3 bar menu

The Godfather and the Gray Wolf – Part 03

In the heart of Little Italy, nestled in the corner of a bustling, chaotic street lined with colorful signboards, stood a small but flamboyantly decorated restaurant—the Roma Café.

A glass case filled with cakes and cookies was displayed next to the entrance, while the inside was packed with round tables. Customers flowed in and out continuously, people on their way to work stopping by for coffee and sandwich breakfasts, families with children ordering sweet pastries and salads. It was the store of the relatives who took in Nico when he was a child.

At one of the round tables in the back sat Victorique, Kazuya, Nico, and… Carlos.

While the three sat silently with ashen faces, cups of espresso in front of them, Carlos alone displayed a hearty appetite, eagerly stabbing at a large plate of spaghetti with meatballs using his fork.

Nico sat quietly, making himself smaller. He looked like a different person altogether. He occasionally shot a glare at Carlos.

Suddenly, Mrs. Sacco, the plump and rosy-cheeked matriarch of the Sacco family, emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands with an apron. She glanced at Nico, nodded like Rebecca would, then noticed Kazuya and greeted him warmly. However, upon noticing Carlos sitting opposite, her face stiffened.

Carlos, chewing meatballs noisily, waved his fork. “Hi, Rebecca’s mom! Just dropping by.”

“Welcome to our restaurant, sir,” Mrs. Sacco replied, offering an exaggerated bow more fitting for the mayor of New York City than for a boy from the neighborhood.

Mrs. Sacco bit her lip. A strange tension filled the air. Nico nervously watched the exchange between the two.

“Your spaghetti’s always been famous. Never had it myself, but it was pretty decent. How much for the meal?”

“N-No need. Thank you for your patronage.”

“What?” Carlos paused. “Oh, right. I want some dessert. How about that famous banana-chocolate pie of yours? The magical treat that all the kids around here love. I’ve never had the pleasure myself.”

“Right away!” Mrs. Sacco replied with a deep bow, glaring at Nico. The young man trembled pitifully.

A giant pie, about the size of a human head, was brought over to Carlos, who still had tomato sauce on his lips. It was freshly baked, emitting a delicious steam, and the chocolate sauce was still piping hot.

Carlos stared at the pie with delight, swallowing eagerly. His eyes sparkled like a child’s. Holding a knife and fork in both hands, he wore a blissful smile on his face.

Then suddenly, his expression turned hateful. He rose to his feet, lifted the plate, and threw it to the floor as hard as he could.

“H-Hey!” Mrs. Sacco exclaimed, sounding genuinely angry this time.

She placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Carlos as if scolding a child. Unable to say anything more, she sighed and returned to the kitchen.

The bananas that spilled out from the crushed pie emitted steam. Silence filled the restaurant as customers held their breath, watching the scene.

Nico followed Mrs. Sacco with his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky, Carlos,” he said, suppressing his rage. “You should apologize to Rebecca’s mom right away. She doesn’t deserve to be treated so poorly by the likes of you.”

“Hmm? What was that, Nico?” Carlos pulled out a banana machine gun from his pocket and slammed it on the table.

Nico flinched. “U-Um… Put that thing away, man. Y-You’re not scaring anyone. You think you’re hot shit just because you’ve become a gangster?”

Suddenly, Mrs. Sacco called Nico from the kitchen with a very thin voice.

“M-Mrs. Sacco? Y-You just wait here, Carlos! When I’m back, you’re dead!”

Nico stormed off into the kitchen, but returned in less than ten seconds looking crestfallen. There were palm marks on his cheeks; he had clearly been slapped hard. He was likely reprimanded for angering a gangster in the restaurant. Nico slouched down next to Kazuya, and remained quiet.

Carlos glanced sadly at Nico, but when he noticed Victorique staring at him intently from the side, he quickly put on a brave front.

“Hey, you, great detective! Hurry up and find the culprit of that something-or-other case! I wanna go home already. I’d like to remind you that you have only until sundown. Do you even get that?!”

“Of course I do. What a loud fellow. Do you ever stop yapping?”

“What? If you don’t hurry up, that kid is… hngh!”

