Let's see whether House and Jess learn anything at the piano bar that will help with the diagnosis of Marisa.

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Chapter 139.

"I'd like to see the manager," I told the man who'd greeted us.

"You're looking at him." He smiled at them. "How can I help you?"

"Well, first you can seat us, and then you can answer a few questions about that usual singer you mentioned."

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. As he indicated an empty table to one side, he said, "All I can tell you is she worked here for the past six months, then she got sick, her voice started to go. Quiet girl, careful not to fraternize with the patrons, if you get my drift."

"You visited her at the hospital yesterday, brought her flowers and a box of chocolate." I stared into his dark brown eyes.

"Yeah, so what of it? And how did you know?"

"Her condition worsened after that. We're trying to find out why."

"Hey, I didn't do nothin'!" He held up his hands.

"I didn't say you did. How have you been feeling the past few days?"

"Fine. Listen, mister. I don't know who you are or what your interest in Marisa is, but I don't have to answer your questions."

I took great pleasure in saying, "I'm her doctor and I'm afraid you do."

"Her doctor's that short guy with the big nose." He rubbed his own, which was almost as big as Taub's.

"I'm his boss. What did you two talk about?"

He shrugged. "You know, the usual. How she was feeling, when she'd be outta there. So, how much longer you gonna keep her?"

"It depends on when we find out why she's worse than she was yesterday afternoon." On a hunch I asked, "What did she say when you asked how she was feeling?"

"That she was getting better. Wait, I remember she said something about being cold, but it was warm in the room."

That could mean she was already sick when he arrived. "Did she mention any other visitors?"

He shook his head. "She is going to get better, isn't she?"

"We're working on it." I realized it didn't seem that way. Here I was, at a bar with a beautiful woman, while Marisa was still in that hospital bed. "I came here tonight mostly to get information that might help us." I pointed at the piano. "Is that the piano player who worked with Marisa?"

"Yeah. Pat Crawford. Why?"

"We learned that he gave her some herbal supplements when her voice started to go, and those made her condition worse instead of better. I'd like to talk to him."

The manager sighed with relief that he was no longer the object of my questions. "When the set is over, I'll send him to you. Meanwhile, did the two of you want anything to drink? I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"House. Dr. House, and this is Miss Jessica Giordano."

"Giordano? Any relation to Peter Giordano?"

Jess frowned. "Which one?"

"There's two of 'em?"

I studied him. What could he tell us about Jess' father or brother? "Senior and junior."

"I guess I mean senior. Older guy, from some town near the Pennsylvania border. Thinks he's a big shot."

"Yeah, that's senior. He's Jess' father." I pointed to her. "What do you know about him?" Who knew what this guy knew. I was going to have to try him with a few other names.

"Just that he's been trying to muscle in on a few places in this part of Princeton. I told him that he'd have to talk to Locarno about that."

"Anthony Locarno?" This was getting better and better. Maybe I didn't have to bring up any names at all.

"Yeah. You know him?" He sounded and looked surprised.

"We've met. I know his son, Marcello, and his grandchildren."

"Anthony Locarno owns most of the buildings in this area. He's been a good landlord, fair on his rents and doesn't make a fuss if you're a few days late payin'."

"He has a reputation for being honest," Jess said. "And he's very generous in his donations to charities."

The manager nodded. "So I hear."

"We never got your name." By this time I was prepared for even more connections to my other puzzles.

"Me? I'm Rudy. Rudy Atkins."

Thank goodness he wasn't related to all of these people. "Rudy, you ever hear of someone named Carlo Molino?"

His hesitation was all I needed to know that he did, even when he said, "Who's he?"

"He's a big shot in Palermo and has some businesses here in New Jersey. But you already knew that, didn't you? What is his connection to this place? Or to you?"

Rudy sighed. "I told you Giordano tried to buy this place from Locarno. Well, before Locarno owned it, and several buildings in this area, Molino did."

"Locarno bought them from Molino?" That was a surprising piece of news. Or was it? How did it connect to Molino's vendetta against the entire Locarno clan?

"Yeah, about three years ago."

So, before Francesca died. Curioser and curioser. I glanced at Jess. She was frowning and shaking her head as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

Rudy called a waiter over. "Get these folks whatever they want." The waiter nodded and took off. "I'll be back but it's almost time for the piano player's break. I'll send him over."

