I was on my best behavior at Tino’s. I didn’t rant about Mama coercing him to pass off her pozione d’amore as his own. Tino is a romantic and he believes spreading some love is good for the soul.
And I didn’t say anything about the tracker he put on the Silver Bullet. Tino saved my sorry bum more than once. I decided to be thankful. And to have my mechanic remove the tracker the next time he services my car.
Tino served up some delicious pumpkin tortellini in a fresh sage mascarpone cheese sauce and a warm tomato and spinach salad.
When we were finished with our plates, Max whisked them away and tidied up the kitchen.
Tino took out one of Uncle Joe’s Cuban cigars and a long, fancy cedar match and began the ritual of cutting, toasting, and lighting his cigar. He took his time, slowly spinning the cigar to get an even burn and when he was satisfied, he sighed deeply before turning to me with a curious expression on his face.
“Why are you investigating Danny’s death?”
My mouth dropped. “You knew him.”
“I met Danny when I bought a set of wedding rings from him. Gold bands and more diamonds than I could afford.” The smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We became friends. His wife had died and I was here taking care of Mama. I’d cook dinner and we’d knock off a few bottles of wine and talk into the night.”
Wedding rings? Had Tino been married? My head reeled but I held my tongue. I thought I should give him a chance to cough up the scoop before I choked it out of him.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” I said.
“Danny had integrity. It’s a rare commodity in a ball-breaking business. “
A thought came to me. “Do you remember a guy who did some manual work for Daniel? His name was Felix Proust.”
“Felix. Yes. He was a good guy. Danny liked him. He could listen to him play the piano for hours.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
Tino shook his head. “I’ll ask around. He had some physical and mental challenges. A crooked spine, I think. Danny said he was good company.”
“Rocco and I were at Baumgarten’s today.”
“You met Robert then. He tells me business is good.”
It’s the first time I’d been in the shop in forever. Peggy Maxfield took Ellie and me there when we were in school. Once she bought a watch for Bob’s birthday. Another time she bought a deep purple butterfly. Wings were spread like it was flying. I forgot about it until last night. I saw it on her windowsill.”
Tino flicked the ash from his cigar. “Danny and Robert had some conflict over the business. Robert was just out of school. He was young and ambitious and he wanted to maximize profits. They were both good guys. They had different visions for the business.”
I took another sip of wine and pulled a leg up under me. “Okay, Tino. Spill it. Were you married or not?”
He smiled. “I was teaching English in the Russian city of Ryazan when my mama got sick.”
“Drop the cover story, 007. I know you were a spy.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Such an imagination, Caterina.”
“Right.” I winked. “We’ll play it cool.”
He returned the wink. “Mama called and I came home. I was seeing a woman named Liliya but the State Department denied her Visa. She had been married a short time. Her husband was killed by the police. The police claimed he was an FSB agent and he planted a bomb.” Tino gave a palms-up shrug. “The government was corrupt. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. But Liliya wasn’t political. She wasn’t a threat.”
“I came home alone and petitioned the State Department to alter their decision. I called them every day for three months. The day her Visa came through, I flew back to Ryazan with the rings Danny made for us.”
“I got there too late. Liliya was gone. A few days earlier, a suicide bomber drove a truck with a bomb into a crowd at the market. Nine people died. Mostly women and children. I turned around and came home again. I’ve never been back.”
I moved around the table and hung my arms around him. He smelled of wine and garlic and cigars. I held him a long moment. When I let him go, the chocolate eyes were steady.
“I lost everything that year. My mother. My lover. My best friend.”
“I’m sorry, Tino.” The words sounded empty.
Tino spat. “I want you to find the bastardo who ran Danny down on the street. Egli morirà!”
A death sentence sounds scarier in Italian.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Tino said. “Why are you investigating Daniel Baumgarten’s murder?”
“I have a client. He insists on anonymity.”
“Max will work with you.”
“I work alone.”
Tino looked amused. “Max will see you have everything you need. Whatever your client pays, I’ll double it.”