Carlos made a choking gesture with both hands, the motion done with practiced ease, as if he were used to it. Kazuya shuddered.

Nico regarded Carlos with a puzzled expression. “Seriously, what happened to you?” he asked softly. “You weren’t like this at all. You used to be an introvert and the shiest guy in the whole neighborhood.”

“Because I’ve had a tougher life than you,” Carlos muttered petulantly. “Since I was a kid. Family, money.” He arrogantly propped both feet up on the table. “But now, the tables have turned! You’re just an insignificant trainee photographer, and still the same embarrassed orphan. Meanwhile, I’m a rising gangster! The higher-ups trust me so much, they entrusted me with this important task today. Tomorrow, I’ll even be in your newspaper. In your face!”

“Oh, it’s Rebecca,” Nico said.

Carlos turned around with a start.

Rebecca rushed into the Roma Café with loud footsteps. “Ruri told me… about Rokushou,” she said in between breaths. Upon noticing Carlos, she tilted her head quizzically.

Five hot espressos were brought to the table.

Victorique cleared her throat. “Now then. Enough of the pointless bickering. It’s about time we explained the situation. Kujou.”

“Got it. Listen close, everyone. I will start from the beginning,” Kazuya said, taking out a newspaper article and spreading it out on the table.

In the midst of the morning rush at the Roma Café, their table alone felt as cold as ice. The presence of a gangster prevented Nico’s and Rebecca’s friends from approaching them.

Wrapped in the aroma of freshly baked bread, spaghetti, pizza, and sweet pies, Victorique and her companions were as chilled as frozen food in a freezer.

“First off, yesterday. A mysterious man showed up at the Gray Wolf Detective Agency. It turns out, this man was none other than the Godfather of the Italian Mafia, Garbo Boss.”

“Garbo Boss? You’re kidding!” Rebecca exclaimed in shock.

Kazuya nodded in response. “He tasked Victorique to investigate a case, but fearing involvement with the Mafia, she turned him down. Then last night, Garbo Boss’s men kidnapped Rokushou. They’re threatening to kill him if we don’t finish the investigation by sundown.”

Kazuya shivered. Victorique remained silent, her expression impassive.

“So, Carlos here is supposed to monitor us.”

“What? Hold on, Carlos. What’s that about?” Rebecca protested.

Carlos turned his face away, a cigar in his twisted mouth. He seemed exceptionally afraid of Rebecca, as the hand holding the cigar suddenly started shaking. His gaze darted around restlessly, and he even bent over as if his stomach were in pain.

Rebecca let out a sigh of disbelief. “You used to cry behind me back when we were kids.”

“Nah, he was just fake crying,” Nico cut in. “He liked you, and boy, did he follow you all over the place.”

“Sh-Shut up, man!”

“Can you people save the childhood drama for later?” Kazuya intervened sternly. “So then…”

Nico and Carlos turned their faces away from each other.

“The Gray Wolf Detective Agency has to solve the case that Garbo Boss gave us. And there’s a time limit. Until sundown today.”

“Sundown?! So, what’s this case about, Kujou?”

“As you know, gang wars are happening almost every day in Little Italy. There’s so much killing that the NYPD hardly bother searching for the culprits anymore. To us ordinary people, every gang murder looks the same, but according to Garbo Boss, there have been three suspicious deaths in the past three weeks. They were killed without any reason. Not for revenge, or getting into some sort of brawl.”

“That sounds strange, all right,” Carlos interjected, still holding a cigar in his mouth. “You don’t have to be the Boss to understand that it’s concerning.”

Nico and Rebecca did not seem to get it.

Kazuya opened the file. “The first victim was Nitti. Three weeks ago, on Sunday, a bomb in his pants pocket exploded in the reading room of the New York Library.”

“An explosion? That’s very weird. We gangsters die by the gun,” Carlos said mesmerizingly.

“Is that how it is?” Nico said.

“Yeah, it’s the glamorous end for a gangster.”

Kazuya flipped through another newspaper. “The second victim was Fiume. He was poisoned two weeks ago on Saturday in a bar-restaurant in Harlem.”

“Poisoned? That’s a stupid way to die.”

