Page 61 of Tormented Diamonds
“Yeah. Why?”
“Too bad Leo didn’t take the Parkway. It’s a toll road, and Marcello had a contact at the Turnpike Authority who could’ve run?—”
“A plate check on all white Camrys,” I say waving him off. “I know. Unfortunately, I can’t place a call to Hell and question Leo’s fucking thought process. Luckily, Deadpan Don had another contact at the Bloomfield PD who realized it was in his best interest to send me the accident report. It seems a witness got the plates on the Camry in question. As suspected, the car was reported stolen five days ago.”
“Of course it was,” he mutters. “So I assume the cops are following up on that.”
“They would’ve…” I give him a flat stare. “If a glitch in their system hadn’t lost the report.”
“Gutsy. That must have been one hell of a phone call.”
“What can I say? I’m a persuasive guy.” I may have also found a picture of his daughter’s private school on the internet and texted it to him for good measure. It wasn’t a real threat, but he didn’t need to know that. “What about Henry’s birth records?” I ask, swerving onto another topic.
“Those are Catholic church records,” he huffs. “Filing cabinets aren’t hackable. Beyond gluing the son of a bitch back together and pulling aWeekend at Bernie’s, I’m not sure what to do.”
I shrug. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“Fuck you. I’m not digging up three hundred chunks of marshal meat.”
Although the thought of desecrating Saddler’s scattered remains sounds diabolically enticing, I roll my eyes. “I’m talking about a personal visit. If they want a live marshal making the request, let’s give ’emone.”
His stare widens as my meaning works its way past that concrete block in his head. “Iknowyou’ve got to be fucking lying…”
“Nope,” I say, already typing out the message.
“What are you doing?”
“Texting Owen to clear his schedule for tomorrow.”
Anton shakes his head, wisely keeping any further comments to himself. “Whatever. Have you talked to Toscano?”
“No.”
I hear him suck a breath through his teeth.
“Calm down. I’ve got it under control.”
“How?”
I look up from my phone, a little irritated at being scolded like a thirteen-year-old. “We both know Toscano wants an update on Operation Celtic Clean-up. What do you suggest I tell him? That our target has been lurking in the shadows for days like some kind of fucking psychotic Batman?”
“He knows about the accident, Gianni. He’scapo dei capiof the Five Families for Christ’s sake.”
“All the more reason to have the upper hand when we meet.”
He slumps into his chair. “Fine. But I suggest not waiting much longer. You saw what happened when Marcello left a window open too long.”
Yeah, I pushed him out of it.
Hitting send, I toss my phone on the table. “Did you get the number I asked you to?”
He digs in his pocket and hands me a slip of paper. “I feel I have to caution against this.”
But I’m already dialing.
It’s answered on the second ring.
Novice.
