“Thank you, Mr. Ronzini,” Hannibal said, more for Freddy’s benefit than his host’s. “I wasn’t expecting so warm a welcome.”
Ronzini stabbed the salad, raising the sour cheese odor. “Hey, you’ve held up your end of the deal. I wasn’t so sure.”
“I never doubted you,” Hannibal replied. “We had an understanding. I had less faith in your son, but there haven’t been any problems.” Ronzini’s son had been running a crack house until Hannibal was hired to chase the bad element out of that building. Hannibal declared the building and the neighbors on its block, to be under his personal protection. Ronzini had been drawn into the conflict and overstepped his son to end it by making an agreement with Hannibal. He would keep his son’s drug business out of Hannibal’s neighborhood, and Hannibal would take no further action against the young drug dealer. The agreement created a relationship between the two men based on honor and mutual respect. And after fighting for the building Hannibal decided to make it both his home and his place of business.
“And what brings you to see me now?” Ronzini asked between bites of his antipasto. “I’m thinking this isn’t a social call.”
Hannibal bit back his pride and forced a less arrogant expression onto his face. “Actually, I’m here to ask for a favor,” Hannibal said.
“Of course you are.”
“I have no idea how I might repay you for this favor.”
“We will not speak of such things,” Ronzini said. “I know what you will and will not do. At some time I may need a favor and you will do the right thing.” Then, to the waiter, “Please bring my friend here a cup of espresso, no lemon I think.” Then his eyes returned to Hannibal. They were the eyes of a fox, incisive, dissecting Hannibal as he spoke.
“I’m looking for a man,” Hannibal said, choosing his words with care. “This man has beaten and abused women. He also stole something important from one of these women. I need to get it back. I may also want this man to pay for his treatment of these women. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find out anything about this man through the normal avenues.”
“And you think I should know something of this man?”
“This man has a criminal history and I believe he may have connections, important connections you might know about.” Hannibal said. Two nearby diners’ eyes flicked toward him, and Hannibal knew they were Ronzini’s men. “The more I know about my quarry, the easier it will be to locate and deal with him. And before I take this man down, I’d like to know what kind of enemies I might be making. This man’s name is Rod Mantooth.”
Ronzini continued through his antipasto. No hint of recognition showed on his face. Just before he finished his food, the waiter reappeared with espresso for Hannibal and pasta for Ronzini. Freddy, at the next table, didn’t seem to eat. Hannibal’s face showed his surprise at Ronzini’s food.
“You should have ordered.” Ronzini said.
“Not hungry. Just never seen ravioli in a cream sauce like that.”
“When it’s round we call it cappellacci,” Ronzini said, spreading a clean napkin across his lap to protect what had to be a two thousand dollar wool suit. “These are filled with spinach and ricotta. A wonderful flavor. And I know this man, Mantooth. At least, I know of him. He’s from the old neighborhood, Bensonhurst.”
“Really? I had the impression he was a low life,” Hannibal sipped his espresso. It was very hot, and maybe the strongest he had tasted. He smiled and took another sip before putting his cup down.
“Yeah, ten years ago he was busting into banks. Five or six years ago he got busted, but I think he’s on the streets again.”
“Can you tell me who he’s working for, or with?” Hannibal asked.
Ronzini chewed a pocket of pasta, shaking his head slowly, either at how good the food was or at how silly Hannibal’s question was. “What you really want to know is, who is this guy and what kind of friends does he make. Do you know where this man is?”
“I’ve tracked him to Virginia Beach,” Hannibal said. “I intend to confront him there. Our meeting could get messy.”
Ronzini laughed out loud. “Really? Well, wait twenty-four hours and let me check into Mantooth. It shouldn’t be hard to find out what you want to know.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ronzini.” Hannibal said, swallowing the last of his espresso. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get on this bastard’s trail. I’ll wait until tomorrow and call you.”
“No,” Ronzini said, in a stern voice that made Hannibal stop half way to standing up. “You won’t contact me again. I’ll call you when I have information for you.”
The smell of fine Italian cuisine had accentuated the one lie Hannibal had told Ronzini. His stomach was growling for food. As soon as he reached his car he headed for the nearest Wendy’s drive through. The drive home was a lot more pleasant with a burger on his lap and a container of French fries in his door’s map pocket. By the time he pulled into his parking space lunch was a memory and Hannibal’s mind was focused on packing for a long drive south. His thoughts shifted only when Monte met him on the sidewalk.
“What’s up, Hannibal. Still working a hot case?”
“As a matter of fact, I still am,” Hannibal said, “and I have to take off for Virginia Beach this afternoon.”
“Hey, you gonna be catching up with Huge?” Monte asked, following Hannibal up the stairs.
Hannibal stopped just inside the door, sensing a variety of elements dropping into place. “Actually, Monte, I will be checking in with him. How’d you like to meet him?”
Monte took in a giant breath, and word rushed out of him like water over a cascade. “Are you for real? You think I could meet him, in person, like shake his hand and actually talk to him? Man I’d give anything for a chance like that.”
“Maybe,” Hannibal said, unlocking his apartment door. “What’s it worth to you?”
“Huh?”
“I’m ready to make you a deal.”
Monte backed off as Hannibal entered his place, perhaps sensing that he was about to step into a trap. “What kind of a deal.”
“A book every two weeks.”
“What?” Monte said, his voice rising higher.
“Like I said, you read a book every two weeks for the rest of the summer, you bring me a nicely written report of said book, and I’ll see if your grandmother will let me take you with me to spend some time at Huge’s studio.”
Monte stomped in a small circle in the hall, and Hannibal wondered what kept his pants from falling down. They were already several inches below his waist. “That’s the deal,” Hannibal said. “Take it or leave it. I have to get packed right now. It’s a three and a half hour drive and I’d like to be there before sundown.”
Marquita greeted Hannibal at the door with a strong hug. Although caught by surprise, Hannibal returned the embrace before guiding her to the sofa.
“Hey, little bro,” Sarge said to Monte while pouring four sodas. “Didn’t expect you to be coming along.”
“It was a last minute decision,” Hannibal said. “I filled him in on the bare bones of the case on the way down.”
“Well, Hannibal, I’m damned glad to see you, brother,” Sarge said. “Markie has been a wreck since this morning, but I knew you getting here would make her feel better.”
Sarge had splurged on a comfortable condo within sight of the ocean in the city’s resort area. The great room was set up for entertaining. The kitchenette had everything they could need for meals, the table would seat six, and the living room area held a television, stereo, a comfortable wicker love seat and two chairs. Fresh flowers dotted the whole space and, even at six o’clock, sunlight flooded the room through the sliding glass doors. The balcony beyond them offered a wide view of the Atlantic, but watching the waves was not Hannibal’s priority.