Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [39]
Jesse turned and left. He resisted the impulse to slam the door behind him.
41
Jesse stood to greet Gino Fish as he was ushered to their table at Il Capriccio.
“Your server will be along shortly to take your drink order,” the maître d’ said, and then scurried away.
Gino looked around the restaurant.
“Your first time,” Jesse said.
“Yes. Yours?”
“No,” Jesse said. “I actually learned the identity of John Lombardo here.”
“Ah,” Gino said. “Once we select our wine, we must surely offer a toast to him.”
“May I ask you a dumb question,” Jesse said.
“There’s no such thing as a dumb question, Jesse Stone,” Gino said.
“Why are we here,” Jesse said.
“I thought that’s what you might ask,” Gino said.
“So?”
“Let’s just say that it’s in both of our interests to be seen together tonight.”
“May I ask a follow-up question?”
“Not just now,” Gino said, as the server stopped by with the wine list.
It was shortly after seven o’clock and raining when Vinnie Morris pulled up to Zenith Enterprises. The streets were empty, and he found a parking space directly in front.
He pressed the admittance button on the security panel.
After a moment, a voice filtered through the electronic system.
“Who’s there,” the voice said.
“Vinnie Morris.”
The door opened. A simian-looking creature dressed in a jacket and tie greeted Vinnie.
“Yo, Vinnie,” the man said.
“Vito,” Vinnie said. “Boss wants five minutes with Mr. Lombardo.”
“We was just closin’ up. Lemme go tell him.”
Vinnie stepped inside. Vito closed the door behind him.
Vito headed for John Lombardo’s office.
Once there, he pressed three numbers into the security panel beside the door. The latch released, and the door sprang open.
Vito looked back at Vinnie.
“I’ll tell the boss,” he said.
Vinnie suddenly drew his pistol and shot Vito twice in the heart. With a look of astonishment on his face, Vito collapsed, already dead.
Vinnie stepped over the body and entered the office.
Lombardo, having heard the shots, was reaching for the pistol inside his desk when Vinnie approached him.
“What the fuck is this,” he said.
“I have a message for you from Gino Fish,” Vinnie said.
Lombardo looked up, his eyes bulging.
“Always look on the bright side of life,” Vinnie said.
He shot Lombardo in the forehead, the aftermath of which permanently altered the painting of himself that hung on the wall behind his desk.
Vinnie quickly left the office and buzzed himself out of the building. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped down the buzzer, both handles of the door, and the admittance button alongside it.
He looked up and down the street.
Seeing no one, he ducked into his car and drove away.
Jesse and Gino had finished their dinners and were enjoying an excellent zabaglione. Two spoons.
The restaurant was full, with the sole exception of the large table in the center of the room, which had been set for seven. A “Reserved” sign was on the table, but no one was seated there.
When the server brought the check, Gino waved Jesse off and reached for it. He barely glanced at it. He pulled out a wad of bills from his pocket. He thumbed a number of them from the wad and handed them to the server.
“Keep the change,” he said. “We had an excellent dinner. Memorable, even.”
“Thank you, sir,” the server said. “We hope you’ll return.”
“I fully intend to,” Gino said. “Who’s that big table reserved for? Some visiting movie star?”
“Not tonight,” the server said with a chuckle. “It’s reserved for one of our regulars.”
The server glanced at his watch.
“That’s odd,” he said. “They’re late.”
“Probably the traffic,” Gino said.
The server nodded. Then he picked up the empty dessert plate and hurried away.
Gino looked at Jesse.
“Probably the traffic,” he said.
42
Jesse sat amid a group that included twin standard poodles, a miniature schnauzer, and an overweight pit bull whose attention was riveted on the cat case.