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“I need you to find out everything you can on Umberto and Amadeo.”
“You smelling rat?” he asks, the anger in his voice coming out like a whip.
“We both know that my father made a fucking lot of mistakes when he was boss. The biggest one was letting Davide Leone’s death go unpunished. I’ve been thinking a lot about that, and I’m wondering where the fuck Umberto and Amadeo were when Davide’s house was breached.”
He releases a string of curses. “They should have been there. But they weren’t. I remember the guilt they had for not being there, but there was never a reason as to why they weren’t. Aldo never pressed for one and then it was swept under the rug.”
“Exactly. I want answers. Why weren’t they at the Leone house, and how the fuck did they know when the hit on Davide was going down?”
“I’m on it. No one will know that I’m looking into them. What are you planning on doing when you find out?”
“That’s a question for another day,” I tell him. I’m not sure. I guess I’ll go to Rocco and see what he wants done.
“I’ll be thorough,” he assures me. “Now, there’s something I found out this evening that I was going to tell you tomorrow. Those two assholes who sold out Elio’s wife, the homeless guys?”
“Yeah, what about them?” I ask cautiously, wondering where the fuck he’s going with this.
“They were found dead not so long ago. One of the guys had his throat slit, along with a girl, and the other guy was stabbed to death.”
I hear light footsteps padding toward me, and I have no doubt that Portia’s been listening to my conversation. I turn my head and watch as she enters the living room and takes a seat beside me.
“The cops have no leads and there are no witnesses.”
I glance at the woman who’s got me in a chokehold. “Ensure it stays that way, Beppe. I want this case closely monitored.”
“On it,” he replies, not asking why. The man probably thinks I killed them.
“Call me when you have information.” I end the call and turn to Portia.
“You want information on Umberto and Amadeo. Why?”
I don’t answer for a second, wondering if there’s any benefit to lying other than not hurting her. But I decide against it. “Those men were your father’s closest men. They also acted as his guards. One was always supposed to be around. You’ll probably remember that one or both were stationed close to the house at all times.”
She nods. “Umberto more than Amadeo,” she tells me. “Papa always said it was because Umberto was his best friend.”
“The night Davide died, neither were there. That doesn’t sit right with me.”
Her eyes widen, and she brings her feet up onto the sofa and wraps her arms around her knees. “They were in on it?”
“I’m not sure. Someone definitely was. There’s only one person who would have given the order for them not to be there.” It’s fucking shit to admit this, but it’s true.
“Your father,” she says solemnly.
“Yes. So either my father ended up working for Scaffidi or Umberto or Amadeo were. Hell, maybe all of them.”
She’s quiet for a beat, and I leave her be.
“Why are you wanting to help me?” she asks softly. “I don’t understand.”
“Your father was a good man, Portia. He was one of the best men I knew. I always had an inkling that something about his death wasn’t right, but no one ever confirmed it. It was always swept under the rug. Until I spoke with you.”
She blinks. “Beppe, he’s still your best friend?”
I’m surprised she remembers. “He is.”
Her smile is bright and reaches her eyes. “You always were thick as thieves. How come you didn’t tell him about me?”
I reach for her, pulling her onto my lap and wrapping my arms around her. “You’re not ready for anyone to know, baby, and I’ve finally gotten to a place where you’ve let me in somewhat. I’m not a man who will betray you. If it means taking your secret to my grave, then so be it.”
