Chapter 20
Quentin
Monday mornings were used for cleaning up the messes made over the weekend.
The Comet Club, and establishments like it, typically bring in seventy-five percent of the revenue between Friday and Sunday. The bulk of that comes on Friday and Saturday nights.
Not all my operations had this issue, but enough did that Monday mornings became essential for spotting weekend problems—the kind that only showed up when counting the cash.
Dealing in cash meant strict controls were required to ensure money wasn’t being siphoned off, lost, stolen, or otherwise unaccounted for on the books. Partners needed to be paid. Cops, lawyers, snitches, and my massive staff all counted on money being where it was supposed to be.
I’d spent time over the weekend trying to track down any clues about Serenity’s vision. She’d gotten nothing at the bakery and neither had Stone. A dead end. Dino hadn't gotten back to me with the forensic report yet, so I still didn't know if the zeppoles had actually been poisoned.
Julia knocked on my open door and stuck her head into the office. “Are you free?”
“Come in.” I observed her walk confidently towards me, no fear, shame, or guilt apparent. That kind of attitude wasn’t easy for traitors to pull off around me. I normally sniffed out the disloyal from a block away. Still, I had to be cautious until we solved this mystery. “Take a seat.”
“I found something in this file I wanted to talk to you about.” She held up a manila folder labeled with The Marrow Lounge.
“Put a pin in that.” A smile broke across my face before I could stop it.
Seeing her after the weekend hit me harder than it should have.
I'd missed her—thought about her constantly.
Wished I'd taken her to dinner, gone dancing, done all the normal things people did when they were falling for someone.
But with a potential assassin out there, which could very well be her, normal wasn't an option.
I pushed the longing aside. “We need to discuss what we've found so far.”
Julia nodded. “And what’s that?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “I haven’t heard back from Dino yet. But so far, Serenity and Stone haven’t come up with any clues.”
“Are you sure her vision on Friday was really about poison?” Julia held up her hands. “Maybe it was you choking on a nut.”
“Zeppoles don’t have nuts.”
“Still, it was a vision, an impression, not fact. Maybe this will be a whole lot of nothing?”
I listened to her tone to gauge whether she was suggesting or guessing or just trying to be helpful. I didn’t detect any deceit. “Maybe. Dino’s report will confirm it or not. In the meantime, I’ve had the cleaning staff throw away everything in the kitchen—”
Her lips flattened. “I noticed that when I made coffee. But I figured the Nespresso capsules would be safe.”
“Not worth the risk.” I waved my hands in the air. “People calculate risks badly all the time, which is why online sportsbooks and the lottery make such insane amounts of money.”
Julia’s face glowed with a genuine smile. “I think humans are naturally terrible at math. My papa taught me that.”
“Did he?”
She nodded.
“My father had an aphorism for everything. Mostly about family and loyalty. Blood and DNA make you related to people, but it's loyalty that keeps you breathing. That sort of thing.”
“Sounds familiar.”
She repeated another, imitating an old Italian man’s voice. “Il pugnale che non vedi è quello che taglia più a fondo. The dagger you don’t see is the one that cuts deepest.”
“I’ve heard that before. Maybe I’ve met your father.”
“No, I doubt it.” Julia’s brows dipped and she glanced away. “He wouldn’t have run in your circles. Plus, The Agency would have alerted you. They watch for that kind of thing. My papa was a good man but he’d be turning over in his grave if he knew I was working for a…”
“Gangster?”
Julia’s face flushed slightly red, and her gaze fell to her feet. “I wasn’t going to say that. I meant working for a company that was—my dad—he was a law-and-order old-fashioned kind of guy.”
“So, he’d be worried about you if he was still alive and knew where you worked?”
She nodded her head vigorously. “He’d be worried out of his mind.”
I tried to remember where I’d heard that saying about the dagger before. It was at the edge of my memory, so close, but out of reach. “Your parents taught you Italian?”
