The Extortionist: A Mystery Story

By Sy Cook

Steve Block, a retired New York City police detective was surprised when he was summoned to meet with the head of the Family. Years earlier, to avoid conflicts that were certain to arise, he had established a set of operating ground rules with his best friend, Joe Monetti, a ranking member of the Mafia. Those rules defined their relationship in the event of confrontations between the Family and the police. He was caught off guard, therefore, to find that the purpose of his meeting was to help the Mafia find the killer of one of their members, Sal Vitorio.

The New York City Police Department had made a cursory investigation of the murder and had met with no success in finding the killer. Although the murdered man was ostensibly a legitimate businessman, the police knew that the victim was a front for the Mafia, with prior involvement in both drugs and prostitution. They did not intend to undertake a costly investigation to find the killer of a Mafia member. City budgets would not allow it.

The Extortionist is the story of how Steve Block learns how to deal with the Family in tracking down the extortionist and killer. And it describes how Steve Block, when he finally identifies Stoddard Blakeslee as the extortionist and murderer, discovers he has the wrong person.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524505554

Sy Cook

I returned home after three years plus in the Pacific Arena WW II. And because Brooklyn College, the school I had been previously attending, did not have an engineering school, I opted to start a new company in the electronics industry. I sold my companies in the late sixties to one of the Fortune 500 conglomerates and accepted CEO responsibilities for a number of entities owned by the new parent company. In the early seventies, I accepted a role as consultant in the World Trade Center in New York City during its construction period, involved in the design of communication systems for the facility. After the completion of that project, I accepted the role as director of telecommunications at the University of Massachusetts. My activities there involved all of the UMASS campuses, and in addition, advisor to other Massachusetts based organizations. I am a member of IEEE and was elevated to Senior Status by its membership in 1972. I relocated to Florida in the early eighties and accepted a position as vice president of engineering, responsible for network design and fiber optics with a firm that became the largest Florida-based long distance telephone company in the state. Although my continuing interest is primarily in electronics, one of my hobbies is writing. I have written a number of technical articles that have been published, and in addition, I have written two published novels. I am listed in “Who’s Who in the East.”

Book preview

BOOK 1

Chapter One

Steve Block entered his Brooklyn apartment and glanced at the answering machine, surprised to note the number of messages recorded in his absence. He had originally rebelled against acquiring the damned machine but relented at the insistence of his friend Jeb Saunders. Jeb and he had worked together in the NYPD, and when Jeb retired ten years earlier he started a small industrial security firm. He often turned to Steve for advice and assistance in special circumstances and they structured an off-the-books arrangement that was mutually beneficial.

Dammit, Steve, get an answering machine, he said. If you’re not home and I need you, I can at least leave a message.

Steve reluctantly gave in.

He turned on the device wondering who had been trying to reach him. He knew it couldn’t be Jeb; he had just left Jeb after an all-night stint at one of Jeb’s clients’ warehouses on the riverfront.

It was probably someone trying to sell him something, he thought. Most of the messages he received were nonsense!

This time he was wrong! All of the calls on the machine had come from Joe Monetti. Joe was his best friend and had been trying to reach Steve since the previous evening. Each message said the same thing. Call me as soon as you get in. It’s important!

There was an urgency in Joe’s tone that Steve didn’t understand. He wondered what it could be as he went to the refrigerator. He was hungry. And thirsty. And tired. He removed a can of beer; that would at least relieve one of his needs. Then, he’d call Joe to find out what was up.

He popped open its lid as he glanced at the mail he had retrieved from his box in the lobby. There were merchandise catalogs stuffed full of things he would never buy; there were complicated explanations of his eligibility to win magazine sweepstakes; there were invitations to attend meetings on investments and avoidance of income taxes. Some of the mail was still addressed to his wife; obviously the mailing lists that were being used had not been updated. Laura had passed away almost two years earlier.

