Lorenzo sat in his study with the blinds down. The room was quiet. A small lamp burned on the desk. He smoked slowly and stared at a glass of whiskey. He did not move when the knock came.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened. Marco’s friend, Sal, stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and crossed the room. He was thin and quick. His eyes were sharp.
“You wanted to see me?” Sal asked.
Lorenzo gestured to the chair across the desk. “Sit.”
Sal sat and watched Lorenzo for a long moment. He could read the calm on his face and the steel beneath it.
“You killed Marcus,” Sal said without a preface.
Lorenzo did not flinch. He set his glass down. “I did.”
Sal blinked. “You made it look clean.”
Lorenzo smiled, small and cold. “The sea takes care of body and rumor. People forget what fl
