“He’s charming,” Luci said.
“I’d say that was a veiled threat,” Donovan added.
I responded, “I really don’t like that guy.”
Our powwow was interrupted by a tiny face peeking from inside the front door in the center of the wall. Five-year-old Sabrina stared at us.
“Hi, Jon Fixx. Auntie Maggie told me to come let you in.” She opened the door wider and stood in the doorway. She stared at my companions, not sure how to react to them.
“Hi, Sabrina. These are my friends. This is Luci, and this guy here is Donovan.”
“Hi, Luci. Hi, Donovan.”
Luci responded, smiling, “Hi there, Sabrina.”
Donovan added gently, “Hi, little one. Are you the gatekeeper?”
“What do you mean?” Sabrina asked, a curious look on her face.
“You guard the door and decide who gets to come inside and who doesn’t.”
The thought of controlling who could enter and exit pleased Sabrina. “That’s right. I’m the gatekeeper.”
“Well, in that case, is it okay if we come inside?” Donovan asked.
“Of course!” Sabrina answered enthusiastically.
Donovan moved aside to let me pass. Luci followed and Donovan brought up the rear. Sabrina leaned out the door to make sure there was nobody else, then pushed the gate hard, making sure it was locked.
“Thank you, Sabrina,” I said.
Sabrina was staring at Donovan. “Are you a genie?”
“A what?”
“You look like a genie. I have this book, and the genie looks like you. He has big muscles and he’s your color.”
I looked away so Sabrina wouldn’t see me laughing. Luci did the same.
Donovan leaned over, his face close to Sabrina’s. “But if I’m a genie, where’s my bottle?”
That gave Sabrina pause. We could see her trying to figure out the riddle. She was sure Donovan was a genie and, not ready to let it go, she walked around him. We heard Maggie’s voice coming from the front of the house.
“Sabrina, did you let our guests in?” Maggie asked as she appeared on the path. “Hi, guys,” she said, waving to us. Sabrina turned on her heel and ran to her aunt.
“I’m the gatekeeper,” Sabrina said, her face proudly turned up to her aunt. Sabrina pointed at Donovan. “He’s a genie, but he won’t admit it. He’s hiding his bottle.” Sabrina looked back at Donovan, winking at him as if they shared a secret, then disappeared into the house.
Maggie watched her niece run inside. “I hope Sabrina didn’t say anything to offend you.”
Donovan answered, “Quite the opposite, she’s very charming.” I’d never thought to ask Donovan if he had any children, but he was clearly comfortable with them.
Maggie led us into the house, taking us straight to her father’s study. “My father told me he’d like to see you as soon as you arrive.”
My nerves were so shot from all the action of the last week my guts tightened up. I figured her father’s needing to see me was a bad sign. Maggie led us down the hallway, past the paneled walls to the library. In single file, we entered the cavernous library. Once again, I was hit by the effect of the floor-to-ceiling shelves of books covering every wall. My love of books momentarily made me forget my underlying fear of Tony Vespucci and what he might have in mind for me. Maggie stepped to one side, presenting my friends and me. Across the room, her father sat at his large oak desk, staring at some documents before him, reading glasses perched on his nose. Off to my left, close to the desk, Joey was relaxing in a comfortable armchair. Marco sat in a chair opposite Joey.
“Papa, Jon’s here.”
Vespucci looked up from his work, taking his glasses off, the shade of a smile crossing his face. “Jon, I hear you’ve been getting yourself into some trouble.”
I could feel Donovan and Luci tensing up behind me. I wasn’t sure where this was going. Joey remained seated in his chair. I wasn’t picking up any energy from him, but I sensed a scowl from Marco’s direction.
Vespucci gave Luci and Donovan a visual once-over, then said, “Gentlemen, welcome to my home. Jon, please, will you introduce us.”
“This is Luci , my artistic director. He handles the visual look of my stories. And this man here,” pointing to Donovan, “is Donovan.”
“Please make yourselves at home. I believe you’ve met my daughter’s fiancé, Marco.” Marco acknowledged us with a stare. A dark look passed over Vespucci’s face as he noted Marco’s not-so-friendly reaction. He turned his head the other way. “This is Joey.” Joey acknowledged us with a slight nod. “Jon, come closer, let me get a look at that face.”
“I’m going to help Mom finish dinner,” Maggie said. “Make your selves comfortable.” Then she exited Vespucci’s office.
I turned in time to see my friends seat themselves and catch Maggie’s admonishing look at Marco, I assumed, for his icy reception toward us. The negative energy in the room was palpable. I was hit with a strong urge to spill everything we’d been told by Mosconi and see what came of it, but one glance in Marco’s direction immediately put a stop to that line of thought. His scowl had deepened. If Mosconi’s allegations about Marco weren’t true and I carelessly accused him in front of Vespucci, a man who would soon be both his boss and his father-in-law, I was sure I would regret my actions.
Vespucci’s voice broke my train of thought. “I hope you gave as good as you got.”
“Surprise attack. I got mugged in an alley.”
“They definitely meant business. Have the police caught them?”
“Uh, no.”
