Amid the glories of Vince Caproni’s garden, he ambles by a flower bed, examining some prize exhibit as I take the call…
… then turns to face me, staring. His head cants, alarm swelling behind his eyes. I lift a finger to my lips, as much for something to do with my hands as to issue the warning.
He mouths silently. “De Palo?”
“De Palo?”I nod and his eyes widen. “With your wife?”
“With your wife?”I nod again, then catch de Palo’s closing words. “… I’ll be paying my respects to your family.” The snide smile behind the voice comes through.
“De Palo, put me on to Mi…”
But the line goes dead. For a moment, indecision freezes me, and I stand, simply staring at the handset.
Caproni stares at me. “Larry…?”
“Vince, I have to go.”
“Of course you do.”
*****
Stampeding for my car, I’m gra
