The 56th Man by J. Clayton Rogers Page A

"Yeeow! Kinda hot there, Antonio."
    "Our customers like them hot," Antonio
explained evenly.
    "Well I'm a customer, and I don't like
sticking glowing hot pokers in my mouth."
    "I'll tell the chef."
    "Oh--no! Don't bother. I'll just sit back and
watch you guys intercourse with each other. Give them a few minutes
to cool down." Carrington leaned forward and smiled at Ari.
"Antonio here's one of those foreign exchange students."
    Antonio gave a small cough. "Not exactly. I'm
a research fellow."
    Carrington frowned, as though the description
sounded bizarre to his prominent ears. "I was trying to be polite.
Anyway, Antonio picks up extra change washing dishes here at night.
A real go-getter, eh Antonio? Or what is it your real name is?"
    "Giosuè," Antonio sighed, holding out his
hand. As Ari took it, the two shared their opinion of the detective
with brief smirks.
    There was another awkward pause.
    "Well?" Carrington demanded. "Don't you
people want to talk about the old homestead or something?"
    Giosuè threw a shrug.
" Sono da Milano ."
    Ari returned the shrug.
" Siracusa ."
    "Ah."
    They fell silent.
    "That's it?" said Carrington gruffly.
    "We're from different parts of the country,"
Giosuè said. "Very far apart. We don't know each others' area."
    "You got nothing in common?" Carrington
tossed down his paper napkin. "We had a whole damn civil war here
just so we'd all have something in common."
    "We had a guy named Garibaldi..." A
slow grin drew itself across Giosuè’s face and he again turned to
Ari. " Ho sentito Berlusconi ha alcuni amici
il vostro modo ."
    Ari chuckled and shook his head in
protest. " Vuoi dire Cirillo? E 'qui negli
Stati Uniti, con il resto dei delinquenti ."
    " Sì! Sì! " Giosuè laughed.
    " Senza il Primo
Ministro ha una villa il tuo modo ?"
    " San Martino,
Arcore. Nizza proprietà. " Giosuè shook
his head and popped a whew from between compressed lips. " Non tutti hanno uno che si è fatto
uomo per un giardiniere. "
    " Sono tutti
ladri, " Ari sighed. " Vedi
Berlusconi e Bush ."
    " Nel letto
insieme ."
    " Domanda è, chi
è in cima ?"
    "All right!" Carrington interrupted their
laughter. "So everything's hunky-dory in Italy and the Pope's still
a virgin."
    Giosuè took his cue, nodded at Ari, and
retreated into the kitchen.
    Carrington no longer seemed enamored with his
bacon cheeseburger. He glanced at his watch, grimaced, tapped his
thumbs on his plate. It seemed obvious that a pet theory had just
gone down in flames. But what? Why would it matter if Ari was
Italian or not? Unless he was trying to verify if he was in the
country legally. Yes...an illegal alien could be...evicted. And
perhaps Carrington had not believed he was Italian.
    In any event, it looked as though
Carrington didn't like the idea of anyone living in the Riggins house. Did he think
to do so was a kind of sacrilege?
    "Hope this'll do you," said the waitress as
she brought Ari a white porcelain cup filled with hot water. On the
side of the saucer lay an unopened tea bag.
    "I suppose..." Ari picked up the bag and
looked at it uncertainly.
    "They don't have tea bags in Sicily?"
Carrington asked, watching him.
    "Of course." Ari noted the tab on the pack
and pulled. It came out of the envelope, along with a sachet of
tea, attached by a string to the tab between his fingers. He placed
the small sack in the cup and draped the string over the side, then
smiled up at the waitress. "Excellent."
    She lifted her chin, lowered her chin, and
walked away.
    Suddenly hungry again, Carrington wolfed a
bite out of his hamburger. He winked at Ari. "Don't know what
you're missing," he said, the words muffled as he chewed.
    "You had something to talk to me about?" Ari
said, inspecting the steeping tea.
    "That's what I wanted to talk to you
about."
    "That means you want to talk to me about what
you want to talk about."
    "Guess it does," Carrington snorted, thinking
over his words. "I wanted to talk about...like how the value of a
painting goes up when