“Well, I must say, I thought there was something weird about that; it was very unlike Vance. What did Arrington say to you?”
“I was in the shower; the hotel operator got the calling number from caller ID.”
“Well, this is very mysterious, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is.” Stone looked around the restaurant at the other diners. “Wait a minute,” he said, half to himself.
“What?”
“You notice anything about the other customers?”
Betty looked slowly around the restaurant. “I guess a lot of them look Italian. That speaks well of the restaurant, I suppose.”
“It’s a wiseguy joint,” Stone said, keeping his voice low.
“You mean Mafia?”
“Not so loud. That’s exactly what I mean. It’s just like a New York wiseguy joint; just look at these people.”
“Well, the women are a little flashy.”
“Yes, they are.”
“And I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many Italian suits outside of Rome.”
“Right.”
“Does this make me a racist pig or something?”
“No, it just makes you observant. I’ll bet half the faces in this place are in the mug books down at the LAPD.”
“But what could Arrington possibly have to do with the Mafia?”
“I don’t know, but there’s got to be some kind of connection.” As he spoke, Stone looked up and saw four men coming down the stairs into the dining room. “Look who’s here,” he whispered.
She followed his gaze. “You know those guys?”
“One of them,” Stone said. “I met him at Vance’s.”
12
Stone pretended to consult the wine list, covering his face. “Don’t look at him,” he said. “I don’t want him to see me.”
“Look at who?” Betty asked. “I can’t see a thing.” She leaned back and looked behind him. “One of those backs looks familiar,” she said.
“His name is Ippolito.”
“I remember his name on the invitation list, but he was the only one I didn’t know.”
“Stop craning your neck.”
; “It’s okay, he’s sitting at the round corner table with his back to us.”
Stone peeked over the wine list. “Do you know any of the other three?”
“Nope; they don’t even look familiar. A lot of beef on the hoof, though.”