He felt both relief and disappointment. There was nothing from Jeff or Barbara. Something was amiss between his son and his daughter-in-law. He couldn’t explain it but the last time he spoke to them on the phone he knew that something was wrong. He always had an instinct for the false note, the empty phrase. He was not always pleased when his instincts proved correct.

He was about to reach for the phone when it began to ring. His answer was curt, a throwback to his days on the New York Police Department. Steve Block.

Steve, I’ve been trying to get you for hours. The voice belonged to Joe Monetti.

Hi, Joe. I just got in and was about to call you. I’ve been out. All night. Jeb had something special he wanted me to look into.

Oh? How’d you do?

Steve was noncommittal in his response. Did fine. Everything’s under control. Then, What’s up with you?

Steve caught the small hesitation in Joe’s response. Uh… do you have any plans for later?

Steve first thought it might be an overture to a dinner invitation with Joe and Dorrie and was about to refuse. Then he remembered the urgency in Joe’s tone in the messages. Other than grabbing a couple of hours’ rest, I’m open. Anything special happenin’?

Steve sensed a sigh of relief at the other end. Yeah. There is something special. I want you to take a ride with me. It’s important. And if things work out, it might end up being a good deal for you.

He was right! Something in the tone of Joe’s voice sounded odd to Steve, almost like an appeal. Steve responded calmly. Sure, Joe. No sweat. I just need a couple of hours of sleep and then I’m yours. Then, Can you fill me in on what this is about?

Nope. Just take my word that it’s important. I’ll tell you about it when I see you. I’ll pick you up. About 5:30. That okay? We’ll grab a fast sandwich on the road.

Steve grunted his assent and hung up. He’d finish his beer, have a fast breakfast, and then grab a couple of hours of sleep. He’d set his alarm to wake him in time to shower and meet Joe.

It had been two years since Laura had died and he still felt the ache of coming home to emptiness. It had taken him a long time to accept her death; his loneliness still plagued him. The radio in his apartment was on; he never turned it off. Someone was singing a tune that sounded familiar, but that was unimportant to Steve. It was the sound he needed, something to fill the emptiness of his home and to offset his feeling of being alone all of the time.

He grabbed a piece of chicken from the refrigerator, the remains of a Colonel Sander’s Chicken dinner purchased two days ago. He put it on a plate and inserted it into the microwave. Not much of a breakfast but it would have to do until he met with Joe. He brought it with him to the living room and turned on the television set.

The apartment was simply but adequately furnished; a couch, a couple of chairs, tables, two lamps, and the television.

Shortly after Laura’s death, he had prevailed upon his landlord to permit him to move into the first available apartment. He had hoped that the change might help him overcome the void created by his loss. Anything. On a different floor. And with a different view were his only specifications. His new quarters were smaller and he got rid of everything that would not fit or was too painful to live with.

Unfortunately, his efforts did not bring the desired result! Worse! He had not anticipated the guilt that would come with the disposing of articles from his and Laura’s past.

After he settled into his new apartment, Steve invited Joe and Dolores Monetti to visit. In Steve’s mind, he couldn’t have survived his loss of Laura without the unquestioned support of Joe and Dorrie. They understood the pain he felt and supported his decision to move.

When they arrived, Delores walked around the living room eyeing the arrangement Steve had structured.

What’s wrong? Steve asked, hoping that he hadn’t discarded something that might have had some sentimental meaning to Delores. What’s the matter?

It doesn’t fit right. Then taking a deep breath, Do you mind if I make a few suggestions? She didn’t wait for an answer. She paced the room, her fingers on her chin.

Joe Monetti groaned. He knew what was coming.

Joe, you and Steve try moving that chair from the corner. Slide this table into that spot and then… She nodded to herself, certain that her choices were right. She continued, Move the lamp over there. The couch doesn’t fit where you have it, Steve. Why don’t we try it over here? She didn’t wait for an answer. Much better. Now take that floor lamp by the door and put it near the couch, just in case you want to read. Dolores smiled, pleased with the changes.

