Alle Kapitel von The Revenge of the Underboss’s Bride : Kapitel 61 – Kapitel 70

Vincent looked at the photo until the wave on the lawn stopped being a hand and became a clock. “Vance takes the hearing,” he said. “We take the house.” “If we miss two o clock the lawyer will say we chose a dock again,” I said. “If we miss that lawn the judge can keep her cardigan and I will not care.” Gina sat on a hallway bench with her socks crooked and her mouth still square from tape. “Do not pick me. I am already collected. Go to her.” Alvarez came out of the stairwell wiping her hands on a tissue like Reid had left a film. “He is downstairs claiming immunity and a headache. I can hold him until a floor sends a letter. I cannot hold a lawn in another borough.” Vance arrived with his inventory face. “You are not both leaving this building. If the table sits empty at two I lose the remand argument and Julian’s smile becomes a walking tour.” Vincent did not raise his voice. “Then you sit at the table. You have the video of Carmine. You have the plant phone. You have

The diner on Van Brunt had a bell that had given up and a waitress who looked at Vincent’s scar and decided the coffee was free if we left fast. The Deacon sat at the counter with a chess puzzle and a slice of pie he had not touched. He did not turn until I took the stool beside him. Vincent took the door. “You burned the sequel early,” I said. “I burned a test,” the Deacon said. “You keep passing tests. It is expensive.” “Friday.” He moved a pencil over the napkin. “Friday is a feeling now. The shed is gone. The trucks can still sit. The walkout can still walk. You cannot steal every morning.” Vincent spoke from the door. “You can come outside or I can pick you up in front of the pie.” The waitress disappeared into the kitchen with excellent timing. The Deacon smiled at his puzzle. “If you pick me up, Harvest files a complaint that the new leadership kidnaps bookkeepers. If I walk with you, I can show you which three trucks already have sugar in the tanks. Choices.”

Carmine’s room smelled like metal and orange peel the nurse used to fight the other smell. He looked at us as if we had been gone a year. “Paolo,” he said. “In a car downstairs,” Vincent said. “He printed your name on a farm.” Carmine’s good eye burned. “Not farm. Will.” I sat. “You have a will.” “New one. Last month. Grell.” His mouth fought. “Before bakery.” The dead lawyer. Of course the last clean thing had gone through the man on the bread rack. “What did it say?” I asked. Carmine breathed, counted, spent. “Seat to UNDER. Money to house. Girl gets book and docks paper. SON gets exile not cash. If I die Harvest is a thief.” Vincent stood very still. “You wrote her the docks paper.” Carmine looked at me. “She reads. He shoots. That is a pair.” I did not know where to put my hands. “Grell is dead. Where is the will?” “Spare. Same as trust. Not parlor. Not bakery.” Carmine’s fingers crawled toward Vincent. “Ask girl. She found Grell. She finds paper.” Vinc

Alvarez did not thank us for the text. She stood in our foyer with a coat that still had annex air in it. “You will not go to Sunset,” she said. “I will go to Sunset. If there is an envelope I will open it. If there is a fire I will add it to your tab without asking.” Vincent’s voice was even. “The Deacon said statements have addresses. That club is an address. Take Gio if you want someone who knows the alley pipe.” “I will take my own people. Your people make windows.” She left. We sat in the house like the house might forgive us for sitting. It did not last an hour. Gio called from a blocked number he only used when he was not supposed to be where he was. Vincent put it on speaker. “She went in the front,” Gio said, low. “I went to the alley because I am bad at instructions. Envelope was in the pawn window, taped to the inside of the glass. A boy tried to light a rag. I took the rag. Alvarez has the envelope. She also has me, which she is not thrilled about.” Alv

They came because Vincent said now. Russo. DeLuca. Two others from the gala who had learned to stand in our dining hall without staring at the empty head of the table. No Carmine. The bed had him. Vincent did not offer coffee like a host. He offered facts like bills. “Reid is loose again. The Deacon is dead in a federal toilet. A fake will names Julian if I am unfit. A real will names the seat to me and the dock paper to my wife. Harvest is theft. Paolo printed farms. Glasses practiced her signature. Friday tried to be a fire and became a clerk in a car. If any of you want a different story, say it before Monday so I know which trucks to park.” DeLuca stared at the table wood. “Paolo is my shame. I told him to buy a boat. I should have told you.” “You should have,” I said. “You told Elena instead because you are afraid of Vincent and not afraid of a sister. That was a choice. Do not make it twice.” One of the other captains, a man named Bellomo with a gold tooth he thought wa