Ch.32First Entanglement – The Traitor and Blues (1)

I end my day with a drink for a reason. Giuseppina had her reason today. Even for Family business, killing your own brother would weigh on you for days.

Still, she hadn’t gone completely mad. She knew her brother had done something to deserve death. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t spend the night drinking. It was somewhere in that ambiguous middle ground.

The phone’s ring woke her up as she slept in her restaurant, drunk until noon.

No one should be calling the restaurant at this hour. Giuseppina cleared her throat before picking up the receiver. It must be organization business.

“Giuseppina, branch manager.”

It was the Godmother. Giuseppina quickly straightened her posture, not expecting the boss to call personally. Though no one could see her through the phone line, manners had to be maintained even without witnesses.

For Giuseppina, hearing the boss’s voice directly was rare. Her branch was closer to muscle that handled annoying tasks for the Godmother, so instructions usually came from subordinates rather than the Godmother herself.

“Yes, Godmother. This is Giuseppina.”

She didn’t ask about the purpose of the call first. She lacked the authority to demand information from the Godmother. What would be said was entirely up to the Godmother.

“First, let me express my condolences for your brother’s death. I hear you handled it personally when you could have delegated it. May I ask why?”

“It wasn’t a branch matter but my brother’s personal problem, Godmother. I thought it better to handle it myself to draw a clear line.”

“Yes, clean and good work. But how did you handle the aftermath?”

Aftermath? She probably assigned it to one of her subordinates. Giuseppina wasn’t in her right mind after killing her own brother, so she couldn’t remember clearly which subordinate she’d tasked.

After trying to recall but failing, she decided to admit she didn’t know. Better to honestly say she didn’t know than lie to the Godmother.

“I left it to my subordinates. I wasn’t… in my right mind. I apologize. I should have handled it more thoroughly.”

“No, I understand. It would be strange to coldly handle things properly after killing your own flesh and blood. But we have a problem. Your subordinates mishandled the situation.”

Did the body resurface? Her throat tightened, and she almost growled, forgetting she was on the phone with the Godmother. The bite marks on Simone’s neck would undoubtedly be identified as hers.

“It resurfaced.”

“Yes, and the police found it too. Don’t worry. There’s still a way to handle this cleanly. You’ll get another call. From a police officer named Jonathan Pace, a friend of mine. Understand?”

“Our friend” meant an organization member, while “my friend” meant a simple collaborator. But not just any collaborator—the Godmother’s collaborator.

Though not brought into the organization because he wasn’t a gnoll, he must be quite useful. Giuseppina swallowed and nodded.

“I understand. Thank you for the introduction, Godmother. I’ll handle it cleanly.”

“When this is over, let’s gather the Family at the main house for a grand dinner.”

Dinner meant family. Success or failure didn’t matter—success would bring honor and glory, and even in failure, respect would remain as long as she kept silent.

Somewhat relieved but not completely, Giuseppina waited for the next call. The job hadn’t even started yet. After the Godmother hung up, Giuseppina steadied her trembling legs and waited for the next call.

The phone rang again. This time it was a voice she didn’t recognize. A voice that sounded angular, human.

“Is this Trattoria Proci? I understand the Godmother introduced me. This is Inspector Jonathan Pace.”

Trattoria Proci was the restaurant’s name. Americans would simply call it a restaurant, but Italians from the homeland would distinguish the Italian word.

“Yes, I heard you’re the Godmother’s friend. What’s happening? I mean, how far has it progressed?”

“Simone’s body washed up on the beach. The headquarters assembled a team of clean officers to investigate—a good opportunity to catch a Mafia branch manager—but fortunately, I managed to join in.”

He seemed worthy of being called the Godmother’s friend. It was easy not to care about corruption, but hiding it was difficult.

“Before filing charges, the captain brought in a journalist he knows to write an article, wanting to sway public opinion to our side first. He plans to distribute it as an extra edition… I’ve arranged things so we have until tomorrow morning. I sent him to a hotel under the pretext of safety, so I know where he is. Do you have someone trustworthy?”

