Free Known Devil by Matthew Hughes Page B

my guys poured some holy water on them until they felt like talking. It didn’t take long.”
    Of course it had been Loquasto. He was the only member of Calabrese’s crew who could handle a vessel containing holy water, and I bet the screams hadn’t bothered him at all. Loquasto might not be a blood-drinking monster – but he was a lawyer, which was close enough.
    If I’d needed any reminder of what I was dealing with, Calabrese had just provided it. Not that it changed anything – it was either deal with him or try to reach an accommodation with the Delatassos, if they took over. And Ronnie Delatasso didn’t sound like the reasonable type.
    “Did you ever consider just letting the Delatassos sell Slide in Scranton, in return for paying you a hefty commission?” I asked. It was too late for that now, of course – I just wanted to see Calabrese’s reaction.
    “No fuckin’ way,” he said. “You let those bastards get a foothold, and before long you’re the one who’s on the outside, looking in. And besides…”
    Calabrese hesitated, and I wondered why. He hadn’t exactly been shy about saying what he thought, so far.
    After a few seconds, he said, “For the sake of discussion, say that we do a lot of business involving… illicit pharmaceuticals – heroin, coke, crack, even marijuana.”
    “Not meth?” Karl asked him.
    “Naw, that shit’s too hard to make, and dangerous besides. Independent operators handle that, and we let ’em. They can sell it to the fucking goblins – they’re animals, anyway.”
    Calabrese drank some more blood from his glass. “But all that other stuff is for humans. If they wanna put it in their veins, or their noses, or their lungs – that’s their problem. But I’m not gonna sit back and let our own kind get hooked on this new shit, like a bunch of fucking warm-bloods.” He looked at me. “No offense.”
    I just shrugged. You can only be offended by those you respect.
    “So you’re OK with pot, coke, and heroin,” Karl said. “But Slide’s bad, because supernaturals can get hooked on it.”
    “Fuckin’ A right,” Calabrese said. “It’s bad for morale, bad for discipline, and bad for business.”
    “Speaking of business,” I said, “You got hit pretty hard the last couple of nights. You gonna be able to keep these guys from taking over?”
    “I got plenty of soldiers left,” Calabrese said. “Besides, the Delatassos lost a few, too.” He grinned. “Thanks to you and me.”
    The urge to put my fist through his face was growing stronger, and I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to resist it. I drained my coffee cup and pushed my chair back.
    “I assume it doesn’t matter to you,” I said, “whether the Delatasso soldiers are in the ground or in jail.”
    Calabrese spread his hands. “Don’t make any difference to me, long as they’re off the streets.”
    I nodded. “I’ll see what we can do about that. In the meantime, it might be good if we had a way to stay in touch.”
    Calabrese looked at Loquasto and nodded. The consigliere produced what looked like a business card and wrote something on the back. Handing it to me, he said, “That’s my private number. You can reach me there anytime, day or night.”
    I put the card in my pocket and stood up. “Thanks, Counselor,” I said. Then I looked at Calabrese. “There’s not gonna be a war in the streets. Not in this town – I won’t let it happen.”
    He gave me a sharp-edged grin. “Hey – I’m a man of peace, Detective. Ask anybody.” Then he stopped smiling. “Maybe you’d better talk to the other guys – and good luck with that.”
    “Being lucky is one of the things I do best.”
     
    Back at the squad room, Karl went to brief McGuire on our meeting with the local Mafia, and I went downstairs to see Rachel Proctor, the Department’s Consulting Witch.
    When I got to Rachel’s office, the door was open, as it often is. She was sitting with her back to me, watching