Free Bad Business by Anthony Bruno Page A

go through all this stuff. As executor of Uncle Pete’s will, I gotta sift through every bit of it, catalog the good stuff, throw out the junk. . . . Jeez.”
    Cooney laughed. “Maybe Mr. Giordano here can refer you to a good torch, Toz.”
    Ivers turned on Cooney. “Comments like that are neither appreciated nor are they appropriate, Cooney. Not in front of the witness.”
    Giordano felt nauseous again. Why did they keep referring to him like he was a thing? The witness .
    Ivers was staring into his face again. “Are you sure you’re feeling well, Mr. Giordano?”
    â€œYeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold. That’s all.”
    â€œI just want you to know that we all think you’re doing a very brave thing. Your testimony against Salamandra and the other heroin traffickers will be invaluable. When this is all over, those men are going to be doing hard time. Your identity will be protected, and you won’t have to worry about retaliation from that bunch.”
    Oh, yeah? Then you don’t know shit, mister .
    Ivers leaned closer into his face. “You’re sweating profusely, Mr. Giordano. Are you sure there’s nothing we can get you?”
    You can get out of my face . “I could use a bathroom.”
    â€œTozzi, show Mr. Giordano to the bathroom.”
    Tozzi pointed up the staircase. “Gotta use the one up here. The downstairs toilet is full of golf balls.”
    â€œGolf balls?”
    Tozzi shrugged. “My uncle Pete was a weird guy. What can I tell you?”
    Giordano followed Tozzi up the stairs, careful not to step on the cups and saucers. The upstairs hallway was cluttered with more cardboard boxes and stacks of old books tied with string. They had to walk single file, there was so much junk,and when they got to the bathroom, he had to squeeze past Tozzi to get in.
    â€œYou know, Ivers is right. You don’t look good, Giordano. You must be coming down with something.”
    â€œI just gotta take a crap. Can I have a little privacy, please?”
    â€œYou think I’m gonna come in and watch?”
    â€œI dunno. The marshals watch.”
    â€œThe marshals are sick people.” Tozzi reached in and flipped the wall switch. There were piles of curtains on the floor, old National Geographics under the sink, newspapers and lampshades in the tub. “Besides, there’s not enough room in here for two people. Go ’head, do your business. I’ll be in that room over there. There might be a bed in there for you under all this junk.”
    Tozzi stepped over the boxes and headed for the bedroom across the hall.
    Giordano took his coat off and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The glass cover for the overhead light was missing, and the harsh light of the naked bulb in that tight space made him feel all the more claustrophobic. He looked into the mirror. Sweat was pouring down his face. He looked like hell. He looked like a scared little shit, and that’s exactly what he was. He ran some cold water, cupped his hands, and doused his face. His teeth started to chatter. Shit. He stared at himself in the mirror. He was fucked, and he knew it.
    What the hell was I thinking about? Government witness, my ass. I just had to get outta there. That fuck Augustine was setting me up. I could see it coming. He let things go too far, he let this case go to trial. He wasn’t supposed to let that happen. He let it get out of control. There was only one way he could fix it now. Hang one guy so that the others can get off. You could see it coming. He had his goat all picked out and everything. He was gonna screw me. It had to be me. I’m the logical choice, right? Salamandra’s a big man, can’t touch him. Most of the others are made guys, can’t fuck with them either. The rest of them are all related to Salamandra in one way or another, so Augustine’s not gonna touch them. I’m the only one left,