A Thousand Tombs by Molly Greene

envelope, then leaned toward her and offered his palm. When she reached to shake it, he turned her fingers down and brushed his lips across the back of her hand, then raised his eyes.
    His lips curved into a smile. “I will see myself out.” Giovanni turned and nodded again as Mack pushed off the jamb and stepped aside to let him pass.
    When they heard the front door close, Mack took the seat Luciano had vacated. “Did you make a new friend?” he asked.
    Gen’s cheeks pinked. “That was the male half of the Italian squad. They’re called Carabinieri, I think I told you that. You met the female half outside Vitelli’s last Sunday. You remember her, don’t you?”
    Mack’s gaze didn’t waver. “I remember. What did he want?”
    “He tried to hire me to trail Vitelli. I said no.”
    “Hire you?” Mack pulled a face. “That’s weird.”
    “Oh, I don’t know. You wanted to hire me, too. Everybody can see how good I am.” She smiled. “So what brings you by today?”
    “I thought I’d take you to lunch. And I looked into Vitelli and I wanted to tell you about it.”
    “Anything interesting?”
    “Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much. He’s a U.S. citizen. Emigrated from Italy about thirty years ago. He’s been in San Francisco most of that time. Owns the house.”
    “Thirty years? He sounds like he just got off the plane. How about family?”
    “Came over with a wife and daughter. No idea what happened to the girl, though, I couldn’t find anything.”
    “And the wife? Any idea what happened to her?”
    “I got nothing.”
    So he was alone, like Luca. Which brought her thoughts around to the boy. “What’s Luca up to today?”
    “He’s planting fall vegetables. He asked me to, so I stopped and bought some six-packs.”
    “What’s with these Italians, they all have gardening in their blood?”
    “They seem to,” Mack replied. “As opposed to the French.”
    She ignored the jibe. “What about school, Mack? The kid should be in school. What are you going to do, just let him hang out and dig in the dirt forever?”
    “Genny.” Mack’s voice was calm and steady. “He’s smart, he’ll figure it out. It’s only been five days. I thought I’d give him some time to tell me what he wants to do. I think he needs to be left alone to come to his own conclusions. He isn’t just digging in the dirt, he’s thinking. ”
    “And what if he’s content to let things go on the way they are?”
    “He’ll figure it out. The kid’s okay, I can tell. We have to trust him.”
    Gen took in some air and pushed away from the desk, then turned the wheeled chair toward the bookshelves behind her. She was annoyed by Mack’s unconditional support of the kid.
    “What are you going to do about Vitelli and the coin?” he asked.
    “I’m going to try to figure out who it belongs to.”
    “Maybe you should just turn it over to the Italians. Or better yet, Homeland Security. Let them determine ownership. It’s not like they can keep the dang thing if it’s the old man’s property.”
    Gen slowly turned the chair back around. “I believe that’s the first time you have ever even remotely told me what to do.”
    Mack shrugged. “I’ve been thinking.”
    “And?”
    “ICE should be on deck here,” Mack said, “not the FBI. The woman, you said she mentioned they had the blessings of the FBI.”
    “Ice? What, you think we should freeze them out?”
    “I-C-E,” Mack replied. “Stands for Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Homeland Security’s investigative unit. These guys are pretty new on the scene, only been around since early 2000, but they take on cases that involve trafficking of cultural properties.”
    “And you think they should be involved.”
    “Seems like it to me.”
    “Well, I’m not going to quit. The situation is so screwed up it interests me. I like Vitelli, and I want to know if he’s really doing what these Italians are accusing him of. So I think I’ll keep my hand in for