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“Bold, bold move coming here again, kid.” Ronny licks his lips and takes a seat on the bench across the table from me. There are other families visiting convicts around us, which is good. Hopefully we can speak more freely. “How dare you use my daughter’s name.”
“Dirty Pauly smells of gold. Martino gained some weight in his pockets too,” I say in code, and he freezes.
He sniffs, which can almost be construed as a laugh. “Bravo. You can read a newspaper and string paranoid theories together.”
“It’s true. I have a confession.”
His dark eyes strike fear again. “If you’re going to keep up this charade, I’m going to tell the guards to keep watch and send you away next time.”
“Wouldn’t that count as ratting?” I nudge him to try and lighten the mood. “Listen, Mister Rigiano.” I lean in and whisper, “I come to ask for forgiveness. I didn’t mean for things to go down the way they did. There’s a lot you’re being told, but a lot you don’t know.”
He grunts and leans back, folding his arms. I take it as a sign to keep talking.
“That was my job he ransacked. And he came in the same as he did for you. Cop sirens blaring.”
He tilts his head to the side. “If that were true, how come it’s you sitting here right now, and not him? Huh? You expect me believe you outsmarted my snake of a son?” He laughs at the idea. “Especially when he had the jump on you?”
I scan quickly to see if the security guards are paying attention. They’re not, and there’s too much commotion to pick up our whispers.
“It was my father’s job with the Russkies. Birds and snow. A lot of snow. He was looking to squeeze you out of the game completely with this one. The Goldilocks crew – the same one who put you here – fucked the whole thing up pretending to be cops.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, still unblinking. It’s like both of his eyes are glass.
“Mister Rigiano, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth. “Probably right.” He takes his time shifting in his seat before speaking again. “Alright, kid. You want to talk? Tell me what happened to the old bird collector.”
This was one of the many scenarios I considered on my drive up here. He knows my father is dead – I’m the one who put the word out. I also sent about a dozen rumors of how it might’ve went down.
But there’s one thing I find odd. He hasn’t brought up his daughter.
That’s something I’m not sure the old man knows about. My bet? Loophole didn’t want him to know, because questions would come up as to why he’s not doing anything about saving her. So many chess moves.
Fortunately for Ronny, I’m serious about his daughter. Deadly serious. If this is the only way to make peace between the families, then I’ll lay it all out on this table right here.
“If I tell you, will you agree to peace talks?”
He snorts. “I’m not agreeing to shit with a sewer rat. But if you don’t start talking, we’re done here, kid.”
“Alright.” I set my jaw and lean forward. “There was a special bird my father kidnapped for the Russkie job. And as you know, he has a reputation for playing with his food.”
The Shadow unfolds his arms and leans closer to better hear. I’ve got his attention.
“He tried to poke the bird with an audience, me among them. I stopped him. But I knew he’d come back for more.”
His brow tenses. “What’s it to you? This is your line of work. He’s been partaking in this kind of scum behavior since I’ve known him.”
“I told you, Mister Rigiano, this bird is special.”
“You caught feelings,” he scoffs. “Rookie move, kid. Even though that’s not my type of business, you still have to keep feelings out of it. You made a bad judgement call. So what happened, bird stuck a knife in his throat? Did you arm her?”
“I hid in the closet to see if he would try anything. You see, I already gave this bird my word that I’d protect her.”
He turns his head slightly to stare at me in disbelief. “What the fuck did you do, boy?”
“He took his time crawling onto her bed as I watched. His bodyguard was there just in case a little defenseless woman could somehow get a jump on a big powerful Don.”
“Respect the fucking name.” He balls his fists. “I’m starting to think I was wrong about you. You’re not a fucking sewer rat, you’re lower than that, you’re—”
