Gennaro returned to the kitchen and pulled a beer out of the fridge, his mind still trying to wrap itself around what Carter had told him.
Johnny Fratelli had been Eduardo Buono’s cellmate in Sing Sing, and the last man to see Buono alive. Rumor was, Buono had told Fratelli where he’d hidden his share of the heist—a cool seven and a half million.
That money rightfully belonged to the guys who’d been on the heist, not some former inmate who hadn’t had to lift a finger to earn it.
But after two years of searching for him with no luck, Gennaro had given up. Fratelli had vanished without a trace.
Or, if Carter’s information was correct, without a trace…until now.
Gennaro went down the hall to his office to make some calls.
Chapter 8
Stefan had been a busyman since the previous evening, when he’d overheard the conversation between Sara, Barrington, and that other lawyer.
First, he’d called the same guy who’d put him in touch with Ricky Gennaro to deal with Sara’s blind date. This time he asked if the guy had a similar contact in Chicago. He did, and for a couple hundred dollars, he sent Stefan the information for a man named Rudy Grove.
Stefan had set up a meeting for the morning, so he’d booked an early flight. As soon as he landed at O’Hare Airport, he grabbed a cab into the city.
Rush-hour traffic meant he was ten minutes late to Pancake Café, the restaurant where he was to meet Grove.
Grove had said he’d be wearing a Cubs shirt. That didn’t turn out to be as helpful as Stefan would have liked, as there were at least a dozen people in Cubs shirts, several of whom were eating alone.
As Stefan scanned the dining area, a weaselly guy on the other side of the room caught his eye and waved him over.
When Stefan reached the table, the guy said, “You the one I talked to last night?”
“Maybe. Are you Rudy?”
“Duh.” He pointed at the bigCubslogo on his shirt.
Stefan restrained himself from pointing out the other similarly attired diners and instead said, “Yeah, that was me.”
As he took a seat, a waitress set down a plate of pancakes topped with whipped cream and strawberries.
“Thanks, hon,” Grove said, before picking up his fork to dig in.
“Can I get you something?” the waitress asked Stefan.
“Coffee,” he said.
“Nothing to eat?”
“I’m good.”
She gave him a to-each-his-own shrug and walked off.
“Hope you don’t mind that I started without you,” Grove said between chews. “I was starving.”
“I see that,” Stefan said.
Grove finished off what was in his mouth, took a sip of his coffee, and then said, “So, what can Grove do for you?”
Stefan looked around. All the tables were filled.
“I’m not sure this is the right place to talk about it,” he whispered.
Grove waved his fork in the air. “It’s fine. We’re just two guys shooting the breeze.”
