Read Online Angel Face by Stephen Solomita - Free Book Online Page A

encouraging whoops.
    â€˜Are you the brother?’ Carter asks again.
    The man’s eyes now project rage, impotent rage, helpless rage. But he has no choice. He has to answer. ‘No,’ he says, ‘I’m not.’
    Carter doesn’t dispute the claim. The man looks nothing like Ricky Ditto. He steps close to him, jamming the revolver into his gut, and pats him down. No gun. Carter gestures to the man on the ground, who’s managed to rise to his knees and is now vomiting on to the sidewalk.
    â€˜I want you to pick up your buddy and walk to the end of the block. If you turn around before I’m gone, I’ll kill you, witnesses or not. And you tell the brother he should heat up the cappuccino. I’ll be comin’ to visit.’

EIGHT
    A ngel can’t stop shaking. She’s shaking when Carter takes her hand, when he leads her to the van and puts her inside, when he drives north to 125th Street, then cross-town and over the Triborough Bridge into Queens. She’s shaking when he parks at the Pilgrim Diner on Astoria Boulevard, when he takes her inside, when he orders coffee and apple turnovers for both of them. There’s a little voice in her head that keeps saying, ‘It’s not fair.’ There’s another little voice that keeps saying, ‘So what?’ When she tries to lift her coffee cup, she spills hot coffee on her hand.
    â€˜Are you going to say anything?’ she finally demands.
    That brings a smile to Carter’s face, a somewhat lopsided smile that reveals a chipped incisor on the left side of his mouth. ‘This is what I get for saving your life? Not to mention your honor?’
    Angel doesn’t rise to the bait. ‘They said they were cops. The older one had a badge.’ She shakes her head. ‘I never should have opened the door.’
    â€˜They probably would’ve kicked it down. Subtlety’s not their thing. Patience either.’
    Angel cuts through the apple turnover with the edge of her fork, spears a piece and shovels it into her mouth. ‘Damn, this is really good.’
    â€˜They do their own baking.’ Carter picks up his turnover with his fingers and takes a bite. The crust flakes off beneath his teeth. ‘The Pilgrim’s been feeding the cab drivers who work LaGuardia Airport for fifty years. Sometimes I come here at three o’clock in the morning just for the smell.’
    The only thing Angel can smell is her own fear. ‘I don’t get it, how you can be so calm? Do you do this every day?’
    â€˜No, not every day. But I’ve done similar things often enough to use the adrenal rush to my advantage.’
    â€˜Does that mean you weren’t afraid?’
    â€˜I was afraid that I’d have to shoot them, which I didn’t want to do.’
    Angel feels a sudden rush of pure rage. The one with the hatchet face had the cruelest smile she’d ever seen, not to mention the fact that his eyes were filled with lust and he’d threatened to rip her flesh off with a pair of pliers.
    â€˜I wish you had,’ she says. ‘I wish you’d killed both of them.’
    â€˜Too many witnesses.’ He gestures to her cup. ‘Finish your coffee and I’ll drop you off wherever you want. By the way, did they tell you who they were?’
    â€˜They said something about a man named Bobby. Like I was supposed to recognize the name.’
    â€˜That would be a mobster named Bobby Ditto. His brother, the one who’s dead, was named Ricky Ditto. Their actual last name is Benedetti. Somehow, Bobby discovered that you and Ricky had a date that afternoon.’
    â€˜How did he find out my name and address? The old guy, the one with the hatchet face, called me Angel.’
    â€˜Most likely from your pimp . . .’
    â€˜My agent.’ Angel sighs. She’s finally slowing down and she wonders how far she’ll fall. Last time, after Carter shot Dr Rick,