“Tell us more!” Salvatrice said breathlessly to Raoul. “What happened to this Patalano?”
“He ate a bullet. Just like that. We could never verify his claims, and the case fizzled out. It was shelved years ago. Then last week, something interesting happened—which is why they called me in. Patalano’swidow died. As her sons were sorting through their mother’s items, they came across the key to a safety deposit box in Rome. And what do you think they found there? Patalano’s ledger! The bastard had detailed notes of all the work he’d done during nearly twenty years of smuggling operations. Of course, it’s useless now. Expired long ago.”
From a back bedroom, Francesca’s voice rose: “I’m not going to say it again. Go to sleep!”
This was followed by the sound of a door closing, then a disconsolate wail. Francesca returned to the living room wearing freshly applied lipstick.
Gianni clapped. “Well, I hope everyone’s hungry. My beautiful mother-in-law has prepared a fantastic meal for us tonight. Grazie, Mamma.”
He gestured towards Salvatrice, who placed a gracious hand on her heart.
They migrated to the dining room. Nikki was about to sit when Francesca touched her arm and asked sweetly, “Can you help serve?”
—
According to everyone at the table, Salvatrice’s cooking was excellent. Unfortunately, it was also full of meat and fish, and apart from a dish of zucchini, eggplant, and tomatoes, Nikki couldn’t find much to eat.
“Vegetarianism isn’t natural,” complained Salvatrice as Nikki refused a meatball.
“I’ll take hers,” offered Mac, holding out his plate.
He grinned at Nikki. “Watching what you eat? You look like you work out. Spend a lot of time at the gym? Lift weights?”
Nikki stared back, unsmiling. “Does the Dutch Navy have fitness requirements?”
“Ha, ha,” said Mac. “Funny, as well as hot. That’s one thing about me, you know: Not a lot of men like strong women, but I do. I like a challenge.”
“Tell me, does your father like the melanzane?” Salvatrice asked Nikki with a jab in her ribs.
“Excuse me?”
“Does your father like the melanzane?”
“I don’t know,” Nikki said.
“Well, ask him,” urged Salvatrice.
Confused, Nikki turned to Raoul. It took a moment to get his attention. “Salvatrice wants to know if you like the melanzane.”
“Delicious,” said Raoul to Salvatrice, across Nikki. “The best I’ve tasted.”
“You flatter me,” she replied. “It’s such a pleasure to cook for a man with refined tastes.”
“Your brother tells me you’re dating Tito Calandra,” Mac said to Nikki with his mouth full.
Nikki flushed hotly. “What? No. I’m not. Why would you say that, Gianni?”
Her brother, red-faced, laughed.
“C’mon,” he said. “Everyone’s talking about it. Even Enzo says you are.”
Nikki was incredulous. “Why the fuck are you talking to Enzo?”
Raoul coughed.
Francesca scolded, “There’s no need for such language.” Then, to Gianni, in Italian, “I told you she wasn’t.”
Nikki glared at her sister-in-law, who, she was fairly certain, had spent time in Tito’s bed.
