32.

Salvatore Maniella rose from the sofa, walked to the library door, opened it, and spoke to Black Shirt, or maybe Gray Shirt, who was standing watch in the hall. "Please ask our other guest to join us."

A minute later she strode into the room, sat in the other chair, and crossed those long, long legs.

"I understand no introductions are necessary," Sal said.

"Some reason you feel the need to have your lawyer present?" I asked.

"Just being careful."

"I'm gonna take a wild stab here and say the body in the morgue isn't you."

"No."

"So who is it?"

"His name was Dante Puglisi."

"Age?"

"Sixty-four."

"Address?"

"He lived here."

"A relative?"

"No. He was in my employ. Had been for a long time."

"How long?"

"Since we mustered out of the SEALs together."

"What did he do for you?"

"Little of this, little of that. Driver. Bodyguard. Workout partner. Sometimes he helped out around the place."

"Didn't his family wonder where he was the last three months?"

"His parents were killed in a car accident twenty years ago. We were the closest thing to family he had left."

"He looked a lot like you."

"He did."

"Similar features, same height and weight, same eye and hair color, same Van Damme arms and Schwarzenegger chest."

"That's correct."

"Was anything done to enhance this resemblance?"

"About ten years ago, he had a little work done, yes."

"Why?"

Sal glanced at Yolanda. She nodded, indicating it was okay to answer.

"Shortly after I opened our strip clubs, I became involved in a dispute with some of our state's more unsavory characters."

"Carmine Gra.s.so and Johnny Dio," I said.

"You know of this?"

"I do."

"Well, perhaps you can understand why it seemed advisable to employ a double."

"When the two of you were together, the Mob wouldn't know which one to shoot," I said.

"Quite right."

"And you could send him on errands posing as you."

"From time to time I did that, yes."

"Last September, he went to the Derby Ball in your place."

"He did."

"And it got him killed."

"Yes."

"What was he there for?"

"I'd prefer not to get into that."

"I was there, too," I said, "covering the event for the Dispatch."

"Were you now."

"I was. I saw him there, cozying up to the governor. Of course, I thought it was you. The governor probably thought so, too."

"Perhaps he did."

"Conducting some business for you with the governor, was he?"

"That's not a subject I am prepared to discuss."

"Does it bother you that you put a target on Dante Puglisi's back?"

"More than you know."

"Of course it bothers him," Vanessa broke in. "Dante wasn't just an employee. He was like family." She swiped at her eyes-maybe wiping away a tear, maybe just making a show of it.

"Yes, he was," Sal said. He reached for one of the decanters, poured three inches of whiskey into a tumbler, and drank it straight down. "Please help yourselves," he said. "The Scotch is Bowmore, a seventeen-year-old single-malt. The bourbon is sixteen-year-old A. H. Hirsch Reserve."

No one did. Sal poured himself another.

"Dante knew the risks," Sal said. "He volunteered for the job, and I paid him well for it, but that doesn't make us feel any better. I miss him every single day."

"The body looked enough like you to fool the state police," I said.

"Apparently so."

"So you decided to play dead."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Surely the reason is obvious."

"You didn't want the killers to know they hit the wrong guy."

"Yes."

"Do you think the Mob was behind this?"

"I don't know. I haven't had any trouble with them in years."

"But they have long memories," I said.

"So I've been told."

"Anyone else who might want you dead?"

"I've made some enemies over the years."

"Families and boyfriends of p.o.r.n actors?"

"A few of them, yes."

"Rivals in the p.o.r.n business?"

"Perhaps."

"The Sword of G.o.d?"

"They're a dangerous bunch of lunatics, and they've made it clear that they disapprove of us," Sal said.

"The Sword of G.o.d hates everybody," Vanessa broke in. "Gays, Jews, blacks, liberals, moderates, feminists, abortion doctors, Obama, the media, the government. They scare the h.e.l.l out of me."

"With so many enemies out there, why resurface now, Sal?"

"Something came up that required my attention."

"What would that be?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Can you tell me where you've been for the last three months?"

"Here and there," he said.

"That's a little vague."

"I prefer to keep it that way."

"Got a hideout you don't want anyone knowing about?"

"Something like that."

"The state police asked the navy for help in identifying the body and got stonewalled," I said. "You have something to do with that?"

Sal looked at Yolanda, and she shook her head.

"Still got some old pals working in the Pentagon, do you?"

Sal didn't answer.

"I a.s.sume your family knew you were alive," I said.

Sal glanced at Yolanda again. "We are not prepared to discuss that subject," she said.

I turned back to Sal. "Obviously your wife and daughter knew you had a double. You said he lived here."

"Yes," Sal said.

"Yet your wife positively identified his body as you," I said.

"Anita Maniella is an older woman," Yolanda said. "She was distraught and confused." I was surprised by how different she sounded. Her lawyer voice was nothing like her "I don't date white guys" voice. You might think she'd never met me before.