She laughs. “Well, I guess there are conjugal visits in prison.”
“Ha, ha.”
She studies me. “Is there something there? I mean, does she feel the same as you?”
I look out over the ice rink because it sucks to acknowledge that Olivia probably doesn’t think of me at all except perhaps in relation to her case to put me away. “No.”
“Because if you love her, I’ll support you.”
“Whether I love her is irrelevant considering who I am and who she is.”
I see Petey Tabbini on the other side of the rink. He’s got to be hitting ninety, but he worked for my father and my grandfather before him.
“I need to say hello to old Petey.” I stand. “You okay here?”
“You can run, Dom, but you can’t hide.”
I give her a wink. “I can try.” I step away, my mind already shifting back to the investigation.
By the time I reach Petey, he’s talking with Pops Russo, my father's old consigliere, who was like a grandfather to me and Elena. Next to him stands Carmine Falcone, who ran collections in the days when Detective Ricci was on our payroll.
"Don Vitale," Petey greets me, his weathered face breaking into a smile. "Good to see you enjoying the festivities."
"Petey, Pops, Carmine." I shake their hands. "Mind if I join you for a drink?"
I grab a mulled wine from the vendor and we move to a quieter area. After some small talk about business and family, I steer the conversation where I need it to go.
"Do you remember Detective Ricci," I say casually, warming my hands with the warm paper cup.
Carmine’s expression shifts subtly. "Yeah. I always liked him. Everyone did, even your dad. He seemed like too much a Boy Scout to be working for us, but he did good work."
“Remember how he helped get that charge against Franco Bianchi dropped,” Pops says with a laugh, ending with a cough common with smokers.
“Bianchi was a numnut,” Carmine rolls his eyes. “Who gets arrested for stealing candy bars? God I thought Don Vitale…ah…your dad, was going to pop right then and there.”
“Hey, I like chocolate enough to steal it,” Petey says.
“Why you asking about him?” Carmine asks.
I try to act nonchalant. “Anything you know about who killed him?”
They each look at each other in turn, like doing so will scrape through the years of memories in their minds.
“I don’t,” Petey says, “but I was on my way out by then.
“Aldo was pissed. I remember that,” Pops says. “Not just because we lost a good contact in the department, but because he respected the man. And we all knew your father didn't respect many."
There’s a group snicker at that.
"Did he know who was behind it?" I ask again.
"There were rumors," Carmine says. "Nothing concrete. But your father suspected it wasn't in the line of duty, like the report said.”
“Yeah,” Pops says as if he’s remembering something. “He thought someone else fixed up that police report. He suspected that it was someone Ricci was investigating for him.”
This piques my interest. “Any chance it was an FBI agent? Maybe one he used during the time Uncle Umberto was arrested.”
They all look down at the mention of Uncle Umberto. We’ve never talked about my father and how he was behind his brother’s demise.
