thing was certain. Chris had seen better days. His skin was patchy and wan and his forehead was a pebble garden of pimples. He’d grown out his hair from the crew cut he had sported a half-dozen years ago; the last time Decker had seen him in the flesh. It was brushed straight back, Count Dracula style, and trimmed to the bottom of his ears. He was still built lanky but with bigger arms than Decker had remembered. He had dressed up for the reunion, wearing a blue polo shirt, charcoal gabardine pants, and Croc boots.
“I’m starting to get a little pain in my arms.”
“Lower them slowly.”
He did. “Now what?”
“Take a seat. Move slowly. When you move slowly, I move slowly. If you rush me, I shoot first and ask questions later.” When Donatti started to sit on the chair, Decker stopped him. “On the sofa, please.”
Donatti cooperated and plopped down on the cushions. Decker tossed him his watch. He caught it one-handed and placed it back on his wrist. “Is she even here?”
“She’s in the bedroom.”
“That’s a start. Is she coming out?”
“When I give her the okay, she’ll come out.”
“Where’s Gabe?”
“He’s not here,” Decker said.
“That’s probably better.” Donatti dropped his head in his hands. He resurfaced a moment later. “I suppose your being here makes sense.”
“Thanks for your approval.”
“Look. I’m not going to do anything.”
“Why the armory, then?”
“I always pack. Can I talk to my wife now?”
Decker stood at the marble countertop of the hotel bar, the Beretta still in his hands. “A couple of ground rules. Number one: you stay seated the entire time. Don’t approach her in any way, shape, or form. And no sudden movements. It makes me jumpy.”
“Agreed.”
“Mind your mouth and your manners and I’m sure everything will go swimmingly.”
“Yeah…sure.” His voice was a whisper.
“You look a little pale. You want some water?” He opened the bar. “Something stronger?”
“Whatever.”
“Macallan, Chivas, Glenfiddich—”
“Glenfiddich neat.” A moment later, Decker handed him a crystal cut glass with a healthy dose of Scotch. Donatti took a delicate sip and then drank a finger’s worth. “Thanks. This helps.”
“You’re welcome.” Decker regarded the man. “Your color’s coming back.”
“I haven’t had a drink all day.”
“It’s only twelve in the afternoon.”
“It’s almost happy hour New York time. I didn’t want her to think I’m weak. But I am.” Another sip. “She knows I’m weak. What the fuck!”
“Watch your mouth.”
“If my mouth was my only problem, I’d be in good shape.” He handed Decker his empty glass.
“Another?” When Donatti shook his head, Decker closed the cabinet. “What happened?”
“What happened is I’m an idiot.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“I’ve always had reading comprehension problems.”
“You’re missing a crucial element here, Chris. You don’t use your wife as a punching bag even if she did have an abortion.”
“I didn’t punch her, I hit her.”
“That’s not acceptable either.”
Donatti rubbed his forehead. “I know that. I’m just correcting you because I knew I was using an open hand. If I would have punched her, she’d be dead.”
“So you were aware that you were beating the shit out of her?”
“It’s never happened before, it won’t happen again.”
“And she should believe you because…”
“I can count the number of times I’ve lost my temper on one hand. Look, I know she’s scared, but she doesn’t have to be. It was just…” As he started to get up from the couch, Decker waved the gun in his face. He sat back down. “Can I see my wife, please?”
“At least, this time you said please.” Decker stared at him. “Let me ask you a couple of theoretical questions. What if she doesn’t want to talk to you?”
“She wouldn’t have agreed to meet with me if she didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want to tell you over the phone. That would give you time to plan something dangerous and probably stupid.”
“Is that what she said?” Donatti looked up.
“How about if I ask the questions?”
“I’m not planning anything. I was an idiot. It won’t happen again. Just let me see my wife, okay.”
“What if she doesn’t want to see you anymore? What if she asks for a divorce?”
“Don’t know.” Donatti kneaded his hands together. “I haven’t thought about it.”
“It would piss you off, right?”
“Probably.”
“What would you do?”
“Nothing with you around.” His eyes finally sparked life. “Decker, she’s not going to ask me for a divorce—at least not now—because, first and foremost, I’ve got enough money to engage her in a very expensive and protracted legal battle for Gabe. It would be easier for her just to wait me out until he’s eighteen, and Terry is nothing if not practical. I’ve got another three and a half years before I have to confront this issue. I’d like to see Terry now.”
He was panting. Decker said, “Another Scotch?”
“No.” Donatti shook his head. “I’m fine.” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m ready when you are.”
Decker gave him a hard look. “I’ll be watching your every move.”
“Fine. I won’t move. My butt is glued to the chair. Can we get on with it?”
There was no sense putting off the inevitable. Decker called out
