“No,” I say, staring at the street below. The rain had begun an hour earlier. It started as drizzle but grew into a full-blown downpour. I wonder how much darker her hair is when it’s wet. “Put someone on her. Do you know where she lives?”
“I checked. Some dump in the suburbs.”
“Alone?”
“She has a cat.”
“I want cameras planted in her place,” I say. “Kitchen, living room, bedrooms, but not in the bathroom.”
Nino says nothing, so I turn to find him regarding me with a slightly shocked expression on his face. We’ve known each other for two decades, so it’s no wonder my request stuns him. I’m baffled by it too.
“I had a look inside from the fire escape,” he says quickly. “It’s a two hundred-square-foot studio. Just one room.”
What the hell is a capo’s sister doing, working her ass off a