Steve followed her instructions, and then noticing that she was about to make another change, called out, Hey, Dorrie, wait a minute. You can’t move the TV set over there. The cable outlet’s on that wall!

But there was no stopping Dolores Monetti. Get an extension, she ordered. She emphasized her remarks by pushing the television cart in the direction she pointed. And that table there fits under the window… no, not so close to the kitchen. Under the window but out of the way.

After it was over, Steve was grateful to both of them for helping him through a very difficult time. The move from the apartment that he and his wife had shared for so many years had taken a greater emotional toll than he had anticipated. The Monettis’ approval helped make the move more tolerable. And he had to admit, the small spare apartment was a lot more comfortable after Dolores’s reorganization.

The alarm sounded, giving Steve the hour he needed to shower and dress for his meeting with Joe. He went to the bathroom and turned the shower on full force to hot so that the steamy water would take the chill from the room. He peered at himself in the mirror and shook his head. Not too bad, he said to himself. He had added a few pounds since he resigned his rank in the detective bureau of the New York City Police Department but he still had a youthful, energetic appearance in spite of his graying hairs. His shoulders were broad, his stomach was still flat, and because he never rode when he could walk, his leg muscles were as tight as fists.

His thoughts returned to Joe and he wondered about their scheduled meeting. Something was going on. He couldn’t imagine what it could be but it was obviously important to Joe, and that was reason enough for him to go!

Old memories returned, memories that dated back to when they were both thirteen years old, to an old baseball game that marked the beginning of their friendship.

He’s a bum, nothin’ to worry about. He’s just up there to look like a hitter.

Joe Monetti edged a little closer toward home plate as he kept up his stream of meaningless chatter. Yeah, he’s my meat, he said to his pitcher, encouraging him. Just lay it in there. Make him hit it to me. He moved another step closer to the batter, challenging him.

Steve Block glanced at the opposing player moving in on him. He was not rattled by the fielder’s attempts to disturb him; however, he could not ignore the gauntlet that was being cast. He stepped out of the batter’s box and called time.

That triggered a new string of verbal challenges. Steve Block stared at Joe Monetti, smiling, amused but remaining silent. He had seen the handsome Italian play ball before and had also seen his lightning-fast reflexes. He guarded third base, daring anyone to hit a ball past him. He handled everything he could reach and made it look easy. And during all of this, he kept up a steady stream of chatter that encouraged his team but often unnerved opposing players.

Block bent down and picked up some loose dirt to dry his hands. He stared at the young Italian edging closer, challenging him, testing him.

Joe Monetti was not nearly as confident as he tried to appear. He was familiar with Steve’s abilities on the ball field and held him in high regard. To him, Steve was a squarely built Jewish kid who hit the ball a mile. In addition, he had a cannon for a throwing arm. He patrolled the outfield like it was his personal property and few balls ever got by him.

On his previous two-at-bats, Steve’s first swing resulted in a ball that was still going up when it cleared the left field fence. His second time at bat was a line drive base hit between third and short; a rifle shot that went by Joe Monetti before he could even move.

Joe silently prayed that if the Jewish kid connected with the ball it would not be hit directly at him. However, that didn’t stop him from taking a few dance steps and inching closer. He’s no hitter. He looks mean but he ain’t. He’s just ugly.

The pitcher let loose. He intended the pitch to be on the inside to brush the batter back. But too much of the ball was over the plate.

Steve Block’s eyes narrowed as he swung his bat. He connected solidly, a line drive to Joe Monetti’s right.

The ball was moving too fast for the third baseman to catch it. He didn’t try! Instead, cross-handed, he slapped at the ball, knocking it down as if it were a gnat. Then, with the agility of a cat, he pounced on it, and, off balance, threw to first, beating Steve Block by a half step.

