funeral two years ago. It’s a fairly large family, so I assume we’ll have many of the same mourners this time. None of them live in Little Italy anymore.” Not many of the old families still did. Little Italy, once a big swathe of lower Manhattan, was now just a few blocks of shops and restaurants. “They’re scattered around the tri-state area these days.”
“You met Mr. Capuzzo when handling his brother’s funeral?” Max asked. “What sort of man was he?”
“We only exchanged a few words,” said Nathan. “He seemed quiet and polite.”
John stepped away from the casket, and Nathan turned his attention to Mr. Capuzzo, whom he fussed over until he was satisfied with his appearance.
While he worked, he continued, “They’re a respectable family. Mr. Capuzzo owned several shoe stores. His widow is a very courteous lady, even in her sorrow. And their eldest daughter, who has been making the arrangements with us, has been easy to work with.” He added, “You can tell a lot about a family by the way they behave in their time of bereavement, and the Capuzzos seem like good people.”
“Have they made any unusual requests? Or given you any strange restrictions?”
“No, nothing.”
“Why are you focusing on Capuzzo?” I asked impatiently, wondering if Lopez was keeping company with a mystical time bomb. “This is about Quinn. It has to be! He’s the guy who made Nelli go ballistic today. The guy who was leaving this funeral home just as the corpse got frisky.”
John snorted a little with laughter. Nathan looked pained by my phrasing.
Lucky said, “I think the doc is trying to find a connection between Capuzzo and Quinn. Am I right?”
Max nodded. “Or between Mr. Capuzzo and whatever attracted Detective Quinn to this mortuary today.”
“
I
attracted him,” said John.
We all looked at him.
“Do we all remember the
shooting
today?” John prodded.
“Why did he want to question you about that?” I challenged, thinking it had just been a pretext.
“Because he’s a cop.”
“This isn’t his case. The Fifth Precinct is in charge of Susan’s arrest. Quinn is in OCCB. So why did
he
come here to question you? Why not a detective from the Fifth?”
“I don’t know. Because he was there? He witnessed what happened . . . And maybe he thinks it’s connected to his case.”
“What case?”
“Besides asking why Susan wanted me dead, he asked me a lot of questions about Joe Ning.”
“Ah.” Lucky nodded. “Chinatown underworld boss.”
“Organized crime,” John said to me. “Organized Crime Control Bureau. See?”
“So you’re sayin’ he came here because of his perfectly legitimate business interests.” Lucky added, “In a manner of speaking.”
“Seemed like it at the time,” said John. “Before the dead started dancing.”
“John,” admonished his father.
“And now?” I prodded.
John thought about it. “Honestly . . . it still seems like it. He was very . . . cop-like. You know. Asked a bunch of rapid-fire questions about the shooting, Susan, me. Then he suddenly switched to asking about Joe Ning—which caught me off guard and kind of confused me. Then he switched back to asking about Susan, which caught me off guard again.”
“I know the feeling,” I said gloomily. At his least romantic and most inquisitive, Lopez had used the same technique on me a few times. “What did you tell him?”
“That I’ve known Susan since I was a kid and thought we got along fine. We weren’t ever
close,
but it never once occurred to me she might try to—”
“No, I mean about Joe Ning.”
“Oh.” John shrugged. “Big man in Chinatown. Big funeral. It’ll probably have to be closed casket. Not much else.” John shook his head. “I don’t
know
much else. I met Uncle Six a few times, but it’s not as if we ever hung out together. I only know what everyone in the neighborhood knows, or what’s in the news.”
“Police!” his father said suddenly.
“You met Mr. Capuzzo when handling his brother’s funeral?” Max asked. “What sort of man was he?”
“We only exchanged a few words,” said Nathan. “He seemed quiet and polite.”
John stepped away from the casket, and Nathan turned his attention to Mr. Capuzzo, whom he fussed over until he was satisfied with his appearance.
While he worked, he continued, “They’re a respectable family. Mr. Capuzzo owned several shoe stores. His widow is a very courteous lady, even in her sorrow. And their eldest daughter, who has been making the arrangements with us, has been easy to work with.” He added, “You can tell a lot about a family by the way they behave in their time of bereavement, and the Capuzzos seem like good people.”
“Have they made any unusual requests? Or given you any strange restrictions?”
“No, nothing.”
“Why are you focusing on Capuzzo?” I asked impatiently, wondering if Lopez was keeping company with a mystical time bomb. “This is about Quinn. It has to be! He’s the guy who made Nelli go ballistic today. The guy who was leaving this funeral home just as the corpse got frisky.”
John snorted a little with laughter. Nathan looked pained by my phrasing.
Lucky said, “I think the doc is trying to find a connection between Capuzzo and Quinn. Am I right?”
Max nodded. “Or between Mr. Capuzzo and whatever attracted Detective Quinn to this mortuary today.”
“
I
attracted him,” said John.
We all looked at him.
“Do we all remember the
shooting
today?” John prodded.
“Why did he want to question you about that?” I challenged, thinking it had just been a pretext.
“Because he’s a cop.”
“This isn’t his case. The Fifth Precinct is in charge of Susan’s arrest. Quinn is in OCCB. So why did
he
come here to question you? Why not a detective from the Fifth?”
“I don’t know. Because he was there? He witnessed what happened . . . And maybe he thinks it’s connected to his case.”
“What case?”
“Besides asking why Susan wanted me dead, he asked me a lot of questions about Joe Ning.”
“Ah.” Lucky nodded. “Chinatown underworld boss.”
“Organized crime,” John said to me. “Organized Crime Control Bureau. See?”
“So you’re sayin’ he came here because of his perfectly legitimate business interests.” Lucky added, “In a manner of speaking.”
“Seemed like it at the time,” said John. “Before the dead started dancing.”
“John,” admonished his father.
“And now?” I prodded.
John thought about it. “Honestly . . . it still seems like it. He was very . . . cop-like. You know. Asked a bunch of rapid-fire questions about the shooting, Susan, me. Then he suddenly switched to asking about Joe Ning—which caught me off guard and kind of confused me. Then he switched back to asking about Susan, which caught me off guard again.”
“I know the feeling,” I said gloomily. At his least romantic and most inquisitive, Lopez had used the same technique on me a few times. “What did you tell him?”
“That I’ve known Susan since I was a kid and thought we got along fine. We weren’t ever
close,
but it never once occurred to me she might try to—”
“No, I mean about Joe Ning.”
“Oh.” John shrugged. “Big man in Chinatown. Big funeral. It’ll probably have to be closed casket. Not much else.” John shook his head. “I don’t
know
much else. I met Uncle Six a few times, but it’s not as if we ever hung out together. I only know what everyone in the neighborhood knows, or what’s in the news.”
“Police!” his father said suddenly.
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