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That’s not true. But I just nod.
“And for God’s sake,” he adds, “don’tkill anyone.”
“I won’t. I promise!”
* * *
Perhaps Sandro is right. It’s time to get on with my vendetta, if I can’t be helpful to him with the Espositos. And I think I’ve let my mother’s killer stew long enough. So I make my way downtown to Gene Lombardo’s office.
The Family Consigliere is also the Family lawyer, and he certainly won’t be expecting me without advance notice. That will help.
When I arrive at his office, his secretary gives me a warm welcome. She offers me various refreshments, and I take a cup of strong espresso. As I sip it, I start up a conversation with her.
“So, are you Gene’s most trusted personal assistant?”
She blushes slightly and clears her throat before answering. “Yes, Mr. Castellani, I like to think so. I’ve been with him for over six years now.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Six years? That’s quite a long time to stay loyal to one man. What do you think makes him so successful?”
She smiles proudly and leans forward as she starts to talk. “Oh, he’s an excellent manager, and he understands the law in a foundational way that some of these younger attorneys coming through justdon’t. He’s interested in the wide scope of—“
“How fascinating. So tell me, do you think he might ever have broken the law himself?”
Her smiling, eager face turns guarded. “I beg your pardon?”
“A little embezzlement here and there? A touch of blackmail? A whisper of murder?”
The door to Lombardo’s inner office flies open. “Julian,” he growls. “Get in here and stop terrorizing my secretary.”
I give the secretary a smile as I slide off the desk. “Very sorry, I’m sure,” I murmur. “I’m all apologies.”
She clears her throat and gets back to her work as I follow Lombardo into his office. It smells of leather and paper, coffee and dust, and there is only one large window that affords limited light. The walls are lined with dark wood, a green leather couch is against the wall to my right, and there’s a wooden desk with a lamp to my left. Lombardo gestures to a seat in front of his desk.
I take it and study the framed degrees and diplomas behind him. They’re framed and displayed in order to comfort the client. This is a man who knows the law.
You can trust him.
Lombardo rounds his desk and sits down, his face a mask of disapproval. “What can I do for you?”
I lean back in my chair and meet his gaze. “I think you know.”
“I have no idea.”
I chuckle. “You know, I’m under orders from Don Castellani not to kill anyone without his permission. So you can speak freely. Without fear. So tell me, Gene.”
He gives an irritated tut. “Tell youwhat, Julian? Look, I have work to get on with, so if you’re just here on a fishing expedition—“
“Tell me why you did it.”
I lean in and fix him with my eyes. In the dim light of his office, I know my strange gaze must unnerve him. I’ve heard him say it himself to my father when I was eavesdropping once:Julian needs to stop staring so hard, it’s disturbing. It was part of the reason I taught myself to blink more often, to try to fit in better when I need to fit in.
But I’m not interested in fitting in right now.
Lombardo flinches, and I see a spark of fear in his eyes. He knows he’s trapped; he has no way out. His mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.
“Come on, Gene. Out with it.”
He slams his fist down on his desk. I don’t react at all, but he starts spraying out words. “Yes, alright. I had an affair with—with your mother, Caroline. But you must understand, Julian, we were in love. I’d lost my head completely. She was...she was bewitching. I knew Ciro would end us both, so we had plans to go away together. But then...” He takes a breath, and his eyes shine in a very convincing imitation of tearful nostalgia. “She died,” he goes on simply. “She died, and I was devastated. But it was all so long ago—“
