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“It’s on West 30th in the Tenderloin.”
Captain “Honest Mike” Coligney of the 19th Precinct Station House posted a police matron outside the room he had provided for Isaac Bell to interrogate his prisoner.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Isaac,” said Coligney. “That woman is poison.”
“I don’t know any one more familiar with Antonio Branco than she.”
“Even though they never met face-to-face.”
“He gave orders. She carried them out.”
Bell stepped inside the room and closed the door.
“What would you like for dinner?” was his first question.
“Could I have a steak?”
“Of course.”
“Could we possibly have a glass of wine?”
“I don’t see why not.” He stepped out of the room and handed Mike Coligney twenty bucks. “Best restaurant in the neighborhood—steaks, the fixings, a couple of glasses of wine, and plenty of dessert.”
“You’re wasting your dough,” Coligney said. “What makes you think she’ll turn on him? When she had a choice of braining Branco or Detective Abbott, she chose the detective.”
“The lady likes to talk and the deck is stacked against her.”
“As it damned well should be.”
“She knows that. From what she told me on the way over, she would be the last to claim angelhood.”
Bell went back inside. Francesca had remained where he had left her, seated at a small, rough wooden table that was bolted, like both chairs, to the concrete floor.
“You know, Isaac . . . It’s O.K. if I call you Isaac, isn’t it? I feel I’ve known you forever the way Archie talked about you . . . I’ve been thinking. I always knew it had to happen some time.”
“What had to happen?”
“Getting nailed.”
“Happens to the best,” said Bell.
“And the worst,” Francesca fired back. “You know something? Archie was my favorite job the Boss ever gave me.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Bell. “Archie is excellent company.”
“I had to buy wonderful clothes to be with him. Archie’s used to the best girls. I could spend like a drunken sailor and the Boss never complained.”
“Do you remember the first job you did for Branco?”
“I didn’t know it was Branco.”
“Of course not. You got it from the ‘priest,’ so to speak. Do you remember it?”
“Sure. There was this guy who owned a bunch of groceries in Little Italy. The Boss said he had to go. But it had to look natural.”
“How did you learn to make a murder look like natural causes?”
“Not that kind of natural. Natural! The grocery guy had a taste to do certain stuff to girls and he’d pay a lot for it. But everybody knows if a guy goes around houses doing that, one of these days some girl’s going to get mad enough to stab him. So when he got stabbed, he got stabbed, naturally.”
