said graciously.
“The cherrystones and the swordfish for Mr. Savarese, right?” the maître d’hôtel asked. “And for you, sir?”
“What are you eating, Ricco?” Mr. Rosselli asked.
“Lamb chops.”
“Same for me,” Mr. Rosselli said. “Sometimes swordfish don’t agree with me.”
“How would you like them cooked, sir?”
“Pink in the middle.”
The clams, on a bed of ice, were served. While they were eating them, Mr. Savarese inquired as to the health of Mr. Baltazari’s wife and children, and Mr. Baltazari asked Mr. Savarese to pass on his best respects to Mr. Savarese’s wife and mother.
The clams were cleared away, and the entree served.
Mr. Baltazari made a gesture, and a folding screen was put in place, screening the table from the view of anyone in the front part of the restaurant.
“Open another bottle of the Fiore e Fiore,” Mr. Baltazari ordered, “and then leave us alone.”
Mr. Savarese delicately placed a piece of the swordfish into his mouth, chewed, and nodded.
“This is very nice, Ricco,” he said.
“I’m glad you’re pleased, Mr. S.”
“It has to be fresh,” Mr. Savarese said. “Otherwise, when it’s been on ice too long, it gets mushy.”
“That was swimming in the Gulf of Mexico two days ago, Mr. S.”
“Tell me why you told Joe Fierello to make the police officer a good deal,” Mr. Savarese said as he placed another piece of swordfish into his mouth. “Tell me about the police officer, is what I want.”
“I was going to call you this morning, but then Carlo called and said you was coming, and I figured it could wait until I could tell you in person.”
Mr. Savarese nodded, and then gestured with his fork for Mr. Baltazari to continue.
“I try to keep my eyes open,” Mr. Baltazari said. “So when I saw this cop flashing a wad in the Warwick . . .”
“How did you know he was a police officer?” Mr. Savarese interrupted.
“I can tell a cop, Mr. S.,” Mr. Baltazari said, a bit smugly. “So I checked him out.”
“How?”
“I happened to be with a lady,” Mr. Baltazari said, just a little uneasily. “I had her do it for me.”
“Can this lady be trusted?”
“She’s a divorced lady, Mr. S. With a kid. She has a hard time making out on what they pay her at the phone company, so I help her out from time to time.”
Mr. Savarese nodded, and Mr. Baltazari went on.
“She struck up a conversation with this guy, like I told her, and come back and told me he’s a corporal, working at the airport, and that he just come home from Vegas, where he won a lot of money ..."
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly, but he was talking about buying a Caddy, so I figure fifteen, twenty big ones, maybe a little more.”
Mr. Savarese nodded his understanding again.
“So I figured this was one of those times when you have to do something right away, or forget it,” Mr. Baltazari went on. “So I sent the lady back to the cop and told her to tell him she has an uncle who has a car lot who would give him a good deal.”
“Is this police officer married?” Mr. Savarese asked.
“I don’t know, Mr. S. He told Antoinette he’s a bachelor.”
“It would be better, if he was married,” Mr. Savarese said.
“I’ll find out for sure and let you know, Mr. S. Anyway, I figured if this wasn’t such a hot idea, no harm. So I called Joe, and told him.....”
“What you should have done, Ricco,” Mr. Savarese said, “was call me and let me talk to Joe.”
“I wasn’t sure if you would have time to talk with me today, Mr. S.”
“Joe called me,” Mr. Savarese said, “and asked exactly what was going on. I didn’t know, and that was very embarrassing. So I told him I would talk to you and get back to him.”
“If I stepped out of line, Mr. S., I’m really sorry. But like I said, I figured no harm . . .”
Mr. Savarese interrupted Mr. Baltazari by holding up the hand with the fork in it.
“Gian-Carlo,” he said. “Get on the phone to Joe. Tell him there was a slight misunderstanding. Tell him I have absolute faith in Ricco’s judgment.”
Mr. Rosselli laid down his knife and fork and pushed himself away from the table.
“There’s a pay station in the candy store on the corner,” Mr. Savarese said.
“Right, Mr. S.,” Mr. Rosselli said.
When he had gone, Mr. Savarese laid his hand on that of Mr. Baltazari.
“Ricco,” he said. “This may be more important than you know. This police officer