“How about Gladys’ Diner?”

“No good. That place is crawling with cops drinking coffee and eating pie. I can’t take the chance that some yahoo will try to make a name by bringing me down. An innocent customer could get hurt.” He paused. “What about your nature park? We could meet where you held the walk the other day.”

I thought of the park’s wild spaces, all those hiding places. I remembered another meeting on an early morning before Himmarshee Park opened. That encounter nearly came to a tragic end.

“The park is closed,” I said.

“I want to do the right thing, Mace. I’m going to turn myself in. But I need your help.”

Tony had known me less than a week. But already he knew to push the button for my savior complex. Am I that transparent? Thinking fast, I came up with a plan.

“All right, you can come on out here. But give me an hour. I’m not even out of bed yet.”

“Who says you have to get out of bed?” His voice took on a sexy growl. The man couldn’t help himself.

“Look, I’m doing this as a friend. That’s all we are, Tony.”

“Sorry. I appreciate it, I do. Just don’t call the cops. I’m going to hand myself over, I swear on my mother’s life; but I have to do it on my terms. You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

No, I thought, I don’t. “Sure,” I said.

“So promise me you won’t call Carlos. If I see the cops are there, all deals are off.”

I waited for a beat. He needed to believe I was thinking about it.

“Okay, Tony. I swear I won’t call Carlos.”

The moment I hung up I did two things: I got Paw-Paw’s shotgun from the closet, loaded it, and slid it under the couch in the living room within easy reach. And then I called Carlos.

_____

“C’mon in. The door’s open.”

I could see Tony through the window. Eyes darting around nervously, he came through the screen door to the porch, and then on into my living room. Faint circles under his eyes were the only outward sign of the inner turmoil he claimed to be suffering. The collar on his pink-grapefruit polo shirt lay perfectly outside his navy blue blazer. His khakis were pressed and creased. The white smile was present, if a bit less luminescent than usual.

“No cops, right?”

“No cops,” I said, failing to add the word yet. “We’re alone. Now, I want to know: Did you kill that man up North?”

He heaved a huge sigh. Studied the cypress board floor. Finally, he nodded.

“You can’t understand the pressure I was under, Mace. I’m the only son. Since I was born, everyone just assumed I’d take over for my father some day. It never mattered what I wanted.”

His dark green eyes bored into mine. “It’s my destiny.”

“That doesn’t explain how you could brutally murder someone. With a knife, no less.”

“My father’s terminally ill. He said our rivals were going to strike because everyone knew I didn’t really want to run the business. I wasn’t the man he was. No one feared me. I had to step up and show them I could be just as ruthless as my father.”

“So you committed murder to send a message?”

He didn’t answer. But I saw the truth in his eyes.

“Pretty extreme way to win your father’s approval.”

“Yeah. He got what he wanted. He even gave me the knife to do it. Now I’m just like him.”

Shame and self-loathing filled his face. I almost felt sorry for him.

“That blond woman from the park was a cop, you know. She’s looking for you,” I said.

“I figured she was.” He sank into a chair across from where I sat on the couch.

“They think you killed Ronnie Hodges, too.”

He gasped, shaking his head. Could he truly be surprised?

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“C’mon, Tony. A potential business rival? Stabbed to death? In a kitchen? Sounds like your M.O. to me, and I’m not even a cop.”

“I swear I didn’t kill him, Mace. I came down here to start a new life. I finally told my father I was out. I don’t care if he’s dying or not. I don’t want to be part of his world. Why would I revert right back to what I hated about him? What I hated in me?”

“Because once you’ve killed the first time, the second time is easier.”

Leaning toward me, he stared so deeply into my eyes that I feared he could see right through me to the floor beneath the couch, and the shotgun hidden there.

“You don’t know a thing about me. My father forced me to do something against my will and against my nature …”

“Did he actually put the knife in your hand?”

Anger flickered across his face. “Killing a man is not easy. Not the first time. Not ever. I never want to do it again. That’s why I’m running.”

“Running? You said you were turning yourself in.”

“When I thought about it, I realized I can’t go to prison as Sam Ciancio’s son. Every tough guy in there would want to prove himself by murdering me. I’d have to kill again to survive. It’d either be one of them, or me.”

He collapsed back against the chair, sighed. “I’m going someplace where they don’t even speak English. Nobody knows me. I can finally be free.”

“Uhm,” I said. “About that, Tony.”

He tilted his head at me. God, he was good-looking. He was bound to have a tough time in prison, one way or another.

“I’m sorry, but I had to call the police. They’re on their way as we speak.”

Almost before I realized what I was seeing, Tony’s hand jerked across his chest to the inside of his jacket. He pulled out a pistol. There was no smile now. Just green ice in his eyes and a gun aimed straight at me.

The charming Tony from before had disappeared. A killer sat across from me, probably intent on making me his next victim.

“You won’t get away. When I said the cops are coming, I meant now,” I lied. “I just heard the first car turn onto my drive.”

At the instant Tony whirled to look out the window, I doubled over and grabbed the shotgun from under the couch. Tony might be fast, but I am, too. The weapon was pumped and ready, almost before he had time to register the fact I was armed. The cops weren’t outside.

He looked from the window to me, holding the gun. “You lied to me.”

“Yeah, and you killed a man. Maybe you killed Ronnie Hodges, too. I wasn’t taking any chances.”

We stared at each other over the expanse of my coffee table; two Old West gunslingers ready to fire if the other so much as flinched. I don’t know about Tony, but my heart was about to explode through my chest. I hoped he wouldn’t notice the barrel of the shotgun shaking.

“I told you I had nothing to do with Ronnie. Why would I admit to one murder and lie about the other?”

“Because Florida has capital punishment. The murder here could get you the needle.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t lying. I thought we were friends. I thought I could trust you.”

“That was your first mistake.”

He looked toward the yard again. “Did you really call the cops?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I calculated some extra time because I wanted to talk to you first, see if you could explain. I wanted to find out before Mama’s wedding if you killed Ronnie.”

“Do you think I did?”

I looked into his eyes. I saw no cruelty there. No murderous rage. He seemed sad; wounded. I remembered how he jumped up to help the waitress at Gladys’ Diner. How kind he was to the old couple at the Speckled Perch. How he rescued a turtle from the highway. Then I flashed on the Tony I’d witnessed in my living room, cursing into his cell phone, fully in command. Not to mention the Tony holding me at gunpoint right now.