His tone suggested he would handle it himself if she didn’t have anyone reliable. Giuseppina’s lips curled upward. The Godmother’s help was this comfortable and accommodating.

But that meant she couldn’t disappoint the Godmother. Wanting to handle it herself, she considered her organization members. None seemed suitable.

They were all muscle who knew only how to use force, not how to do things covertly. A hotel—she couldn’t just storm in… even thinking about it felt stupid.

She was about to entrust it to this collaborator when he continued, interpreting her silence as encouragement to continue.

“The police photographed you meeting with someone—can you trust that person? There seemed to be a notary with you as well.”

Right! The detective! The fact that photos were taken meant he was also involved, and he was someone who had returned unscathed after searching for Simone in Irish Mafia territory.

“He’s trustworthy. For the Family and for me personally.”

“Since he’s been photographed, he’ll have to help you even if he wants to back out. How will you handle this? The journalist is just a kid with flowers in his head, not hardened, so it shouldn’t be difficult… Actually, I remember there was a lawyer who looked like an ogre hybrid. He seemed quite capable.”

The detective does what he’s told. Giuseppina needed to tell him directly what to do. She might be beast-like, but she wasn’t stupid.

“First priority is preventing the article from being published. Which hotel?”

“Divine State Hotel on Fifth Avenue. Originally planned for a small place in a corner of New York, but the captain ordered a luxury hotel, offering to pay out of pocket. The journalist is writing the article in room 1107, and I’m in 1108. There’s another officer with the journalist, but I can call him away.”

They chose a safer place than expected. She could simply send the detective to steal the article. She would need to move simultaneously.

“Which newspaper?”

“Golden Age Press. It’s a small newspaper, and its location…”

“No, I’ll find it myself. Anyway, if the detective fails, I can visit the president or editor and intimidate them a bit. If we scare them now, they’ll bow their heads next time.”

Fear transforms people. Giuseppina knew that those who believed they lived safely day by day with ink were easy to threaten. And people easily succumb to kindness offered by those they fear.

The promise to protect them whenever they wanted to tell any truth, as long as they didn’t write about us, was always useful.

“Clean. I’ll contact you if anything changes.”

Hearing such words from someone twice as clean as her was a bit absurd to Giuseppina, but she didn’t forget to be courteous to this capable person.

“If things go well, I’ll invite you to dinner with the Godmother. Goodbye.”

Giuseppina gestured to summon one of her organization members. He was a male gnoll, and people felt more comfortable with male gnolls’ vulnerability than female gnolls’ growling.

“Tomaso, find Golden Age Press in the phone book and contact them. Tell them I have a tip and ask if I can visit their office. Get their address and make an appointment.”

“Yes, Branch Manager. I’ll handle it right away.”

Having reliable subordinates was her good fortune. Knowing her charisma could lead people, she gathered them and unhesitatingly bowed to those with greater authority.

That flexibility made her a branch manager, and along with her cunning disposition—unusual for a gnoll not known for intelligence—kept her in this position until now.

Though finding it absurd to hire a detective twice in a week, she called him. She hoped he had no other engagements. She’d have to cancel them.

After a brief automatic connection sound and a couple of rings, the call connected.

“Husband Detective Agency. Who is this?”

“It’s Giuseppina Proci, detective. I assume you know Simone was executed?”

“That’s none of my business. So, do you have another job for me?”

He was the type who maintained strict boundaries. He did the job, received payment, and didn’t concern himself with anything after. A man with all the necessary qualities for a detective.

“No, but something has already become our business. The cops photographed us meeting. And Simone’s body has washed up from the sea.”

The detective’s voice sounded emotionless, but it was obvious without even thinking that it contained irritation.

“And?”

“The cops are planning to start with public opinion. They gave information to some journalist to write an extra edition. Fortunately, a friend of mine intervened and delayed the article until tomorrow morning.”

