“Ah, that makes more sense.” I tuck the paper in my pocket. “I’ll let you know what I find.”
Renzo’s phone begins to vibrate on the desk.
“It’s Enzo Genovese.” He answers the call, says a few short words, then scribbles an address on the notepad before hanging up. “We’re meeting his underboss, Gabriele Fiore, tomorrow morning.”
“What are we going to do with the girls?”
He rubs his face while he thinks. “I’ll get with Cosimo. Let’s all stay there tonight so we don’t have to worry abouttransporting everyone before the meeting. I’ll have our outside detail come with us.”
“Sounds like a plan. Guess the girls will get their outing after all.”
“Let’s hope it gets us closer to ending this thing.”
A few minutes later, I’m back in my car. I make the drive to city records, where I confirm the plats I had printed are the correct renderings. The shop is bigger than I expected. That helps explain why he’d choose it as a hideout. Someone with a struggling business, like a taxidermist in the middle of the city, is a prime candidate to pocket some money while letting Pasha run operations out of a back room.
I’m going to put a serious crimp in those plans.
Satisfied, I look up the address for the Qwik Wash Laundromat. It’s all the way up in East Harlem and will take a while to get over there, but it’ll be worth it if I can find this guy.
Billy Ikes—ready or not, here I come.
CHAPTER 55
DIANGELO
Present
“Hey,you can’t just barge in here.” A curvy woman in a hot-pink tube top glares at me, hands on her hips.
I ignore her and survey the small room tucked away at the back of the building where I entered from the alley. If they didn’t want people coming in this way, they should have locked the door. Now that my eyes are adjusting to the dim light, I can see the walls are painted black. It’s an entry room, only big enough for a bistro-sized table and one chair. Each of the four walls contains a door.
“Whatta you deaf?” the woman calls even louder. “This ain’t no public restroom or somethin’. You’s gotta get out.”
“I’m here to see Billy Ikes.”
Her eyes narrow as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Never heard of him.”
The door behind her swings open, revealing a middle-aged man with a mustache and the beginning of a mullet. And to top it off, he’s wearing a blue tracksuit with a thick silver chain.
Honest to God, I didn’t know they made assholes like this anymore.
“There a problem out here?” he asks, puffing out his chest. The dude doesn’t weigh one fifty soaking wet. His posturing in front of me is laughable, but I let it go.
“I have a couple of questions for Billy Ikes—that you?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Name’s DiAngelo. I’m with the Morettis. I understand Billy works for Fat Joe, and we had a couple of questions.”
The guy eyes me warily. “Whatdoya wanna know?”
“You Billy Ikes?”
He sniffs, looking briefly at the woman before stepping back. “Let’s talk in here.”
Excellent.
I follow him into a small office lined with seventies-era wood paneling. The man truly is a relic from the past. Behind his desk is a credenza with two monitors, one showing an empty room with a twin bed in it. If I had to guess, I’d say one of the other doors leads to that room, which is where Miss Pink Tube Top would be working if she had a client.