Disappointed, Steve trotted past Joe on his way to the outfield. Both players looked at each other but neither said a word. It was Steve who nodded first, a sign of respect between ballplayers, in effect saying good play. Joe nodded in return, indicating his appreciation for the unspoken accolade and his awareness of the abilities of his opponent.

Although they lived in the same neighborhood, Steve Block and Joe Monetti rarely saw each other, other than at the playgrounds. If they occasionally met on the street, each acknowledged the other with a nod. They attended different schools; Steve going to a public school while Joe attended a neighborhood parochial school.

It was when they transferred to high school that they met again. Joe had been chatting with friends in the school corridor when he noticed Steve walking in his direction. He knew that Steve had not seen him yet.

Joe pointed toward Steve and asked the boys that surrounded him, Any of you guys know that guy?

You mean the Jew boy? asked one of Joe’s buddies.

Yeah, except I didn’t ask what he was, I asked who he was. Joe Monetti’s eyes darkened. All I know is that he can whip your ass any time he wants, either on a ball field or off. Joe was making it up, of course; he was not aware of any fights that involved the lad he was trying to learn about.

He left the group and moved toward Steve. By this time, Steve had noted Joe’s presence; however, he did not have a high opinion of those that had surrounded Joe. He watched him approach guardedly.

Joe smiled broadly and stuck out his hand. It’s about time we met. My name is Joe Monetti.

After they had become fast friends, Joe tried to talk Steve into trying out for the football team. Steve opted to pass on the offer; he was not nearly as fast as Joe nor did he have his reflexes. Besides, he had an after-school job that was important to him and his family. After Joe made the team, however, Steve, who was a better student, helped Joe occasionally with his schoolwork.

Once, Joe was asked by one of his brothers why he was spending so much time with that damned kike. The fight that ensued had to be ended by other members of the family. It was the last time that any reference to Steve’s background was made in Joe’s presence.

In Steve’s home, Joe Monetti was accepted in turn. Steve assumed that his mother had been won over by Joe’s good looks and polite manners. Although Steve did overhear his father refer to Joe’s family as hoodlums, nothing was ever said to him openly.

In their senior year of high school, Joe suffered an injury in a game that wiped out any hope of a football scholarship. His grades, however, were good enough to be accepted, along with Steve’s, at Brooklyn College. Joe’s parents recognized Steve’s contribution to this option, and he was made officially a member of the Monetti family. Joe’s father even found employment for the two of them in his business during the summer months, which allowed Joe and Steve to work side by side, carrying cases of imported canned foods from loading docks onto trucks for delivery. At night, the boys often double dated, thereby spending evenings together as well.

Then the military intervened. The injury that had destroyed Joe’s chances for a football scholarship also prevented him from entering the service. Steve went off into the army.

When Steve finally gained his discharge, the world he had left behind had changed. Joe Monetti held an administrative position in his father’s growing food distribution business and was a key element in its operation. Keeping to the promise made when Steve went into the service, Joe’s father offered Steve a position with the firm, one that held the opportunity for growth.

But Steve had other plans for himself.

While in the service, for a short time, Steve had been assigned to a military police unit. He discovered to his surprise that he enjoyed the work. It was not nearly as boring as he feared it would be.

Upon his return home, he applied for and was accepted by the New York City Police Department.

Despite the fact that they lived and worked in different worlds, Steve and Joe remained close. They saw each other frequently and spoke to each other often. When Joe began dating the daughter of a business associate of his father, Dolores deLucci, she was introduced to Steve along with the rest of the Monetti family for approval.

Dorrie and Steve hit it off immediately. It was obvious to Steve that she was hopelessly in love with Joe. Her easy smile and calming touch would be a soothing influence on his volatile friend.

As couples will, Dorrie introduced Steve to her best friend, Laura Wasserman. At first, Steve convinced himself that he was dating Laura just to be with Dorrie and Joe. But as they continued to spend time together, Steve realized that Laura had hidden strengths. As their relationship began to bond, Steve realized that he could not imagine his future without her.

