Page 94 of Bitter Poetry
What exactly have you been doing, Christian?
He turns back with a folder in his hand. He places it on the coffee table, leaving his hand on top of it for several long moments before he pushes it toward me.
I look from the closed file to him and back again.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Read it.”
Photographs. A transcript of text messages. Phone call logs. More photos. It doesn’t take long to put the pieces together.
“He paid the Russians to cover up,” Cedro confirms. “Were they responsible for the act itself? Nothing suggests so. All I know is money exchanged hands, and they offered up a couple of Russian-speaking men and claimed they were their soldiers to cover it up. Ettore had leverage—some compromising pictures of the Pakhan’s son. A favor for a favor.”
“How long have you known?”
“A month.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. And you sat on this? Ettore could and would kill you for having the information alone.” I rake my fingers through my hair, get up, and pace. “Why didn’t you bring this to me? Christian is here every week. You know you could trust him. You just said as much.”
“To be fair, Christian is trustworthy but volatile. You had dropped out of circulation and appeared to be thriving in your new role.”
“Me? Ettore told me bluntly I was going to be a capo and to stay away from his wife in the same breath. I’d been so busy worrying about my reaction around her that it never crossed my mind to worry about hers. He said he needed his wife to focus on her husband. A week later, he sent his thugs around with a hammer to reinforce the point. So, no, I wasn’t thriving. I was fucking floundering. Without Leon and Christian, I’d probably have done something reckless and been dead. But you, you gave your daughter to that animal.”
“I was in a wheelchair, and my wife was dead. I thought I was protecting her!”
“You fucked up.”
“I did, and I have to live with that.”
I push the file back across the table. “What do you want me to do with this evidence? Why now?”
“Right the wrong. You’re not marrying Helena for love nor the advantage, nor even for Ettore’s good graces. I’m betting you have a plan. You’re no good to my daughter dead. You’re no good to any of us if you become reckless.”
“You’re right about the marriage to Helena.”
I return to my seat. “Marrying her was Leon’s suggestion. Ettore has already told me he wants closer ties between us now I’m about to be part of his family. I need reasons to be here in the city and closer to the power base.”
“If you move too aggressively, it will tip him off.”
“Trust me, I understand. As does Leon.”
His lips purse. “Leon is not simply your manager.”
“No, he’s not. He believes Ettore killed his father although he never found the evidence.”
“After this?” He indicates the file. “I suspected the same.”
“Leon wants blood. We both do. We’ve turned around a corrupt portfolio. We’re making a lot of money and amassing soldiers as quietly as possible. None of which will help us unless we can find a way to be brought back into the fold.”
“I want to be there when you kill him.”
“Oh, no. You don’t get to ask me anything anymore.”
“Carmela? You don’t hold a grudge against her, surely?”
“No. Never. She was always destined to be mine.”
It’s an evening from hell. Helena tries to feel me up in the damn restaurant. I swear if she’d raked her nails down the back of my hand one more time, I’d have snapped them off.
Then I go home to my penthouse, the one I lived in before I became capo and moved to the marina complex. Christian iswaiting there for me, and the first thing he does is slug me in the face.