Julia laughed. “I wish. No, I mean, I know a little, but most of what I learned as a kid I’ve forgotten. My grandparents are probably turning over in their graves. The little saying about the dagger, I learned that one by heart. It’s been a reminder to me.”
I nodded in understanding. “Seems appropriate in my current situation.”
“It does.”
I glanced at the folder in her hands. “Tell me about that.”
She opened the folder labeled The Marrow Lounge. “This name is a subtle play on words?”
I smirked. “You do like ossobuco, yes?”
“Is the Pope Italian on paper?”
“The club played on the idea of bones. It was a theme.” I raised a brow. “You’re familiar, of course, with Giorno dei Morti?”
“Of course. Similar to Día de los Muertos except the Mexicans drink beer while we Italians light candles and stay somber.”
I snorted. “Exactly why the club used a Mexican theme. It was especially popular around Halloween—and, of course, on the actual Day of the Dead. Queens has a large Mexican population, so the club was popular. It was also the subject of a dispute.”
Julia nodded. “I can see that in the file. My—I mean, my thought exactly—was that you were negotiating with the Russo family, specifically the Don. This was before he was killed.”
“Yes.” I remembered the controversy. “The Moretti family was involved. There was a territorial dispute. It involved the Russo and Moretti families and the Torres family. Diego Torres, to be specific.
“See, he knew the club was catering to Mexicans. That, in and of itself, wasn’t necessarily an issue, but the border of the territory was under contention. CS13—”
“The Calle Sombra 13?” Julia asked.
“Yes. This gang is led by Torres. He was disputing the Morettis’ claim that their line went down to Roosevelt Avenue. The Calle Sombra 13 said the Italian’s turf didn’t stretch past Corona Avenue.”
“And so the club…” Julia nodded in understanding. “The file says you were in the process of buying into this club. Is that correct?”
“I've had good relationships with the Morettis and the Russos going back a long time. We had hoped that my involvement could help smooth over any issues with Torres. But that all ended with the death of Big Sal.”
“And what happened?” She tapped the file. “It doesn’t say here.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” I held up my hands. “When Big Sal was hit, nobody knew where it came from. We still don’t. Nobody has taken responsibility for it. It makes no sense for the Moretti family to kill an ally, and I certainly had no incentive. I lost a ton of money when he was killed.”
“So CS13?” Julia’s eyes widened. “A Mexican street gang took out—killed Salvatore Russo?”
I shook my head and raised my hands in a gesture of uncertainty.
“I’m baffled. But… no, I don’t think Torres would have been that short-sighted and irresponsible.
What could he possibly hope to gain by starting a war?
It would have killed the club for starters, and everyone would have lost a small fortune. ”
“So it’s a giant mystery?” Julia sighed as if she was personally involved. “There’s an accounting sheet in here that includes a personal note.”
“There is.” I pointed to the folder. “We were going to celebrate.”
Julia leafed through the pages and stopped when she found it. She read the note in a deadpan. “Hope this is acceptable to you Q. If so, we’ll celebrate in a week with Cubans and shots of Ultra.” She tapped the page. “Then there’s the initials S and R. I’m assuming that’s Salvatore Russo?”
“Indeed. He signed off on the accounting personally. His way of guaranteeing the numbers.”
“And the Ultra?” Julia looked at me, as if questioning me in a police interrogation.
“Yeah. Big Sal liked this tequila. Clase Azul Ultra. It was an Anejo that came in a hand-painted bottle. That, and Cohiba Behike cigars. The man had taste. I’m sure he’s upstairs sharing cigars with Sinatra.”
“You sound like you liked him?”
“Big Sal?” I laughed. “Are you kidding? You couldn’t not like Big Sal, I mean, unless you were his enemy.
To be honest, even if we were enemies, I’d like the guy.
He was a character. And yes… we were business associates, but friendly ones.
I liked him well enough. As you can see there, I trusted him enough to go into business with him. ”
Julia closed the file. “Maybe whoever tried to kill you is the same person who killed him?”
She had a point. I’d been thinking the same thing over the weekend, in between being suspicious of Julia herself.
