Clint made it to the gallery before closing, found several people still inside, walking around and studying the artwork on the walls.
As he entered, Nadine came walking over to him.
“Did you notice?,” he said.
“What?”
“They’re not looking at the wall with your new artist on it.”
“I know,” she said.
“What are you going to tell him at the party tomorrow night?”
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s only been one day.”
The people worked their way to the door and left. Nadine walked over and locked it.
“You mean nobody looked at them today?” he asked, as she turned back to him.
“Glanced, is more like it,” she said. “What they need to do is stand in front of them, tilt their heads, and take a good look.”
“Maybe you can get them to do it tomorrow,” he said.
“While I’m plying them with liquor and food.”
“Speaking of which . . .”
“Yes, I’m famished. Let me douse all the lights.”
~*~
Bates sat back in his chair and stared across the desk at Maggio. He’d been questioning him for the better part of forty minutes. He never hired a man unless he talked to him and was satisfied that he was worth it.
He stared at Maggio, and the black man stared back. His gaze was unwavering. Bates liked that about him.
“All right,” Bates finally said. “Let’s settle on a price.”
“You tell me what the job is,” Maggio said, “and what you want to pay me.”
“Well, to tell you the truth,” Bates said, “I’m not sure yet what the job is.”
“Killing?”
“Maybe.”
“That comes at a high price.”
“But you’d do it?”
“Sure,” Maggio said. “Ain’t like I haven’t done it before.”
“You got a suit?”
“What do I need with a suit?”
“Tomorrow night,” Bates said, “I’m taking you to a party with me.”
“What kind of a party?”
“In an art gallery.”
Maggio grinned. “I don’t belong in an art gallery.”
“Silas will get you a suit,” Bates said. “You’ll look like you belong. Don’t worry.”
“Yes, suh,” Silas said. “I’ll get him a real nice suit.”
“What about weapons?” Bates asked Maggio.
“In the past I’ve killed with my hands.” He held them out, and they were huge.
“Can you use a gun?”
“Gun, knife, club . . . I can use anything.”
“Okay,” Bates said, “I’ll get you everything. Silas?”
“Come on, lad,” Silas said to Maggio. “Let’s get you that suit.”
“And how about something to eat?” Maggio asked, standing.
Silas looked at Bates.
“By all means. Silas,” Bates said, “feed our new employee.”
“Yes, suh!” Silas said, happily.
“And then come back here,” he added. “We need to talk about something.”
Now Silas looked less happy. “Yes, suh.”
~*~
“I haven’t had much German food,” Clint admitted.
“That’s why I brought you here,” Nadine said. “They serve the best German food in town.”
Clint looked down at their plates.
“What did you call this?”
“Sauerbraten.”
“And what is it?”
“It’s like a German pot roast.”
“Beef?”
“Yes, but before it’s cooked it’s marinated in vinegar or wine, along with water, spices and some other things I don’t know about. But it’s delicious. Try it.”
Well, he thought, why not? After all, he was in New York City, and he’d had Chinese food for lunch. Why not German food for supper?
He cut a piece and put it in his mouth, chewed, then chewed some more.
“Well?” she asked.
“It’s good. And what’s this next to it?”
“Spatzle.”
“Spat . .. what?”
“It’s a like a small, soft egg noodle. And that—”
“I know what that is,” Clint said. “A potato.”
“Yes. Let’s eat.”
He smiled and cut another piece of beef.
~*~
Silas came back into Emory Bates’ office several minutes after leaving with Maggio.
‘He’s eatin’, sir,” he said. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Who is he, Silas.”
“Maggio, suh?”
“That’s right, Maggio.”
“I tol’ you, suh—”
“Yes, you told me, he’s a warrior,” Bates said. “I want to know what he is to you.”
“Well, uh . . .”
“Yes?”
“He’s my sister’s boy, suh.”
“Your sister? Where is she?”
“In Europe. She sent him here to live.”
“And did she know what he’d be doing for a living?”
“No, suh.”
“Is he any good at what he does, Silas?” Bates asked. “Or did he just kill a drunken Eye-talian sailor on that boat?”
“Oh, no, suh,” Silas said. “It was a fair fight. He’s very good at what he does, suh. He ain’t never been beat in a fair fight.”
“All right, then,” Bates said. “You know how I feel about family, since I employ my own idiot nephews. Get him that suit, Silas, and have him ready for a party tomorrow night.”
“Yes, suh. Thank you, suh.”