Vespucci studied my face. “Did you call the police?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“I couldn’t give a positive identification. They were wearing ski masks. I’d rather deal with it on my own.”
“You just contradicted yourself, Jon.”
I was feeling flushed. Vespucci’s questions were beginning to feel like an interrogation. I didn’t respond.
Vespucci leaned forward in his chair. “If you’d rather deal with it on your own, then you must have a good idea who did this to you. And why.”
With the slightest hesitation, I nodded. “I have a fairly good idea who it was. And I do know why. And, yes, I’d rather deal with it in my own way.”
Vespucci studied me a moment, considering my answer, then nodded his head slightly. “I respect that. One last question and then we can move on. Will this situation have any impact on the job you’re doing for us?”
“Only if they kill me.” I was trying to make a joke, but it fell flat. I looked around the room, all stone-faced looks staring back at me, including those of my companions. I turned back to Vespucci. “That was a joke, Tony. They’re not going to kill me, so, no, you don’t have to worry about anything.”
Figuring Vespucci had seen what he wanted to see on my face, I took a step back from his desk, sitting down in the nearest chair.
Vespucci glanced over my shoulder at my friends. “So, Luci, you handle the visual aspect of Jon’s novellas. I saw the Jefferson’s sixtieth anniversary book. It was beautiful. You do nice work.”
“Thank you,” Luci responded.
Vespucci turned to Donovan. Donovan returned the look evenly, without challenge or fear. Even though he was a mercenary, I felt Donovan would step beyond the role of paid protector to make sure he kept me out of danger’s grasp. “Donovan, right?” Donovan nodded his head. “You are here in what capacity?”
Donovan looked to me before answering. I gave him the slightest of shrugs, indicating he could answer as he wished. “I’m here to make sure Jon doesn’t get mugged again.”
Maggie popped her head in the doorway. “Time for dinner.”
Vespucci said, “We’re on our way. Gentlemen, after you.”
&nb
sp; Everyone stood and moved toward the doorway, Luci first and Donovan a step behind. I brought up the rear when Vespucci’s voice stopped me. “Jon, do you mind staying behind? I’d like to speak with you.”
Luci and Donovan turned back, looking to me for direction. Joey hadn’t moved from his seat. Donovan began to retrace his steps. Marco also turned around, not ready to leave the room if there was more to be discussed.
I returned to my seat, Donovan close on my heels. Marco stood in the center of the room halfway to the door, Luci just behind him.
Vespucci spoke again, his words meant for all of us but his look directed at his future son-in-law. “Was I unclear? I’d like to speak to Jon. Alone.”
Marco didn’t look happy about being reprimanded in front of us. “Of course, Tony.” Reluctantly, he moved toward the door.
Staring at Joey, Donovan said, “I don’t leave Jon’s side unless he tells me to.”
“Jon, your friends take their jobs very seriously.” Vespucci motioned to Joey to leave. With a relaxed manner, Joey headed for the doorway. I nodded to Donovan, giving him the permission he was looking for. Moments later, Vespucci and I sat alone.
“Jon, I’ve been looking forward to your trip since you last left.”
“Me too, Tony.”
“But this is my home. Please explain to me why you show up at my house with two bodyguards in tow.”
For a split second, I considered telling him the truth. I weighed the pros and cons, realizing as I sat there that no matter what, Vespucci was a client. Telling him about the Nickels would not reflect positively on me, either as a professional or as a writer. I opted for partial truth.
“Luci always joins me on my final trip. That’s standard protocol for us. Donovan, well, I hired him in Los Angeles to watch my back. I felt it was necessary that he travel with me.” I stopped, not sure what else to add. Vespucci sat silent, staring at me, waiting. “Let’s just say that over the last several months, I’ve developed a couple of negative relationships with some people who feel it is their job to remind me on a regular basis that I am not their favorite person.”
Vespucci didn’t say a word. I couldn’t read him at all. I decided to throw a little caution to the wind and see how Vespucci reacted.
“In fact, I’m glad I brought him with me, because he’s already saved me once. A guy tried to break into our hotel room today. We’re not sure what he was doing there, but he was looking for me. Donovan neutralized the guy.”
For the first time, I saw a slight reaction cross Vespucci’s face. Surprise, if I wasn’t mistaken. “What was he doing there?”
“We don’t know. He had some type of listening device on him.”
Vespucci became very still. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. Vespucci stood up, crossing around to the front of his desk, sitting down on the edge of it, quietly studying me. “Jon, do you know what I do? For a living?”
Was that a trick question? I couldn’t hold Vespucci’s stare any longer, so I looked away a moment to gather my thoughts. I turned back to him, nodding my head once in the affirmative.
“I figured as much. However, I want to remind you that I have brought you into my family in an intimate manner, and as far as I’m concerned that means anything and everything you discover stays within the family. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I should have been more upfront when I hired you, but I needed to get to know you first. My daughter is getting married very soon, and I want to be able to give her this gift. Moving forward, if you come across any information you feel I should be aware of, I expect you to tell me immediately. Got it?”
Information? Like your future son-in-law got a teenage girl pregnant in Italy and murdered her father? You mean like that? I nodded in assent, not ready to divulge anything I couldn’t verify because I was sure that the information Jim Mosconi passed on to me, if it was true, could get me killed.
