Chapter 6: Salerno's Table

Victor Salerno's restaurant had a private room at the back with one long table and heavy leather chairs.

Alessio walked in first, with Rocco half a step behind him and me on his arm.

I wore the only dress I had left, the dark green one from the plastic bag.

Concetta had pinned my hair up herself and told me I looked like a woman worth killing for.

"Alessio," Salerno said, rising with both hands out. "At last. Thank you for coming."

He was a heavy, silver-haired man in a beautiful suit, and he smiled warmly at everyone.

"Victor," Alessio said.

They shook hands. Neither man let go first.

"And this is the famous Dr. Finley."

"My physician," Alessio said, before I could speak.

"Of course. A pleasure." Salerno's eyes moved to the far end of the table. "I think you two have met."

Gregory sat there in his best gray suit, with a glass of water in front of him.

I kept my face blank and my hands in my lap.

"Len," Gregory said, gently. "I've been so worried."

"Dr. Schultz," I said.

"Please. After everything."

"I don't know what you mean."

Alessio's hand settled at the small of my back and stayed.

We sat. The waiters brought bread, then the first wine.

Gregory waited until Salerno had finished a long story about a boat.

Then he said, to the whole table, "I'm sorry to raise this, but I can't keep quiet. Lenora is not well."

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