Page 78 of The Mafia's Christmas Baby
I check in with the priest at St. Adrian’s through a man who does maintenance and keeps his eyes open.
All clear for now.
I get a ping that says the Bureau sat down with a flour supplier and asked about cash orders.
Expected.
Manageable.
I breathe once and let it out.
We eat early because the stove runs warm when the wind pushes from the bay.
I do the dishes while she dries.
Her shoulder bumps mine and stays there.
I like the weight of that.
I like knowing where she is when I look up.
The message comes after dark, when the room is quiet enough to hear the stove tick.
The phone lights the table.
It's from a number I trust because I know the man who keeps it charged.
Four words at the top, then a second line that takes the air out of the room.
Marco spotted in broad daylight.
Rumor is he is planning something big.
I read it twice to be sure I’m not taking it the way I fear.
My thumb hovers.
I type back one word.
Where?
The answer is a cross street in Manhattan where the Bureau’s cars like to nose in and out of an underground garage.
Reliable.
Bad.
Elisa is already watching me. “Tell me,” she says.
“Marco is making appearances,” I say. “Not by accident. He wants to be in the room when the Council sits or he wants to set it on fire before it does.”
She goes still.
“It also can’t be a coincidence that he’s showing up when we’ve…”
I nod.
She doesn’t need to finish the sentence.
