Chapter 3 - The Man Beside the Throne
Arthur did not cancel the Marino meeting.
That would tell Vincent too much.
Instead, he changed the board.
The meeting was scheduled for noon inside an old Costello restaurant near the harbor. Vincent had selected the location.
Arthur quietly selected another.
At 8:00 the next morning, Daniel delivered three sealed envelopes to three men Arthur had known since childhood.
No phones.
No messages.
Nothing Vincent could intercept.
At 10:30, Vincent entered Arthur's study.
"Ready?"
Arthur buttoned his jacket.
"For what?"
Vincent blinked.
"The Marino sit-down."
Arthur looked mildly annoyed.
"I moved it."
"You what?"
"The Harbor House has cameras facing the street. We're meeting at Bellini's."
Arthur watched Vincent carefully.
For half a second, fear crossed his face.
Then it vanished.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just did."
Vincent smiled.
"All right."
But Arthur knew.
Norah was right.
Something had been waiting at Harbor House.
At Bellini's, Sal Marino arrived with four men.
He was sixty, silver-haired and cautious.
When he saw Arthur, his expression changed.
"Costello."
"Marino."
They sat.
Vincent remained behind Arthur.
Sal looked toward him.
Then back at Arthur.
That glance was enough.
Arthur understood there was a conversation happening without words.
"Dock fees," Arthur said.
Sal cleared his throat.
"That's what we're discussing?"
Vincent interrupted.
"What else would we be discussing?"
Sal's eyebrows rose.
Arthur leaned back.
"Let him answer."
Sal studied Arthur.
Then something remarkable happened.
He laughed.
Not loudly.
Almost sadly.
"You're finally looking in the right direction."
Vincent's face hardened.
Arthur remained still.
"Explain."
Sal glanced around.
"Privately."
"We're private."
"No."
Sal pointed toward Vincent.
"Not while he's here."
Vincent stepped forward.
Arthur lifted one hand.
"Wait outside."
"Boss—"
"Outside."
Vincent left.
Sal waited until the door closed.
Then he spoke.
"Three years ago, Vincent offered me the Costello docks."
"I know."
Sal's eyes narrowed.
"You know?"
"I know enough."
"Then you know I refused."
Arthur stared at him.
That was new.
"Norah's letter said you were working together."
"We were talking. That's different."
"Don't play games."
"I'm not."
Sal leaned forward.
"Vincent approached me because he wanted you weakened. He offered schedules, routes, everything."
"And you took them."
"Some."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not a priest."
Arthur almost smiled.
"But when he wanted me involved in killing you, I walked."
Arthur's gaze hardened.
Sal continued.
"I compete with you, Arthur. I don't want your organization collapsing into chaos. Vincent did."
"Why?"
"Because he wanted your chair."
Simple.
Obvious.
But Sal shook his head.
"At first."
Arthur caught it.
"At first?"
Sal lowered his voice.
"Then it changed."
"How?"
"He became obsessed with Norah."
Arthur's expression went dead.
"What did you say?"
"Vincent wanted your wife."
Arthur rose halfway from his chair.
Sal lifted his palms.
"Sit down."
Arthur slowly obeyed.
"Explain."
"Vincent talked about her constantly. Said she was too good for you. Said she feared what you were becoming."
Arthur remembered countless dinners.
Vincent laughing with Norah.
Vincent bringing wine.
Vincent calling her "sister."
Arthur felt sick.
"He believed if he destroyed you," Sal continued, "Norah would eventually turn to him."
"She hated him."
"Yes."
Sal smiled grimly.
"He discovered that too late."
Arthur stared at the table.
Suddenly the elaborate plan made terrible sense.
Vincent had not merely wanted Arthur dead.
He wanted Arthur broken.
Isolated.
He wanted Norah separated from him.
And when she refused Vincent?
Arthur looked up.
"Where is she?"
Sal's expression changed.
"You don't know?"
"No."
"Then Vincent lied."
"About what?"
Sal hesitated.
"He told me she died."
Arthur's heart stopped.
"When?"
"Two years ago."
"No."
"He said she got sick while hiding. Said she was buried somewhere in Vermont."
