Chapter 2 - The Man With the Silver Watch
Dante looked at the drawing for a long time.
The tailor wore round glasses. The vest was brown. The small copper shape had six legs because, in Lily's mind, anything called a bug ought to resemble an insect.
But it was not the device that held Dante's attention.
It was the man's wrist.
Lily had drawn a thick silver rectangle on his left arm.
“What's that?” Dante asked.
“His watch.”
“Why did you draw it?”
“It made a clicking noise.”
Dante glanced toward the library door.
“Did you see him wearing it in the shop?”
Lily nodded.
“His sleeve got stuck when he put the bug in the tie.”
“Was he the tailor?”
She considered.
“The other man called him boss.”
Dante felt the air leave the room.
“Did you hear his name?”
Lily shook her head.
“Did he look like anybody you've seen here?”
The child lowered her eyes to the shoebox.
Instead of answering, she selected another picture.
This one showed a tall man standing beside a black car. He wore a dark hat. On his wrist was the same silver rectangle.
Dante examined the drawing.
“Where did you see him?”
“Outside Mama's work.”
“Today?”
“Before. When it rained.”
Then Lily pointed at his hat.
“He has a feather.”
Victor Romano sometimes wore an old-fashioned black fedora with a small dark feather tucked into the band.
Dante remembered the silver watch his father had given Victor.
He remembered the man's finger tapping the brim twice.
And he remembered something else.
Victor had known the meeting was canceled before Dante told him why.
---
Elena entered the library a few minutes later.
Her face was pale.
“Mr. Moretti, Lily has preschool tomorrow. I need to take her home.”
Dante set down the drawing.
“Of course.”
Elena reached for her daughter.
But Lily frowned.
“Mama, I didn't finish.”
“Another time, sweetheart.”
“No. The man was mean.”
Dante became still.
“To you?”
Lily shook her head.
“To the old man.”
“Which old man?”
“The one making clothes.”
Giuseppe Falcone.
Dante leaned forward.
“What happened?”
Lily hugged the shoebox.
“He pushed him.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Lily, enough.”
The child's voice grew small.
“Then the old man cried.”
Dante looked at Elena.
“Why were you at Falcone's shop?”
She swallowed.
“To collect a repaired coat for one of the housekeepers. They told me I could bring Lily because preschool was closed.”
“And the man with the watch?”
Elena hesitated.
Dante saw fear move across her face.
“I didn't see him.”
“Did you hear an argument?”
“I heard voices. I was paying at the front counter.”
“Did Lily tell you what she'd seen?”
“Not until later.”
Dante looked toward the child.
“Did you tell anyone else?”
Lily nodded.
“Mama. And Mr. Marco.”
The room went quiet.
Marco had said nothing about a child witnessing suspicious behavior at Falcone's shop.
Dante stood.
He felt an old instinct rise—the need to summon Marco and demand an explanation immediately.
Instead, he turned to Elena.
“Take your daughter home.”
She blinked.
“Sir?”
“I'll arrange a driver only if you want one. Your pay will continue. You are not in trouble.”
Her eyes filled.
“Thank you.”
Dante looked at Lily.
“You helped me today.”
She smiled.
“I know.”
He almost laughed.
Then she grew serious.
“Mr. Dante?”
“Yes?”
“Does the bug hurt?”
He looked at the cut tie on the desk.
“Sometimes people use things like that to hurt others.”
She considered this.
“Then I'm glad I cut it.”
Dante nodded.
“So am I.”
---
When Elena and Lily left, Dante summoned his independent attorney, Samuel Price, and requested that the discovered object and related materials be preserved for qualified examination.
He also asked for a review of the home's security arrangements without relying exclusively on the usual chain of command.
The more he examined the morning's events, the less comfortable he became.
Marco had brought Lily to the library.
Marco had known she visited the tailor.
Marco had been standing closest when the child cut the tie.
Yet Marco had not volunteered the earlier information.
Dante didn't want to mistake silence for betrayal.
But he could no longer afford to mistake familiarity for trust.
---
That afternoon, Victor telephoned.
“Thursday is confirmed,” he said. “All five families will attend.”
Dante glanced at the copper device sealed in an evidence container.
“Excellent.”
“Same restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“Same room?”
Dante hesitated.
“Why?”
A pause.
“Security arrangements.”
Dante looked toward the window.
“Those arrangements are being reviewed.”
Victor was silent.
Then he laughed.
“You're becoming cautious in your old age.”
“Perhaps.”
When the call ended, Dante opened Lily's drawing again.
The silver watch.
The dark hat.
The little feather.
For the first time in ten years, Dante wondered whether the man his father trusted most had been teaching him to walk toward his own destruction.
And somewhere in Brooklyn, Victor Romano was making a call of his own.
“The child saw me,” he said.
A second voice answered.
“Then the child is a problem.”
May you like
Victor looked down at his watch.
“No,” he replied. “The mother is.”
