I make my way out of his office; glad the place is empty. I don’t need anyone recognizing me and asking questions. I wait to call Dante once I’m on the busy sidewalk.
“Dante, it was Digitalis, and we obviously didn’t kill him. He had enough in his system for murder.”
“Damn. Who else wanted him gone? I wonder if he was into some ill-gotten gains with his own people. I’ll have to think on it. Ask around discreetly and keep an eye on his daughter. I think her name is Prende. She might be a problem. We don’t know much about her or if she’s affiliated with their mafia.”
“Allora,”I sidestep pedestrians walking towards me, “I’ll do that. Where does she work?”
“A flower shop not far from the train station.”
“Perfecto.”
“Ciao.”
“Ciao.”
I cross the street and walk a few blocks, stepping into the nearest café and orderingun doppio espresso. The man behind the counter nods and two minutes later there is a piping hot double espresso on the counter.
I type into my cell phone and sure enough there is a floral shop called PrendeFiorista.Va bene. I can use Juliet’s wedding as a reason to visit and at the same time keep tabs on the owner.
I find the shop and check out the arrangements in the refrigerator, the ones men buy for last minute surprises or to beg forgiveness. I’ve worn out both of those myself. I say I work nights but we’re never really off the clock.
Based on the shop’s premium location, I suspect her shop gets lots of foot traffic. I wonder if there is money in flowers, as this location has to be expensive.
A nice young woman greets me as I enter.
“Ciao,” I continue in Italian, “is there someone who might be able to help me with flowers for a huge wedding?”
“Certainly, I’ll need the name and the date,” and the cute woman with a hint of a British accent pulls out a binder with pictures of arrangements and an order form to fill out. I hope Prende shows up for work today because the name tag on her apron says Mila.
“The wedding is in January. Can you do it on short notice?”
It occurs to me that Prende might be booked, and this mission might be pointless.
“I’ll see what I can do. Would you like to have a seat? This might take a while.” She motions to a small table and chairs in a corner of the shop.
“Sure.”
“When did you get engaged?” she asks as we sit.
“Oh, it’s not me. I’m helping my brother and the wedding is coming up quickly. The bride is busy with her career, so I volunteered for flower detail. If I can get you to take care of it, there is less of a chance that I’ll fuck it up.” I clap my hand over my mouth. “Scusi. I mean, mess it up.”
Damn, I’m screwing this up already.
She lets out a chuckle, “Ah, you just described this week. It’s been crazy, with the holidays coming up and all.”
“Sure, sure, I understand.” I glance around the shop, looking for any indication that Prende is here. “And what is the name and location?” she asks even though she’s looking at her paperwork.
“My brother is Dante Micheli and the hotel is the San Ferdinando Hotel, the 25thof January. I’m Marchello.”
“Nice to see you Marchello.” She looks at her paperwork, “Yes. We are on their approved list of vendors, so it should not be a problem.”
She lifts her phone and scrolls through her dates.
“Is it possible for you to do them? I hear Prende is the best.”
“Oh, yes, she is but someone will need you to pick out the colors. I’ll go over it with the owner. She likes to put her personal touch on the arrangements, especially ones as important as this.”
“Oh.” I try to sound surprised enough to be sincere and not enough to be nosy. I don’t want to pick out flowers. Yuck. That’s got girly shit written all over it. No man worth his salt would give a fuck about the meaning behind the flowers.