had to tell him he was no longer wanted by the law, but had to show up at Gil's office. Now, she was beginning to suspect she would never see or hear from him again. He was probably in Rio living it up on his millions. She took long walks and played canasta with her mother. She tried to contemplate a life without the man she had fallen in love with. It seemed odd that she would find the missing pieces of herself in such a strange place.

She completed her negotiations with Gil and got the deal on paper; then she told Gil where Tommy was. Last, she called Paper Collar John in Adantic City. She told him the deal was done and that the Hog Creek Bateses should drop Joe off at the police station in Trenton. There would be no questions asked.

"Okay," he said.

"You hear from Beano?" she asked at the end of the conversation, her heart pumping with expectation.

"Y'know, Victoria, I seen him change over these last three weeks. He ain't the same as he was before. But I'm not sure that's good. You can't take his kind and turn him into something he ain't…"

"I guess you're right," she said, "but it would sure have been fun to try."

That night Victoria and her parents went to dinner at the country club. The TV at the club was on, and everybody was full of the story of Joe Rina's arrest and how the tabloid star's brother, Tommy, had come forward with the testimony to indict Joe for Murder One. Gil Green was on every news station. She listened while one reporter commented that these two brothers had been very close, and then asked rhetorically how it was possible that Tommy, who had once allegedly killed a man to protect Joe, would now testify against him.

"Because," Victoria said, repeating Beano's words, "the relationship had never been adequately tested."

She slept fitfully that night and woke up with a start when something jumped in bed with her. She sat up straight, feeling blindly for it in the darkness. And then, Roger-the-Dodger lunged up. He wagged his tail and licked her face.

"Roger, baby," she said, and she turned on the light and hugged him. There was a long crease in his hind end where the bullet had hit him, but brown and black fur was beginning to grow over the pink wound. She gathered him up in her arms and walked downstairs. She knew Beano was around somewhere, and then she finally saw him sitting in a chair out by the kidney-shaped pool in her parents' backyard. She moved over and sat in the chair beside him. He looked over at her and smiled.

"Hi," he said, "remember me?"

"Vividly," she said, still holding Roger. "He woke me up." She handed the dog over to him, but Roger jumped right back onto her lap.

"He's got good taste," Beano said. "1 didn't mean for him to wake you. He must've gotten in an open door," he lied.

"You were just sitting out here?"

"My second night," he said, and looked at her. "If you were David Letterman, you could get a restraining order."

"I've missed you," she said. "I've been thinking about you a lot."

"Me too," he said. "I'm sorry I ran, Victoria. I'm not sure what I am anymore. All the things I believed in have changed."

"So, everything doesn't have to happen at once," she said.

"So many questions… like what should I do from now on, what kind of life should I live, what should I do with the rest of Joe's five million?"

"You still have it?"

"Yeah, all but the ten percent I gave to the Hog Creek Bateses, but something tells me if I spend this Rina blood money, I'll ruin what I've found." He looked at her. "Silly, huh? I sound like a real sucker."

"No, I think it makes a lot of sense. You can't hold on without letting go."

"Then we have to do something. Get dressed," he said. "I'll need a lot of moral support."

They drove back to Trenton. It took only two hours at that time of night. Beano pulled up in front of the Trenton Children's Hospital.

"What's this?" Victoria said.

'Carol was a pediatric nurse here, gave a lot of time and money to this place. She'd work like a dog, then hand half of it back. I thought she was being a sucker with these people, like she was trying to make up for the rest of the family."

He got out of the car, opened the trunk, and pulled the two tan suitcases out. "I can't believe I'm doing this." Then he walked into the building with Victoria.

"I want to make a cash donation," he said to the nurse behind the counter. "Who do I talk to?"

The nurse led them to a man named Dr. Foster, who was the Assistant Hospital Administration. It was past midnight, but he was there, working on the annual financial report. Beano put the suitcases up on his desk.

"I want to make a charitable contribution. I want you to invest it, and I want the annual proceeds to be spent on child cancer research."

"I see. And in whose name would you like this gift to be made?" he asked.

"In the name of Carol Sesnick," he said. "She used to be a nurse here." And then he filled out the paperwork.

When the man opened the suitcase and saw all of the banded cash, Beano put a finger to his lips. "Nobody is looking for this money. It's not stolen," he told the man. "But it would probably be better if you didn't talk a lot about it."

They filled out the paperwork and left the hospital and got back into the car. Dr. Foster was watching them from the front steps of the large hospital, wondering who they were. He only vaguely remembered a round-faced, freckled nurse named Carol Sesnick.

Beano drove Victoria to the main street in Trenton. They cruised the boulevard of dead-end dreams. Finally he pulled the car to the curb and turned off the engine. "Come on," he said.

She got out of the car. He had a strange smile on his face.

"What is it?" she asked, wondering where they were.

He walked with her down the seedy street and finally entered a tattoo parlor called The Black Angel. Standing there was Paper Collar John, along with Dakota Bates. Dakota was still wearing the after-effects of Tommy's beating as Victoria hugged them.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked.

"They wanted to be here to see this," he said. And then he took off her wristwatch and she knew what he was about to do.

The tattoo artist began to work in the painted shop full of the colors of sunset and dawn. She looked away as the bearded and beaded man performed his artistry.

Roger-the-Dodger had jumped up in her lap and sat there, looking up at her, until the man was finished and had wiped the tattoo clean. When she looked down at her wrist and saw it for the first time, she smiled. It read:

B6-17-97

It was a strange badge of honor and meant more to her than her law degree. "But I'm not a Bates," she finally said, her voice shaking in anticipation.

"We've got a best man and a maid of honor," Beano said. "If you want, we can even take care of that."

So two days later they did.