The Famous Mafioso Hired Me to Hear Him, and the Man in the Cell Is Not Who They Convicted novel · Chapter 11 of 24
Chapter 11: The Club
My father came to the house on Hertel Avenue on Saturday, in his good brown coat, with a thermos of coffee and a paper bag of poppy-seed rolls from the Rochester bakery he had used for thirty years.
I had told the guards he was my father and that I needed him for a family emergency.
That was true, and I had told them nothing else.
He stood in the front hall stamping snow off his boots, a small gray man of sixty-one with a machinist's shoulders and a watch he wound every morning.
He looked at the two state guards at the kitchen counter, at the camera over the stairs, and at me.
He signed with the economy of a man who had never wasted a word.
THIS IS A BAD HOUSE.
I KNOW, I signed.
He gave me his sideways look, the one that said I had not told him half of it.
On the phone I had told him only that I had a hard job and needed him to meet someone.
I had not said the name, because his calls went through a relay service and I would not say that name into a relay.
The rest of this chapter is part of the paid portion of the series. Chapters 1–6 of The Famous Mafioso Hired Me to Hear Him, and the Man in the Cell Is Not Who They Convicted are free to read — start from the beginning, then unlock the rest with coins in the app.
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