Raffaello held up his hand and I shut up quick.
“You sound scared, Victor, and that is not what I want. I am not a violent man. I’m more of an artist, like I said. I should have been a poet. Do you read much poetry, Victor?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. I’ll be frank with you, I don’t understand it. Seagulls and clouds. But even so I feel, in my heart, that I have the soul of a poet. I should have had an education. There is so much I wanted to do. Now in this poker game you implied that Dominic’s cousin Zachariah…”
“Second cousin twice removed,” said Jasper.
“Yes. You implied that Zachariah was having an affair with my daughter and because of that I killed him. Such a rude comment is unforgivable, really.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I stammered, but before I could go on he quieted me with a soft gesture from his right hand.
“Now one reason for our visit,” said Raffaello, “is for me to tell you that this is not true. There was an affair, yes, and it pains me to say it. Zachariah was like a dog without any control, but I didn’t have him killed. If I killed all the men Linda Marie slept with over the years the Schuylkill would run red.”
“I understand,” I said into a pause.
“Besides, if I was going to kill Zachariah it would have been for the way he butchered second base.”
Jasper laughed, like a horse with a wheeze.
“You see,” Raffaello continued, “when I was told of the conversation at the poker game I realized you might have mistaken the silence and lack of denial by my associates as agreement that I had ordered the killing. That would have been a mistake. The silence was just that, silence. My associates know not to speak about my family. They have learned that over the years.”
“I believe you, Mr. Raffaello,” I said quickly. “I do.”
“That’s good, Victor. Now you may be wondering who did kill Zachariah. Well, the answer is that we don’t know. The federal prosecutor, as usual, has it wrong. It was not part of Jimmy Moore’s extortion of Ruffing, I am certain.”
“How are you so certain?” I asked.
“Victor, Victor,” said Raffaello, shaking his head. “You have to trust me, Victor. Jimmy is not a stupid man. A passionate man, yes, which he never fails to tell me when we break bread together, but not stupid.”
“If not Jimmy, then who?”
“Dominic, tell Victor what you told me,” said Raffaello.
Dominic twisted around in the front seat so he was facing me. “Zack told me, before he died, that he was in love in a way he had never been in love before. He told me it was dangerous and he had to be careful but that he was going to stop whoring around because this girl was so special.”
“Who is this girl?”
Dominic shrugged. “We don’t know, but when he told me this I could see that he was scared.”
“Victor, what we are telling you is the truth. Use this information however you want. But what I don’t want to hear anymore, Victor, is anything about my family in this trial. Do you understand?”
“I didn’t bring it up.”
“No, Jimmy’s lawyer did. But I have had representatives speak to Jimmy already and he has given his assurances. What I want from you is your promise that you won’t bring my daughter into it either. Can you promise me, Victor?”
Jasper leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You should promise the man, Sport.”
“I promise,” I said.
“That’s good, because I know you to be a man of your word. I know that Victor. And the reason I know that is because Dominic and Jasper also heard that promise and these are men who believe nothing is more important than keeping one’s word.”
“Nothing,” said Dominic.
“I understand completely,” I said.
“Yes, I think you do,” he said calmly. “I am not a violent man, you must believe that. I should have been a sculptor or a farmer, anything but what I have become. I don’t really have the temperament for it. But sometimes, when it comes to my family…” He shrugged. “When that happens, I become like an animal. Listen when I tell you this, Victor. It’s been known to happen. Now there is something else. You know that while we do much for the community…”
“We protect and serve,” said Jasper. “No different than the cops.”
“Though we do much good,” continued Raffaello, “we are not a charity. Like all businesses, we are forced to take our share of the economic benefits our protection allows.”
“A modest sum,” said Jasper.
“And we require that those involved in activities that aren’t government sponsored and thus not subject to normal taxation pay an even larger share.”
“Think of it like a baseball game,” said Jasper. “And we’re home plate. No matter how big a hit, you need to touch base with us before you score.”
“Do you understand the concept?” asked Raffaello.
“Yes, sir,” I said quickly.
“Now, our information tells us there is a quarter of a million dollars unaccounted for, money that was given by Mr. Ruffing but never received by Jimmy Moore’s organization. A quarter of a million dollars. Whoever ended up with that money never touched home plate. Inadvertently, I assume.”
“Mr. Raffaello is a very forgiving man,” said Jasper, shifting closer to me and leaning so close to my face that I could smell garlic and a touch of rosemary on his breath.
“But still,” said the boss of bosses. “We expect our share. Now one third of a quarter of a million dollars is…”
“Eighty-three thousand,” said Dominic. “Three hundred and thirty-three.”
“Let’s call it an even hundred thousand,” said Raffaello. “I always liked clean numbers. So, Victor, we’re missing one hundred thousand dollars. It is as if someone walked into my house, opened a drawer, and took one hundred thousand dollars from me. I’m a forgiving man, Victor,” but now his voice rose until he was screaming once again, “but to just march into my home and open a drawer and take from me, that I cannot forgive.”
“What happened to the money, Sport?” asked Jasper, still leaning close to me.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Find it for us, Victor,” said Raffaello, “and I’ll forget all about your disrespect for my daughter. You see, I can be forgiving.”
“You should thank the man,” said Jasper into my ear.
“But I don’t know where…”
“Find it, Victor,” said Raffaello, interrupting my pathetic whine. “And we’ll forget about the unpleasantness at the poker game. Otherwise…” He shrugged.
“Thank the man, Sport.”
“Thank you,” I said obediently.
“All right, we’ve taken care of our business,” said Raffaello. “Lenny, do you have something for our friend Victor?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Raffaello.”
Lenny pulled the car over and reached down for something and then turned around quickly. I ducked, expecting another shot to my eye. I was getting sick of these rides around town. But Lenny didn’t turn around to sock me with the back of his hand. When I recovered and opened my eyes he was holding a small white paper sack with slight grease markings on the bottom.
“This is for you, Victor,” said Enrico Raffaello. “It’s a cannoli, from my own special recipe. I hope you like vanilla custard. Now take my advice, Victor. A cannoli this rich you must not eat too fast. I never created the great art I dreamed of, but my cannoli come close. Eating one is like having sex. If it’s too fast, you just end up nauseous. But eat it slowly, carefully, let the custard melt in your mouth. You eat it right and the joy you experience will fill you with an unaccountable joy. You like sex?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, trust me, Victor, you eat it right, you’ll like my cannoli better. We’ll be hearing from you, I assume.”
With that the door opened and Jasper jumped to the street and jerked me out with him. “See you later, Sport.”
I leaned back into the car. “Thank you for the cannoli, Mr. Raffaello. By the way, sir, you didn’t, by any chance, just sort of happen to take a shot at me a few days back, did you?”