Rushed(82)

"First, actually, can you give me a quarter?" he asked. I thought it a strange question, but I found a coin in my purse and handed it over, which he quickly pocketed. "Okay, now you've officially hired me. American legalities—the attorney-client privilege didn't apply until you actually hired me. Anything the Don said is clear under his umbrella, but you were uncovered until just now. As to your question, I'm doing fine. Shall I brief you on how to approach things?"

I smiled at the interesting sharpness of his mind and put my purse back under my arm. "I've dealt with the police before, but please. In general, I was going to give my statement, and if they asked about anything outside what this man looked like, have a sudden bout of not understanding any English."

Dominic chuckled and gave me an admiring look. "Miss Mendosa, you have as good a plan as any Bertoli man I've helped with the police before. Yes, if they stray at all from a description of the man or him running into you, then you clam up, and I'll take over. There's going to be at least one cop whose whole job is to try and get some leverage on the Bertoli family. I know it’s a conflict of interest, but I think it’s in both of our best interests to protect the Don as well as your family."

"Agreed. Now, let's not keep the good public servants waiting," I said, smiling. "After all, we wouldn't want them to get upset with us too quickly, now, would we?"

Inside, I was introduced to a Detective Turner, as well as a Detective Fritz. Fritz seemed to know Dominic and cursed under his breath as Dominic followed me into the questioning room. "For f*ck's sake, Petruzelli, she's not even a Bertoli!"

"She's my client, and has paid me a mutually agreed upon retainer," Dominic said evenly, repressing his smile even as he was taking out a digital recorder. "Now, shall we?"

The questioning lasted only about an hour, with most of it being a videotaped statement as to who I saw. In the twelve hours since I'd told the Don, no one matching that description had popped up on the Bertoli network, but perhaps the police had access to things they didn’t. "You say his left eye was blue, and the right one brown?"

"No, Detective. The other way around," I said for what felt like the third or fourth time. "His left eye was brown, his right eye blue. And the scar started above the left eye, in a sort of arc that curved down almost to his mouth. He had a beard, not too well kept, but short, maybe a few weeks at most."

Detective Fritz nodded and tapped his finger on the table. "And why you were walking into the convention center with Tomasso Bertoli?"

"I don’t think that’s relevant to this interview," I said. "What do you think, Mr. Petruzelli?"

Dominic smiled and shook his head. "Me too. In fact, Detective, I would say unless you're going to name Miss Mendosa a person of interest in this case and read her her rights, this interview is over."

The other detective, Turner, glared at Fritz while I gathered my things. "Miss Mendosa, there might be a need for you to give a video deposition," Detective Turner tried at a last gasp as I was leaving the room. "Would you at least agree to stay in town?"

"For now," I said, "until the man is caught, I hope. I wish you luck with your search, Detective."

Outside, I found Tomasso leaning against a planter, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet cocked in front of him. "So how'd it go?"

"I thought you were saying you wanted to stay away from the police," I remarked with a surprising smile. "Or are you turning over a new leaf?"

"I already did that—found out the new leaf wasn't as good as the old leaf, so I went back," Tomasso replied. "How was Detective Taguchi?"

"It was Fritz today," Dominic replied, holding out his hand. "Good to see you, Tomasso. When I heard you were back in town, I was hoping to come say hello. Sorry it had to happen like this."

Tomasso shook the offered hand while shrugging. "It always happens like this, Dominic. That's why your son gets to go to prep school and you only have one client. You earn every penny though."

Dominic chuckled, then looked at his watch. "Actually, I have more than one client, and I’m due for a meeting with another in about an hour. I'd normally let my secretary handle it—it's nothing but a probate technical issue involving a will—but I figure that you've got no problem with helping Miss Mendosa back home.”

"That's my job," Tomasso replied, waving at Dominic as he walked away. Turning to me, he flashed his cocky grin again. "So you survived the American police. Good to know. Now, where to?”

“Anywhere but back to your father’s house," I said. “I’m going to be stuck there enough as it is."

“I guess we don’t have to go back right away. Tell you what, let's go see the Space Needle."

"Really? Isn't it a little touristy?" I asked, still smiling. There was a certain rakish charm to Tomasso when he wasn't trying to come off as totally cocky.

“Maybe, but I bet you haven't been there yet, and it does give you one hell of a view from up there," he commented with a laugh. "Come on, it's not going to be that bad. And it'll keep you out of the house for a while."

I thought about it, then nodded. "Fine. Go on, American man. Show me around your city."