The Italian Affair by Helen Crossfield Read Free Book Online Page B

mingled with the subtle undertones of roasted garlic, a hint of chilli and the freshest flat parsley leaves.
    Her taste buds went into overdrive as they grappled with the distinctive combinations. So different from the meat and two vegetables she’d been brought up on at her childhood home in Harrogate and the stuffy dinners at Balliol College Oxford.
    “This is exquisite” said Issy as she took one small break in between eating to guzzle some more Greco del Tufo.
    Dan nodded in agreement and fortified by the food and the wine he returned to the subject of the Godfather. “Now we’re eating let’s get back to the topic of the Mafia,” Dan said. “If I were an investigative journalist, which I‘d very much like to be when I finally grow up, I’d have a field day going around interviewing people and getting to the bottom of things. I mean who are these people and why do they choose to live that kind of a life?”
    “You wouldn’t mind the danger that would put you in?” Issy said opening a mussel and sucking the flesh straight from a sandy brown shell.
    Dan thought for a moment. “I probably would. I hadn’t really thought about the practical side of things like getting killed. I like the intrigue of it all just like in the movies. You know a classic crime film with a lot of gangster glamour.”
    “Maybe a lot of it is made up” said Issy. I read somewhere that Puzo admitted he’d written the book mainly for money?”
    “I’m not too sure about that,” Dan said. “But what I do think is that all of what you see in the film happens in real life, it’s just those who know the truth around these parts are clearly not going to say anything as the Omerta – or the code of silence as it is known – enables it to go on unfettered” replied Dan.
    “So if no-one talks,” Issy replied. “There won’t be anyone you can get more information from?”
    Dan thought about Issy’s question for a minute. “The only clue I’ve been able to get my investigative mitts round so far, was from one of my very first students, who had a strange sense of humour at the best of times and was clearly trying to divert me off the scent. He said you could tell if someone is linked to the Mafia if they have a diamond in one of their front teeth. But I suspect he was probably just joking as he joked about most things.”
    “What?” said Issy in disbelief as she wiped a piece of rice from the corner of her mouth with a crisp white linen napkin.
    “I mean it’s clearly a myth” continued Dan. “But there you have it. It’s all the specific information I’ve ever been able to get hold of.”
    They both took a sip of wine before grinning at each other. “Dan that is preposterous,” laughed Issy hugely enjoying Dan’s lunch time chit-chat. “I mean how can you remain incognito with a big sparkling stone in the front of your mouth. I’m not going to know what to do, if I have to talk to a Neapolitan with a diamond in their front teeth.”
    “If you ever meet one,” Dan laughed. “I’d run as fast as you can. Unfortunately, much as I would like to be able to tell you that I’ve met a diamond geezer. I haven’t. Not yet anyway.”
    “What do the Mafia actually get up to?” asked Issy, “I mean what is their day job?”
    “I’m not sure it’s exclusively a day job,” Dan replied. “In terms of what they do it seems to be that they exhort protection money from people as a kind of insurance policy to get rich and exercise even more control over people. Oh and apparently, they also run business cartels. You’ve probably noticed the litter all over the city. That’s because it’s the Mafia who are running the refuse collection schemes and if councils and individuals don’t pay up their protection money they simply don’t collect it.”
    “God,” said Issy “I wondered why there was so much rubbish everywhere. That’s terrible.”
    “Yes. I guess” said Dan “but intriguing none-the-less. You never know, we