A Scourge of Vipers by Bruce DeSilva Read Free Book Online Page B

nose, dimpled chin, thin upper lip, and receding hairline reminded me of Tony Sirico, the Brooklyn tough-turned-actor who’d played the role of Paulie Walnuts on The Sopranos.
    I forwarded the image to my personal e-mail address so I’d have it handy on my cell phone. That’s when a stray thought popped into my head. I hadn’t gotten a single new threat from Mario since the night he came at me with a gun.

 
    8
    â€œOscar? It’s Mulligan.”
    â€œGot something for me?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t. I just wanted to thank you for the photo.”
    â€œYou’re working late.”
    â€œSo are you,” I said. “Actually, I’m on my own time. I rewrite press releases for a living now. Real journalism is my fucking hobby.”
    â€œWell, I’m glad you called. I’ve got something new to share.”
    â€œSo give.”
    â€œBetter if we do this in person.”
    So, twenty minutes later, I walked into the chief’s office in Warwick with a box of Cohibas under my arm.
    â€œAs promised,” I said, and placed it on his desk.
    He picked it up and studied the printing on the Spanish cedar.
    â€œCuban?” he said.
    â€œSo it would appear.”
    â€œ Jesucristo! These are more illegal than marijuana.”
    â€œBut neither should be.”
    â€œYou know I could arrest you for this.”
    â€œBut you’re not going to.”
    â€œGuess not, but I can’t accept them.”
    â€œOf course you can’t.”
    â€œSo why did you bring them?”
    â€œSo you could confiscate them in the name of the law.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œPerhaps you should investigate to determine whether they are genuine,” I said. “There are a lot of counterfeit Cubans on the black market, you know.”
    â€œAnd I would do that how?”
    â€œBy smoking a few. Maybe twenty-four of them, just to be sure.”
    â€œThere are twenty-five in the box, Mulligan.”
    â€œYes, but you are going to ask me to smoke one, too, so that you can avail yourself of my expert opinion.”
    He laughed at that.
    â€œI won’t tell,” I said. “I promise.”
    The chief grinned, pried open the box, and removed two sticks. I tossed him my cutter. He clipped the ends, stuck one in his jaw, and handed me the other. I bent to give him a light and then set fire to mine.
    â€œNow this,” he said, “is a damn fine smoke.”
    â€œThe best,” I said. “So what have you got?”
    â€œWhen we cut Alfano’s body out of the wreckage, we discovered something interesting in the pocket of his suit jacket.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œHave a look,” he said, and slid an unsealed letter-size envelope across the desk. “Don’t worry about handling it. It’s already been examined for prints.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œJust one partial that belonged to Alfano.”
    I picked it up and checked it over. Except for a couple of dried blood streaks, both sides were blank. Inside was a single sheet of paper. On it was a typewritten list of five names. Nothing more.
    â€œRecognize them?” he asked.
    â€œOf course I do. Anyone else seen this?”
    â€œJust the state police. I figured they should know.”
    â€œWho did you talk to there?”
    â€œCaptain Parisi.”
    â€œGood man,” I said. “What do the two of you think it means?”
    â€œWhat do you think it means?”
    â€œIt’s a Christmas list,” I said.
    â€œThat’s our guess. These five upstanding public servants were about to come into some dirty money.”

 
    9
    â€œLet’s just be friends” used to be my least-favorite sentence in the English language, but it was no longer a match for “The managing editor would like a word.” Not even close. As I punched the clock on Wednesday morning, the receptionist said it again.
    I strode into the aquarium and found Twisdale hunched