MURDER AT THE GALLIANO CLUB is my next release, set in upstate New York during Prohibition. The Galliano Club is an Italian social club for men, catering to mill workers producing the copper and iron to build America’s bridges, ship hulls, and electrical wires.
Mill foreman Jimmy Destito was last seen leaving the club a week ago. Bartender Luca Lombardo, owner Vito Bottini, and neighbor Ruth Cross are grilled by police detectives Rogan and Kelly:
Kelly leaned forward. “What about enemies? Was Destito popular? Or did somebody have a grudge against him?”
“Maybe,” Luca said slowly, still figuring out how to play this hand. “I don’t know.”
“Destito ever talk about problems at Lido Premium?”
“At the mill?” Luca shook his head. “No, not really. Seems to run all right.”
Rogan rubbed his jaw, leaving a faint line of pencil lead on his cheek. “Lido Premium’s an important industry,” he said. “Destito’s the foreman of the biggest copper mill in the northeast.”
“Sure,” Luca agreed.
“This club is right across the street,” Rogan went on forcefully. “Lots of Lido Premium workers come here. You see any strangers lurking around?”
“Strangers?” Luca shrugged, not sure what the detective was getting at.
“Saboteurs!” Kelly exclaimed. “Spies! Bolsheviks!”
Vito inhaled cigar smoke, eyes popping in surprise.
Ruth made a squeak of distress and clapped a hand to the base of her throat. “Bolsheviks? Here, in Lido?”
“The Bolsheviks are everywhere,” Kelly said. “Cripple Lido Premium’s copper output and what happens to telephone wires and shipping? Sabotage American economic power and the Bolsheviks take over.”
Luca was dumfounded. Could it be true? Was Jimmy killed by a Bolshevik intending to sabotage the mill? Even worse, by giving Karol the locker key, had Luca sent his friend into mortal danger?
“You ever see Destito talking to strangers near the mill?” Rogan demanded. “Got anyone coming by with a funny accent?”
A fire bell went off in Luca’s head. Sonny said the men who trashed the Destito home didn’t speak Italian. Were they Russian Bolsheviks?
Luca licked his lips. “No,” he managed. “We haven’t seen any strangers hanging around.”
“My boy died,” Vito said. “Nobody came to ask questions about Bolsheviks.”
Both detectives swiveled toward the man behind the desk like marionettes controlled by the same string. “Say that again, Mr. Bottini,” Kelly said.
“My boy died,” Vito repeated. “Nobody cared.”
Kelly squinted at Vito. “You mean Destito?”
“No,” Luca said. “His son was a soldier with General Pershing. He died in the war.”
“That’s too bad, Mr. Bottini,” Rogan said without sympathy.
“Do you gentlemen have any other questions?” Ruth asked pointedly.
Luca poured Vito a glass of water from the carafe on the credenza. Tears rolled down Vito’s face as he carefully laid his cigar in the ashtray and took the glass. The two detectives exchanged glances.
Kelly produced a business card and left it on the edge of the desk. “If you remember anything else about Destito being here Saturday night, you’re obligated to come down to the courthouse and make a statement.”
Ruth stood, requiring all the men to do the same. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, acting like the Queen of Sheba again. “I hope your inquiries are successful.”
Luca led the two detectives through the club. Rogan glanced at the game room with the pool table but stopped where the hall branched out into the alcove. Kelly walked past into the club room and tapped on the wood paneling above the baseboards.
Rogan turned the knob on the kitchen door and peered in. Guido had made himself breakfast early that morning. The scent of bacon wafted out. The detective sniffed noisily.
“So what kind of liquor do you serve up here, Lombardo?” Rogan turned away from Guido’s collection of dirty dishes.
“No liquor,” Luca said, leaning against the cellar door on the opposite side of the alcove, like he was ready for a friendly conversation. It wasn’t locked and the last thing he needed was this nosy copper counting the Antonelli’s beer casks. “Near-beer and tonics from the Saranac brewery in
Utica.”
Rogan rapped his knuckles on the molding around the kitchen door and was rewarded with solid echoes. “Men come here after a 12-hour shift at Lido Premium and drink Utica Club Ginger Ale?”
Luca met Rogan’s unblinking smile with one of his own. “Yes.”
“We’ll be back, you know,” Rogan said. “This was the last place Destito was seen. We’ll talk to Bottini again. Maybe we’ll talk to all your members. We got lots of questions.”
Luca didn’t know if the detective was angling for a bribe or letting him know that the cops were taking Jimmy’s disappearance seriously. Either way, things had just gone from bad to worse.
Read more about the upcoming Galliano Club series here >>> http://carmenamato.net/ galliano-club-mystery-series/
