Daylight (Atlee Pine, #3)(13)

“You make the five years three, in my own cell, and I get private workout privileges and no probation. I’m clean and free when I walk out of here, no checking in with nobody. No peeing in a cup for the next five years. Call it a family discount.”

Pine looked at Puller, who nodded curtly.

Vincenzo hunched forward and dropped his voice. “Okay, look, Tony is not complicated. He’s a one-trick pony with not an original thought in his head. He does his little pill operation and he sells his shit and collects his share and he drinks his beer and bangs his women. But the situation he’s in now is . . . complicated. He’s way in over his head.”

“We’re listening.”

“I think he’s got himself involved with some people he shouldn’t be. And at some point they’re going to figure out he’s a liability and not an asset.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Pine.

“He came by to see me a while back. He was worried. Stuff he mentioned, didn’t add up to me. I told him to watch his back and look for an exit before it was too late.”

The man, Pine thought, looked deadly serious about that.

Puller said, “Okay. What exactly did he tell you?”

At that moment the door opened, and three guards and two suits entered the room.

“Interview is over,” said one of the suits.

Puller barked, “It was fully authorized, and we’re not done yet.”

“You’re done now,” said the other suit.

The guards grabbed a startled Vincenzo and started to pull him from the room.

“Hey, hey!” The inmate roared as he struggled futilely against them. He looked bug-eyed at Puller and screamed, “You screwed me over! You son of a—”

And then the door slammed shut and Teddy Vincenzo was gone.





CHAPTER





8





THAT WAS IT?” said Carol Blum when Pine returned to the hotel and reported what had happened at the prison.

“John made inquiries and ran into a stone wall. He’ll keep at it, but I don’t know what the result will be.”

“But I don’t understand. Why would anyone care that you were talking to Teddy Vincenzo?”

“Maybe the people his son was involved with do. Teddy seemed to think his son was way out of his league.”

“And these people can influence the goings-on at a prison? I mean, how would they have even known you were there?”

Pine looked at her. “Apparently they have connections, at a pretty high level.”

“Well, that’s a scary thought.”

“And it also means we don’t have a way to get a lead on Ito or Tony. So we’re back at square one.”

Pine slumped down in a chair and looked out the window at the backs of buildings perched on the rear of the hotel property.

One tiny step forward, four jumps back.

“Did Teddy tell you anything that was helpful before the interview was stopped?”

“He did confirm that his father was pissed about what happened to Bruno.”

“Did Teddy know his father was even in Georgia back at that time?”

“He would have been an adult by then, so he might not have been living at home. He started getting in trouble with the law even before then. But even so, I would imagine he would know if his father was missing, particularly for an extended period. But in any case, he said he didn’t remember, and would have to think about it. Now I guess we won’t get the opportunity to ask him again.”

“Not unless Puller can work some magic.”

“He didn’t sound hopeful from the last email he sent.” She grew silent and then said, “Vinnie’s Creamery.”

“What?”

“Ito had an ice cream shop in Trenton named that. He said it was only a half mile from their house. I wonder if it’s still there?”

“If it is, wouldn’t Teddy have mentioned it?”

“I didn’t ask him. And they don’t deliver ice cream where Teddy is.”

As it turned out, Vinnie’s Creamery was no longer there. The entire area had been razed and an apartment building and other businesses had been put up in place of the old shops that had lined both sides of the street. Pine and Blum asked around and found Darren Castor, a middle-aged man who had worked at Vinnie’s and was now head of maintenance at the apartment building.

Castor was about to take his coffee break, and Pine bought him a cup at a shop around the corner from the apartment building. Castor was in his fifties, had a string bean frame, a thick crown of gray hair, and weathered features. He sipped his coffee as he reminisced.

He grinned. “Ito Vincenzo. Haven’t heard that name in a long time.”

“You liked working with him?”

“Oh, yeah. It was fun. Happy customers. Who doesn’t like ice cream? In my job now all I get are complaints.”

“I guess so.”

“We sold gelato, too, of course. I mean, he was Italian, after all. And desserts and bakery goods. Ito made them himself. He was really good. The business did well.”

“Yeah, I understand he was a good cook.” Pine took out a picture of Ito that she had gotten while in Georgia. “And just to confirm we’re talking about the same person.”