Angelina Bonaparte Mysteries Box Set by Nanci Rathbun (surface ebook reader TXT) 📗

involved,” I said. “Persons who were part of his hidden life. If it became known that he had an association with them, they would be in danger?”

“I believe so, to the extent that I would advise them to make a new life somewhere far away from the person who began this charade.”

“Charade? It’s a nightmare, Bart! A man who has never revealed any part of what he knows from his time in the Family wants nothing more than to live simply and quietly. And you say he’ll be hunted and hounded until the end of his days? And his family? That is unacceptable.”

“I don’t say it is so. I simply say it may be so, and counsel you to act as if it is, for safety’s sake.” He sighed and began to cough. After popping a lozenge into his mouth, he spoke in a hoarse, angry undertone, one I’d never heard from Bart. “I fear that your thirst for justice may outweigh your caution.”

Then his eyes softened. “Angelina, I consider you a friend. I say these things to you as a friend. Walk away from this person, from this situation. Tell his family to do the same and to do it without hesitation.” He extended his right hand. “He may be safe in his hiding place.” Then his left hand came up. “Or he may not.” He gestured toward me. “Will you tell him to take that chance? Or his family?”

My anger dissipated with Bart’s sincerity. “I don’t know,” I breathed. “But there is a legal question that you might help with. He married under an assumed name and has children. Is the marriage legal?”

Bart swung toward his computer and began to type. “According to Wisconsin law, I believe so.” He printed a page and began to read. “According to code 765.23, and I quote, ‘No marriage hereafter contracted shall be void by reason of any informality or irregularity of form in the application for the marriage license or in the marriage license itself, if the marriage is in other respects lawful and is consummated with the full belief on the part of the persons so married, or either of them, that they have been lawfully joined in marriage.’”

He paused and peered at me over the top of the paper. “He could call himself Long John Silver, as long he and his wife intended to legally marry. Of course, she could claim it was fraud and seek an annulment. Even the Catholic Church considers the children of an annulled marriage to be legitimate.” He handed the printout to me. “If she were my client, I would advise her to file for divorce, which is much quicker than the process for annulment, and then change her name and move away. As for the man—” he shrugged— “let him keep running.”

“I’ll talk to his wife,” I said. With a grimace, I rose, retrieved my briefcase and extended my hand. Bart hesitated, and I could see that he wanted to say something more. “What is it?” I asked.

He heaved himself up and came around the desk. Putting his left hand gently on my shoulder, he said, “If you are determined to take this to the bitter end, it occurs to me that, while a lawyer would not be the one to negotiate in such a situation, a Family boss might.” His eyes held mine. “Your papa might.”

I froze, aware of Bart’s eyes on me. My father’s two separate lives, one as a fruit-and-vegetable seller and the other as Don Pasquale, met with a click, like handcuffs locking into place.

“I, uh, don’t know if I can do that.”

“I’m sure it would be uncomfortable.”

Marcy’s face, and the faces of her children, flitted across my mind. If she wanted this resolved, I really had no choice. My personal code stared me in the face. I’d use any means necessary to find out the truth. Any means. But I never thought that could include talking Mafia business with Papa.

As he steered me to the door, Bart said, “I will make no case notes.” In the outer office, he told Bertha, “Ms. Bonaparte’s fee for today is one hundred dollars.”

Her penciled eyebrows rose. I knew it was considerably less than normal.

“Do you have cash, Angie?” he asked.

“I stopped at an ATM on the way here,” I said, removing the cash from my purse.

“Then let us consider this consultation closed. Bertha, remove any notation in your calendar and phone log.”

Her eyes flashed, but she turned to the computer and began to type.

I felt a bit wobbly as I descended the marble stairs to the lobby, and it wasn’t from the depression caused by the many feet that trod them before me.

Chapter 19

Just walk out of your house and never go back. You’ve just committed pseudocide. — James Altucher

AAAA Auctioneers was located about midway between my office and Bart’s. I placed a call from my car, hoping to find Marcy there. “Quad A. Larry.” The brusque greeting no longer surprised me. Larry ran a business on a shoestring and was perpetually in a rush.

“It’s Angie Bonaparte, Larry. Can I speak to Marcy?”

“Yeah, sure. Hang on.”

In a few seconds, her cheerful voice came on the line. I hated the thought of what my news would mean to her, but there was no way around it. She had to know. “Marcy, I have new information concerning Hank. Can we meet at my office today?”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“There’s some physical evidence that I think you should see.”

“Um, okay. What time?”

“Whenever you can get there.”

“I’ll leave now.” After a brief hesitation, she said, “Is it bad?”

“It’s … unexpected. I’ll be waiting for you.”

I called Bobbie, told him about Bart Matthews’ take on the situation, and asked him to sit in on the meeting with Marcy. “This will be a tough one,” he said. “I’m on my way.” Then I texted Susan, asking to reserve the conference room and letting her know the meeting would be difficult. She responded that she was at