“David, I am going to look into this personally. I’ve already spoken to Marino about it. If they are running a smuggling operation, I will get the evidence needed to bring them in. Then we can find out if they are behind your brother’s murder, once and for all.”
Wolf fetched his brother’s computer from Paulo, said his goodbyes, and made his way down the stairs, giving one final wave to Valerio, who was dialing his phone. He stopped and put the phone to his chest. “Goodbye, David. Do not worry.” Rossi nodded his head with a steeled look.
He didn’t worry. He also didn’t give a shit what they did.
Lia was glancing at him frequently on the ride back to his brother’s house.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I’m thinking I let my brother down.” He looked at the hordes of Friday afternoon lake shore walkers whizzing by.
“We will…” She let the futile sentence die, sensing his mood.
Wolf glanced in the side mirror as they swept around a traffic circle, revealing another Caribinieri Alfa Romeo cruiser directly behind them.
He looked at her and nodded. “I appreciate it. I really do.”
They pulled up to the courtyard of his brother’s apartment building. He unbuckled his belt and climbed out.
“What are you going to do for the next couple days?” She leaned over the seat, looking up at him with perfect eyes.
“I’ll probably get some rest tonight and just pack up my brother’s things. Then, I have no clue,” he lied. “How about tomorrow night you pick me up and I take you out for a pizza?”
She smiled wide and laughed.
“There’s more to Italian cuisine than pizza! I will take you for Risotto Milanese.”
He shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” He closed the door and slapped the roof.
“I will see you at eight!” She rolled up the window and drove off with squealing tires.
Chapter 36
The room was pitch black save for the screen on his cell phone, the alarm on it chiming next to him. A bright flash flickered through the shutter slats from outside and the building rumbled. He ripped the sheets back and stood with a forced enthusiasm and walked to the bedroom balcony. He opened the sliding shutters, revealing a bright orange sunset sky with jet black storm clouds stacked up against the mountains. A long ground strike of lightning flickered for a two count halfway up the mountain followed by a deafening boom that shook the windows near the point of breaking. The thunder rolled long, sound waves sloshing back and forth across the lake against the surrounding mountains.
It jolted him into action. He put on his pants, socks, and shoes and ran up the stairs to Cristina’s.
He knocked loud and Cristina cracked the door, showing her big coffee eyes. She smiled pleasantly and opened the door wide. The apartment was filled with the sounds of modern electric jazz and an aroma that made his mouth water.
“How are you?”
“I’m doing well, how are you?” Wolf mused that he was telling the truth. The few hours’ nap had energized his mental and physical state.
“One second, come in!” she said shuffling to the stereo. She wore a pair of black tights without shoes, a long gray sweater and black leather belt that cinched to show her slender waist. Her sandy blonde hair was pulled up in a quick pony tail, and she swept the straggling strands behind her ears as she straightened.
“Please,” she beckoned again. “Come in.”
He realized he was just staring dumbly. She looked a lot better than he’d remembered, and she didn’t seem to be trying too hard. Maybe it was her chipper mood and spring in her step. Or the beautiful body, face, hair and eyes.
“Who was that?” He pointed to the stereo and shut the door behind him.
“Oh, it’s a group from New York. Incognito.”
“Okay. Yep.”
She looked skeptical. “Really? You? Country boy from the Colorado mountains?”
“Yeah. I like them actually. I’ve got some of their stuff, but I’ve never heard this CD.”
“It’s their newest. It’s great,” she said. She turned it a little louder. “I would think you listened to country music.”
“I do.”
She laughed, walking to the kitchen. “So what’s happening?” She lifted a pan lid revealing a simmering tomato sauce.
“I was hoping you could give me a ride somewhere tonight.”
“Right now? I’m about to eat. Are you hungry? I have plenty of food.”
He looked at the spread. “No, it can wait until later. And yes, I am hungry.”
They ate pasta and listened to jazz while it rained torrential sideways sheets outside, drumming the dining room window. They mostly swapped stories about John.
He felt energized after the conversations, meal, and the nap from before. “Cristina.” He looked at her with a serious expression.
“Yes? What’s going on?”
“I need to know about these guys who own this pub. The Albastru Pub that John was always going to.”
“Okay.”
“Do you know the guys from home? From before you came here?”
“No, I don’t. Why? Because we are both Romanian?”
Wolf wiped his mouth and looked out the window. The rain was letting up gradually. “Yeah. That’s what I was thinking. How about this guy, Ferka Vlad, from the observatory? Did you know him from before?”
“I’ve met him before at the pub once. But it was just the one time. There really are a lot of people from Romania in Italy. But I don’t know many. I know that they are often looked at as criminals here, though. There is a lot of crime in northern Italy, where there is more money — more theft and people’s houses getting robbed. The finger is often pointed at the Romanian.” She shook her head. “There are bad Italians just like there are bad Romanians. But I do know that those guys at the Albastru Pub look bad. I would bet a lot of money they are criminals.”
“So would I.” Wolf looked out the window. She didn’t seem to be lying.
“Why? What’s going on? What have you found out?”
“I’m pretty sure that the owner of that pub and this guy Vlad killed my brother. But they’ve covered all their bases, and I can’t prove it. They’re smart. Or one of them is smart.” He set down his fork. “Or, they’re getting lucky.”
He looked around the kitchen, then got up and walked over to the knife set on the counter. He pulled four smaller knives on the bottom row, then checked the larger blades on the top. “You know my brother doesn’t have a single knife in his apartment other than four butter knives? Didn’t he ever cook?”
She laughed, then stopped, watching him put all but two blades back. He picked them up in one hand and brought them back to the table.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“I need these.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked. “You have to be careful with those guys from the pub. I’m serious. They are probably killers.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She shook her head with glistening eyes. “What are you going to do?”
“It will come to me.” He picked up the plates and put them in the sink. “They beat my brother over the head and strangled him to death. And they beat Matthew Rosenwald’s head in. Making it look like my brother did the whole thing.”
He fetched the blades from the table and put them back in the wooden housing.
“I’m going to just bring this down to my brother’s apartment, okay? I’m sorry, you’re going to have to get another set. If anything happens, I don’t want anything tied to you. And come to think of it, it really would be better if I could just borrow the scooter tonight.”
Chapter 37
Faint ambient light from the city beyond the piazza streamed into his brother’s otherwise pitch dark bedroom. His show of walking around in his underwear, turning off the lights in the entire apartment, as if turning in early, was over.
Now he was dressing quickly. Wearing the darkest clothes he had, without overtly looking like a cat burglar. The two most important things he wore were tucked into his socks — two kitchen knives, the blades loosely covered with folded paper towel sheathes to protect his skin.