The detective wasn’t oblivious. He responded as if he already knew what Giuseppina was trying to say.

If someone had intervened, Giuseppina’s friend must be a police officer. It seemed strange that her organization could properly bribe police officers, and even more incomprehensible to the detective that they could bribe such a capable officer who could act on his own.

But he quickly reached a clear conclusion. This wasn’t just about Giuseppina’s branch but involved the entire Italian Mafia. The high-ranking people he had seen before must be helping her.

“Just need to remove the photos and article? Give me the location, and I can break in tonight and handle it.”

The detective roused his mind from its hangover and rose from his office chair. He checked his gun and attached a silencer.

He knew he never photographed properly, but it was better to check to avoid regrets.

His face would never be captured clearly, but personal items that could identify him might have been photographed.

If the police had those photos and asked the journalist to write an article, there might be a couple of officers at the journalist’s home. He might need to bring his tool bag.

If Giuseppina’s friend was competent, he would have sent the journalist to a hotel under the pretext of safety. That would make things easier. Finding a home was work from the start, but hotels don’t move.

“Divine State Hotel on Fifth Avenue, room 1107. Kill him or whatever, just don’t let this get any bigger. Understand?”

Definitely competent. The warning not to let things escalate was unnecessary. The detective knew well that by the time someone called him, things had already grown too large.

No need for the tool bag. Such a hotel would have external fire escape stairs, and it wouldn’t be difficult to climb up by grabbing the ladder. He’d done it before.

If he spent some money, he could rent a room in advance. It would have to be under an alias, but it might seem more natural than showing up late at night and climbing the emergency stairs.

However, getting a room in advance would arouse suspicion. No police officer would believe that a detective happened to stay at the same hotel where a journalist was quietly brought to write an article, and that detective happened to break into the journalist’s room to steal the article and information.

The job would be easier, but Giuseppina’s informant—no, the Italian gnolls’ informant—would be exposed. Rather than risking that, it would be cleaner to take the fire escape, even if it was more physically demanding.

“How many guards?”

If there were many guards, it would be better to grab the items and flee rather than fight. If there were only one or two, it might not be bad to handle them cleanly.

“Two cops and a lawyer. But one cop is on our side, so you can consider there to be no cops. Just one lawyer, apparently an ogre hybrid. Can you handle it?”

The detective possessed the cursed double strength and double vitality. Someone who could defeat an orc in hand-to-hand combat—orcs who build muscle just by breathing—wouldn’t fear a hybrid ogre, not even a purebred.

“I can do it without much difficulty. Let me know exactly when to go in, and I’ll call back.”

Clients never provide proper information. First, there was only one thing the police could do with the corpse of Giuseppina’s executed brother: arrest Giuseppina with her distinctive build.

Then, they would use human police officers rather than conspicuous angel police like Yehoel, so he couldn’t hope for help from Yehoel. Even if he sent him, it would only arouse suspicion without gaining any information.

The detective had one concern: he might become more deeply entangled with the Italian Mafia than expected. Giuseppina was already speaking as if they were bound by fate.

Relationships with the Mafia should be tools, not goals. They were thugs he despised from the beginning. Though the detective despised most things in the world.

After this job, it would be better to clarify his relationship with Giuseppina. They should remain detective and client, not contractor and subcontractor.

Soon, Giuseppina called again. Before the detective could check who was calling, her voice came through.

“Detective, it’s 11 o’clock. They’re leaving for the printing house at midnight, so by then, all the materials and the original article will be gathered in one place. It’s late, so there will be fewer pedestrians. Any objections?”

“None. If it’s not urgent enough to destroy immediately, I’ll come to the restaurant. If they’ve received case files, it would be better to check how things are going.”

The two had different objectives. Giuseppina wanted to avoid prosecution and meet the Godmother’s expectations, while the detective wanted to erase his name and face from this affair. Still, what they needed to do was the same.

No extra edition would come out tomorrow morning. It wasn’t about trying to hide the truth. This was just business for both Giuseppina Proci and the detective.