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“We can do that tomorrow, my Love.”
My mobile flashes on the hands-free. Schmidt.
All looking good here
I meet Romano’s eyes in the rear-view. He arches brows in question, and I nod.
A tap on the shoulder. “Hickman, we’ve seen enough. We’re running a little late, so you can drop us at the door. Follow us in when you’ve parked up.”
“I’d intended to go in ahead of you, sir.”
“Schmidt’s happy? Yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s fine, then. He knows what he’s doing.”
Navigating through traffic, I take a short cut, diverting through back-streets to avoid traffic lights where, normally, driving a car of this sort is an invitation to have your windows cleaned with extreme prejudice. Not that I couldn’t handle it, but I prefer not to have to with Katya present.
At the restaurant, I’d normally park right outside. As it turns out, the spot is blocked, a high-sided van parked where there should be a clear space. Romano rumbles. “Who the fuck’s parked that there?”
“Probably a new supplier, sir. Emilio won’t like them doing that during dining hours. Blocking his frontage. I imagine he’s blistering the ears of the driver.”
He snorts agreement as I mount the kerb to let them out. Technically, it’s illegal, but the restaurant staff well know who Romano is. And that it’s his mistress he entertains here…
… well away from the eyes of the world…
Well away from the eyes of his wife...
Does Angelina know?
She must do… Surely?
Tolerates it?
Or has no option?
And Katya’s wearing Romano’s ring?
The car parked up, I make my way into the restaurant, first checking that Romano’s where I expect him to be…
His usual table…
… out of sight of prying eyes, a battalion of waiters serve them, one of them being the owner himself, Emilio.
I show myself long enough for Romano to register my presence, nodding acknowledgment as he sees me, before I go on patrol.
In the kitchen, I cast an eye over the staff. They’re all familiar faces, most of them Emilio’s own family. Most of them have worked there since they were old enough to see over the work counters.
Stefano smiles up from where he’s smashing down on garlic with the flat of a knife. “Good afternoon, Mr Hickman. If you’re eating with us, the lasagna’s pretty good today.”
“Later, maybe. When I’m done for the afternoon.” I stroll on back to the main dining area where I find Schmidt. “Everything okay?”
He shrugs. “Yup, ‘cept Emilio’s blowing his nut that Guiseppe’s not turned in.”
“Who’s Guiseppe?”
“His nephew. Emilio expected him to start today, but he’s not shown up yet. First day and all. Emilio’s pissed.”
