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When he looked up and saw the manager escorting Jack in, Gallo did not seem surprised or upset.
“Should I have another place set?” he said.
In front of him were a small bowl of olives and a basket that Jack knew was filled with fresh bread made just for Gallo. He also knew that the glass of Chianti in front of John Gallo came from a bottle that cost two hundred dollars—at least.
Gallo motioned for Jack to sit next to him.
“Would you care for a glass of wine?” Gallo said.
“I won’t be staying long,” Jack said.
“You’ll drink.”
“As you wish.”
“How’s my friend Danny taking all this?” Gallo said. “He seems so fragile sometimes.”
“I was just with him,” Jack said. “He’s doing about as well as any of us are.”
“Brotherly love,” Gallo said. “Such a beautiful thing to behold.”
A waiter appeared with another wineglass, set it down in front of Jack, and poured. When the waiter was gone, Gallo raised a glass.
“To Thomas,” Gallo said. “Gone far too soon.”
He drank. Jack reluctantly drank along with him.
“You heard what my sister said at the church the other day,” Jack said to him. “She believes he was murdered.”
“She is a stubborn and headstrong woman,” Gallo said, “allowed to believe what she wants to believe.”
Jack looked at him.
“Did you have anything to do with his death?” he said to Gallo.
Gallo didn’t hesitate.
“Didyou?” he asked Jack.
“That’s a bullshit question, and you know it.”
“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone,” Gallo said.
“I don’t appreciate the idea that somebody might have thrown my kid brother out a goddamn window.”
“Ifsomebody threw him out a window,” Gallo said, “I can swear on my own children that I had nothing to do with it.”
They stared at each other.
“None of this was ever supposed to go this far,” Jack said.
Gallo smiled, sipped more wine, then picked up his napkin and dabbed at the corners of his mouth. When he put his glass down, he leaned across the table so that his face was only a foot or so from Jack’s.
His voice was suddenly harsh, as if made of razor blades.
“As if you worried about what might or might not happen to your youngest brother when he was alive, you pretentious shit,” Gallo said. “As if you expect me to believe those crocodile tears you shed at the church.”
“You were the one who told me to run the story about Thomas and the dead player and the drugs,” Jack said.
