Page 93 of The Pretender
She nods. “Do you know who started the rumor?”
“Not exactly, but I think it was this guy they call Fat Back. His real name is Anthony Muso. I’m almost positive he started it because he doesn’t like me.”
“Why not?” Brogan asks.
“Years ago, he heard I was gay and made a move on me, but the guy is married with, like, five kids. After I declined, he was pretty hostile and threatened me if I ever told anyone about that interaction.”
Nonna puts her hand on mine where it’s resting on the table. “Did you actually take any money?”
“No. Vin got involved with this dude from Philly who was bad news and had all these investment opportunities I felt were too risky. I tried to tell Vin, but he was adamant that I process the requests. I did my research and decided one of the so-called businesses was too high profile and could attract attention from the Feds. I tried to reason with Vin but he wouldn’t hear me out. So I made the decision to fudge the books, make it look like I processed his checks, but I moved the money to a safe account in Vin’s name. I kept a trail of everything I did, and I planned to tell him when the whole thing inevitably blew up, but then this rumor started and he wouldn’t listen. He trusts Fat Back like a brother. I knew my only chance to save my ass was to get out of town.”
Deo is watching me, clutching his coffee cup and holding it to his mouth, but his expression is passive, so I can’t tell what he thinks of my admission.
“Okay.” Nonna taps her pen on the paper. “We can work with that. First thing you need to do is get proof of where the money is.”
“I have that. It’s printed out in a folder with all the access information. I almost mailed it to Vin, but I know him, and he would still think I stole it.”
“Exactly,” Nonna agrees. “And that’s going to work to our advantage. We’ll clear your name and then kill you off so you can be free once and for all.”
“Kill him off.” Brogan gasps. “Nonna. What do you mean?”
Nonna sips her coffee, her brown eyes twinkling as a slow smile spreads across her face. “We’ve only done this once before, but it worked. It’s how we got your grandfather free of any ties.” Her smile grows. “We’re going to fake your death.”
“No way. Vin will never fall for that.” I exhale slowly. “As much as I appreciate?—”
“Listen, son,” Nonna says sternly, “I have a lifetime of experience with guys like Vin. I know what I’m doing.”
I nod, holding my tongue. “I’m listening.”
“I have a cousin in Chicago. He knows how to, shall we say, procure a corpse.”
“Nonna,” Deo whispers, “we can’t kill someone.”
“Of course not. The corpse already exists. We’ll make a few modifications to it and get it delivered right to Vin’s doorstep. Parts of it, anyway.”
My head is spinning. “How does this work?”
“We’ll need your ID—Mike Franco’s, that is—and some personal effects that Vin would recognize. Do you have anything like that?”
I nod. “I have a gold watch he gave me on my five-year anniversary of working for him.”
“Perfect. My cousin will know exactly how to make the corpse believably you so it will be officially declared to be Mike Franco.”
“And how does Vin find this out?”
“Easily. You’re going to send him a letter detailing everything you told us, from what Fat Back did to where you put the money to protect Vin. Then we’re going to tip off the authorities on the other business dealings so an investigation starts, which will prove to Vin you were right all along.”
“Why does he have to die then?” Deo asks. “If we prove he’s innocent, it’ll be okay.”
“If it’s okay, Vin will expect Balt to return to work, but with an added layer of suspicion. Trust me, kid, if we want Balt to be free, we have to do it this way.”
I nod, thinking over her plan. It’s pretty genius, actually. I considered faking my death more than once, but didn’t know how I would pull it off in a way that would make Vin believe it.
“I’m in.”
Nonna smiles. “When we get back home, you start working on the letter to Vin and the documents. I’ll contact my cousin, and we’ll get the ball rolling.”
“This is wild,” Deo mumbles as we get out of our seats. “Like, movie level wild.”
