Page 25 of Third Crime's A Charm
“You look like you could use a drink,” he said sheepishly, holding Matteo’s bottle out like a peace offering.
Truman wished it was a white flag so Matteo would let his guard down again. The charming, easy-going Matteo was still reserved for Donna and when they were out in public. In the kitchen and at the table, Matteo laughed and shared. He was warm and affectionate, even with Truman, but would revert to cool distance as soon as she left the room.
“Is she watching?” Matteo was probably glaring behind his sunglasses but he accepted his beer and tapped the neck against Truman’s.
“Probably. I think the Barnabys can see most of the backyard from their upstairs windows.”
Matteo made a disgruntled sound but moved his feet and scooted his lower half to the side, making room for Truman at the other end of the hammock. “I guess you should join me.”
“Thanks…” Truman lowered and gingerly reclined, careful not to swing them over. He kicked off his flip flops, then stretched and crossed his ankles next to Matteo’s shoulder. “How’s the planning going?”
“I think I’ve just about worked it out.”
“Really?” Truman didn’t hide his surprise. They had gone over the intel Neville had collected and Matteo had asked numerous questions about Marty. After Donna went to bed, Matteo had spread the many pictures, blueprints, and brochures Neville had gathered on the study’s floor and stayed up late into the night. Truman assumed Matteo was making progress but would need more time to review Marty’s New York itinerary and would have more questions about the party.
Matteo held out the notepad. “Take a look,” he said with a shrug.
For his part, Truman acted just as casual as he took it but he was secretly giddy. He reached over and set his beer down, then flipped to the front of the pad. His brows jumped behind his sunglasses at the array of data on the first page. It was a detailedbreakdown of the party weekend’s weather, sunrise, and sunset times, and an allergy forecast. There were notes in the margins about wardrobe options and medications Matteo couldn’t forget to pack.
Truman flipped and the next several pages weren’t as innocuous. Their target’s name wasn’t written anywhere buteverydetail Truman had shared about Marty—fromhismedications, to his favorite foods, to his sisters’ dog’s names—was there. After that, pages of possible scenarios had been described, then crossed out. There were several sketches of the hotel that looked strikingly similar to the blueprint and floor plans but included the larger suites. He had to have done those from memory because many of them weren’t detailed in any of the brochures or magazines Neville had provided.
“Elio is supposed to be the genius?” Truman cast Matteo a scolding look and clicked his teeth. Matteo’s grades had been decent and he had followed in Theo’s footsteps and studied finance at Oxford, but Truman suspected he could have excelled in maths and sciences like Elio.
Matteo made a vague, dismissive sound and seemed more interested in the pool. “I didn’t want a future in academics or for people to think I was smart. It sets up expectations and I like when they’re low. No one’s disappointed if I act like a spoiled shit and it’s easier to dazzle people when I need to make a good impression.”
“Matteo…” Truman groaned in disapproval. “I appreciate flying under the radar but this is incredible. I thinkyoumight be the family genius.” He went back to the plan that hadn’t been rejected and chuckled at the codename Matteo had assigned to him: GFY,T. Truman looked over the pad and Matteo was staring at him, his lips parted. “Did I say something wrong again?”
“No.” Matteo shook his head but there was a soft sniff. “I’ll check social media when we get back, but I suspect there will be protesters, considering the guest list,” he said quietly. Truman nodded as he shifted, easing an arm around Matteo’s feet. He extended a finger andcautiouslytraced the top of Matteo’s foot, pausing to make sure he hadn’t gone too far. “Justa massage. Nothing else.”
“Of course.” The notepad was set down and Truman calmly cradled and caressed Matteo’s foot. No one was close enough to hear but he kept his voice just above a whisper as they talked through Matteo’s plan. “So, we’ll make a splashy entrance, just as the party’s starting and make sure everyone sees us. Then, I’ll introduce you to the birthday boy,” Truman confirmed as he kneaded. “Security is going to betightaround Marty but he’ll want to talk to us. When the time is right, I’ll tell him I need a moment and draw his and his entourage's attention away from you and the other guests. That’ll be your signal to slip out.”
“I buy a pack of cigarettes once a week and pretend to be a social smoker,” Matteo continued. “I’ll sneak out through the kitchen for a quick smoke and that’s when I’ll get it.”
“You’re sure you can get back upstairs and into the room without being seen?” Truman asked, receiving a bored snort from Matteo.
“I’ll have plenty of time to figure out where the cameras are before the party but it won’t matter. The security footage will be grainy and probably in black and white. If you check my notes about the hotel’s staff you’ll see that all the men wear black coats and ties. Every man who works there and most of the men at the party will be in dark suits and tuxedos so all I have to do is keep my head down.”
“True,” Truman murmured while absently strumming the arch of Matteo’s foot.
They were staying on the same floor as Marty so it would be easy for Truman to keep tabs on who was with him. Truman would make sure they had plenty to discuss before the party and stop by frequently. With the pending deal with the Justice Department and Marty’s plan to pin the worst of his crimes on his nephew, Peter, it wouldn’t be difficult to find excuses. At the party, Truman would keep Marty and his entourage entertained while Matteo snuck back upstairs and stole the star.
It was a simple, yet clever plan and Matteo seemed to have considered every angle. “What about the replica?” Truman asked. “You mention using one so Marty can’t be surewhenhe was hit, but you don’t say where you’re getting it.”
“That’s my business,” Matteo replied briskly. “I’ll know everything about that place and how to move without being seen. You just have to keep control of the birthday boy and his crew.”
“I can do that.”
With their history and the average age of Marty’s crew, it wouldn’t be a challenge. Marty was turning seventy-five and his bodyguards and their groupies were headed into retirement as well. A few of Marty’s enforcers had been scary in their prime, but the decline of the mafia had taken out most of their competitors and their peers. These days, Marty and his ilk were lazy and practically begging for someone to flip on, before the federal immunity well went dry and they had to answer for their own sins.
Matteo yawned and stretched. “We’ll rendezvous in the bar and make sure we’re seen leaving together early, with obvious plans for a party of our own.”
“No one will think anything of it if you’re gone for a few moments and we’ll have solid alibis for the rest of the night,” Truman murmured, mostly to himself.
If the replica was any good, it could take days and a qualified jeweler to notice it was swapped. The Justice Department would want an expert to verify the star’s authenticity and the quality of the gems. Truman would offer to provide one himself as a show of confidence. He prayed Marty didn’t notice beforehand and wanted to be there when he was informed it was a fake. After watching the lousy old shit screw overeveryone, Truman was ready to see Marty get what he deserved.
“It’s a really smart plan. If you’re fast and the replica is good.”
“If?” Matteo chuckled softly and sat up, then smoothly rocked onto his feet. “I prefer to improvise and work a crowd because it’s safer and easier. But I always do my research, especially when I know a shady criminal is involved,” he added with a smirk.
