Autumn licked her lips and felt the heat make its way up her neck. “Since Navarro refuses to talk to the authorities, Scala offered to have me come along with him as his arm candy.”
Hererra made a growling sound, “You told him no, right?”
Autumn didn’t answer him, she just ate as if her life depended on it.
“Autumn?”
She paused, closed her eyes, and remembered how close Scala’s lips were to hers. All she had to do was move an inch closer.
When Autumn opened her eyes, Hererra stared at her, his lips pursed.
She blinked and remembered where she was. Shrugging, she said, “I didn’t agree to anything.”
“But you’re going to agree, aren’t you?” Ben shook his head, and a grating laugh escaped him. He finally picked up his own burger, “He’s a dangerous man.”
“How can a lawyer be a dangerous man?”
“When you're related to a mafia don, it doesn’t matter what profession you're in.” Hererra picked up his glass of water. “I heard a rumor a few years back.”
“What kind of rumor?”
He sighed and shook his head, a French fry poised at his lips. “His fiancée was shot when they went out one evening. She never made it to the hospital.”
Autumn stilled, “Did they find out who did it?”
“Yeah, they found the bastard gutted and hanging by his entrails in an alley.”
A shiver went up and down her spine, “And I’m assuming they never found out who killed the shooter?”
“It was during a mob war.” Hererra took a bite of his burger, speaking around the food in his mouth, “No one really knows who did what back then.” He eyed Autumn, “Hanging out anywhere with Scala could get you killed.”
Autumn’s chin tilted up, “I know.”
“You could ruin your career.”
Autumn closed her eyes, “I’m not stupid, Ben.”
“I never said you were.” He shook his head, “I just hope you know what you're doing.”
“I do.”
She didn’t, not really. She just had to hope for the best outcome.
Chapter 5
“Recquiescasinpaceetin paradiso tecum rursus erimus.”
Rest in peace and in paradise, we shall be reunited.
Listening to the priest at the burial site, Autumn mused, it had been a long time since she heard a mass in Latin. It was even longer since she stepped foot in or near a church.
Catarina Casale’s parents placed her remains in a stone urn under the tent where her immediate family sat during the funeral service at the cemetery.
Autumn remained off to the side as she observed the guests. Hererra opted to stay in the car in case any… stragglers showed up.
The elder women of the Casale family wore black veils over their faces paired with lace gloves. The matriarch rocked back and forth in a wheelchair. A younger woman, a granddaughter, crouched next to her as she moaned Catarina’s name and mumbled in Italian. The younger woman hushed the matriarch and spoke in low tones while stroking the elderly woman's velvet-covered shoulder. At one point, she turned and caught Autumn’s eye. Even with the dark sunglasses she wore, Autumn felt the hostile glare aimed in her direction.
If she were a lesser person, Autumn may have shrunk beneath the stare. It wasn’t the first time she went to a victim’s funeral, and it wouldn’t be the last. She was used to the accusatory expressions aimed in her direction. She may not be employed by the police department, but she was an associate. And going by mafia lore, anyone associated with the authorities was an enemy.
