Page 104 of The Secret Dinner

She stared at me, helpless. Her eyes betrayed a fragility I hadn’t known existed inside a woman who could disembowel a human body without batting an eye. I pulled out my phone and showed her the photo of the black Audi.

“That’s the one!” she said breathlessly.

Her skin started to feel clammy. She was going to pass out any minute.

“You have to calm down … What did Piglet tell you?”

“Nothing … He didn’t tell me anything … I swear!” she shouted, curling into herself, looking vulnerable and afraid. “He was excited … I think he was onto something…”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No … We’ve got to go to the cops, Dante! I can’t lose him! I can’t! He’s all I’ve got!”

“We can’t go to the cops. Leave it to me.”

I took two Klonopin from my desk drawer and handed them to her, along with my glass of wine.

“Take these.”

“But I don’t want to sleep…”

“It’ll do you good. When you wake up, Piglet will be here, taking care of you.”

She sighed and took the pills. She dropped her head and began to cry softly. Curled up on my mattress, she looked like a scared animal. My mind was racing, but I kept her company while I tried to call Umberto. No doubt the old bastard was avoiding me.

It took Cora half an hour to fall asleep. When she finally closed her eyes, I cried. They were tears that had been pushed to the recesses of my soul, and now that nobody was watching, I let them out without fear. The game was high stakes now, big boys only, but I still felt like a newborn baby. There was nothing I could do. There was no point in fighting with Umberto, in sweeping the blood under the rug. Two friends dead—this was the end. My best chance was to escape back to Pingo d’Água.

I tried calling Hugo, but he didn’t pick up. A few minutes later, I heard the door slam and ran into the living room, dizzy, clutching at the walls. To my shock, it was Hugo in his black chef’s coat, accompanied by Umberto in a pin-striped suit.

“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, lunging at the old man. Hugo stopped me with one swift movement, grabbing my arms. He told me to calm down. I tried to break free, but he was much stronger.

“He’s got Piglet,” I said. “Let go of me! He’s got Piglet!”

Umberto sneered at me. Then he flashed a wide smile.

“Let him go,” he said. “He won’t do anything.”

Hugo obeyed like a robot and returned to Umberto’s side, for which he got a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“You should be more like your friend,” said Umberto, walking toward me with his hands behind his back. If I punched him, he wouldn’t have time to defend himself. “Stop looking into Vladimir or you’re going to die. I’m honestly surprised you’re still at it—I thought you were smarter than that.”

I wasn’t about to give in to his taunting:

“You’re Vladimir.”

“I wish that were true,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “If that were the case, you’d already be dead, my boy. I don’t understand why they haven’t eliminated you yet. A trashy little gayboy who’s nothing but a glorified door greeter and could be easily replaced by anybody plucked from the line outside the club. Alas…”—he ran his hands over the lapel of his jacket, flicking away imaginary crumbs—“I just follow orders.”

“Hugo, they took Piglet,” I said, ignoring Umberto’s theatrics. He was still my friend—he couldn’t have changed that much.

Hugo just stared at his feet, his muscular arms slack at his sides, his thick beard growing down to his neck. I repeated myself, though I knew he’d heard me the first time.

“Piglet had to be eliminated,” said Umberto.

“I had to make a choice, Dante,” said Hugo, his head still hanging. “There’s no such thing as good food without sacrifice.”

“You’re a piece of shit, Hugo. You’re a moron who doesn’t know what friendship is, you never knew what it means to be family … I can’t even fucking look at you!”

He looked up at me with red eyes.