downtown blue and whites, fer Christ sakes.”
“So it?s your call to jump ahead of your mark that way?” Dutch asked.
“It was just a routine surveillance, Dutch. Shit, I was hungry, nothing to eat for seven hours. I went
ahead, grabbed some groceries so I?d be ready when he split. Who had any thought he was gonna get
hit?”
“I?m sorry you didn?t get a printed invitation!” Dutch said. “How about Stinetto, who had him?”
Charlie One Ear sank a little lower in his chair.
“I?m afraid I have to plead guilty,” he said. “It was a double-up, Dutch. We knew they were going to
dinner together, so I told—”
“So you told Chino to go to the restaurant and you?d cover the house,” he said, finishing the sentence.
“Right.” Callahan said, “It?s routine with him, Chief. Tagliani goes to Bronicata?s every Sunday for
dinner. He usually meets one or two of his capi there. Draganata, Stizano, Logeto. Like that.
Bronicata usually sits with them.”
“Big deal, so who does the dishes? What [want to know is who was at dinner?”
“Logeto and, uh, the red-haired guy...” Chino said.
“O?Brian,” I coached.
“Yeah. And, of course, Bronicata.”
“I suppose you was eyeballing Bronicata, too, right, since you was there anyway,” Dutch growled at
Chino.
“1 had Bronicata,” Callahan said quietly. “They all split together. 1 put Bronicata home before 1 came
back here.”
“Who had O?Brian?”
Lewis raised his hand. “Same thing,” he said. “He went straight home too.”
“What happened there in the restaurant?” Dutch said.
Chino said, “1 was inside, watching the whole team. So Bronicata gets this phone call, comes back
looking like he just swallowed a jar of jalapeno peppers. There?s some chi chi—”
“Chi chi? What the hell?s chi chi?” Dutch asked.
“They was whispering.”
“Oh.”
“Then the Irishman and Logeto both split like the place was on fire. Coupla minutes later the waiter
brings the check, tells me the joint?s closing for the night. „What the hell?s goin? on?? I say. He tells
me the chef had a heart attack. I guess the call was to tell them the old man got aced.”
Dutch, who was twirling one side of his moustache and staring at the ceiling, said, “it don?t make a lot