"He's lying."
"I assumed so."
Arthur leaned forward.
"Why?"
"Because six months later I saw him buying medicine."
Arthur frowned.
"For himself?"
"No."
Sal slid a piece of paper across the table.
A pharmacy name.
St. Albans, Vermont.
Arthur stared at it.
"Why give me this?"
"Because Vincent is becoming reckless."
Sal stood.
"And reckless men start wars."
Arthur left Bellini's twenty minutes later.
Vincent was waiting beside the car.
"Productive?"
"Very."
"What did Sal want?"
Arthur looked at him.
"Lower fees."
"And?"
"I told him no."
Vincent smiled.
"Good."
Arthur entered the car.
That evening, he made arrangements.
Daniel would remain with Clara.
Three trusted men would watch Vincent.
Arthur would go north alone.
He left after midnight.
Snow began near the Vermont border.
By sunrise, mountains surrounded him.
St. Albans was small enough that Arthur felt conspicuous.
He found the pharmacy.
The pharmacist initially refused to discuss customers.
Arthur showed Norah's photograph.
The elderly woman behind the counter stared.
"I remember her."
Arthur's heart pounded.
"When?"
"She came here regularly."
"For what?"
"I can't discuss—"
"Please."
Something in Arthur's voice changed her mind.
"Antibiotics once. Mostly ordinary things."
"When was the last time?"
"Maybe eighteen months ago."
Arthur showed Vincent's photograph.
The pharmacist's expression darkened.
"Him."
Arthur's stomach tightened.
"You remember him?"
"He came asking about her."
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing."
"Did he find her?"
"I don't know."
Arthur thanked her.
As he turned to leave, she spoke.
"Try Saint Matthew's."
Arthur stopped.
"The church?"
"She volunteered there."
Ten minutes later, Arthur entered a small stone church.
A priest recognized Norah immediately.
"She called herself Nora Kelly."
"Where is she?"
"I can't tell you."
"I'm her husband."
"I know."
Arthur froze.
"She told you?"
"Eventually."
"Then you know what happened."
"Some."
The priest studied him.
"She was terrified of you."
Arthur's face tightened.
"I never—"
"Not because she thought you'd hurt her."
The priest interrupted gently.
"Because she knew if you found her, Vincent might follow."
Arthur lowered his gaze.
"Is she alive?"
The priest did not answer.
Arthur stepped closer.
"Father."
"She left."
"When?"
"Last year."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
Arthur's shoulders dropped.
Then a small voice came from behind him.
"Are you Arthur?"
He turned.
A little boy stood near the pews.
Maybe four years old.
Dark wavy hair.
Brown eyes.
The priest became pale.
"Matthew, go find Sister Helen."
The child ignored him.
He stared at Arthur.
"My mommy has your picture."
Arthur could not breathe.
"What's your mother's name?"
The priest stepped forward.
"Arthur—"
But the child answered.
"Nora."
The world stopped.
Arthur stared at him.
The boy stared back with eyes Arthur had seen every morning in the mirror.
Arthur slowly crouched.
"How old are you?"
"Three."
The priest closed his eyes.
Arthur felt as if the floor had vanished.
Three.
Norah had been gone three years.
"What's your name?"
"James."
Arthur's voice became almost inaudible.
"James what?"
"Kelly."
Arthur looked at the priest.
"Where is she?"
The priest said nothing.
Arthur stood.
"Where is my wife?"
A woman's voice answered from behind him.
"I'm right here."
Arthur turned.
Norah stood beneath the church doorway.
Older.
Thinner.
Her brunette hair fell around a face he had imagined every night for three years.
Her eyes filled with tears.
Arthur forgot how to breathe.
Norah looked at him.
Then at the little boy.
Then back at Arthur.
"You weren't supposed to find us yet."
Arthur stared at James.
His voice broke.
"Is he mine?"
Norah closed her eyes.
When she opened them, tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Yes."
Arthur Costello had come to Vermont hoping to find his wife.
May you like
Instead, he discovered that three years earlier, when he sent Norah into the rain, she had been carrying his child.
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