“Nothing.” I shook my head. “I haven’t heard back from Dino yet. But so far, Serenity and Stone haven’t come up with any clues.”
“Are you sure her vision on Friday was really about poison?” Julia held up her hands. “Maybe it was you choking on a nut.”
“Zeppoles don’t have nuts.”
“Still, it was a vision, an impression, not fact. Maybe this will be a whole lot of nothing?”
I listened to her tone to gauge whether she was suggesting or guessing or just trying to be helpful. I didn’t detect any deceit. “Maybe. Dino’s report will confirm it or not. In the meantime, I’ve had the cleaning staff throw away everything in the kitchen—”
Her lips flattened. “I noticed that when I made coffee. But I figured the Nespresso capsules would be safe.”
“Not worth the risk.” I waved my hands in the air. “People calculate risks badly all the time, which is why onlinesportsbooks and the lottery make such insane amounts of money.”
Julia’s face glowed with a genuine smile. “I think humans are naturally terrible at math. My papa taught me that.”
“Did he?”
She nodded.
“My father had an aphorism for everything. Mostly about family and loyalty. Blood and DNA make you related to people, but it's loyalty that keeps you breathing. That sort of thing.”
“Sounds familiar.”
She repeated another, imitating an old Italian man’s voice. “Il pugnale che non vedi è quello che taglia più a fondo.The dagger you don’t see is the one that cuts deepest.”
“I’ve heard that before. Maybe I’ve met your father.”
“No, I doubt it.” Julia’s brows dipped and she glanced away. “He wouldn’t have run in your circles. Plus, The Agency would have alerted you. They watch for that kind of thing. My papa was a good man but he’d be turning over in his grave if he knew I was working for a…”
“Gangster?”
Julia’s face flushed slightly red, and her gaze fell to her feet. “I wasn’t going to say that. I meant working for a company that was—my dad—he was a law-and-order old-fashioned kind of guy.”
“So, he’d be worried about you if he was still alive and knew where you worked?”
She nodded her head vigorously. “He’d be worried out of his mind.”
I tried to remember where I’d heard that saying about the dagger before. It was at the edge of my memory, so close, but out of reach. “Your parents taught you Italian?”
Julia laughed. “I wish. No, I mean, I know a little, but most of what I learned as a kid I’ve forgotten. My grandparents areprobably turning over in their graves. The little saying about the dagger, I learned that one by heart. It’s been a reminder to me.”
I nodded in understanding. “Seems appropriate in my current situation.”
“It does.”
I glanced at the folder in her hands. “Tell me about that.”
She opened the folder labeledThe Marrow Lounge.“This name is a subtle play on words?”
I smirked. “You do like ossobuco, yes?”
“Is the Pope Italian on paper?”
“The club played on the idea of bones. It was a theme.” I raised a brow. “You’re familiar, of course, withGiorno dei Morti?”
“Of course. Similar toDía de los Muertosexcept the Mexicans drink beer while we Italians light candles and stay somber.”
I snorted. “Exactly why the club used a Mexican theme. It was especially popular around Halloween—and, of course, on the actual Day of the Dead. Queens has a large Mexican population, so the club was popular. It was also the subject of a dispute.”
