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“That’s a pretty good idea,” Bruno said. “Why the fuck did you tell me that?”

“I need you alive,” Jeff said. “This seems like a better way to keep you above ground.”

“The FBI really dump your ass?”

“Really,” Jeff said.

“Just for Cupertine killing your boys?”

“No,” Jeff said. “I might have harassed Cupertine’s wife, telling her I thought her husband was still alive and it was being covered up by the FBI.”

Bruno snickered. “How’s Jennifer doing?”

“Tough,” Jeff said.

“Nice girl, that one,” Bruno said. “Her dad and my dad used to bowl together.”

“Yeah?” Jeff said.

“Yeah, the Frangellos were good people. Jennifer, she fell for Sal hard. Her dad, you know, he hated that she was married to a gangster. He was no idiot. I mean, everyone knew that Sal Cupertine was a killer, right? But I guess he told old man Frangello that he’d never bring that shit home, that they’d live a normal life, and I guess maybe they did. They had that little house in Lincolnwood, right?”

“White picket fence and everything,” Jeff said.

Bruno laughed at something.

“What’s funny?” Matthew said.

“I was just thinking,” Bruno said, but then he paused for a second. “Did I know any of your boys who got killed?”

“Not as FBI agents,” Jeff said. “You ever do any business with a guy calling himself Gino Ruggio?”

“Furniture guy? Always with the nice leather shit?”

“Yes,” Jeff said. “He was one of ours.”

“Huh. Good guy.”

“Two kids,” Jeff said.

Bruno laughed again. “I’m not laughing at your friend getting it,” he said quickly. “I’m just thinking how here I am, ninety minutes away, showing real estate to people, living a pretty good life, right? And all that same shit is still going on. End of the day, I’m forty now, I just want a comfortable place to sit, maybe someone to sit and talk to, periodically go see a flick, whatever. All that shit they’re still doing in Chicago doesn’t make sense to me anymore.”

“Money,” Jeff said. “But not what Cupertine did.”

“Don’t kid yourself, it’s always about money,” Bruno said. “No call to kill a fed. But if you don’t think there was some kind of financial reason behind it, you deserve to be on leave, Agent.”

“Three people,” Matthew said. “Three people got killed.”

“I said I was sorry to hear that,” Bruno said, a little edge to his voice now.

“And a confidential informant,” Matthew said. “Bullet right between the eyes. Brain matter all over the Parker.” Matthew toying with Bruno now, reminding him that he knew what, exactly, Bruno was. Jeff respected that, even if it was a bit misguided.

Jeff watched Bruno, to see if what Matthew told him made him pause to rethink his current status in life. If the Family was now in the business of killing federal agents and snitches, well, Bruno could have a short life expectancy.

“Did you tell Encyclopedia Brown how you saved me from my life of crime?” Bruno asked Jeff.

“I gave him the basics,” Jeff said.

“He tell you I like men?” Bruno asked Matthew.

“He did,” Matthew said.

“How you feel about that?” Bruno was testing now. Each of them trying to find their margin, Jeff just happy to sit back and watch.

“I don’t care,” Matthew said.

“See,” Bruno said, “that’s how all the kids are now days.” He shook his head. “I bet if I were coming up now, my life would be easier. Probably be a capo by now.” He paused for a moment and looked back out the front window of the Hummer. “You hear my dad died?” he asked Jeff.

“No,” Jeff said.

“Yeah, he got Lou Gehrig’s. All his life, you know, he was about being as precise as he could be cutting up steaks and shit. One day, he comes to work, can’t cut straight. Hand’s all shaky. I hear this from my mother, because my dad wouldn’t have shit to do with me. Anyway, you know what that fucker did? He swallowed a bunch of my mother’s Valium, put a bag over his head, and, just like that, good night, world. You believe that?”

“That’s how I’d do it,” Matthew said.

“Really?” Bruno said.

“Absolutely,” Matthew said. “Less pain for everyone.”

Bruno sniffed once, rubbed his face, and then didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Reason I tell you that, man, you just never know how people are going to go, right? Gotta always be getting right with the people you care about. Him dying, that had an effect on me. I’ve been thinking about that a lot since you called me, Agent Hopper, asking about Sal and about that body in the dump.”

Normally when Bruno came in to give information, it was quick. This long conversation had Jeff off-center. He’d never known Paul Bruno to be an overly emotional guy, at least not one prone to introspection. There was something more here.

“What do you know about Sal?” Jeff said.

“Good guy,” he said. “Smart as fuck.”

“If he’s so smart,” Matthew asked, “why did he kill those men?” Good, Jeff thought. Just like that.

“I’ve been trying to wrap my head around that,” Bruno said. “There had to be money involved, like I said, one way or the other. The Family don’t send out Sal Cupertine just to hang out, you know? I mean, you ever get his prints, anywhere?”

“Never,” Jeff said.

“I knew the guy his entire life,” Bruno said, “and from the time he started doing hits until today? I never once saw him in the daylight. I mean, the man was a shadow, but that was his shit, too, you know? He wasn’t dumb. Made him sound like the boogeyman.”

“He took out my guys in broad daylight,” Jeff said. “His DNA was everywhere.”

“Then there’s no way it was a hit,” Bruno said. “No way.”

“No,” Jeff said, and then he told Bruno about how Sal Cupertine had figured out he was dealing with agents, how he got Jeff’s name, how he’d gone back upstairs and killed the whole room.

“That’s why you’re here?” Bruno said. “You’re taking a personal affront to this?”

“I am,” Jeff said.

“Dumb,” Bruno said. “Sal Cupertine will kill you and not even miss a meal afterward. Personal vendettas are stupid, and this is coming from a person who has a lot of personal vendettas.”

“It’s about justice,” Jeff said.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Bruno said. “Anyway, my thinking? Sal must have snapped. Just exploded.”

“Do you recall him ever doing that before?” Matthew asked. It was a phrase hammered into young agents: If possible, find a pattern.

“When we were kids, yeah, sure,” Bruno said. “After his dad got thrown off that building, he had some anger problems. But last ten, fifteen years? Nothing. I mean, I never got why he went into the killing business, except that he was good at it. And Ronnie was his only family. Sal didn’t have shit. Murdered father, mother was a nut job. For a time, rumor was she was fucking the principal at Winston so Sal could get free lunches. I mean, crazy shit like that. That was his life. That’s what he dealt with before he fell in with Ronnie. So I don’t begrudge him a few problems, you know?”

“So why now?” Matthew asked. “He’s methodical. He’s smart. He’s got this nice family now. Living the perfect gangster life. Why just lose it?”

“There any drugs involved?”

“Heroin,” Jeff said. “The initial report was that he sampled a bit of everything.”