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“I need junior over there to scrape under his fingernails into… this,” I said, grabbing a plastic bucket off the counter.“Then he needs to scrub the shit out of them in the bathroom sink, touching nothing but the door handle, the soap dispenser, and the faucet handle.”
“Okay,” Nero said, nodding.
“Then you will change into a suit I got in the car,” I told him. “And then wash the shit out of your hands again. Then, touching nothing, make your way outside and leave. Same for you, minus the hand washing,” I said to Miko. “Suit and everything.”
I could tell that part hurt.
It was no secret these mafia guys, they loved their suits. Miko, especially, with his old-school mobster air about him. Most of the Family could walk down the street and most people would think of them as lawyers, bankers, businessmen, that kinda shit.
Miko? If you saw him on the street? You’d immediately think mafioso. It was in the way he dressed, sure, but also the air about him.
“He will give you back your watch and cross,” Cosimo said. “He just takes that and cleans it. But the suit gets destroyed.”
To that, Miko nodded, knowing what had to be done.
“I’ll grab the other tubs for you,” Cosimo said, before turning to do just that.
It was so fucking quiet in the room, I swear I could feel the kid’s heartbeat kicking up, the way his stomach was sloshing around.
This was a big fuck-up for an associate.
And I imagined this loss of income was gonna be really substantial.
Though I imagined the neighborhood would breathe a sigh of relief, knowing their loans would be forgotten about this time.
Cosimo came back, setting my tubs on the floor, making the space even more cramped than usual.
“Did either of you go into the front of the shop?” I asked, glancing back at them.
“No,” Miko said.
“He asked you a question too,” Cosimo said, voice firm, almost fatherly, as he spoke to Nero.
“No. I was just back here. They let me in the back. There was a disagreement, then a struggle…”
“When did you come in?” I asked Miko.
“When it seemed to take too long,” Miko said.
“Tell me you didn’t have your phones on you,” I demanded, knowing how many times phones pinging cell towers brought people in on charges.
“No,” they both said in unison.
“Did you go into the office?” I asked Nero.
“No. Just Miko.”
“Touch anything outside?”
“Just the door,” Nero said. I didn’t bother to ask Miko, who I knew would have known better than to expand the crime scene.
“Alright then,” I said, going to a tote, pulling it open, and handing Miko a plastic bag with his wrinkled-ass suit in it. “You change. You, get to work on your nails. I demanded of Nero. “And you, step outside. I don’t need more evidence to worry about,” I told Cosimo.
If he took offense, he said nothing as he stepped outside, trusting Miko to keep control over things in his absence.
I watched Nero as he scraped under his nails, making sure he was doing a good enough job.
By the time he was done, Miko was changed, his suit in the bag that his spare one had been stored in.
