“Actually that was the plumber, but close enough. Matoub admitted to having pocketed three silver buttons while collecting the bones.”
“Right.”
“Your partner took the buttons to the McCord for evaluation.”
“Lady there said they were old.”
“Antoinette Legault. She was only partially correct.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“According to Monique Mousseau at Pointe-a-Calliere, only two of the buttons are nineteenth century in age. The third is a forgery.”
“Meaning what?”
“She didn’t know.”
“How old is the fake?”
“She couldn’t assign an age, but doubted it was of much antiquity.”
“OK. So maybe the buttons don’t go with the bones. That ain’t exactly a smoking gun.”
“Have you heard of a man named Nicolo Cataneo?”
“Nick the Knife? Who hasn’t?”
“The building housing Matoub’s pizzeria currently belongs to Richard Cyr. Cyr purchased the property from Nicolo Cataneo.”
“Yeah? When?”
“In 1980.”
Charbonneau retracted his feet and sat up.
“How long did Cataneo own the place?”
“Ten years.”
Charbonneau frowned.
“Does that mean something, Detective?”
“Might.”
“I know Cataneo was connected.”
Charbonneau began picking at the cuticle on his right thumb.
“What is it you’re not telling me?”
Charbonneau looked undecided a moment, then slumped back.
“Things exploded here in the late seventies. The Calabrian and Sicilian factions went at each other big-time. Power struggle ended with the assassination of a boss named Paolo Violi.”
“And?”
“A new boss took over.”
Down the hall I heard one phone ring, then another, and another. LaManche was gathering his troops for the morning meeting.
“And?”
“New boss broke with the Bonannos in New York and established ties between the Montreal family and the Caruana/Cuntrera family.”
“Your point?” I made a show of checking my watch.
“It was a wild ride.” Charbonneau shrugged. “Bunch of guys got killed.”
“And maybe some girls?”
Charbonneau shrugged again. “You didn’t say anything about trauma to those bones.”
“I didn’t find any. You’ll speak to your partner?”
Charbonneau tugged an earlobe, rolled his eyes sideways, then back to me. He hesitated a moment, then seemed to arrive at some private decision.
“Luc’s spoken to Cyr.”
“I know.”
“Guess he didn’t tell you.”
“No.”
“We probably should have.”
“That would have been nice.”
“The old geezer never mentioned Cataneo.”
