Just like the waitress told me to expect.
Naomi looked around once more, unable to suppress a tremble of unease, this being her first drug deal. As she approached, one of the pair stood and confronted her. He wore a puffy Moncler parka and boots, topped by a Bogner cap, all expensive gear. It seemed drug dealing must be very profitable in this ski town, or this was some rich kid slumming it for extra change.
“Cosa vuoi?” he challenged her brusquely.
She hoped he spoke English. “I... I’m looking to buy some weed.”
He smoothly switched to match her. “Are you a cop?”
She fought not to roll her eyes.Guy’s definitely an amateur. Or stupid. Or likely both.Despite what was portrayed in procedurals on TV, the police didn’t have to admit to being a cop when confronted.
“I’m not. I have a friend who’s hurting.”
The dealer’s outthrust chest relaxed. “Okay. How much do you want?”
“A couple grams.”
“That all?” He cast his gaze up and down her in a dismissive manner.
“Funds are limited. I could also use a few tabs of Valium if you have any.”
The dealer shrugged and waved to his partner. As the figure stood, Naomi saw it was an older woman, as heavily bundled as herself. If nothing else, it was nice to contribute her Euros to a female-run business.
As the negotiation started, Naomi noted a chain round the woman’s neck. A clear vial, full of a crystalline powder, hung from it. Naomi suspected it was not a drug on display, but instead served as an amulet of some sort.
Naomi pointed at it, guessing its contents. “Is that salt in there?”
The woman clutched the vial. “Sì. Sale. You know?”
“I do. It’s to ward off evil.”
The woman nodded, her cold demeanor softening. According to tradition, a malevolent spirit could not attack someone until they finished counting every grain of salt in a protective charm.
Naomi was not overly surprised to find such an ornament on this woman. She had recently read a journal article on the high prevalence of superstitious beliefs among criminal elements. Hispanic gangs would never steal from a church, believing it would curse them. As contradictory as it might seem, mafia members adhered to the religious practices of the Catholic faith with a fervency that surpassed most of the devoted. The thesis of the article was that criminals knew they were doing wrong and sought a higher means of absolution and protection.
“You know thestregheriaways?” the woman asked.
“I’m acquainted,” Naomi admitted, recognizing the archaic term for an Italian form of witchcraft.
“Then I will make you a good deal,sì?” She nudged her large companion. “Antonio, show her our best.”
Naomi didn’t know if she was being conned. Maybe this was a faked camaraderie to make her drop her guard. Still, after some back and forth, she completed the transaction. She had to settle for a single gram of cannabis and three tabs of Valium. She hoped it would be enough to stem Tag’s agony—at least long enough for the others to get back, which likely wouldn’t be until tomorrow.
She said her goodbyes and crossed out of the park. As she headed for their tiny hotel, she fought to walk nonchalantly, which only made her gait more stilted. She also looked around far too often, even for a tourist. Recognizing this, she tried to use reflections in passing windows to watch if anyone suddenly turned and stepped after her.
No one did.
Then up ahead, a sleek black car topped by a bar of blue lights turned a corner and passed slowly down the street. Emblazoned on its side in silver letters was the wordCarabinieri. She tripped a step, recognizing the more militarized version of the Italian police. She quickly turned toward a ski shop and pretended to show keen interest in a display of snowboards.
Reflected in the glass, the vehicle slowly idled past—then continued on.
She let out the breath she had been holding, hunched her shoulders, and headed again down the street, her pace quicker now.
As she reached the hotel, she glanced back. A few blocks away, the brake lights of the Carabinieri sedan flared brighter. She cringed and waited until it turned a corner and vanished.
She must have looked suspicious at that moment, drawing the eyes of a couple bystanders across the street. Or maybe they were simply inspecting the hotel’s chalkboard, which displayed the restaurant’s specials.
Enough of this . . .
