Page 125 of Highball and Chain

Before I could sort out what had happened between the two of them, another male voice came over the line. An older, gravely voice. Papa Joe?

“Marco, are you still there?”

“Yeah, Pops. I’m here.”

“I’m sending you my password and the instructions. I want it done.” A series of deep, wet, coughs filled the line, and then it went quiet. Someone had likely hit the mute button.

“You’re too sick to go to prison, Pops.” Marco turned to Enzo and widened his eyes.

“Agreed,” Gabe said. “We have the illegal campaign contributions. We don’t need to expose the bribes to hang Carter. The man is as crooked as a—”

Papa Joe’s voice rose. “Gabriel, pull your head out of your ass and listen to me. I’m a dying man. I won’t be around long enough for the authorities to extradite me.”

Holy crap. They’re talking about throwing Papa Joe under the bus to bring down the mayor?

“You don’t know that.” The color drained from Marco’s face. “The US and Italy have a fairly lenient policy. You don’t have to be convicted. They can start the extradition process once they bring charges against you.”

“Unless he’s awaiting trial in Italy.” The words fell out of my mouth before I thought the better of it. I’d managed to piece together enough of the conversation to get the gist, but nowhere near enough to add anything to it. Not to mention, I doubted the elder Marchionnis would appreciate my input.

Papa Joe cleared his throat. “Shanna, I presume?”

Enzo opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “Yes, sir.”

The line went quiet again, only this time I doubted anyone hit the mute button.

“She’s right.” Papa Joe said, “I’ll have my driver take me to visit Sal down at the docks. I don’t like the way he looks at your mother.”

“Pops, Sal is almost a hundred years old.” Enzo chuckled. “Save the violence until we know if and when the charges are filed.”

Gabe said, “Before we get ahead of ourselves, know that this will ruin our reputations.”

“People have suspected we’re in the mafia since we moved here. It’s part of our charm.” Enzo smirked. “If anything, news coverage and rumors will be good for business.”

“If I may?” I chewed my lip.

Papa Joe said, “Young lady, we are beyond formalities. Speak your mind.”

Stunned, and more than a little nervous, I leaned closer to the speakerphone. “I missed the beginning of the conversation. Did the contributions and bribe money come from the company or your personal accounts?”

Marco narrowed his eyes. “Personal. Cash and sizeable checks. Some went directly to Carter and some went to his campaign.”

“How do you feel about Maggie writing a press release? Dying man comes clean, exposes decades of political corruption.”

Enzo stilled beside me.

Gabe’s voice rose. “Now, we’re bringing my wife into this?”

“I fucking love it.” Papa Joe laughed, coughed, and laughed again. “Maggie did a fine job on the first article she wrote about the family. This would be a short press release. Nothing fancy.”

Marco nodded. “This could be a follow up. She can write it as if we were the victims—”

“No.” Papa Joe’s voice rose. “I’m no victim. She writes the truth.”

“The truth?” Enzo went wide-eyed.

“Part of it, anyway.” Papa Joe chuckled. “I paid for political favors. Paperwork to get pushed through without red tape. Laws passed that benefited the company. Gabe and Joe Jr.’s shoplifting charge to go away.”

“I was eight, and Joe only got popped because he took the toy from me.” Gabe chuckled. “I still don’t like it, but this could work.”