Vinny smirked. “Least I don’t chase what don’t want me.”
Sil took a step closer. “Watch yourself.”
“Leave him alone, Sil. We have enough problems without you stirring up the family.”
Silvio's glare could have burned through steel. “Yeah, we do, Jules. Yeah, we do.” He shook his head and walked past us into the house.
This wasn’t going to be a fun night.
Vinny must have felt the same vibe. “Skip the meeting and head over to Omertàs?”
“You have a death wish?”
“No, but I can get us a table, bottle service, and—”
“Shut it, Vinny.”
He shrugged, and we followed Silvio into the lion’s den.
∞∞∞
After an hour of general business, Carlo asked me for an update. “Be straight with us.”
Everyone turned their attention to me, and I tried not to show any weakness.
“Of course.” I held my head high and stood, pacing for a moment to gather my wits. “On Fridays, Quentin has a standing order at a bakery owned by a friend. Above suspicion. But it looks like someone got to his order of zeppoles and poisoned them. Trouble is, we won’t know for sure until the test results come back.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Were they poisoned or not?” Carlo asked.
“That’s still up in the air.” I swallowed and got ready to tell the part of the story that wasn’t totally believable. “Apparently, Vanetti hired a woman who is supposed to be some kind of psychic. She said they were poisoned, and he believes her.”
Silvio laughed a little too loud. “Are you serious?”
“Back off.” Carlo commanded and Silvio shut up.
“Let me explain. This woman is supposed to get visions from touching things. She picked up a zeppole and got a vision of Quentin, falling to the ground and foaming at the mouth. Before he could take a bite, she smacked the thing from his hand.”
Silvio whistled. “And he believed this nonsense?”
I nodded. “She’s done jobs for him.”
“And?”
“And he trusts her.” I raised my hands. “What do you want me to say? She had a vision about the security guy, Nathan Stone, getting killed. Apparently, she stopped it from happening.”
“So she can change the future?” Silvio laughed again, this time louder, and more directly at me. “You don’t believe this garbage, do you?”
“I’m not sure.” I didn’t want to say it was impossible, but I had to admit I found the stories hard to swallow. “Vanetti swears by her gift.”
My aunt Filomena cleared her throat and raised her hand. “You two need to stop bickering like children.” She met her son’s gaze and frowned. “You know better Sil. And this gift? It’s likely real if Vanetti put her on staff. He’s not paying her if she’s a fraud, he’s too smart and cunning for that.”
“Really, Ma?” Sil raised his eyebrows and sighed. “You don’t believe this too?”
“You think I wear this as a fashion statement?” Filomena pulled out a cornicello, a small gold horn charm that hung on a gold necklace. “The malocchio is something your generation mocks, but I’ve seen the effects of curses, and the efficacy of protections, since I was a little girl. Don’t act so prideful that you open yourself to danger.”
Carlo knocked his glass on the table to gain our attention. “Enough with talk about curses and charms. What matters is that Vanetti believes it.” He turned to me. “Jules, is there any confirmation there was poison? Or is this a mix of conjecture and fear?”
“The pastries were sent to the crime lab. Vanetti’s got a guy. It’ll be a few days since it’s the weekend and it’s happening off the books. When I know, you’ll know, and we won’t have to bicker about it.”
