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The swinging door from the dining room opened.
“Honey,” Helen said, to get his attention.
So
“What?” he asked, less than politely.
“Mr. D’Angelo is here,” Helen said.
Marco D’Angelo was Mr. Boyle’s immediate supervisor. He normally drove the Buick which appeared ritualistically between 8:00 and 8:15 P.M., looking up and down the street as his assistant went into the Boyles’ residence.
As So
So
So
“He’s here? Now? What time is it?”
Mr. D’Angelo appeared in the kitchen.
“Whaddaya say, So
“Anytime, Marco,” So
“Thank you, no,” Mr. D’Angelo said. “So
“I’m doing the day’s business,” So
“This won’t take long,” Mr. D’Angelo said. “Just leave that. So we’ll be a little late, so what, it’s not the end of the world. Finish up when you come back.”
“Whatever you say, Marco,” So
Mr. Boyle was not uncomfortable. He had seen Mr. Pietro Cassandro on several occasions but did not know him. He searched his memory desperately for something, anything, that he had done that might possibly have been misunderstood. He could think of nothing. If there was something, it had been a mistake, an honest mistake.
The problem, obviously, was to convince Pietro Cassandro of that, to assure him that he had consciously done nothing that would in any way endanger the reputation he had built over the years for reliability and honesty.
So
“You wa
“No problem at all,” So
He got in the backseat. Mr. D’Angelo slammed the door on him and got in the passenger seat.
They drove to La Portabella’s Restaurant, at 1200 South Front Street, which So
They entered the building through the kitchen. Marco D’Angelo led So
Marco D’Angelo knocked at a closed door.
“Marco, Mr. Cassandro.”
“Yeah,” a voice replied.
D’Angelo pushed the door open and waved So
It was an office. But a place had been set on the desk, at which sat another large Italian gentleman, a napkin tucked in his collar. He stood up as So
The large Italian gentleman was, So
“So
“That’s me,” So
“Pleased to meet you. Marco’s been telling me good things about you.”
“He has?”
“I appreciate your coming here like this.”
“My pleasure.”
“Get him a glass,” Paulo Cassandro ordered. “You hungry, So
“No. A glass of wine would be fine. Thank you.”
“You’re sure you don’t want something to eat?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, maybe after we talk. I figure I owe you for getting you here like this. After we talk, you’ll have something. It’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you very much.”
“Marco tells me you’re pretty well co
“Well, I live in the house my mother was born in, Mr. Cassandro.”
“The name Frank Foley mean anything to you, So
Sonofabitch! I didn’t even think of that!
“I know who he is,” So
“Me asking looks like it made you nervous,” Paulo said. “Did it make you nervous?”
“No. No. Why should it?”
“You tell me. You looked nervous.”
So
“Tell me about this guy,” Paulo said.
“I don’t know much about him,” So
“Tell me what you do know.”
“Well, he’s from the neighborhood. I see him around.”
“I get the feeling you don’t want to talk about him.”
“Mr. Cassandro, can I say something?”
“That’s what I’m waiting for, So
“I sort of thought you knew all about him, is what I mean.”
“I don’t know nothing about him; that’s why I’m asking. Why would you think I know all about him?”
“I got the idea somehow that you knew each other, that he was a business associate, is what I meant.”
“Where would you get an idea like that?”
“That’s what people say,” So
“So
“Well, I’m sorry I had the wrong idea.”
“Why should you be sorry? We all make mistakes. Tell me, what sort of business associate of mine did you think he was?”
“Nothing specific. I just thought he worked for you.”
“You don’t know where he works?”
“He works at Wanamaker’s.”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. In the warehouse, I think.”
“Just between you and me, did you really think I would have somebody working for me who works in the Wanamaker’s warehouse?”
“No disrespect intended, Mr. Cassandro.”
“I know that, So
So
“Hey, you’re among friends. What’s said in this room stays in this room, OK?”
“I feel like a goddamned fool for not knowing it was bullshit when I heard it,” So
“Known better than what, So
“He sort of hinted that he was a hit man for you,” So
“You’re right, So
Inspiration came, miraculously, to So
“Because you’re a legitimate businessman,” he said.
“Right. All that bullshit in the movies about a mob, and hit men, all that bullshit is nothing but bullshit. And you should have known that, So
“I’m embarrassed. I just didn’t think this through.”
“Right. You didn’t think. That can get a fella in trouble, So
“I know.”
“Ah, well, what the hell. You’re among friends. Marco says good things about you. Let’s just forget the whole thing.”
“Thank you.”
“You know what I mean about forgetting the whole thing?”