Chapter 13: Once More

The tape started over from the beginning.

"Is this right, Zio?"

My own voice, fifteen years old, asked it again in the black.

I put my hands over my ears and it came through anyway.

"I remember it," I said.

Teo's grip tightened on mine.

"It was a Saturday in his office at the club. He said it was a surprise play for my father's birthday."

"He gave me a cannoli and a tape recorder, and made me say it until I sounded scared."

"I thought I was a good actress."

"You were a kid," Teo said.

"I was his best tool."

The man in the chair was crying through his hood, in short, wet breaths.

Teo let go of my hand.

"Stay on the step."

I heard him cross the floor with one hand out.

He found the table, and the pistol scraped on wood.

He worked something on it, a slide, a click, and breathed out through his teeth.

"Loaded," he said, very low. "Of course it is."

Then he knelt at the chair.

"Listen to me," he said to the man. "I'm going to cut your tape and take off the hood. Don't shout. Do you understand?"

A muffled yes.

A blade snapped open in the dark, and I heard tape tear.

The man dragged in air.

"Please," he said. "He said ten minutes. He said my debt was gone."

"What debt?"

"I sold his club fake invoices for four years. I kept the real ones. I thought they'd be my insurance."

"Who's he?"

"Corrado." The man was shaking so hard I could hear it. "Don't let me go up those stairs."

I came off the step and felt along the wall toward the sound of them.

"The capos are waiting for a gunshot," I said.

"Then they'll hear one," Teo said.

He stood.

"Allegra, this man screams when I tell you. As loud as he can. Can you do that, sir?"

"Yes. God, yes."

The tape said *once more, with feeling*.

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