“It’s really important,” I say urgently. “You’ll be helping to bring down a major crime family.”
“I’m in,” he responds quickly. “When do you need me?”
“Can you meet me at Central Bites? It’s a restaurant over on Third Street,” I answer.
“Sure thing,” he says.
We hang up after working out some of the logistics. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I have a hunch that I’ll recognize it when I see it. I just want someone there who can document the comings and goings of various restaurant patrons, and who can back me up in a pinch.
I meet Mario the next day after I stop at a drive-thru for coffee. He’s sitting in a 90s pickup truck parked across the street from the restaurant. I’ve never been here before, and I don’t know my way around this part of the city. I circle the block twice looking for a parking spot, and when I find one, it’s too far away for me to stay in my car.
I grab the coffee I bought for myself and one for Mario and hoof it to his truck. He takes a picture of me as I approach, as if to prove that he’s a photographer. I recognize him from the color of his vehicle and from what he’s wearing. He told me he would be dressed in a green shirt and a black hat.
“Mario?” I ask before getting into the passenger seat.
“Sofia?” He guesses.
It looks like we found each other. I climb in and hand him a drink. He thanks me for it, removing a handful of trash from the cup holder so that both our drinks can fit.
“So, what are we looking for?” Mario asks.
“I think this restaurant is owned by the Corello family,” I say.
“And they are?” Mario wonders.
I’m not surprised he doesn’t know. Francisco Corello has done too good a job of keeping his name out of the papers. But all that is going to change if I have anything to do with it. I give Mario a synopsis of my theory about the Corellos, leaving out the fact that they murdered my brother. I lean into their shady business dealings and my suspicions that they’re in bed with the mayor.
“Sounds serious,” Mario observes.
“If you can just take some pictures of people entering and leaving, then I can check them against known mafia figures to see if there is any connection,” I explain.
As I’m talking, a pair of dangerous-looking men walk up. I check my phone just to make sure I’m in the right place. Central Bites sounds like an upscale lunch place, but all the people I see are downright scary.
Mario leans over and takes a few quick shots before the men disappear inside. About twenty minutes later, they come out again. That was too short for a meal, but just long enough to have a conversation with someone.
I wonder what’s going on, and if there are any regular patrons in the joint. I don’t want to risk going in there myself. At some point, Mario’s pictures should show me everything I need to know about who is coming and going. I just need to be patient.
I hunch down in my seat and stare out the window. After about an hour, I get bored. While there are a few unsavory visitors, the place is largely quiet. I haven’t seen anyone who looks like a regular couple, but it’s not exactly the lunch rush, so I hold off on any conclusions.
I realize I’m going to have to go in there. I need to know what the place looks like from the inside and if it operates like a regular restaurant.
“I’m going in,” I tell Mario.
He looks at me funny, like I’ve said something crazy. “Why?”
“I have to know what it looks like inside,” I say.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks. He’s not exactly telling me I’m stupid, but he seems to hint at it.
“It’s a restaurant, right?” I explain. “I’ll just go in and order takeout.”
“Are you sure you want to show your face?” Mario puzzles.
I sigh. I don’t see any other way around it. I can’t just sit in the car all day watching sketchy looking men duck into and out ofthe place. I need to know what they’re doing, and the easiest way to do that is by going inside.
I’m reaching for the door handle when my phone buzzes. It’s Frankie. I’d forgotten all about him. Our dinner was nice, but we haven’t spoken to each other since. I get a weird tingly feeling all over at the sight of his name.
Frankie: Picnic lunch in the park?
