Free Ded Reckoning by William F Lee Page A

first to her knees, then her head crashes onto the ceramic hardness of the floor.  This time she pushes and claws away from him on hands and skinned knees.  Tears running from beneath her lids, nose dripping blood.  She gathers herself, staggering to her feet.  Her face shows a harsh redness from the two slaps, blood oozing from her nose, and a trickle from the right side of her mouth mingles with a tear winding down her cheek.
    He says, "Now go.  You pushed your luck much too far tonight."
    She turns, wobbly on her feet, but her Italian temper and pride force her to stalk away, an angered strut, into the darkness of the villa.  Pisces eyes trace her until he sees a bedroom lamp flicker on upstairs.  Turns, sees Rocco watching from a study window.  Roberto Catalano nods towards the bedroom, flicks his index finger across his throat. Then he points to the room with a demonstrative nod.  The head movement is returned in kind by Rocco, and he disappears from the window.
    Pisces prowls back to his seat changing his leopard spots as easily as shifting from low gear to drive.  Catalano picks his cigar from the ashtray, not dropping an ash.  The first one third has burned away.  He takes a slow, easy draw and again watches the wisp of smoke circle and drift aimlessly in the night air. The second third of the cigar has the taste of mild Scotch Bonnet, pepper spice with a note of apricots and fresh almonds.  Again he takes a generous sip of his apricot brandy which blends so well with his cigar.  That or rum.  Nothing else.  He leans back allowing his body to relax, head resting on the back of the chair.  Another draw.  Another treat.
    With the latter thought processing through Catalano's mind, Gina, as silent as a bird walking on velvet, comes to his side.  "Signore, is there something else for the Signore this evening?"  She pauses a long moment, looks about again, whispers, "Is everything alright, Roberto?"  The velvety words are followed with a coy grin.
    Catalano gently grasps her hand, sighs, "Yes, everything is fine.  Fine.  I will be out here for a time, with my cigar, my brandy and my thoughts."  Then he follows with, "Non ti preoccupare."  
    The coy smile is replaced with one of concern.  She murmurs, "I won't worry."  Then, purrs, "Roberto, ti amo," as she places her other hand on his neck where it joins the shoulder.  Squeezes.
    He presses her hand, then lets it slide from his, grins and nods, gently pushing her away and says, "I know you do.  Later you can show me how much."  He brings the Joya De Nicaragua to his mouth once again.  As she departs for the kitchen entrance, Pisces watches the young woman swing tantalizingly away.  Long dark hair swishing and bouncing on her slender shoulders, she seems to float on her long thinnish legs yet distinctive calves and thighs.  She has beautiful hands with long fingers.  Like those of a pianist.  Gina turns her head, peering back over her shoulder, a wide smile on her flawless face, a look of innocence, like a clear summer day. This affair has been going on for some time.  Many times right here on this same table in the sun of early afternoon when Anna has left for town to shop, or to the beach or perceivably to Bruno somewhere cozy in town.
    Pisces leans back in his chair, relaxing, drawing and sipping.  He glances up and sees the bedroom lamp still on.  Sees a shadow pass from the study through the villa.  It's Rocco with a tray with bottle, glass and ice bucket.  And probably his personal ice pick.  Pisces pours himself another brandy.  Takes a sip.
    Murmurs, "Life is good.  Maybe I'll paint tomorrow.  The Mountain.  Yes, the mountain."
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    Hunter realizing that she is correct and going out to eat is not an option, asks, "So, what are we having for dinner?  Do you want me to grill something out here?"
    "No, we're having leftover