Chapter Two

Detective Landa was a busy man, I was sure. But I would give him an offer that I hoped he would not refuse.

I opened my bakery in the morning, not knowing if the detective would be home or not. Once my employees arrived at work, I excused myself and headed outside and to the other door. I unlocked it with my master key and climbed the stairs, then knocking on the apartment door.

The door opened quickly and the detective was standing behind it, in a shirt and trousers, no jacket over his shoulders. His face broke into a smile when he saw me.

"Good morning, Mrs. Violante," he said stepping back from the door and gesturing for me to enter his apartment. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Liebling."

I furrowed my brow, not sure what the last word meant or even what language it was.

"Please, come in. To what do I owe this visit?"

I walked through the doorway and he closed it behind me. The apartment, though still slightly under furnished, had some new items scattered around. Books sat on the coffee table, the bread from yesterday was sitting on the table, next to a glass of milk. The bed had sheets on it.

"You are a detective?" I wanted to confirm, turning to face him.

"Yes." He nodded.

I knotted my fingers together. "Who do you work for? What I mean is, do you do private investigations?"

He furrowed his brow, his eyes studying my face. "You want me to do something for you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Well then, would you join me for breakfast and we can discuss the specifics over coffee. That is," he took a step closer to me, "if your husband would not object to my dining with his lovely wife."

I rolled my eyes, an involuntary response. "My husband has no say in the matter."

He smiled. "Excellent."

There was a small diner a few blocks over that he chose for us to eat at. We sat in a booth near the back of the restaurant. The waitress brought us coffee.

Pouring cream into his mug, the detective asked, "So, Liebling, you would like to employ my services."

I nodded. "Yes, that is, if you will agree to it."

"I am inclined to do so, but I should first hear what it is you'd like me to do." He looked up from his coffee, meeting my eyes.

I took a deep breath, taking my hands from my lap and gripping my own mug of coffee. "I want you to follow my husband." I couldn't really believe myself then, telling a man I had just met about the suspected adultery of my husband.

He took a sip of his coffee, seemingly unphased by my proposal. "Your husband?" he confirmed, setting his mug down on the saucer. "Mr. Violante."

"Yes. Michael, Michael Violante."

"If you are asking me to follow him, you must suspect him of something." He tilted his head to one side, blinking at me.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could back out now, but I knew what I had to do. I couldn't keep going home and wondering where my husband was or who he was with.

"I believe that he is cheating on me," I divulged. "But I have no proof."

The detective let out a breath and shook his head, clicking his tongue. "No, no, no," he wined. "Fool. Stupid, stupid fool of a man."

I looked down at the table.

"If I was fortunate enough to be married to a woman such as yourself, I would never lay eyes on another woman for as long as I lived. I would ensure that she would want for nothing."

Looking back up at him, I managed a small smile. "I don't think my husband is as committed."

"You want me to use my skills as a detective to prove to you that he is in fact disloyal," he summarized.

"Yes. And in return, I'll give you free rent for a month, and free bread."

He smiled, folding his hands together in front of his face, elbows rested on the table top. "I will gladly accept."

"Thank you." I let my shoulders drop down, feeling relieved.

"What sort of proof to do you require?"

I chewed on my lower lip. "I'm not sure."

"May I ask, once you have your proof, whatever that may be, what do you plan to do?" He gave his coffee a stir.

"Again, I haven't thought that far ahead." I knotted my fingers together in my lap. "I found a blonde hair in my bed and he smells like perfume, often, when he gets home. He's been out of the house more, and…" I stopped and cleared my throat, but decided not to go on. I was embarrassed as it was, this man, who I had only met the day before, didn't need to know that my husband hadn't made love to me in months, barely spoke to me, hadn't kissed me in weeks.

He gave me a single nod. "I can follow him and look for signs of adultery, as well as proof of an affair."

"I just want to know if this is really happening."

"You trust me to tell you the truth?" His eyes studied mine.

"Should I not?"

He shrugged. "We have only just met, but you have given me a place to stay, a freelance job, and placed your trust in me to discover secrets of your marriage. I only hope that I do not disappoint." He leaned across the table, close enough to me that I could smell the musk scent of something on his clothes or skin. "You are, if I may be so bold, a very enticing woman. I admire your ambition and tact. It would be my honor to do whatever it is I can for you."

I felt my cheeks go warm from hearing his praise. It wasn't something I was used to hearing.

"I must warn you though," I said, "my husband is…involved…" I lowered my voice, "in organized crime. He comes from a…mafia family."

"Ooh." He raised his brows, folding his hands down on the table.

"So please," I reached out, putting my hand on his, "be careful."

He looked down at my hand and I pulled it away quickly, feeling self-conscious.

"You do not know where I am from, do you?" he enquired.

"No, I assumed maybe Germany, but I really don't know."

"I was born in Austria, not that it matters much any more. I speak several languages fluently, including but not limited to, German, French, Italian, and obviously English. I worked as a detective before the war and I was enlisted as a double agent during the war, due to my services and language ability." He leaned forward again. "I have been in many dangerous situations. Your husband does not scare me."

My spine was rigid against the back of the booth. "Good," I said with a nod.

"I imagine cheating is a dishonor to the family?" He stirred his coffee and took a sip. "From my knowledge, the mafia families are very intertwined."

"It is," I answered. "But I'm not Italian, obviously." I pointed to the red hair on my head. "My family is Irish. There were no up-front objections, but I know they would have preferred he marry someone else."

"Mm." He shook his head again. "They sound like unintelligent humans. You are both Catholic, are you not?"

"Yes. But I can't cook the way his mother does, and our children would only be half Italian." I rolled my eyes.

"How superficial."

I smiled. "Exactly."

"So, where can I find your husband? I will need to see what he looks like, learn his routine, before I can start following him, inconspicuously of course."

"He owns a watch shop on Mulberry. It's mainly just a front for his stupid crime deals, but it's somewhat successful. He'll be working there during the day."

"Take me there. Point your husband out to me."

"Okay." I nodded. "Let's go."