13-09-2019, 07:48 AM
"Yeah, it is." Helen agreed with another drag out the window. "I keep hearing about what a pro he is, how careful and cunning he is. Ok, clearing the streets so he could shoot Eliot was a clever move. And if he wanted to make sure he had my attention, trying to harm Maria or the twins is the way to do it. Bur Scott signed the van out this morning. They spent a couple days canvassing Eliot's street, then taking them down when he came home. That was a caper; there was planning. It was expected to work. 'We know there's old tanks at the castle right now, so let's get a van, cut it up so we can hide bullets and shells, steal and arm one, and try to kill the princess?' That's not a plan; that's an idea that pops into your head while you're while making the REAL plan and maybe jot down in the margin and come back to later if the plan doesn't work out."
"Yeah. Silverman was a hit. From what you've said, doesn't seem like the sort who'd wind someone up enough to go spending Famous Nazi Hitman money. I can guess from the name that he was Jewish, and therefore, Dietz's favorite kind of victim. But 'because he was Jewish' ain't enough reason for a racist who wants to live to get paid after to hang about. Allaine's right there; the director was supposed to be a message to the one in charge. In this country, that's always 'Her Countessness.' The only reason not to get the fuck out of San Finzione right then is that the client insists on delivery confirmation."
Helen nodded agreement and thought as they pulled onto Eliot's street. Mander looked for someplace to park. Helen picked up her phone and called the Ministry of Science.
"That's why I like getting stuck in traffic with you, Mander. We have these little talks and you give me these little ideas."
* * *
Mander nodded at some bushes outside Eliot's building where he suspected Ultimados might be hiding. Helen did likewise toward a dark alley about which she thought the same thing. There were still Policia in squad cars across from Stavro and Alfonzo's homes as well. Two officers stood by the door to Eliot's apartment, awaiting them. They saluted as she approached.
"Contessa." The senior of the two spoke. "We have checked the premises; it is safe for you to enter."
She nodded and the other went to unlock the door. Mander bent down and whispered into Helen's ear.
"I see what Your Countessness means about takin' the sport out of things."
She nodded again. The younger cop held the door as Helen motioned for Mander to go first. He drew his gun.
"That won't be needed, sir." The young cop said. "There's no one up there. We checked."
Mander grumbled and entered. A few steps behind, La Contessa followed him up the stairs, into the darkness. They rounded a corner to the apartment door, which was left unlocked for La Contessa. Mander entered the room, looking around, removing his sunglasses so his eyes could adjust to the dark when Helen reached for the light switch and turned it on.
"Gah!" Mander gahed and put the sunglasses back on. "You turn on the bloody lights during somethin' like this?"
"This is what my life has come to. If I don't, they'll get worried and call for backup." Helen said as they started to look around the living room. She walked over to a couch with an end table next to it. A bunch of small toys, new and old, were on it. Her eyes lit on a wind-up E.T. figure. She picked it up and held it for Mander to see now that his eyes had adjusted.
"This HAS to have been his mother's; handed down. Probably worth something by now. And if I decide I want to keep it, they won't do a thing to stop me. They'll find my prints on the table and figure 'Well, La Contessa took a little something, she does that sometimes.' You were talking about how a racist who can't be racist must be in the Twilight Zone? Try being a criminal who can't steal because, one way or another, everything is already mine!" Helen looked over the toy a bit more before setting it back where she'd found it. She surveyed the room.
There was an open door off the living room to the bedroom. The living room opened up into a smaller dining area with a bathroom connected to it and a kitchen in the doorway beyond. The place was decorated much like Helen imagined a recent film college graduate who was probably living on his own for the first time would do so. Old movie posters, primarily Steven Spielberg films, were tacked to the walls. All of the furniture matched, which told Helen that Eliot had no experience in furniture shopping but had just landed his first big-time director's job, so he bought it all at once. The upholstery was some older-style print that she couldn't imagine why Eliot chose it until she reasoned that it was probably as close to his parents' furniture at home as he could get here.
The lingering scent in the air was that of heated pasta and tomato sauce. Helen went into the dining area, where the empty bowl of Eliot's last meal still sat on the table next to a desktop computer. He'd only been dead a little over a day; there hadn't been time for the little red pool of dried leftover sauce at the bottom of the bowl to turn bad or attract flies. A single neat round spaghetti you can eat with a spoon clung and dried to the side of the bowl. Glossy headshots of actors surrounded the bowl and the computer. Attached to them were vintage photos of people who looked like them. Helen picked up Gino Giovanni's headshot, removed the paperclip, and found photos of Vincenzo from ages 11 to 20.
Mander had checked the other rooms in case the cops hadn't done a good enough job and there was a Nazi he'd get to kill under the bed. When he returned from the kitchen, he walked over to Helen and looked over her shoulder.
"Looks just like the late Count." He said. "I know there's a thing you're supposed to say when you talk about him, but I don't get away from the island much lately."
