at all hours of the day and night, and the occasional call in the middle of a high society party was to be expected. In the circles where he and the il Sacchis moved, though, one of those urgent calls could be disastrous, so he kept his guard up.
What was definitely unusual was when, moments later, a hotel employee approached Inspector Coolidge and whispered something in the cop’s ear. Gone was Coolidge’s easy smile after his playful encounter with Rosie, and he got up and walked out as quickly and with as much determination as Agosto il Sacchi had.
Now Carmine was definitely curious. Urgent calls for a boss and a high-ranking police official? Very odd.
And then, not five minutes later, a man in a white tuxedo approached Carmine’s table. Sal bristled, but a nod from Carmine mostly brought the big guy’s hackles back down, though Carmine remained uneasy himself after Agosto il Sacchi’s and Inspector Coolidge’s abrupt departures moments ago.
The approaching man shot Sal a wary look, then came a little closer. “Mr. Battaglia, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt you this evening, but you have an urgent call.”
Carmine tensed. “A call? From whom?”
The man shifted nervously, eyes darting around the table. “Sir, if you could please come with me…”
Carmine’s boys turned to him, expressions asking what they needed to do. He didn’t have an answer. Not until he understood the situation.
He threw back the last of his drink, then gestured for Sal to get up so he could slide out of the booth. “Boys.” He buttoned his jacket. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“You don’t want anyone to come with you, boss?” Sal asked, still standing.
“I’ll be fine.” Carmine smiled and squeezed his bodyguard’s arm. “Stay here and enjoy the party.”
The men were all dubious, but they nodded in response, and someone grunted “sure thing, boss.”
Then Carmine followed the man in the white tux out of the ballroom.
There was some commotion in the hotel lobby. Inspector Coolidge was talking in hushed tones with a few police officers who clearly weren’t here for the party. As someone walked into an office, Carmine caught a glimpse of Agosto il Sacchi talking to someone, and though he was speaking quietly, he did not look pleased.
Carmine’s heart quickened. What in the world was happening?
Coolidge saw him, and he excused himself from his conversation. “Mr. Battaglia.” He extended his hand. Tone and expression flat, all his good humor gone, he said, “Sorry to pull you from the party, but I—”
“If there’s a problem that can’t wait, then it can’t wait.” Carmine shook his hand. “What is the problem?”
Coolidge glanced through the office door at il Sacchi, who had apparently taken notice of Carmine. He was calmly listening to something the other man was saying, but the look he gave Carmine was murderous and cold.
Carmine faced the inspector again. Coolidge made a placating gesture. “Listen, there’s been—”
“Carmine!” Giulia’s voice spun him around, and Carmine’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of his sister, who had clearly been crying.
“Giulia!” He threw his arms around her tiny frame and hugged her tightly to his chest, relieved she was all right even though he’d had no reason to think she wasn’t. In fact, up until just now, he’d had no reason to think she was here at all. He let her go and stepped back, looking her up and down. “What’s wrong? And what are you doing here?” At this party… at this hotel… and in this room full of cops and gangsters? He glanced at Coolidge, whose lips pulled tight. Then back to his sister. “What’s going on?”
She wiped her eyes shakily, smearing some kohl into muddy streaks. “I came with friends.” She folded her arms and avoided his eyes. “And I stepped out to talk with Ricky, and we—”
“Ricky? Who’s Ricky?”
She bit her lip and still steadfastly refused to look at him.
Carmine’s stomach somersaulted. “Giulia? What’s going on?”
“Mr. Battaglia,” Coolidge said calmly. “Your sister was the last person seen with Enrico il Sacchi before—”
“Enrico il Sacchi?” Carmine’s lips parted. “What were you doing with him?”
Arms folded, she still refused to look at him. “His boys have been causing trouble at my—” She glanced through her lashes at Inspector Coolidge. “At my restaurant.”
The inspector huffed with obvious annoyance. “Your sister has already been questioned, Mr. Battaglia, and there is no reason to believe she could have overpowered il Sacchi, let alone hit him with a large statue like that. Especially not hard enough to kill him.”
Normally, that kind