He was talking the way someone might talk to fool a casual listener into thinking it was a how’s-the-weather-fine-thank-you kind of conversation, when it was much more than that. She’d used that tone herself when fighting with her boyfriend at a restaurant just days prior, on the day when he’d dumped her, out of the blue, and for no reason. Surrounded by other diners, she’d used that tone, trying to hide the hurt and pleading in her words, the sense of loss, and of failure. ‘I’m not sure this is the best place for this conversation,’ she’d said. ‘I hear what you’re saying but I hope there’s room to talk about it.’ But there had been no room. It was a final humiliation to top the pile of humiliations that had been their relationship. She’d gotten good at that tone because of him, hiding her fears and embarrassment in public places. She knew it well enough to recognize it. But this man was hiding..no, wrong word….masking something quite different. There was no loss, no failure, no. It could get Dino D'angelo dead. He liked him. To be honest, he more then liked him. If he could have been honest with him tonight, he would have made a move on him. But he was in no position to be making love to Dino D'angelo as much as he would have liked to. He wasn't sure what to do. Should he suggest to Dino that Vincent might be dead? Maybe he could lie and say he knew he was. But D'angelo wouldn't be satisfied with that. They had to talk.Joey got out of the car. He walked into the hotel and up the stairs to number eight. He knocked but there was no answer. He turned the handle. It was dark. When he turned on the light and said his name, he knew there would be no answer. "Damn," he said. He was gone but he knew where he was headed.Dino drove out towards the New Jersey turnpike. He turned onto the private road that led to Gambini's home and parked the car near some trees. He'd have to go the rest of the way on foot. The house was like an armed barricade. He took out his magnum.
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