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He gave me a look then, one that sent a chill down my spine. There was more than mere worry in his gaze. There was fear.
“What is it?” I asked.
Tony’s lips parted, but before he could tell me what was on his mind, Dino Callo returned to the table.
We never went back to the conversation. In fact, until now, I’d completely forgotten about it because it happened many months before the first murder. There was too much time in between for me to have pieced it all together.
The Ferryman.
There’s no doubt in my mind this isn’t a coincidence. Tony had to have heard something about him. The question is, did he perceive it as a threat? He must have. It was in his eyes the day he asked me if I’d heard about him. Then why not bring it up again?
You never saw him again in person.
What had he wanted to talk to me about that he couldn’t mention in front of his own underboss?
The only thing that makes sense is that he was afraid and didn’t trust Dino. Didn’t trust anyone.
But if Dino had any idea who the Ferryman was, it certainly didn’t help him. He’s now buried six feet under at St. Joseph’s, not far from my brother.
That leaves me to figure this out on my own.
No. Not on my own. Knowing Tony, he would have taken some sort of precaution. Set some measures in place should something happen to him. If he knew anything at all about some Ferryman, he would have left that information for me somehow. He was smart like that.
What starts as a determined search ends in sheer frustration. If Tony left me anything, it isn’t at Briar House. The only other two men who seem to have known anything about the Ferryman are unavailable. Gregorio Di Persia, Carina’s cowardly father, packed up his shit and left the night of the wedding. He probably assumed she wouldn’t successfully deceive me and I’d come after him. Only the devil knows where he is now.
Then there’s my father, buried in the Sinacore family plot.
Since the sixth murder happened just yesterday, I can’t wait to figure this out on my own.
Renzo Gianni, younger brother of Joaquin and newly self-appointed boss, was found in his home forty-eight hours ago. The moment I learned of his death, I called Gunn to meet up with me at Uncle Ray’s.
“Fucker was anxious to take over the family,” Gunn states as he glances at the picture the medical examiner emailed me. He whistles and touches his neck, almost as if he can feel the blade slicing through it. “He’s been practically beheaded.”
We’re sitting in the private room just beyond the kitchen of my uncle’s pizza restaurant, Raimondo’s. It started as a cover, a place to launder some of the funds he had coming in, but it makes a decent pie and is usually jam-packed during the day. So we wait until nightfall to have our meetings at the round table reserved only for his most special customers. The ones who like to gamble with their money. And their lives.
“First, James McKenzie, now, Gianni. That’s not a coincidence. It’s a fucking message,” I say. “Whoever is killing off bosses doesn’t want them replaced.”
“What about you?” Gunn questions. “There hasn’t been an attempt on your life.”
I drum my fingers against the desk. That’s something I’ve been asking myself since I learned of McKenzie’s death. While I haven’t been sleeping around, inviting strange women into hotel rooms, I haven’t exactly been protected one hundred percent of the time.
Uncle Ray takes a bite of his pepperoni slice as he swipes the printed photograph from Gunn, then licks his fingers clean. “Has anyone taken over for Tadesco?”
“No one,” I reply. “After this, I doubt anyone will be in a hurry to take the position.”
“If what you suppose is true, it’s possible they’re not aware that you’ve committed to the family,” my uncle says.
Gunn and I glance at each other, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by my uncle.
“What?” he asks.
Clearing my throat, feeling suddenly warm, I say, “I’ve made it clear the city is mine.”
My uncle heaves, then runs his meaty hand over his brow. “Months of trying, and you don’t even tell me you’ve done this.”
I don’t respond to his comment. If, in fact, he wants me to rule the city, I shouldn’t have to answer for anything I do.
Instead, I bring up the real reason I’m here. “Have you heard of the Ferryman?”
