The Santangelos by Jackie Collins

Author:Jackie Collins
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466848900
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

“I can always depend on you,” Lucky said, offering Chris a cold beer. “You never let me down.”

“I try not to,” he replied, twisting the cap off the bottle. “It’s all a question of reading people. Cops don’t have the time to get into it, especially when they’ve got dozens of houses to canvas.”

“Yet you do it so easily,” she said, springing open a can of 7-Up.

“I understand people,” Chris said quietly. “I spot their weaknesses.”

“Which is why you do it so well.”

“Maybe.”

“Now, don’t go getting all modest on me,” she said with a warm smile. “That’s not your style.”

“Put a little effort into it, and one can find out plenty,” he answered, taking a swig of beer.

“So…” she said, eager to hear what he had to say. “What exactly did you find out?”

“There’s something I have to show you,” he said, producing a DVD.

“What’s on it?” she asked, feeling a shiver of apprehension.

“You’ll see. But in the meantime, I was wondering if Lennie is around?”

“Why do we need Lennie?”

“’Cause I think you might want him with you when you view this.”

“Lennie’s working,” she said impatiently. “And it’s me you’re talking to. I don’t need Lennie or anyone else holding my hand, never have.”

“If you’re sure…”

“For God’s sake,” she said roughly. “What’s on the goddamn DVD?”

“I got it from one of the neighbors,” Chris said. “It’s of the crime scene, so I don’t know if—”

Gesturing toward her computer, Lucky said, “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

Chris inserted the DVD into the computer.

After a few moments, an image appeared on the screen, revealing the front area of a house and the sidewalk beyond. Blue skies. Palm trees. Perfect landscaping. Solid iron gates.

The gates slowly opened and a dark-gray repair truck drove through them.

Lucky leaned forward as an attractive woman in a short floral dress emerged from the house and ran to greet the muscular man getting out of his truck. They embraced in a very sexual way before vanishing into the house, arms entwined.

“Christi Yassan,” Chris said. “Husband’s out of town. Boyfriend comes to visit. Which explains why she wasn’t prepared to give this to the cops.”

“But she gave it to you?”

“I have a way with people.”

Lucky waited, holding her breath, for she knew what was to come next.

There was a clear view of the empty sidewalk—nobody on it. Until … Gino and Paige came walking into the frame. Gino, so robust and alive in his tracksuit and tennis shoes. Gino. Her Gino. Ninety-something and still bouncing around as if he were twenty years younger. Paige strutted beside him in a bright yellow jogging outfit, wearing overly large shades, her frizzy red hair gleaming in the morning sun. It appeared that Gino was speaking, but there was no sound on the DVD. Lucky couldn’t help wondering if Gino was telling Paige that he was coming to Vegas the following weekend, and that she wouldn’t be accompanying him.

Then a man came into view. A medium-height man dressed all in black, with dark-lensed sunglasses, a full beard, and a baseball cap pulled low obscuring his face.

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