Devlin put Adrianna to bed. When she was asleep, he entered Pitts’s room through the connecting door.
“John the Boss?” Pitts asked.
“Could be. If it is, at least we know who we’re looking for.” He went to the telephone. “I’m gonna call a friend in our organized-crime bureau. He knows everything about Rossi, right down to the size of his dick.”
“You think there’s a Cuban connection we don’t know about?”
“If there is, he’ll know about it.”
Devlin hung up the phone ten minutes later and let out a long breath.
“You got something?” Pitts asked.
Devlin nodded. “Back in the fifties, Rossi worked here with Meyer Lansky. He was small potatoes, just a button doing odd jobs, but apparently he made an impression. When Castro tossed them out, he went back to New York and started to move up in the organization. And that’s when the NYPD started paying attention.”
“So you think it’s him.” There was no hint of a question in Pitts’s voice. He obviously thought so, too.
“It fits,” Devlin said. “The old Cuban connection. The sick, old man, who maybe got introduced to Palo Monte back in the old days. The flight from the Bahamas, where Rossi and his goon, Mattie the Knife, just happened to be. The phony passports that used the same first names: John and Matthew.” Devlin shook his head. “This thing walks like a duck and says quack, Ollie. Plus, you’re forgettin’ a few other things.”
“Like what?”
“Like it was the body of Adrianna’s aunt that got snatched. And that was something that just might bring me, here.” Devlin tapped the side of his nose. “Like the fact that this sick old man waited around to see somebody get iced, and only took off when that didn’t happen. And sending me to the boneyard has been somethin’ John the Boss has wanted to do for a long time. He tried once, and it didn’t work. But he’s not the kind of guy who changes his mind. He just knew he couldn’t try again in New York.”
“And you think he set it up here?” Pitts’s voice was incredulous. He shook his head. “That would mean he had Adrianna’s aunt killed just to get you down here. That doesn’t make sense. He can’t have that kind of clout here.”
“No, but maybe he has friends who do.” Devlin waved his hand, as if dismissing his own argument. “Look, I think he knows everything about me. And everything about anybody I’m close to. It’s the kind of mean old bastard he is.” He waved his hand again. “But no, I don’t think he set it up that way. That’s too Byzantine even for an old Mafia bastard like him. I wouldn’t put it past him, but I think he fell into this. I think he and his gumbas had something else going, and the situation just presented itself. And the old Bathrobe jumped on it with both feet. Look, if he believes in this crazy voodoo nonsense, and is looking for a cure, what better than the body of Cuba’s most famous doctor. If Martinez is right, Cuba’s Red Angel got rubbed out by Cabrera. And what a nice little bonus that she happens to be Adrianna’s aunt. Because that just about guarantees that my ass is headed for Cuba. And that’s something that will put me right in his sights. Right where everybody’s been leading us, ever since we got here. And you know what else that means. That means Martinez could be involved right up to his rumba-shaking little ass.”
Pitts thought about it. “I don’t buy it. It doesn’t play.” He hesitated, forming his reasons. “Martinez is the one who tipped us that it might be John the Boss. If he was part of it, he would have known we’d tumble to that. It would have been a dumb move, and Martinez is too sharp for that.”
Devlin nodded, acknowledging the point. “He is sharp. No question about it. But it’s either that, or he’s being played for a stooge, too. Or maybe he’s got his own little game. And we just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that. But if you’re right, we better find out what it is.” Pitts hesitated, then asked, “So whadda we do now?”
Devlin walked back toward the connecting door that led to his room. He looked back at Pitts. “Now we stop being tourists, and we start being cops,” he said.