Cook, Robin - Blindsight by Cook Robin

Author:Cook, Robin
Language: eng
Format: epub

As Lou drove through the Midtown Tunnel and out the Long Island Expressway, he wondered why he insisted on continually bashing his head up against a brick wall.

There was no way a woman like Laurie Montgomery would look at someone like himself other than as a city servant. Why did he keep entertaining delusions of grandeur in which Laurie would suddenly say:

“Oh, Lou, I’ve always wanted to meet a police detective who’s gone to a community college”?

Lou slapped the steering wheel in embarrassed anger. When Laurie had suddenly called and insisted on coming down to his office, he’d believed she’d wanted to see him for personal reasons, not some harebrained idea of using him to publicize a yuppie cocaine epidemic.

Lou exited the Long Island Expressway and got onto Woodhaven Boulevard, heading to Forest Hills.

Feeling the need to do something rather than play with paper clips at his desk, he’d decided to go out and do a little gumshoeing on his own by visiting the surviving spouses. It was also better than going back to his miserable apartment on Prince Street in SoHo and watching TV.

Pulling up the Vivonettos’ long, curved driveway, Lou couldn’t help but be awed. The house was a mansion with white columns. Right away, lights went off in Lou’s head. This kind of opulence suggested serious money. And Lou had a hard time believing a simple restaurateur could make that kind of dough

unless he had organized-crime connections.

Lou parked the car by the front door. He’d called ahead so Mrs. Vivonetto was expecting him. When he rang the bell, a woman wearing a ton of makeup came to the door. She was wearing a white, off-the-shoulder wool dress. There was not much suggestion of aggrieved mourning.

“You must be Lieutenant Soldano,” she said. “Do come in. My name is Gloria Vivonetto. Can I offer you a drink?”

Lou said that just water would be fine for him. “You know, on duty,” he muttered by way of explanation. Gloria poured him a glass at the bar in the living room. She fixed herself a vodka gimlet.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Lou said. It was his standard intro for occasions like this.

“It was just like him,” Gloria said. “I’d told him time and time again he shouldn’t stay up and watch television. And now he goes and gets himself shot. I don’t know anything about running a business. I’m sure people are going to rob me blind.”

“Was there anyone that you know of who would have wanted your husband dead?” Lou asked. It was the first question in the standard protocol.

“I’ve been all over this with the other detectives. Do we have to go through it again?”

“Perhaps not,” Lou said. “Let me be frank with you, Mrs. Vivonetto. The way your husband was killed suggests an organized-crime involvement. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“You mean Mafia?”

“Well, there’s more to organized crime than the Mafia,” Lou said. “But that’s the general idea. Is there any reason that you can think of why people like the Mafia would want your husband killed?”

“Ha!” Gloria laughed.

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