A year later, Steve was best man at Joe’s wedding despite the comments and grumbles from Joe’s brothers. Laura was maid of honor. Six months to the day later, Joe Monetti was best man and Dolores Monetti matron of honor at the wedding of Stephen Block and Laura Wasserman.

Police work agreed with Steve. He enjoyed it, he worked hard at it, and when the opportunity came to advance, he studied and did well. He was soon recognized by his peers and superiors as a solid performer, and when an opening occurred, he applied for and was transferred to the detectives" bureau.

As a detective, Stephen Block came into his own. To him, there was a certain beauty in the unraveling of leads and threads that made up a difficult case. He differed from others in the department in that they often became bored with the endless details of a routine investigation, taking short cuts, which, at times, meant missed or overlooked opportunities. To Steve, nothing was too minor to be examined, nothing escaped his scrutiny, nothing slipped through his hands. He could bring himself to discard data that led nowhere only after it had been thoroughly examined from every perspective and he was convinced that it had no meaning to the case he was on. He would then pick up the next thread and go through the identical routine. The very investigative procedures that others found frustrating and monotonous made sense to Steve, often with the result that he uncovered leads that led to solutions.

Before long, Steve found that he was being assigned the more difficult cases. In addition, he was often sought by the district attorney’s office to assist them in special projects.

Steve had been on the New York City Police Force for twenty-four years when he suddenly submitted his retirement papers. His superiors at the bureau tried to talk Steve into delaying his retirement. To no avail.

Only Joe and Dolores Monetti knew why Steve was leaving the force.

Chapter Two

It had started when Laura said, I’m cold.

Steve thought little of it when she began to wear a sweater around the shoulders. When she complained that the air conditioning was on too high, he turned it down. But he soon noticed that her energy was flagging.

Go for a checkup, he urged her. Maybe you’re anemic.

A week later, she was undergoing a battery of tests at the Sloan-Kettering Institute in Manhattan.

Laura then exhibited a strength Steve did not know she possessed. She insisted on knowing all of the facts; she would not permit either the doctors or Steve to conceal anything. And finally, when Steve and Laura’s worst fears were realized, she then demanded answers to the most difficult of all questions. What were her chances of survival? How long did she have to live?

The answers came like sledgehammer blows!

Biting her lip to fight away tears, Laura continued with her interrogation. Was there anything she could do to prolong her life? And then, if she did as the doctors had suggested, what would her life be like? She demanded to know everything! Her inner strength drove her to insist on complete answers to the most difficult questions.

When the facts had been presented, she and Steve went home to decide what to do with the balance of Laura’s life.

They spent a sleepless night in each other’s arms. They spoke of past joys as they cried bitter tears together. Each tried to console the other as they held each other tightly, subconsciously trying to prevent their impending permanent separation.

They had shared so much; they had staked their lives on the intimacy of marriage. And for them it had worked! Now, as they breathed together in the safe warmth of their bed, Steve knew that life without Laura, life without the sweet conspiracy of marriage, would be no life at all.

He finally drifted off into a light sleep aware that Laura was wakeful beside him.

The next morning, he was startled by Laura’s appearance. The look of despair that had been etched on her face the previous evening had been replaced by a look of determination.

She announced her decisions.

Chemotherapy was out! Vetoed, along with the radiation treatments that had been discussed. Laura had seen the results and debilitating effects of both treatments, and the consequences of their failure.

No! She rejected the life she and Steve would be forced to live if she underwent treatment. This was not a way to live! Not for her! Not for Steve! No discussion!

I want whatever time I have left with you to be good times; to do the things we’ve always wanted to do, she told Steve. We’ve always talked about traveling. I want to do it! Now! With you! I want to go to all those places we’ve read about, talked about, dreamed about.

Steve filed for early retirement the next morning.

