Hit And Sprint

four

I stare at Roy from across the table. His eyes wouldn't click with mine for more than three seconds, falling back to the text on his phone before that time could be beaten, without failure. "They don't know how he died?" I ask.

A mob boss's adviser was damn important, that much I knew. Sure, Al Capone is better known, but Antonio Lombardo was always the backbone.

"No, they know," Roy assures me. "It's just who did it."

Of course they didn't know who the perpetrator was. Trying to get along with everyone in the business of organized crime was like trying to convert a lion to veganism. It didn't fucking happen.

I raise my eyebrows, gesturing my hands vaguely and continuing, "Well, how'd he die, then?" I wonder how odd my increase in interest seems, and quickly decide that it's a normal level of concern.

Roy looks down and references the text that he's seemed to have read at least a dozen times. "Someone shot him in his office. My dad is trying to figure out now if he can call the police without it screwing him over in the end."

My eyes bore into him as if he had just told me the unfunniest joke to exist. "They can't call the damn cops," I criticize. "Is your dad stupid?"

I knew the answer to that question. Robert Slinger wasn't the most studious person out there (especially without an adviser), but he also wasn't a total moron, or else he wouldn't have the job he did. It was just a matter of subject. And in the subject of murder, I was a professional.

Roy shoots me the exact same look that I had given him. "How else do they get rid of an entire body, Ice?"

I knew what he meant. If they got caught dragging a dead body to a dumpster, they would have a murder charge long before whoever actually did it. But calling the police was a death sentence within itself.

"Does your adviser have any family?" I question. If this was an easy fix, helping Roy would be the right thing to do. Not that I usually cared about morals. Just that Roy needed help.

"Besides the family, no," he answers, referring to the mob group.

I sigh, checking my watch, although I didn't even acknowledge the time when I read it. "Call up your dad and tell him that we can be there in 30," I say, tapping my finger nails on the table and looking down, questioning how well the waitress had wiped it down before we sat.

"What are you gonna do?"

I give him a somewhat reassuring look. He must have been slightly nervous, since whoever this was had significance. If the person who killed the adviser didn't have demands, someone was bound to be next in line for execution. "I'm going to fix your problem. After I get my food, that is."

As if on cue, a petite blonde waitress trots her way up to our table, greeting us and saying her name, although I don't catch it.

Roy has a silent discussion with me, using his eyes. He was clearly wondering whether or not he should excuse himself to make the call.

I nod at him, insinuating that he could leave."Call him while I order. You want your usual?"

"Thanks," is all he says before sliding out of his seat and giving the waitress a preoccupied glance, then practically booking it out of the building.

"Would you mind making our food to-go?" I ask, making sure that the waitress understood that I wouldn't really be taking 'no' as an answer.

She doesn't even have to acknowledge my contempt before responding, "Oh, of course, that's fine!" Her shoulders lower as she leans in, continuing, "So, what are we having today?"