It was possible all this traced back to CS13, but that didn’t make sense.
It also didn’t make sense that the Morettis would double-cross me and Sal.
I met Julia’s gaze and spoke something I believed deep in my gut.
“I hope his family finds out who did this and gets to do what needs to be done.”
“I hope so too.” Her voice held a sad, cold tone.
I tilted my head. “It sounds like this is personal.”
Her back straightened and she sat up taller in the chair, her eyes wide. “Oh, no, I mean, I’m hoping this all ends well.”
“You sure you never met Big Sal?” I raised a brow. I measured her response carefully, curious to gauge what she didn’t say.
“I’m sure I haven’t.”
She sounded sincere but I detected a hint of uncertainty in her voice. As if there was a story behind it, and she didn’t want to share. “Maybe you ran into him once and you weren’t introduced. It’s possible you crossed paths.”
She shrugged. “Maybe, but I think I’d have remembered.”
“Probably.” I nodded, certain she would have remembered. He’d been a larger-than-life character. I was sorry he was gone. “I think you’re right. You’d have remembered him if you were ever in the same room for more than a minute.”
“Sounds like it. I’m—well, I guess…” She looked lost, unsure of herself in a way I'd never seen before. “I’m feeling a bit out of sorts. It’s past quitting time anyway. I’ll stay late if—”
“No, of course not.” I motioned to the door. “Go straight home and make yourself a cup of tea.”
“That sounds nice, actually.”
I considered keeping quiet, but her safety mattered more than her comfort. She needed to be on guard. “Julia, before you go.”
“Yes?”
“You have to consider that until we know what’s happened, with strong proof, anything is possible. The Moretti family might have killed Big Sal and they’re coming after me now. They'd claim massive territory without a fight if they could pick off the bosses one by one without being identified.”
“You think they’d do this?”
“I’m not convinced it would make sense.” I knew strange things happened in this business and hidden motives were not always easy to find. “As you go through paperwork and deals and you’re seeing things with fresh eyes, bring anything you find odd to my attention.”
Julia nodded. “Okay. I’ll go through things with the idea that someone or some organization might be a snake in the grass.”
“If it’s not the Moretti family or Calle Sombra 13 it could be any number of other families. However, there is one other possibility.”
Julia raised a brow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“An inside job. Maybe someone in the Russo family is making a play? Or it could be Carlo and he’s covering his tracks.”
“Carlo?” Julia’s head snapped back, like she was shocked I’d even suggest it. “You mean the new Don of the Russo family?”
Her response seemed odd. Was she covering her reaction, or didn’t she know who he was? “Yes.”
“Of course.” Julia rubbed her temples. “Silly of me to forget. I think I have a slight headache coming on, that’s all. But, wait a minute, you think it’s possible Carlo had his own father killed? That seems—umm—it seems like a wild stretch.”
“I tend to agree.” I considered it a moment. “I’ve only met Carlo once, so I can’t say I know him, but these things do happen, so it’s worth taking into consideration. I’m not saying I think this is the case, but we’d do well to keep it in the realm of possibilities.”
“Okay.”
“Furthermore.” I stopped, taking my time to tell her my real thoughts. “There’s always the chance that someone else—or even a few people—planned a coup. If Carlo is hit, we’ll know for sure. At this point, nothing would surprise me.”
“Maybe you’ve been watching too many mafia movies?” Julia shrugged. “I mean, I agree. Anything is possible, but usually the right answer is just the simple one.”
I nodded and motioned to the door. “True. Time for you call it a day and get some rest.”
“Yes. Goodnight.”
I watched Julia walk to the door and something twisted painfully in my chest. For a moment, I let myself imagine the impossible—leaving together, her hand warm in mine.
No threats hanging over us. No assassins planning my death.
Just a normal evening. Dinner somewhere she'd love.
Maybe a movie after, her head on my shoulder in the dark.
Simple. Ordinary. Everything I'd never allowed myself to want. Until her.
It sounded nice but I could hear Stone’s voice echoing in the back of my mind. “I told you so!”