The Altar Girl: A Prequel

CHAPTER 35

The local police arrived to help the troopers restore order at the cemetery. Then more troopers arrived, and we were driven to the eastern district headquarters of the Connecticut State Police in Norwich. A detective from the Major Crimes Unit debriefed us individually. During my stay, I learned that Marko had gotten to know some troopers over the years through his business. I wasn’t sure if that was his motorcycle or strip club business, and I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask. Perhaps both. He’d called them after his two men let him know I had followed Donnie Angel and his crew to the cemetery.

I found the white Honda that I’d seen following me parked near the cemetery entrance. It turned out it belonged to one of Marko’s men, the one with the handgun. Behind it was the black Subaru I’d seen the night I’d met Roxy at the Stop & Shop parking lot. That’s how I knew the men who’d burst into the office with Marko to save me. I’d caught glimpses of their faces through their windshields.

The state police released us at 6:00 a.m. Marko and I walked to the parking lot. A team of cops and troopers had driven all the vehicles from the cemetery to Norwich. Marko used his long stride to try to forge ahead of me. I hustled to keep up with him.

“When did you start having me followed?” I said.

He gave me a sour glance as though trying to wish me away, but I refused to leave.

“Well?”

He shook his head. “As soon as you told me you’d run into Donnie Angel, and that you had some cockamamie theory that your godfather had been murdered. First, you don’t run into scum like Donnie Angel unless you’re dirty or he wants you to run into him. And you’re not dirty. Second, I figured one was related to the other.”

“What do you mean?”

“Donnie Angel and your theory that your godfather was murdered. It was too much of a coincidence. Them happening at the same time.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That it was. Why did you go to his house that day?”

“The bastard hadn’t paid me.”

“Did he pay you then?”

“Yeah. He was all apologetic and what not. He wanted to sit on the money for as long as he could. A lot of people are like that when it comes to business. Even though you don’t earn anything on your money these days.”

“So he was fine when you left him?”

“I left him watching reruns of American Pickers on TV.” He let a moment of silence pass. “He died like the cops said he did, right?”

“Yup. Whatever else he was, Rus was his brother. He knew him better than anyone, and when he said it was an accident at the cemetery there was no lying in his face. He must have fallen down the stairs going for more wine, to check for flooding, or for whatever reason we’ll never know. I guess I was looking for something to do. I guess I got myself all riled up for nothing.”

“How about that.”

“What about the blessing of the Easter baskets?”

He glared at me. “What about it?”

“The reason you couldn’t make it. You said you were meeting someone at the airport. Someone who was coming from LA related to your business. But the bouncer told me that woman wasn’t coming in until next week. Why did you lie?”

He looked incredulous. “I didn’t. She’s not appearing at the club until next Saturday, but she’s touring the other clubs in the area during the week. Hartford, Vernon, Springfield, and the like. I’m coordinating her gigs, showing her some hospitality, if you know what I mean.”

Not only had I deluded myself into believing a murder had been committed, I’d made simplistic assumptions, too. An effective forensic analyst did not necessarily make an effective investigator.

“Why did you go to the cemetery alone?” Marko said. “What were you thinking?”

“I thought you were meeting Donnie’s crew there. I thought they were going to kill you.” A sense of pride washed over me. I’d gone to the cemetery to protect him, and now Marko knew the truth.

Marko leaned toward me, face etched in fury. If he hadn’t rescued me, I would have thought it was sheer hatred. And maybe it was. Maybe I was still deluding myself.

“Get this through your thick skull,” he said, spittle flying from his lips. “You don’t protect me. I protect you. You understand? It was that way, is that way, and always will be that way. Now once and for all, will you please fuck off?”

He climbed into his truck and left. I stood there, eating his exhaust.

Nothing had changed. My brother still cared.

Nothing had changed. He never wanted to see me again.