They wandered about Europe, holding on to each other, sharing new sights and experiences. They visited Mont Blanc at the borders of France, Italy, and Switzerland and marveled at the majesty of the Alps. They dined on fruits de mer at Cap d’Antibes on the Riviera while the Mediterranean sparkled below them. In Venice, they lost their way over and over. Just over the next bridge, Laura would say, and then the next one would beckon.

They went to Greece and marveled at the beauty of the islands, and then across the Mediterranean to Israel. They visited Eilat and swam in the Red Sea. They climbed the hills of Jerusalem; they visited the artists’ stalls in Jaffa and dined in the open-air restaurants of Tel Aviv.

The weeks raced by; they had agreed not to discuss the inevitable. They knew they were moving toward the fast-approaching end of a journey on which Steve could accompany Laura only part of the way and no farther. But Steve was determined to go as far as he could. Steadily, the savings of a lifetime were depleted. Steve refused to count the cost and would not allow any discussion of the matter.

When they finally returned home, Laura went into the hospital for reexamination. For much of the trip, she had seemed to be in good health, her spirits so high that Steve secretly prayed for the miracle of a remission. He had heard that in some cases there were unexplained reversals.

Such was not the case with Laura!

The reports came in: blood count, tissue invasion, the threat of kidney failure, the insidious debilitation. The doctors warned him that her condition would continue to deteriorate and that rest was the only way of delaying the inevitable.

Laura rejected their prognosis. She insisted on one more trip.

Joe and Dolores Monetti had stood by, ready, waiting, hoping that there might be something they could do. They were aware of every phase of the disaster that had hit their friends.

That day came when Steve asked Joe to cosign a bank loan that would cover the cost of the trip to San Francisco to visit their son, Jeff. At Laura’s insistence, Steve had not been allowed to tell their son of the disaster that had befallen his parents.

It would serve no purpose, she insisted, rejecting further discussion as the tears ran down her face. We both love our son too much to force him share this pain. Later, afterward, he will feel it and hold you responsible for not telling him. But you will deal with it.

Joe Monetti shook his head as he responded to Steve’s request. You don’t need a bank, Steve. I’ll give you the money. Pay me back when you get the chance.

The pressures that had been building for months inside Steve suddenly erupted.

I don’t want your fuckin’ money. There’s nothin’ you have that I want. All I’m askin’ is for you to sign with me. I’ll pay the fuckin’ loan off; I don’t want any handouts. On the edge of tears, Steve added, If you don’t want to sign the note, just say so.

Joe stood silently during the outburst. He fought to control his voice, trying to not break down, trying to hold back the tears forming in his eyes. But it was Dolores who stepped between them, a Dolores neither of them had ever seen before.

Goddammit, Steve! If you think for one minute that I’m going to let you get into the way of me helping my best friend, you’re a fuckin’ idiot. You’re going to take whatever you and Laura need from me and Joe. No arguments, no discussions, no nothin’. It’s from us to Laura! Dolores burst into tears as she melted into her husband’s arms.

Of course I’ll sign, Steve, Joe answered softly. It’s just that I… we wanted to do something more, anything, to help.

Steve felt remorse as he saw the pain in the eyes of his wife’s and his best friends. His tone softened. Dont listen to me, Joe. I know… He could not finish. Dolores stepped back as she saw the two of them and put her arms around both and the three wept.

Together.

It was autumn in San Francisco and the warm sun and crisp air lightened their spirits. Steve, watching Laura closely, thought she appeared better. She was holding her own and seemed to radiate a sense of life.

Their son was continuing postgraduate work in the Bay area while employed by a multinational chemical firm. There, Jeff had met Barbara Schoenfeld, an attractive young woman who was also employed by the same firm. He didn’t try to conceal the fact that they had been living together for almost a year.

When Laura and Steve met Barbara, they liked her immediately. She was bright and pretty, and in addition, she had a level head on her shoulders. She was a good influence on their son, and both Laura and Steve were delighted when Jeff told them that they had decided to marry while the Blocks were there so they could share in the festivities.

