Page 141 of The Beast Who Begged Me

“Carlo’s at work, sir.”

“Shame. He plays a good game.” Donnie’s gaze moves from Caligula to me. “Vin Orsini’s boy. And Lou Clemenza’s grandson. There’s something you don’t see every day.”

I bow my head in respect. “Don Giuliano.”

“You swore to me once,” he says, looking me up and down.

“Yes, sir. I did.” I swore to him, and then his brother Jimmy, and most recently to his nephew, Big Gee. “But I’m with the Clemenzas these days,” I tell him.

Donnie grunts and looks back at the chessboard.

“We’d like to ask you a question,” Caligula says.

Donnie sighs and spreads his hands. “I’m out of the life, son. I know nothing. Terribly sorry.” He takes another drink, and I catch the almond scent of amaretto.

“Uncle Iggy thought you might remember a man Lou Clemenza used for private jobs,” Fontana says.

“Did he? Then maybe Uncle Iggy should answer your questions. Of course,” Donnie adds, “I do enjoy a game. Beat me, and you can ask me anything.”

Caligula pulls out the chair at once, and Donnie looks delighted. Caligula helps him reset the board while Fontana and I pull up chairs to the side.

My father’s killer has become the prize in a fucking board game.

They start playing. For the first few minutes, Donnie moves quickly, chatting about—his words—the good old days. Then Caligula makes a move that has Donnie putting his drink down. “Your grandfather taught you to play?”

“My father, mostly.” Caligula waits while Donnie considers his next move. “My grandfather didn’t have the patience for it. He didn’t enjoy losing.”

“Neither do I.”

Caligula’s mouth lifts at one corner.

The game gets slower. “Why does a Clemenza care about Vincent Orsini?” Donnie asks after a while.

Caligula moves a piece. “You can ask me when you beat me, sir.”

Donnie studies him, then the board. A few moves later, he takes one of Caligula’s pieces and sits back, satisfied. Caligula doesn’t react, which makes me even more nervous.

Then his hand returns to the board.

Donnie’s satisfaction lasts another few minutes. His drink sits untouched while Caligula waits for each move, occasionally glancing up at the old man’s face, and I remember King trying to talk his way around a question. Stuccio trying to change the subject.

My Don waits people out just as well as he takes them apart.

At last, Donnie Gee reaches for a piece, stops, and looks at Caligula. Caligula says nothing. He doesn’t even smile.

“You little shit,” Donnie says. He tips his king onto its side. Then he starts laughing, loud enough to draw looks from the other tables.

“Another,” he says.

“My answer first.” Caligula sits back. “The man Lou hired. Giuliano. Someone who did work the Families didn’t discuss.”

Donnie’s laughter fades. He looks at me over Caligula’s shoulder, and I feel every muscle in my body tighten.

“Arturo Santi. He took private work. Lou used him more than once.” Donnie turns the fallen king upright.

“My father,” I say. “Was he…”

Donnie nods. “That was one of Santi’s.”