The Mafia Lost His Queen novel · Chapter 15 of 24

Chapter 15: The Price

I picked up the keys.

They were still warm from his hand.

There was blood on the pavement beside them, a dark smear the size of my palm.

I didn't call Jess. I didn't call the police.

I ran.

I ran three streets under the railway in my slippers, past the café and across Druid Street, and through the glass doors of the hotel.

The night porter looked up from his desk.

"Madam, can I help you?"

"Ninth floor."

"I'll need to call up."

"Call up," I said. "Tell him his wife's coming."

One of Armando's men was in a chair outside the suite with his tie loose.

He stood up when he saw me, and then he didn't know what to do with his hands.

I knew him. He'd carried my groceries in from the car for three years.

"Mrs. Lucchese."

"Open the door."

He opened it.

Armando was at the window in his shirtsleeves with a glass of whisky. He didn't turn around.

"That was fast," he said.

"Where is he?"

"Safe."

"Where is he, Armando?"

He turned then.

"Somewhere quiet. With some friends of mine. Nobody's touched him since the van." He looked at my slippers. "You came across London in those."

"Three streets."

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