“And the third one was Dempsey. He collapsed and died in Central Park a week ago on Sunday. It’s not clear if it was murder, but it’s certainly a strange case.”

“I see now. No wonder Galbo Boss finds it suspicious,” Carlo said quietly. “One member of the family is killed in such bizarre fashion every week.”

“We predict another murder this weekend. We already know the potential fourth victim.”

“Oh, is that so? So who’s the next gangster to die like an idiot?”

Kazuya lifted his gaze from the documents apologetically. “Well, it’s actually you, Carlos.”

Rebecca sprayed her espresso everywhere. Nico wiped his face with a napkin, giving Carlos a look that said, “I told you so. That’s what you get for joining the Mafia.”

Carlos dropped the cigar from his mouth. When he realized it was burning a hole in the knee of his pants, he cried, “Ouch!”

He jumped up, ran around, and then trotted back, looking at Victorique and then at Kazuya.

“Why me?”

“The three victims had something in common,” Kazuya said.

Victorique removed the pipe from her mouth and continued in a raspy, old woman’s voice. “Surely you have an idea. The common point was that all three appeared in the Daily Road’s serialized article, Mafia’s World—I’m a Dangerous Man!” Her dark tone silenced the bustling café.

Carlos furrowed his brow, looking utterly clueless. “What are you talking about?”

“Take a good look at the article. All three appeared in the serialization starting three weeks ago and were killed either on the night of publication or the next day. From this, we can infer two things. One is that the culprit, while having a motive to kill gangsters, does not know much about them and selects victims based on the serialized articles. The other is…”

“Wh-What is it?!”

“If this goes on, you will be the fourth victim. After all, the fourth article is scheduled to be published in tomorrow’s evening edition. Therefore, you have at most two days left to live.”

“…”

“The fastest way to catch the culprit is to stick to you from tomorrow night and wait for them to show up. Unfortunately, your boss wants this solved by sundown. So I don’t have much choice but to put my skills to work now. Hmm, what to do, what to do?”

“P-Please hurry, oh great detective!” Carlos urged anxiously. Nico’s and Rebecca’s faces darkened too. “Find the culprit quickly! Otherwise, that kid is dead, and I’ll get killed in some weird way. Not in a cool shootout or anything. Oh, please god no. Poisoned wine, pants exploding… It’s so lame!”

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” Nico remarked.

“And you just don’t know when to shut up!” Carlos snapped back.

Rebecca intervened, and soon they were all speaking in a mix of Italian slang, making it hard to understand who was saying what.

Victorique and Kazuya exchanged silent glances.

---

Exiting the bustling Roma Café, they split into two groups at a corner of Little Italy: Victorique, Kazuya, and Carlos, and Nico and Rebecca.

“Kujou, just focus on the investigation,” Nico said gravely. “I’ll handle the work over at the Daily Road. Rebecca’s with me as well.”

“I’m not sure about letting Rebecca write an article.”

“I won a prize for an essay back in law school. So just rest easy and leave it to me,” Rebecca said confidently.

“Uh, law school? Prize for an essay?” Kazuya mumbled restlessly. “Actually, I have a deadline until noon. If I don’t write that article about the Wall Street Rhapsody, I think the editor-in-chief will come chasing after me again and beat me with his shoes. It really hurts.”

“I said it’ll be fine,” Rebecca said. “Just let me handle it! Oh, sorry if I write better than you, Kujou!”

Rebecca pushed Kazuya on the shoulder, while Nico waved him goodbye. Kazuya walked away, looking back a couple of times.

Victorique was in deep, serious thought. When she noticed Kazuya’s gaze, she lifted her head.

“First, we have to check the crime scenes,” she said. “New York Public Library, Harlem, and Central Park.”

“Ahuh.”

The two exchanged a brief glance. Then they looked up at the sky in silence.

“Let’s solve the case and save Rokushou,” Kazuya said.

“Yes.”

The chilly, winter morning wind tousled Victorique’s silver hair. Kazuya’s jet-black bangs stirred uneasily. Side by side, Victorique and Kazuya walked towards the corner where Kazuya had parked his old black bicycle.