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“Before his unfortunate disappearance, yes. I wouldn’t call him an associate of your father, though. They did work together on occasion, but Foreman was an assassin for hire. His path wouldn’t have crossed Cal’s often.”
“What am I supposed to do about these detectives?”
“Don’t talk to them. Give me Kamada’s number, and he won’t bother you again.”
Damon pulled over and read off the number from the detective’s card. “What should I do if they come around again?”
“Direct them to me.”
“What if they want me to come to the station?”
“Call me.”
“You’ll come here?” Damon asked.
“If I can’t make it in person, I’ll do a video call. You’re covered. As Cal Jones’s son, you’re my number one client.”
“I don’t want to take up your time. All I want is to get the detectives off my back. I haven’t done anything.”
“Of course you haven’t.”
“I haven’t,” Damon said.
“We’ll talk details later. Any questions before I call Kamada?”
“If you can find out when my wife and I will be able to have our property back, that would be helpful. We’d like to rebuild our house.”
“You can’t build because of the bodies?”
“Right,” Damon said.
“I’ll call you back before the end of the business day. Is this a good number to reach you at?”
“It’s the only number. Thank you, Mr. Di Fazio.”
“Frederico. We’re practically family.”
“I really appreciate you making this a priority.”
“Not a problem,” said Frederico. “Take your wife out to a nice dinner, and don’t give the detectives or the bodies another thought. When Frederico Di Fazio is on your side, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Thanks again.”
“Thank you.”
Damon’s music played over speakers, indicating the call ended.
Maybe the attorney was onto something with his idea about dinner. He and Ariana could use some time together without everything else hanging over them.
