The Gate House   ::   Demille Nelson

Mancuso continued, “At about 7:45 this evening, Salvatore D’Alessio was having dinner in a restaurant with his wife, Marie, and his two sons, who had flown in from Florida for Father’s Day.”

Well, I knew where this was going. I glanced at Susan, and she, too, knew what Mr. Mancuso was going to tell us.

He continued, “It is the D’Alessios’ habit, apparently, to dine at this restaurant, Giovanni’s, in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, near their house.” He added, “They always go there on Father’s Day.”

I observed, “That is not a good habit.”

“No,” he agreed. He did add, however, “It’s a nice old family restaurant. In fact, I’m there now.”

I didn’t ask him why he was there because I knew why, and I was fairly certain he wasn’t having dinner with the D’Alessios.

Mr. Mancuso returned to his subject and said, “So, at about 7:45, as the D’Alessios were having dessert, two men entered the crowded restaurant wearing topcoats, and they walked directly to the D’Alessio table. According to several witnesses, both men raised sawed-off double-barreled shotguns from under their coats, and one of them said, ‘Happy Father’s Day, Sally,’ then fired a single shot at point-blank range into Salvatore D’Alessio’s face.”

Susan took a step backwards, as though she’d been hit with the blast, and she slumped onto the couch.

I said, “Hold on.” I put the phone on hold and asked her, “Are you all right?”

She nodded.

I slipped on my shorts and pants, then took the phone off speaker, sat in the chair, and picked up the receiver. I said to Mancuso, “It’s just me now.”

“All right… so that’s the news.”

I took a deep breath, then said, “Well… I guess I owe you some money.”

“I never got around to placing that bet for you, Mr. Sutter.”

“Okay…” I sat there and glanced again at Susan, who didn’t seem to notice or mind that she couldn’t hear Mancuso. I asked him, “Anyone else hurt?”

“No. It was professional.” He suggested, “You can see it on the news.”

I asked, “Can you give me a preview? Or something I won’t see on the news?”

“All right…” Mr. Mancuso gave me his professional opinion of the hit. “So, it is Sunday. Father’s Day. And Salvatore D’Alessio is out to dinner with his family. And D’Alessio is very much old-school, and he thinks there are still some rules that won’t be broken.