Free The Bad Samaritan by Robert Barnard Page B

that I myself—” Gianni leaned back expansively in his chair, once again the genial host—“not that I myself would need to employ such a person. A business which is doing very nicely does not need to— capisce ?” He exuded proprietorial satisfaction. “But I tell you this: when the recession was at its worstest, I think of it, eh? I consider. Because then it was all ‘cut this cost, cut that cost,’ otherwise—” he brought his hand down like a guillotine on to the table.
    â€œWe thought you might know something about it, even though not from experience,” explained Rosemary guilefully. “You’re the only person in the trade we really know.”
    Gianni paused to say farewell to a departing party of regulars. Now they were the only people in that part of the restaurant.
    â€œYou have a person in this country, and you want to find him a job—maybe a place to stay, a room over?”
    â€œThat’s right. That would be ideal.”
    â€œYou not want to talk to your Mr Mills?”
    â€œStephen Mills?” said Rosemary sharply. “Why would we want to talk to him? Stephen doesn’t have anything to do with the restaurant trade.”
    â€œNo, no. But he is a good—how do you say?—organiser. He know how to get things done.”
    â€œHe’s a fixer,” said Rosemary.
    â€œExactly! A feexer!”
    â€œI would very much rather not bring in Stephen Mills,” Rosemary said.
    â€œRight. I understand.” He looked amused and smiled slyly. “Is a man who the ladies like very much or not at all. Maybe not at all is wisest. So, you do it yourselves, eh? Now let us talk turkey, like you say. Hotels in Leeds, they are not like seaside hotels. In Leeds there is not a hundred and one little guesthouses that are very difficult to investigate. On the other ’and, little takeaway food places—”
    â€œPizza takeaways?”
    â€œ Esattamente ! ‘Pizza and Pasta,’ ‘Pizza Pronto’—that kind of thing. They are all over the place. Some is family establishments—the big family, you understand, with distant cousins brought over from Sicily to learn the trade and learn the language, though mostly they don’ learn the trade and they don’ learn the language. Is not suitable, such places. But other places, where there is one man, who has seen an opportunity, an opening you say, where there is perhaps an area with many many students and no takeaway—such a man with no large family behind him . . .”
    â€œThat sounds just the job,” said Paul.
    â€œYour man—he can make pizzas?”
    â€œI’m sure he can,” said Rosemary firmly.
    â€œIs silly to ask. Anyone can make pizzas, pizzas that students will eat. They just want to be filled up, as cheap as possible because they’re living on loans. Now, I give you four names, just to start with.” He wrote rapidly on the back of their bill. “You try Signor Gabrielli first. Is a very nice man, good Cat’olic, but not very wealthy. Struggling a little bit, you know? He try to help if he can. Ring him up maybe eight, half past eight. When the earlyevening peoples is gone and the late supper peoples isn’t come yet. Don’ mention my name. Is delicate, you understand? Tell him you are a priest.”
    They left Gianni’s on the whole well pleased with their work. They walked home, talking over the options, and when they arrived back at the vicarage they found that Stanko had spent the time vacuuming over the entire house. Their threadbare carpets hadn’t looked so good for years.
    â€œJust so long as he doesn’t start clearing up my desk,” said Paul, ruefully glancing at the chaos there.
    They rang up Signor Gabrielli that evening, having been assured by Stanko—he regarded the question as almost insulting—that he made an excellent pizza. Paul took