Angie said, “Sal, you don’t believe this shit, do you? Guy comes in like this, a stranger?”

Sal made a little hand move. “So now he has to prove it.”

I said, “Take something out of my right front pocket?”

Sal nodded.

I took out the computer sheets and gave them to him.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Transaction records of your money-laundering operation through the First Chelam Bank. You remember Karen Lloyd?”

Sal nodded again.

I glanced at Vito and Angie. “You want to do this alone?”

Sal said, “You’re not from New York. Where you from?”

“California.”

He made a little head move, like that explained it. “This is my brother Vito. This is my cousin Angie. We’re family here. You understand family?”

“Yes.”

“Say what you came to say.”

I walked them through the eight accounts. I showed them how the deposits in Charlie’s private account went from nickel and dime to the mid-five figures starting about five months ago, when Charlie had met Gloria Uribe and through her fell in with Jesus Santiago. I told them that Charlie had turned a Gamboza hype named Richie Sealy and that the hype fed information to Charlie about incoming Gamboza dope shipments and that Charlie then sold the information to the Jamaicans so that they could hijack the dope. I told them about following Charlie to Queens and the meeting that I had witnessed between Charlie and the Jamaicans and the cop from Kennedy airport. I told him about Peter and Dani and what had happened in Brooklyn under the Manhattan Bridge. I spoke slowly and carefully and I gave them names and addresses and times of day.

When I was finished, nobody said anything. Angie was chewing at his upper lip and Vito was staring at the fireplace. It was a long time before Sal moved or spoke, and when he did it wasn’t to me. “Vito, we hear anything about the Gambozas getting ripped off?”

Vito shrugged, not wanting to commit himself. “Something about maybe some niggers took down a load of Gamboza dope. Who listens? We got no financial interest in dope anymore. We gave that up to the Gambozas.”

Sal shook his head. “We traded with them, Vito. We gave them our piece of the dope for their piece of the labor.”

Angie said, “Hey, Sal, this mook’s talking about your kid, for chrissake. I think he’s fulla shit.”

Sal went over to the fireplace and stared at the dead coals, already knowing it was true. He said, “We got somebody in the coroner’s over in Queens?”

“Yeah.”

“Check it out.”

“Jesus Christ, Sal. It’s Charlie.”

“Check it out. Who’s running the nigger whores for the Gambinos?”

“Marty Rotolo.”

“Call’m. Find out about this Gloria Uribe.”