Page 16 of The Enforcer

Thanks to me, I think. If Salvo is determined to let these carabinieri send any manner of spies into the restaurant, it’s my job to make sure that they stay away from his business as much as possible. That was normally an easier thing to do when Giulio was around, but thankfully, I’d had the wherewithal to send her into the kitchen as soon as Salvo had stood from his table, letting our other waitress, Gianna, handle the floor while I told him about the incident at Giuseppe’s this morning.

I can’t believe that just a few hours ago, I’d thought the shakedown was possibly no big thing; there was always someone biting at our ankles, trying to encroach on our territory. It was just part of the life. But that stronzo in the square, in broad daylight, with a gun aimed at Salvo’s head, was a very big thing that we need to handle immediately.

But first, we have to get Gallo out of here.

I want to look at that table, and I almost do. That would have been a dire mistake, especially with Gallo and Alma both desperate for a reason to stay or take Salvo in. But just as I feel my resolve weakening, Giulio bursts through the front door, a box of fresh bread in his hands and a goofy grin on his face. “Boss, did you order more bread?” he asks, looking down at the box and not at the table where Zahra and her sisters are watching him.

I guess they can look wherever they want as tourists, but if it had been up to me, I would have told them to ignore whatever was going on and eat their food. I don’t want to give Gallo any reason to look their way.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Does Giuseppe know that?” Giulio asks.

Salvo looks into the box and then at me. He shrugs. “Ah, well. Who are we to turn down a nice gesture? Alfonso, send a bottle of wine to them, will you?”

I nod and lean over the box. “Are there any pasticcini?” I ask.

“No,” Giulio says.

When I try to reach into the box, he swats my hand away.

“I said no.”

“You’re lying.”

Salvo sighs. “Good afternoon, sergeant.”

We both turn to Gallo. A vein has appeared, bisecting his forehead, and his jaw is clenched so hard, I’m worry he’ll crack a few teeth. I watch him closely. Desperate men are the most dangerous. After a few tense moments, he turns on his heels with a curse. Alma remains, rooted to the spot and looking confused.

Salvo pats her on the shoulder kindly. “You should follow him,” he says gently. “Thank you for all your work.”

She looks as if she’s about to cry as she turns and walks from the restaurant. Giulio and I watch her. “You should reach out to her in a few weeks,” I say quietly.

Giulio scoffs. “Obviously. Hopefully, she’ll be angry enough to become another mole.”

“Probably,” I say. “So, are there pasticcini in there or not?”

He grabs the box of bread before he answers, “No.”

I reach for it, and he backs away.

“Basta,” Salvo says wearily. “Once the carabinieri are gone, clear the restaurant and send the cooks home. I don’t want anyone here. If something is happening, it could get dangerous.”

“Something is happening,” I say.

Salvo nods his head gravely.

“What about them?” Giulio asks.

It’s as if that question gives us all permission to look at the table with the three women. We find them looking back at us as well.

“Not here,” Salvo says in a rough voice. “We need to get them somewhere safe.”

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