Governor Reginald Jackson Montgomery drove his Jaguar coupe past the security guard at the entrance to his estate. Reggie maintained token residence in the governor’s mansion, but he frequently spent time at the family home midway between Tallahassee and Live Oak. In truth, Reggie’s house was nicer than the governor’s mansion, but he liked to keep the public unaware of that.
It was after midnight, but that was standard for a man who attended evening dinners and late meetings before making the long drive out to the Montgomery compound. Security was tight, so Reggie had no qualms about arriving alone at this hour.
Surprise lifted his eyebrows when he saw his sister’s limousine parked near the three-car garage behind the main house. He certainly wanted no aggravation from Hermione tonight. She had made herself painfully clear the last time they met. Her baby boy was off limits. Okay. Reggie had passed the word to his confederates. Nothing more to say.
When Reggie emerged from his Jag, however, he was greeted not by his sister but by her chauffeur.
“Carlo?” said the governor.
“Yes. I am Carlo. And you, I believe, are Iggy.”
The governor laughed nervously. “Wherever did you hear that name? What’s this about? Where’s Mrs. Montgomery-Krausse?”
“I hear about Iggy from madam. She don’t tell me, but I hear. She was little, little girl. She can no say ‘Reggie,’ so she say ‘Iggy.’ Is true, yes?”
“Wow, that’s been a long, long time ago. But you’re right. She called me Iggy until I finished grammar school. What’s going on, Carlo? Did my sister send you?”
“My brother send me.”
“I don’t understand.” Reggie was sweating. Carlo’s brother was with Shepard Krausse. If Pietro sent Carlos to confront Reggie, something must have happened to Reggie’s troublesome nephew. The governor backed away until the Jag pressed his backside, and he could go no further. Confusion and fear warred for supremacy in his face.
Carlo lifted an old double-barreled shotgun he had been holding behind one leg. He leveled it at Reggie’s mid-section and BOOM, fired one barrel. A red crater opened in Reggie’s diaphragm.
“That’sa for my brother, Pietro,” Carlo said calmly. Then BOOM, he fired the second barrel. “And that’sa for Dave.” A second, overlapping crater appeared, centered on what might have been Reggie’s heart, if he’d ever had one.
Expression faded from Reggie’s face and the light went out in Reggie’s eyes. Carlo walked calmly back to the limousine, got in, and started the engine.
Reggie’s body slid slowly down the side of the Jaguar and came to rest on the pavement. A wide crimson path glinted on the door of the car, from the window to the rocker panel. Carlo didn’t see it. By that time, the security guard was waving Mrs. Montgomery-Krausse’s limousine out of the gate. The guard in his air-conditioned gatehouse never heard a sound from the far-off garage.