Chapter 7: What Paolo Swore

On Monday night I was still in Elio's trailer at one in the morning, with a box of his father's old receipts open on my knees.

I told him I could read a ledger better than he could, which was true, and which was the only reason I had agreed to come.

The checks from Ardito Produce were in the third box.

Two of them, each made out to Caprio & Sons for the same amount, each stamped VOID in a thick blue ink and mailed back with a note.

"Caprio & Sons didn't cash them," I said.

"He never cashed a thing from that family." Elio leaned on the doorframe with a cup of the terrible coffee. "He said it would be like signing."

The yard gate rattled.

Elio put the cup down.

Across the lot, under the one lamp, a man was holding the chain-link with both hands and shaking it.

"Elio!" he called. "Caprio! I know you're in there!"

It was Paolo.

He was in the same leather jacket he had worn to the hospital, with his shirt untucked and his beard wet.

He had been crying, and he was very drunk.

Elio went to the door, and I got up behind him.

"Stay here," he said.

"No."

"Livia."

"I'm not alone with him. You're here. I'm only listening."

He gave me a look, and then he gave in.

We crossed the gravel together.

The gate was still locked between us and Paolo, and he lifted his face and saw me, and his whole body folded.

"Livia," he said. "Oh God. You're here."

"Why are you here, Paolo?"

"I wanted to see him. I wanted to ask if he's going to do it."

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