Page 162 of Blood and Fire
She set the pot on the tray with an angry thud, and straightened up. “Well?” she snapped at them all. “Come and get it before it gets cold. Don’t tell me I made the damn coffee for nothing.”
Kev sighed. The last thing he wanted to do with his gun hand was hold an espresso saucer with his pinkie in the air. He snagged a cup from the tray, and downed the swallow of throat-scalding brew in one gulp, no sugar, nodded his thanks to the lady of the house and took up his previous post, social duty fulfilled. No way were they going to make him eat one of the cookies. He had his limits.
Sean followed his example, and Petrie, too. Zia took her own sweet time, stirring in sugar lumps. She took one of thepitta ‘nchiusa, looking at it from all sides, sniffing it before taking a cautious nibble.
Costantina watched intently as she chewed. “Nonna’srecipe. Just like hers, isn’t it? The trick is the wine you put in. Has to be a real good Calabrese red, or it don’t work worth a damn.”
Zia Rosa chewed, making no sign of having heard her cousin’s words. She swallowed. Sipped her coffee.
“I don’t need a cooking lesson from you, Tittina,” she said.
“Let’s get back to the subject, shall we?” Kev said, before the red-faced Costantina’s head had a chance to explode. “The letter? The guy who took Bruno? Can you give me a name? That’s all I want.”
And he would get it, before he left. If he had to take those two guys apart chunk by bloody chunk.
Don Gaetano cleared his throat. “Well,” he said. “A lot of years have gone by. Things have changed. I don’t think it’ll be possible to—”
“I got this goddamn letter, Gaetano.” Zia Rosa’s voice began to shake. “I swear to God, I’ll send it. And if you have me whacked, the lawyer sends it. And you will go down.”
“I would never have you hurt, Rosa,” Don Gaetano said gruffly. “But I’m an old man now. The letter don’t really matter no more.”
“Bullshit, it don’t,” Zia Rosa said. “I bet you’d rather spend your golden years in your fancy house, gobbling Tittina’spitta ‘nchiusathan sitting around in Cell Block C eating red beans. You can’t shit me.”
“You don’t understand what my father is trying to say,” Michael broke in, his voice reasonable. “Times have changed. We just don’t have the same kind of clout with this person that we had twenty years ago.”
“That’s no problem,” Kev said, his heart thudding. “Just give me his name and his address. I’ll take care of the clout myself.”
Michael and Gaetano gave him a stare. He returned it.
“The name, please,” Kev said. “Give it to me. And we’ll leave.”
Zia Rosa put down her coffee cup with a clatter. “Tittina. Did you stealNonna’sjewelry box from Madga’s apartment after she died?”
Oh, Christ, no. Kev cringed, inwardly. Zia’s timing sucked.
Costantina thrust out her chin. “How dare you accuse me?”
“You did!” Rosa spat the words out. “It’s true, eh? Eh?”
“I wouldn’t call it stealing!” Costantina yelled. “I’d call it salvage! The no-good trash next door would have stolen it, or it would have ended up in the garbage! And it should have been mine to begin with!”
“Nonnagave it to me,” Zia Rosa shot back. “Not you!”
“But I was older!” Costantina’s face had gone purple.
“Yeah, and you was also a nasty lying littletroiawho couldn’t keep her panties on!” Zia Rosa yelled.
“It ain’t my fault nobody ever wanted to get into yours,brutta zitellaccia!” Costantina shrieked back.
Things degenerated from there. Kev cursed. He was about to grab Zia, to drag her out the door—
And the room exploded in gunfire.
* * *
“Hobart? The video, please?”King prompted his servant, who was panting, staring at Bruno, fist cocked to slam him again.
Hobart subsided, his face reddened, and went to the computer pad. He tapped it, and held up the screen, in front of Bruno’s face.