The Wrong Man

63

Peter Ramini listened respectfully as Father DiGuardi’s homily wore on. The guy could talk. He was good people, and Lord knows, he’d heard a lot from Ramini over the years-not everything, and not in detail, but plenty. But damn if his homilies didn’t go on.

“Our readings today alert us to something great about to begin,” he told the packed Mass. “Night is ending. Dawn is at hand. Stay awake. Put on the armor of light. Let us begin waiting today in joyful hope for the coming of our savior.”

Ramini’s eyes drifted next to him, to Donnie. This was the first time he’d seen Donnie in a church. Ramini, he came most Sundays. He never quite challenged himself about why.

Donnie didn’t look happy. Why would he be? Two of Paulie Capparelli’s best men, Sal and Augie, died in that alley, trying to take out Kolarich.

“We must ask questions during this Advent season,” said Father DiGuardi. “Are we listening? Are we paying attention? Are we looking to what will be-or are we already there?”

The time between the homily and communion felt like the same amount of time Moses spent with his people in the desert. But soon the congregants stood, row by row, and shuffled out to receive the bread and wine.

Neither Ramini nor Donnie moved. They were in the back pew, nobody behind them, and for the moment nobody in front or next to them, either.

Donnie pulled a candy bar out of his jacket pocket, opened it, and took a bite.

“Don, for Christ’s sake. We’re in the house of God here.”

It didn’t seem to move Donnie. He leaned into Ramini. “You wanna wait on Kolarich?” Donnie said. “Paulie says okay. For now, we wait.”

Ramini nodded.

“For now,” Donnie repeated. “You’re sure Kolarich killed Sal and Augie himself?”

“I’m sure,” said Ramini. “Who else woulda done it?” He looked at Donnie. “I saw it with my own eyes, Don.”

It was the only story Ramini could tell the boss. The truth was out of the question. He knew Paulie would greet it with skepticism-Kolarich was just some lawyer, not a trained killer who could take out two attackers-but in the end, he figured Paulie would give Ramini the benefit of the doubt. Ramini had earned that respect. But he was running out of rope, he knew.

“For now, we wait,” Donnie said. “But two things, Petey. Okay?”

“Okay, two things.”

“One: If you think this lawyer’s getting close to us, no more waiting. If you gotta shoot him in fucking court, you do it. Right?”

“Right. And second?”

“Second,” said Donnie. “When this thing’s over, the trial and whatnot, and we’re all happy? Well, Paulie still ain’t so happy, see what I’m sayin’? Sal and Augie were good earners. Nobody kills two of our boys and walks away. Can’t have that. Right?”

Donnie finished up the candy bar and crunched the wrapper in his hand. The parishioners were starting to return to the pews in front of them, so the conversation would end.

Donnie leaned in to Ramini again. “What happens when the trial’s over, Pete?”

Ramini sighed. “Kolarich dies,” he said.

“And who dies if he don’t?”

Ramini nodded. “I do,” he said.

“You and everyone you love, Pete. You know the rules.” Donnie patted Ramini on the knee and walked out of the church.