"Thank you." I wasn't only grateful to him for making Pat available.

The music ended, and the piano player sauntered over to our table. "Rudy said you wanted to talk to me?"

"You know the herbal remedies you fed Marisa made her condition worse."

"So I heard, although I'm not sure I believe it."

"Have you visited her lately?"

He had to think about it, but eventually shook his head. "The last time was about five days ago."

"Give her anything?" I demanded.

"No one would let me. They let me stay five minutes, then sent me on my way. Why?" He looked from me to Jess for the answer.

"She's worse again. It's looking like an infection."

His eyes narrowed and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "So? What does that have to do with me?"

"I don't know. All I know is that one day she was improving, we'd diagnosed her with nodules on her vocal cords, easily repaired, and then she was worse again." I glared at him, even though he probably had nothing to do with Marisa's current condition. The substitute singer was back by the piano. "I expect your break is over."

"What?" He turned and looked in the direction I was staring. "Oh, yes. Well, just so's you know, I didn't give Marisa any infection."

"No, I guess not."

He returned to his bench and began playing again. I realized I'd failed to tell him he could use a few piano lessons, but I didn't think he'd agree.

The waiter arrived with our drinks and asked, "Did you want anything to eat? The burgers aren't bad."

"Sure, I'll have one."

Jess scowled. "Greg, we already had dinner."

"So? Make that rare."

The waiter shook his head. "We don't serve rare meat. Afraid of customers getting sick if the meat's not cooked enough."

"Do you do medium rare? With fries."

"Coming right up. And the lady?" He turned to Jess.

"All I wanted was some kind of desert."

"Ice cream? We have vanilla, chocolate and strawberry."

"No pie?" She looked disappointed.

"Sorry. We had some apple but there's none left."

Jess sighed. "Make it chocolate, then. Two scoops." She must have noticed my smirk. "What?"

"At least I ordered real food."

The waiter left. He couldn't hide his smile.

"Ice cream's as real as French fries and perhaps healthier."

"Perhaps."

The singer was screeching outAdele's Someone Like You. The piano player wasn't helping, either. I would bet Marisa could sing it much better, especially before her vocal cord nodules. At least the burger, when it came, was juicy and flavorful, the fries crisp and salty with just the right amount of grease.

When they finished, the singer asked for requests. I was afraid of what she'd do to some of my favorites so I refrained from asking for something. But Jess said, "I'd love to hear one of my favorites, Try."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't ask her to do that," I pleaded. "She'll butcher it."

"Maybe she'll surprise us."

"Wouldn't you rather remember the song the way Pink did it?"

Meanwhile, several people had satisfied the request for requests and we were being treated to an attempt at You Are So Beautiful.

The manager returned and we could turn our attention to him. "See why I want Marisa back?" he asked. So he knew how bad the replacement was.

"Why don't you get someone else?"

He laughed. "She's Locarno's niece or great-niece or something. Anyway, he insisted I give her a job. I agreed, but with the condition that's it's only until Marisa returns."

I'd had time to consider what other questions to ask him. "Did you ever meet Francesca Molino?"

"Is she related to Carlo?"

"His dead wife." It was obvious he didn't know her. "Okay, how about Lucy Locarno."

Jess narrowed her eyes at me but didn't say anything.

He nodded slightly. "Tony's daughter-in-law. Heard she was killed in a car accident a while ago."

"How about Mike Morgan."

"That's a common name, but, yeah, I once met a Mike Morgan. He drove for a fruit company and made deliveries to the restaurants in the area."

"Probably the same one." I had to be careful here. "How did you meet him? You don't serve fruit."

"No, but we use fruit in our pies and other desserts."

"Speaking of which, the waiter said you were out of apple pie." I indicated Jess. "We wanted some."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. I could go see whether there's anything left in the kitchen..."

"No, it'll wait. First, tell me, when was the last time you saw Mike Morgan?"

He rubbed the back of his head. "Seems to me I saw him recently. We had a delivery of cherries and apples early this morning, but it was another driver. It could have been yesterday or the day before."

"So he's still working for the fruit company. What's the name of it?" Jess asked.

"Bernini Fruit company."

"Bernini? Did you say Bernini?"