“If you say so,” I said, without registering what I meant. My brain was so cloudy, and the buzzing was making it worse.
“I do say so. The honeybee is already dying out and it is my contention that we must do our very best to protect nature’s noble children.”
Nature’s noble children? I could have knocked myself out again just to keep from dealing with the crazy in front of me. “What do you want with me?”
Felice pursed his lips. It made his chin look unnaturally sharp. He didn’t answer. He just stared at me, and I got the sense I had offended him by moving the topic away from his bees.
“Can you at least loosen these ties? They really hurt.” My wrists and ankles were red-raw and stinging.
He shook his head; it was almost imperceptible this time. “Not quite yet, Persephone.”
“My name is Sophie. I don’t call you Fabio.”
Felice threw back his head and laughed until his eyes began to water. “Of all the things you could be angry about,” he said, wiping them with the back of his hand. “You are a funny one.”
I didn’t feel humorous, I felt drugged. “I got your honey, by the way. Thanks so much.”
“I think we both know it was not meant for you, but for the sake of clarity, since I cannot fathom whether you are playing dumb or actually being dumb, I shall elucidate. The honey was intended for your uncle.”
“I don’t think he appreciated it.”
“Oh no?” Felice contorted his features into the most elaborate smile I had ever seen. It was as terrifying as it was disingenuous.
“He smashed it,” I said, setting my tone to serious. Whatever delirious desire I had to be a smart-ass was fading. I was coming to my senses again.
“It happens.” Felice waved his hand in the air dismissively. “I know you’re not supposed to tip off your victims, but I just can’t help my flair for theatrics. And I’ll have you know I prepare the honey myself and it is positively delicious, not that anyone ever bothers to try it.”
“I tried it. It tasted off,” I lied.
“That’s an incredibly rude thing to say.” Felice made a point of grimacing at me before continuing. “Still, it does its job. I do think everyone deserves a fair warning so they can get their affairs in order.”
“Before you kill them?” I asked. Though I already knew, I wanted him to say it so it would kick my fuzzy brain into gear.
“Of course.” Felice smiled, revealing two long rows of sharp teeth. “Head start or no head start, we always catch up in the end. And sometimes, I daresay, the chase is the best part.”
A shudder rippled up my spine. Finally, and unpleasantly, the urgency of the situation had settled on me; I had more people than just myself to think about. “Why did you send my uncle the Gift of Death?” My voice cracked, and a wave of fear careened over me. “If it has something to do with revenge for what my father did, he didn’t mean it.”
Felice raised his finger to hush me. “The death of my beloved brother Angelo at the hands of your father was, of course, regrettable, but I don’t believe there was any ill intent on your father’s part.”
I felt my shoulders dip. “That’s good.”
“That is not to say, however, that this situation is not about revenge. Because,” he said, standing to his full height, “of course, it is.”
Felice’s tallness suddenly seemed so much more formidable. He began pacing up and down, and I got the sense he did this all the time — intimidation by theatrics. He probably had a special suit for every occasion. His neck scarf cascaded behind him as he glided back and forth.
“I think it is reasonable to ascertain now that you are clearly unaware that your uncle, Jack Gracewell, is a pivotal member of the biggest drug cartel in the Midwest. The Golden Triangle Gang, as they so eloquently call themselves. Would I be correct in assuming so?”
I gaped at him. It couldn’t be true. It had to be part of his theatrics.
“Among other things, they have recently begun dealing a hybrid narcotic that, when taken, elicits effects similar to those associated with extreme intoxication, and can lead to an array of unfortunate aftereffects, including paranoia, memory loss, paralysis, and my personal least favorite, death.” He shook his head at the world outside, like all the birds and flowers had let him down at once.
“No” was all I could muster. Words were failing me. I was dumbfounded and Felice could see it; worse than that, he was thriving on it, like a well-dressed parasite.
He started pacing again. “Of course, we’ve been monitoring your uncle and his not-so-esteemed business partners for nearly four years — right back to the time when he began using the diner, your homey family establishment, to stash drug shipments between deliveries.”
“What?” I spluttered back into life. “Jack used my father’s diner for drug trafficking?”
“Well, I would have thought those two dots would have been easy to connect, but maybe I’m too close to the situation, so it’s easier for me.” Felice hunkered down so he could be closer to me. “Initially there were just three pivotal members of the Golden Triangle Gang operating on this side of the Atlantic, each one positioned at a different key point in the Midwest; points that, when drawn together on a map, form a perfect triangle” — he made a triangle in the air with his fingers — “of ill-earned profit.”
I felt a bee buzzing dangerously close to my ear and jerked my head on reflex.
“Careful,” Felice warned. He sprang to his feet again. “As the Falcone boss, my brother Angelo was principally in charge of ending this chain of unlawful activities. It was no mean feat, but we have always said, ‘The falcon does not hunt flies.’ Together we were to change the face of the Midwest narcotics underworld.”