Regrets of the Don: His Beloved Walked Away novel · Chapter 19 of 32

Chapter 19: Not for Sale

"Anything," I said.

"Anything within reason."

"Then it isn't anything."

There was a pause on the line. I heard ice in a glass.

"Miss Bruno, I've been selling cars on Coney Island Avenue for thirty-five years. Everybody has a number."

"Then come and find out mine," I said. "No. I'll come to you. Monday at ten. Have your salesmen there."

"Why my salesmen?"

"Because I want witnesses," I said, and hung up.

Connie looked at me from the other end of the couch.

"You're going to his dealership?"

"You're going to the doctor," I said. "First thing tomorrow. With what's in your bra."

On Sunday morning Connie handed the sandwich bag to the family doctor at his kitchen table.

He held it up to the light.

"Blood on a cotton swab," he said. "Good girl. Better than spit."

He put it in an envelope with Cesare's cheek swab and the number of Valentina's draw.

"Two weeks," he said. "The lab sends it sealed, to whoever ordered it."

"Who ordered it?" I asked.

"His mother." He smiled for the first time. "She told me nobody opens it but her."

On Monday at ten I drove my van to Palumbo Motors.

It was a glass box on Coney Island Avenue, with flags on the roof and a banner that said NO CREDIT? NO PROBLEM.

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