“This guy who came your way today, what did you do with him?”
“We let him go.”
“You didn’t call the police?”
“I’m not a big fan of the police.”
“Have you told anyone about this?”
“No.”
“What about your friends?”
“They both understand discretion. I’m sure they haven’t said anything to anyone.”
“Good.” Vespucci looked off into the distance. “Have you been approached by anyone asking you questions about your relationship with my family and me?”
I stared at Vespucci as Williams’ face floated in the air between us, the words of his warning to be wary of Tony Vespucci running through my mind. But he had paid me a visit as a favor for his cousin. His warning about Tony Vespucci had only come as a friendly aside, so I had no reason to mention it to Vespucci.
“No. Why?” I answered. I did my best to look innocent, not moving or breaking Vespucci’s stare.
“Jon, I’d like you to keep quiet about this intruder. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I’m going to look into this.”
“Okay.”
He returned to his seat. “How’s Marco responding to your interviews?”
I hesitated. “He’s been fine. I’ve been able to get enough information from him to make the story work.”
“He didn’t much like the idea when I sprung it on Maggie and him. He and I don’t always see eye to eye. How’s their story coming?”
“I’m almost done. I should have enough by the end of the trip to finish everything up.” I considered asking Vespucci about what had happened between Marco and Maggie and him when she was sixteen. I wanted to find out if that was the reason Marco went to Italy, but I wasn’t sure how he would take the question. Maggie’s voice saved me from getting myself into deeper trouble. “Everyone is waiting. The food is going to get cold.”
We stood and followed Maggie to the dining room. Marco was seated near the head of the table, across from where Maggie indicated I should sit. Michael and his wife Caroline sat to Marco’s left, their children Mikey and Sabrina beside them. Donovan was seated closest to Sabrina. He was entertaining her and her older brother with sleight-of-hand magic tricks. I watched him make a quarter disappear from his hands, only to reappear as a fifty-cent piece from behind Sabrina’s left ear. She squealed with delight. Even Mikey Jr. seemed fascinated. My estimation of Donovan, already high, grew at that moment. Maggie’s Grandma Jean sat at the end of the table. Luci, Barbara, Maggie, and I sat in a line on the other side. Vespucci took his seat at the head of the table to my right. With Maggie to my left, Marco seated directly across from me, and Vespucci on the other side, I felt surrounded.
The table was covered with two kinds of pasta, one with a red arrabbiata sauce, the other with a green pesto sauce, a huge bowl of antipasto, and several types of grilled vegetables. Two large meat dishes had been placed near Vespucci at the head of the table. As he sat down, he eyed the meat dishes with a smile and a wink at his wife.
“Gentlemen, my wife pulled out all the stops. Before you, we have Bracioline Ripiene alla Siciliana and La Cotoletta alla Milanese,” Vespucci announced.
I asked, “What’s the English version?”
Barbara responded, “The Bracioline are stuffed veal cutlets, my mother’s recipe, and the Cotoletta are breaded veal cutlets.”
“Sounds delicious!”
Vespucci said grace. Then the table erupted with chatter and food passed around. Caroline was the first to ask what Luci and Donovan did for a living. When I finished explaining, Caroline responded, “Maggie showed me your website, Luci, and the books displayed there look absolutely gorgeous.”
Luci smiled. “Thank you.”
“What else do you do?”
“I paint, sculpt. Some of it I sell, some not.”
As the table talk wavered for a moment, Marco picked u
p the cue, looking down the table at Donovan. “What’s your part in all this?” There was an underlying challenge in Marco’s voice.
Donovan glanced up to see all eyes on him. In a serious tone he responded, “I’m here to protect Jon from the bridesmaids. They can be a little rough when they all get together. ”
The table erupted in laughter. Marco didn’t join in, passing me a dark look while everyone else was focused on Donovan.
Placing her hand on my shoulder, Maggie added, “I have some very attractive bridesmaids, and a few of them are very single.”
“I went down that path once. I don’t think I’ll do it again,” I responded, as lightly as I could.
Caroline asked, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“We broke up. She was a bridesmaid. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Maggie leaned over to me with an affectionate tone. “Don’t worry, Jon Fixx. I’m sure there’s somebody much better out there for you.”
I gave Maggie an appreciative nod, while praying that someone would change the subject immediately.
“Why do you always call him Jon Fixx?” Marco asked, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.
Maggie gave her fiancé a cross look. “I like it. I think it has a nice ring to it.”
Caroline added, “Me too.”
Sensing the tension between her daughter and Marco, Barbara moved the discussion to another topic, asking the three of us how we liked living in Los Angeles. I was glad to have the conversation moved away from me. The rest of the meal was uneventful, the discussion shifting from one topic to another, always in the end coming back to the fact that the wedding was little more than a month away, and there was still a lot to do.
Vespucci said almost nothing the entire dinner, concentrating on the food before him. To me, he seemed distracted. Dinner slowly came to an end as the women cleared the plates and took them to the kitchen. Only the men were left at the table. Vespucci cut the silence.
“What’s your next order of business?” he asked me.
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