You’re not rushing into this? Laura cautioned Jeff.

Of course not, Mom, Jeff teased her. We’re doing it because it’s too awkward explaining two names on all the credit cards and leases and car registrations. We’re just simplifying things.

In spite of Steve’s promise to Laura not to speak to Jeff about his mother’s health, he had decided it was unfair not to do so. Each time he attempted to broach the subject, however, the words eluded him. The timing just wasn’t right; Laura might overhear; Jeff wouldn’t be able to conceal his emotions, which would make things more difficult for Laura. In spite of Steve’s inability to communicate with his son, there was something in Barbara’s eyes, an expression on her face, that told Steve that somehow she had guessed the truth.

When Jeff and Barbara left for their honeymoon, Laura turned to Steve. The mask she had been wearing disappeared, and the buoyancy that had carried her through the visit was gone. Her words were simple and straightforward.

It’s time to go, Steve. We’ve said our goodbyes.

They flew back to New York the same day. The Monettis met them at Kennedy Airport and drove them straight to the hospital.

Steve tried to conceal the despair on his face when he entered Laura’s room but it was unnecessary to hide anything. She knew.

I don’t know exactly what to do, Laura whispered to him. How does one die? What does one do exactly?

Steve could not answer the question that had no answer. He put his face against hers, feeling the rough hospital linen against his cheek.

Steve, don’t…, she whispered. In a way, we’ve been lucky. We had it all. Only faster than we planned. He lifted his head to interrupt her, but she weakly raised her pale, thin hand and placed it on his lips, silencing him. We were able to do the things we wanted together. I was able to say goodbye to my son in my own way. You could almost say that I’ve chosen my moment. The end has been forced on me, but I’ve been able to choose my own way. I only wish… Her voice faltered.

He gripped her hand tightly, holding on to life.

She took a deep breath and continued. People die, and then others say, ‘I wish I’d had the chance to tell him that I loved him.’ We’ve had the time. We can say it now. I love you, Steve. I’ve always loved you. And if there were a tomorrow, I would love you tomorrow.

Steve put his arms around his wife and held her. His head was on her shoulder and he could not hold back the sobs that racked his body. Laura touched his neck lightly, to soothe him, to quiet him. When he picked up his head, she smiled weakly. She seemed so tired.

She closed her eyes and slipped into sleep. He was still holding her when a nurse lifted his arms away and explained it was a deep sleep, a very deep sleep. In the way nurses try to be kind, she did not use the word coma.

Not yet, Steve protested, shocked. You can’t mean… I thought there’d be more time, a little more time, it can’t be now!

Steve would not leave the hospital. Joe arranged for Laura to be moved to a private suite and for Steve to stay with her.

At this point, Steve heard the doctor say to Joe and Dolores, she’s simply dying of pneumonia.

They allowed Steve to sit by her bed, holding her hand or stroking the hair back from her face.

He was sitting with his head down, resting his forehead against her arm, when something made him look up. Laura’s eyes were open, the look of pain wiped from her face by tenderness. Steve, she whispered.

I’m here.

Jeff needs you, Steve. And you need him. Promise me that you’ll find a way . . .

Steve nodded his assent and put his head down once more. The tears ran from his eyes across her arm and back into his own hand; his supply of tears was enough for them both.

Her hand slipped out of his. He looked up into a lifeless face; plainly death was different from the deepest sleep. He gently kissed her lips and her forehead. Then, he gently covered her face to protect that innocent emptiness from the world.

He left the room. Not unexpectedly, the Monettis were waiting for him in the corridor. Steve knew the first time would be the hardest. The first time would make it true.

She’s gone.

Chapter Three

Come on down. I’m double parked.

Steve was ready when the intercom sounded. I’m on my way, he answered, grabbed his jacket from the chair, and left the apartment.

He heard the horn from Joe’s Lincoln Town