"It's 'Forever does he reign in our hearts.'" Helen told him. "Eliot approached the casting the same way Spielberg did for 'Band of Brothers;' choosing actors based on their resemblances to the real men of the 506th. It looks like the last thing Eliot was doing was going over their headshots. Casting's done, we're in Production now." She wiggled the mouse to bring the still-powered computer to life. It came to a screen asking for a login.
"Yeah. Silverman was a hit. From what you've said, doesn't seem like the sort who'd wind someone up enough to go spending Famous Nazi Hitman money. I can guess from the name that he was Jewish, and therefore, Dietz's favorite kind of victim. But 'because he was Jewish' ain't enough reason for a racist who wants to live to get paid after to hang about. Allaine's right there; the director was supposed to be a message to the one in charge. In this country, that's always 'Her Countessness.' The only reason not to get the fuck out of San Finzione right then is that the client insists on delivery confirmation."
Helen nodded agreement and thought as they pulled onto Eliot's street. Mander looked for someplace to park. Helen picked up her phone and called the Ministry of Science.
"That's why I like getting stuck in traffic with you, Mander. We have these little talks and you give me these little ideas."
* * *
Mander nodded at some bushes outside Eliot's building where he suspected Ultimados might be hiding. Helen did likewise toward a dark alley about which she thought the same thing. There were still Policia in squad cars across from Stavro and Alfonzo's homes as well. Two officers stood by the door to Eliot's apartment, awaiting them. They saluted as she approached.
"Contessa." The senior of the two spoke. "We have checked the premises; it is safe for you to enter."
She nodded and the other went to unlock the door. Mander bent down and whispered into Helen's ear.
"I see what Your Countessness means about takin' the sport out of things."
She nodded again. The younger cop held the door as Helen motioned for Mander to go first. He drew his gun.
"That won't be needed, sir." The young cop said. "There's no one up there. We checked."
Mander grumbled and entered. A few steps behind, La Contessa followed him up the stairs, into the darkness. They rounded a corner to the apartment door, which was left unlocked for La Contessa. Mander entered the room, looking around, removing his sunglasses so his eyes could adjust to the dark when Helen reached for the light switch and turned it on.
"Gah!" Mander gahed and put the sunglasses back on. "You turn on the bloody lights during somethin' like this?"
"This is what my life has come to. If I don't, they'll get worried and call for backup." Helen said as they started to look around the living room. She walked over to a couch with an end table next to it. A bunch of small toys, new and old, were on it. Her eyes lit on a wind-up E.T. figure. She picked it up and held it for Mander to see now that his eyes had adjusted.
"This HAS to have been his mother's; handed down. Probably worth something by now. And if I decide I want to keep it, they won't do a thing to stop me. They'll find my prints on the table and figure 'Well, La Contessa took a little something, she does that sometimes.' You were talking about how a racist who can't be racist must be in the Twilight Zone? Try being a criminal who can't steal because, one way or another, everything is already mine!" Helen looked over the toy a bit more before setting it back where she'd found it. She surveyed the room.
There was an open door off the living room to the bedroom. The living room opened up into a smaller dining area with a bathroom connected to it and a kitchen in the doorway beyond. The place was decorated much like Helen imagined a recent film college graduate who was probably living on his own for the first time would do so. Old movie posters, primarily Steven Spielberg films, were tacked to the walls. All of the furniture matched, which told Helen that Eliot had no experience in furniture shopping but had just landed his first big-time director's job, so he bought it all at once. The upholstery was some older-style print that she couldn't imagine why Eliot chose it until she reasoned that it was probably as close to his parents' furniture at home as he could get here.
The lingering scent in the air was that of heated pasta and tomato sauce. Helen went into the dining area, where the empty bowl of Eliot's last meal still sat on the table next to a desktop computer. He'd only been dead a little over a day; there hadn't been time for the little red pool of dried leftover sauce at the bottom of the bowl to turn bad or attract flies. A single neat round spaghetti you can eat with a spoon clung and dried to the side of the bowl. Glossy headshots of actors surrounded the bowl and the computer. Attached to them were vintage photos of people who looked like them. Helen picked up Gino Giovanni's headshot, removed the paperclip, and found photos of Vincenzo from ages 11 to 20.
Mander had checked the other rooms in case the cops hadn't done a good enough job and there was a Nazi he'd get to kill under the bed. When he returned from the kitchen, he walked over to Helen and looked over her shoulder.
"Looks just like the late Count." He said. "I know there's a thing you're supposed to say when you talk about him, but I don't get away from the island much lately."
"It's 'Forever does he reign in our hearts.'" Helen told him. "Eliot approached the casting the same way Spielberg did for 'Band of Brothers;' choosing actors based on their resemblances to the real men of the 506th. It looks like the last thing Eliot was doing was going over their headshots. Casting's done, we're in Production now." She wiggled the mouse to bring the still-powered computer to life. It came to a screen asking for a login.
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