After the bar, we hit another four betting parlors – all of them in or near the old part of Florence.
Nothing.
None of them had any idea where my father was.
At two of the places, I knew the guys who ran things.
At the other two, I didn’t. They initially told us to go away, but when I mentioned ‘Fabio Flambeur,’ they knew I was on the level.
But nobody had any information whatsoever.
After the fifth place, I threw up my hands. “That’s it – I don’t know any other places.”
“There’s one more place we should check,” Adriano said.
“Where’s that?”
“The modeling agency. Do you remember where it is?”
“Yes, but… is that a good idea?”
“Whether it is or not, it’s the only option we have left.”
“Won’t there be people with guns there?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Adriano smirked. “But I’ve got a gun, too.”
I felt sick to my stomach, but I nodded.
The agency was on the outskirts of the old quarter, close enough to walk to.
Ten minutes later, we were standing in front of the building where Sergio had brought me yesterday.
It was after 6 PM on a Saturday. Even if the other businesses in the building had been open today, they would be closed by now – and there was nobody in the lobby.
There wasn’t a front desk, so we walked right to the elevators.
After I punched the button and the door closed, Adriano took off his clubbing shirt.He looked damn good in his wife-beater with his muscular arms and tats fully visible.
“I don’t think we have enough time for a quickie,” I joked.
“Later,” he said with a grin as he took out his gun.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I exclaimed.
“Getting ready,” he said as he wrapped the black shirt over the gun.
To a casual observer, it would look like he was carrying a balled-up shirt in his hand…
Not a concealed weapon.
By the time the elevator door opened, his pistol was completely hidden.
We walked out of the elevator and over to the glass doors of the modeling agency.
Same all-white reception area with Agenzia di Modelle Fiorentina in 12-inch silver letters –
But the lights were off, and there was no one inside.
Adriano pulled the handles on the glass doors, but they didn’t budge.
“Well, I guess that’s a dead end,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Hold on,” Adriano said.
He walked down the hallway to all the other offices.
Most of them were nondescript brown doors. Little plaques on the walls bore the name of the business. There were a couple of doctors and dentists, a therapist, and one import/export company. For the other three, it was impossible to tell what they were from the vague company name.
Adriano tried the door handle for each and every one, then knocked loudly.
No one answered.
By the time we’d circled around to the modeling agency, we’d confirmed that not a single office was open.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” I muttered.
“Not at all,” he said as he unwrapped his shirt from his gun. “Cover your ears.”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “What the hell are you – ”
“Cover your ears!” he snapped angrily.
As soon as I did, he fired at the glass doors.
BLAM!
One shot was all it took.
The right door shattered into a thousand pieces.
Adriano stepped through the empty gap, glass gritting under his Doc Martins, gun pointed at the door at the rear of the room.
“What the HELL!” I hissed as I followed him.
“I’m not leaving here without some answers.” He glanced over at the receptionist’s desk. “That’s interesting.”
“What?”
“There’s a monitor but no computer.”
I looked closer.
He was right. There was a monitor on the receptionist’s desk… but no computer attached. The cord from the monitor just dangled by the chair.
“There was definitely one there last night,” I said. “I remember the screen was lit up as I walked past it.”
Adriano nodded, wrapped his left hand in the black shirt, and tried the door at the back of the room.
I dreaded what would come next if it was locked.
Another gunshot, or kicking it in –
But the door opened easily.
Adriano kept his gun ready and clicked on a light next to the door.
The hallway lit up with fluorescent lights.
The entire place was deserted.
“You said there was an office where you saw the guy with cruel eyes. Show me, but don’t touch anything.”
“Why not?”
“Fingerprints.”
Oh –
So that was why he’d wrapped his left hand with the shirt.
I retraced the steps I’d taken last night. Adriano stayed next to me, his gun pointed down the hall.
I reached what I thought was the right spot. “This one… I think.”
Adriano opened the office door –
And there was the framed Art Deco print hanging on the wall.
“This is it,” I said. “I remember that poster.”
Adriano walked in and flicked on the light. I followed close behind.
Nothing in the room looked like it had been touched –
Except the computer was gone, just like the lobby.
“They cleaned the place out,” Adriano said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the agency was a front… and once they wiped out the Agrellas, they took whatever records they could grab and walked away.” He shook his head. “It’s another dead end… let’s go.”
“Can we try to find my purse?”
“We can try.”
We went to the studio area where all the clothes and makeup stations were. Everything was empty.
My clothes were where I’d left them, sitting in a pile on the floor –
But my purse was gone.
“Shit,” I whimpered.
I’d secretly hoped they didn’t know who I was…
But now I couldn’t pretend anymore.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Adriano reassured me.
“They have my ID.”
“They already knew who you were.”
“Yeah, but – ”
“How much money did you have?”
I snorted. “Like, three euros.”
“Any credit cards?”
“Maxed out.”
“Well, then, no big deal.” He grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll be your sugar daddy.”
I made a face. “Please don’t say that.”
He laughed. “Come on – let’s go.”
