Tomasso rested his butt on the edge of the desk, looking down at him. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. And how cleanup and everything else went this morning."
"The late night diners were a bit put off by the place being closed, but the staff were happy enough with their little bonus, and they know that the same could come to them if they open their mouths," Pietro replied. “There’s little else to worry about. I retrieved the shell from my pistol. There's no evidence of anything left at the diner. They reopened by four thirty this morning to catch the early work crowd."
Tomasso nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "And Jake?"
"He went home to say goodbye to his mother and get a quick bandage," Pietro said. "When I checked his apartment this morning, nobody was home and a lot of his things were gone. I checked with some of the doctors and clinics that we use, but there was no report. The word's out, though—he's on the DOA list."
Tomasso swallowed and looked up, controlling his emotions while I rubbed my chin. "Pietro," I said after a moment of silence. "What about you?"
“I’ll do my duty as I’ve always done,” he said softly, going back to cleaning out the desk. "After that . . . maybe I'll talk with the Don. It's been years since I took a decent vacation."
Tomasso looked back at the older man and searched for the words. “Can I ask you to do something as well, then?"
"Maybe, Mr. Bertoli. If I can."
Tomasso nodded, then propped his hands on the edge of the desk. "I'm not ready yet. I still need your guidance, your teaching. Even if you do want to step back, take a vacation, whatever . . . I'd still like the privilege of working with you."
Pietro nodded, thinking. "I can't give you an answer right now, Mr. Bertoli. It wouldn't be fair to do so. But thank you. I’ll think about it."
We left, and in the car back to the mansion, I looked at Tomasso. "Why’d you ask him to stay on?"
"I was being honest," Tomasso said simply, looking out the window and speaking softly. I knew he was struggling to control his emotions, and I knew also how much it all had affected him. "I need his wisdom and guidance. He's never done anything wrong, and I wouldn't have my family lose such a man if it could be helped."
We drove back to the mansion, where Margaret was waiting for us. "Come on. Carlo's expected to touch down in less than an hour," she said. "I'm driving."
It was nice to once again be a passenger in a car, especially in one as luxurious as Margaret's Maserati. We went to the charter terminal, where we could actually go onto the taxiway as the small Learjet pulled up. The ground crew opened the door and Carlo Bertoli got out, looking confident and powerful in his suit with sunglasses over his eyes. He looked like a man who was lord of all he surveyed, and I guess in quite a few ways, he was. Seeing us, he waved casually while the three of us made our way to the foot of the stairs.
"It's good to see you," Carlo said, his voice not as warm as his words. He was reserved. After all, there was a situation that had to be dealt with, but he was glad to see his family again. His smile to me was only polite, though, and I felt a small chill travel down my spine as I felt a bit of fear. I knew what Margaret had told me that afternoon, but to see Carlo's somewhat predatory glance, I knew I was still in danger. It also reassured me that Carlo Bertoli, despite his friendly demeanor with his family and warmth when he was in a good mood, was still the Godfather of the Seattle area.
In the car, I sat in the back next to Carlo while Margaret drove and Tomasso sat next to her. Carlo broached the subject first, only moments after the car had started up. “Before I say anything, let me hear the recording."
I handed my phone up, and Tomasso cued up the conversation, which was remarkably short when listening to it again. I had to blush at some of my flirtatious comments, but I shivered again in fear and nervousness when I confronted Jake in the audio.
When the final words came out and the file ended, Carlo sat quietly, considering. He looked over at me, then at his son. "Why didn’t you confront Jake by yourself, Tomasso?"
"I'm on one leg. If he tried something, I probably wouldn’t have fared too well," Tomasso answered, keeping his voice calm and controlled. "I needed a way to put my enemy off guard. Besides, Luisa was the target and deserved to be involved."
Carlo nodded, then sighed. "You did the right thing. There is a time to be up front, and there is a time to be smart. You didn't let your ego get in the way. All right, let's head home. We can discuss the fallout from this later. Miss Mendosa, I feel I should apologize. You were supposed to be my guest, and it seems someone in my household put you in danger.”
I shook my head, knowing it was time to be gracious and understanding. It wasn't that hard, really—I didn't have any hurt feelings, and in fact, it had been sort of fun working with Tomasso. "Don Bertoli, your family has treated me with respect, and regardless of what my father says about this, you have my friendship."
"Good. Then let's go talk with your father. Maybe some good can be salvaged from all of this."