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André turned to face him, leaning against the edge of the counter. “What?”
“So, look, this isn’t something I’m proud of, which is why I never talk about it. My family, the Castones, areFamily.”
“What do you mean by family?” Comprehension dawned. “Oh, you meanFamily, like capitalized, as in the Mafia. The Mob.”
“That, unfortunately, is exactly what I mean. Trust me, I was never a part of the life. I was the youngest of too many brothers and sisters, and Simone was the next oldest. At least two of them died before I was born, and Simone and I were always tight. Simone got herself a scholarship and was gone before I graduated. Then she put herself through law school—so fucking smart. Once I got out here, I did a criminal justice program and that was that. As far as I know, neither of us ever spoke to any of our other relatives again.”
The warmer beeped and André grabbed it, pouring milk into each of the mugs, then set the carafe down again and stirred in the chocolate. Then he put the full cups on the table and sat down across from Dante.
“Keep talking.”
“Campos is a psycho, you’re right about that. He’s a cold-blooded asshole with no regard for human life.”
André nodded his agreement.
“But so is my oldest brother. He may be even worse. When Lani made that comment about the Mafia, it got me thinking about the Family. What’s happening is eerily similar to what happens when they decide they’re better off with you dead.”
“Why would they, or your brother, come after you now though? What does he have to gain from killing Simone?”
“Lu doesn’t have anything to gain. But gain doesn’t mean anything to him. I’m guessing here because, like I said, I put them out of my mind. My grandfather was the only one who could keep Lu in line. He must be dead by now.
“Luigi always hated me. I don’t know why. I just learned early on to stay out of his way. Once, when I was in high school, he tried to kill me. I was crossing the street and saw his car down the road. He looked right at me and pressed on the gas pedal. When I got home, I thought maybe he’d laugh it off, tell me his foot had slipped or some shit. He looked right at me and drew a finger across his throat.”
André didn’t say anything, just sipped his chocolate and waited for Dante to keep talking.
“I never slept at home again. Couch-surfed the rest of senior year. Graduated, bought a cheap car, drove to the West Coast, made a new life for myself.”
“You’ve been undercover for most of your career,” André mused. “If your family wanted to find you, it would have been difficult.”
This was also true. Dante had never owned a home or had a car loan. There was no Facebook or any other social media. His life was not lived where other people could randomly peek into it.
“He hated Simone too. But that’s because Luigi hates all women. And because she was smarter than him.”
André narrowed his eyes and nibbled at the inside of his mouth. “I have to ask. Is there an underlying cause for this behavior by your brother? Was your house... not safe?”
Dante snorted. “It wasn’t safe, but not for the reason you’re implying. My dad was second to my grandfather. Dad was sent up around the same time the Gottis were, so we ended up living with Pops. Pops was then caught up in some gambling bullshit and likely helped hide more than a few bodies, so he’s got a few more years. Lu liked to brag that they all played cards together—him, Pops, the Gottis. Maybe it’s true, maybe not. But no, he wasn’t beaten or forced to play the piano for hours without going to the bathroom. He’s a natural-born psycho.”
“I’m still not convinced this isn’t Campos.”
“Hatch told me something else,” Dante said.
“Yeah?”
“He sent the DEA compatriot in—Jensen, who was on the apprehension team as well—to talk to Aldo after Simone died. Under the guise of the whole‘maybe it’s time you gave us some information we can use’ argument. The guy is smart, so of course he didn’t reveal anything. Not until Jensen was getting up to leave. Then he said, ‘The prosecutor was snuffed, and she had a kid? I’d like to pay my respects, maybe send some flowers along with my thoughts and prayers.’ Creepy as fuck, yes. As revolting a human being as Campos is, Jensen said it felt like he was genuinely shocked that Jensen would think he had anything to do with her death.”
“But that was months ago. And psycho.”
Dante nodded. “It was months ago, yes. Hatch didn’t tell me until recently. But he’s been thinking, and this time he visited Aldo himself. Aldo is a difficult read, one of those who seems to get more information from the interviewer than the other way around.”
André sipped his hot chocolate, his eyes on Dante.
“Aldo asked to leave and, on his way out, he said, ‘I don’t threaten children.’”
André snorted chocolate up his nose, and Dante rose to bang him on the back. But André waved him off, wiping the liquid off his face with a napkin.
“Exactly my response,” agreed Dante. “Well, maybe not hot chocolate up my nose. Aldo has rules known only to himself, and possibly his brother, that he follows —which people he considers human vs. which are inventory. Simone was an adversary and a woman, but she was smart, and I think he enjoyed sparring with her.”
“So, you think it wasn’t Campos who sent the killers?”