“Uh, what just happened here?”
Tino smiled. “You just made more money.”
Actually, I could double what Sammy was paying me all day and still not have enough to buy an ice cream.
“There’s one more thing.”
“I already don’t like it,” I said.
“Captain Bob and the Ninth Precinct. They had seventeen years to find the guy who took Danny’s life. He’s mine now. I want his name. Bring it to me and walk away.”
Yikes.
“Danny will have justice,” Tino said. “And maybe one less ghost will hover over my bed at night.”
Max emerged from the kitchen with a dish towel on his shoulder and a tray with three small glasses of Sambuca. We each took a glass and Tino held his in the air.
“To Danny. May you rest in peace.”
Our glasses touched, making a soft, musical tinkle.
Max raised his glass. “To my partner.”
I glared at him and he laughed.
“What’s your client’s name?” Tino said.
“Uh, Sam.”
“Honest?”
I finger-crossed my heart.
Max grunted. “Who the hell is Sam? And why does he care about a hit-and-run every Chicago cop forgot about a long time ago?”
I gulped down my Sambuca. “Every cop didn’t forget. Danny’s ghost still keeps a few awake at night.”
***
I lay still and listened as Chance’s breathing slowed to a deep, soft snore. When he was sufficiently zonked, I removed his hand from my hip and turned over to say good night to Sam I Am. The sleazy motel room streamed live on my laptop. Sammy was asleep in the hard, metal cage but his legs were running. He was escaping in his dreams.
“Hang in there, Sam,” I whispered. “We’re gonna bring you home.”
I nestled my bum into the curve of Chance’s body. He threw an arm around me and pulled me to him, the soft snores not missing a beat. I let myself melt into the warmth of his skin. I closed my eyes but the image didn’t go away. The sleazy motel room was glued to the inside of my lids. I squeezed them tight and tried to count sheep. But the sheep’s faces looked like Sam I Am and there was red sauce on his lips.
My eyes opened wide as pepperoni.
I bolted upright and seized the laptop from the nightstand. I pulled the screen to my face. I hadn’t imagined it. There was a glimpse of something on the floor by the bed. I suppose it could’ve been anything. But it looked a helluva lot like the edge of a pizza box. And the flash of black and red was the tip of a wing.
I’d know that pizza bird anywhere.
My heart beat wildly in my chest. I slipped into a robe and dragged the laptop to my office. I magnified the image on the screen for a closer look. Then I brought up the pizzeria’s website and checked their logo against the box on the motel floor. The black-and-red blob matched the tip of the dark wing perfectly.
Yes!
The pizza box came from Flying Zimbaroni’s Pizzeria. The man in the motel knew they make some of the best pies that fly over Chicago. If the pizza was a delivery, I’d find out where it went. I’d do whatever it took.
I dressed quickly and silently, tugging on jeans and an oversized sweater. I pulled on socks and shoes, and was tiptoeing to the door when a groggy voice mumbled from the bed.
“Babe. Where are you going?”
“Uhm, to Flying Zimbaroni’s.”
“At this hour?”
“I love their pizza.”
“Are you pregnant?”
His eyes were soft and he smiled as if he thought that would be a good thing.
Geesh.
I sat on the bed and kissed him. “I’m not pregnant.”
He grinned. “We can try again.”
He pulled me down but I squirmed away laughing. “Don’t tempt me, Babe. I’m weak. And I have a lead on Sammy.”
“What lead?”
“The creep in the motel bought a pizza. If it was delivered, someone’s gonna tell me where.”
“I’m going with you.”
“You have an early meeting with the federal prosecutor. Besides, I’ll be gone before you get your pants on.”
“No you won’t.”
He threw back the covers and my mouth went dry.
“Whoa, Trigger!” I said. “Back in the barn.”
Savino stomped around the room. “I can’t find my pants.”
I didn’t remind him that I took them off in the living room.
I blew Trigger a kiss and hustled out the door. I cranked up the Silver Bullet and for the first time in memory, Mrs. Pickins’ curtains didn’t move.