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painting. It was a farm scene rendered in intricate and exquisite detail.
    Apparently oblivious of the exceptional beauty of the painting, Rebecca said, “So this Vincent Vastagliano was in the dope trade?”
    “Does McDonald’s sell hamburgers?” Nevetski asked.
    “He was a blood member of the Carramazza family,” Blaine said.
    Of the five mafia families that controlled gambling, prostitution, and other rackets in New York, the Carramazzas were the most powerful.
    “In fact,” Blaine said, “Vastagliano was the nephew of Gennaro Carramazza himself. His uncle Gennaro gave him the Gucci route.”
    “The what?” Jack asked.
    “The uppercrust clientele in the dope business,” Blaine said. “The kind of people who have twenty pairs of Gucci shoes in their closet.”
    Nevetski said, “Vastagliano didn’t sell shit to school kids. His uncle wouldn’t have let him do anything that seamy. Vince dealt strictly with show business and society types. Highbrow muckety-mucks.”
    “Not that Vince Vastagliano was one of them,” Blaine quickly added. “He was just a cheap hood who moved in the right circles only because he could provide the nose candy some of those limousine types were looking for.”
    “He was a scumbag,” Nevetski said. “This house, all those antiques-this wasn’t him . This was just an image he thought he should project if he was going to be the candyman to the jet set.”
    “He didn’t know the difference between an antique and a K-Mart coffee table,” Blaine said. “All these books. Take a closer look. They’re old textbooks, incomplete sets of outdated encyclopedias, odds and ends, bought by the yard from a used- book dealer, never meant to be read, just dressing for the shelves.”
    Jack took Blaine’s word for it, but Rebecca, being Rebecca, went to the bookcases to see for herself.
    “We’ve been after Vastagliano for a long time,” Nevetski said. “We had a hunch about him. He seemed like a weak link. The rest of the Carramazza family is as disciplined as the fuckin‘ Marine Corps. But Vince drank too much, whored around too much, smoked too much pot, even used cocaine once in a while.”
    Blaine said, “We figured if we could get the goods on him, get enough evidence to guarantee him a prison term, he’d crack and cooperate rather than do hard time. Through him, we figured to finally lay our hands on some of the wiseguys at the heart of the Carramazza organization.”
    Nevetski said, “We got a tip that Vastagliano would be contacting a South American cocaine wholesaler named Rene Oblido.”
    “Our informant said they were meeting to discuss new sources of supply. The meeting was supposed to be yesterday or today. It wasn’t yesterday-”
    “And for damned sure, it won’t happen today, not now that Vastagliano is nothing but a pile of bloody garbage.” Nevetski looked as if he would spit on the carpet in disgust.
    “You’re right. It’s screwed up,” Rebecca said, turning away from the bookshelves. “It’s over. So why not split and let us handle it?”
    Nevetski gave her his patented glare of anger.
    Even Blaine looked as if he were finally about to snap at her.
    Jack said, “Take your time. Find whatever you need. You won’t be in our way. We’ve got a lot of other things to do here. Come on, Rebecca. Let’s see what the M.E.‘s people can tell us.”
    He didn’t even glance at Rebecca because he knew she was giving him a look pretty much like the one Blaine and Nevetski were giving her.
    Reluctantly, Rebecca went into the hall.
    Before following her, Jack paused at the door, looking back at Nevetski and Blaine. “You notice anything odd about this one?”
    “Such as?” Nevetski asked.
    “Anything,” Jack said. “Anything out of the ordinary, strange, weird, unexplainable.”
    “I can’t explain how the hell the killer got in here,” Nevetski said irritably. “ That’s damned strange.”
    “Anything else?” Jack asked. “Anything that would