crossbow.
Uncle Mimmo looks at him. Then, without putting down the crossbow, he glances at the photo. âSure, itâs Tony, the hairdresser.â
âOh, yes, Tony, the hairdresser, I know him, too,â Tano says.
Uncle Mimmo gives him a dirty look.
âTonyâ¦â Tano says, and then doesnât know what else to say, so he looks around.
âNot him, the other one,â Lou says.
Uncle Mimmo raises his eyebrows. He permits himself another glance. âNo,â he says, âI donât know that one. But who the fuck are you?â
âGood question,â Lou says. âLetâs just say Iâm somebody whoâs here to give you a piece of advice.â
âLet me see, maybe I know himâ¦â Tano says.
âShut up, you donât know him, either,â Uncle Mimmo says.
Tano looks around.
âWhat ⦠advice would that be?â Uncle Mimmo says.
âIf anybody else asks you the same question, give the same answer. Do we understand each other?â
âHmmm,â Uncle Mimmo says, screwing up his eyes. âBut what if I suddenly realize I have seen this guy?â
âYouâd be wrong.â
âWhy?â
Lou thinks about it. Then he says, âBecause at the time of the robbery this guy here was at Tonyâs barbecue, so you didnât see him.â
âOh, right,â Uncle Mimmo says.
âPrecisely,â Lou says.
âPrecisely,â Tano says.
âDo we understand each other?â Lou says.
âOh, yes, we understand each other,â Uncle Mimmo says, putting away the crossbow. âBut thatâs not the point.â
âNo?â Lou says.
âNo,â Uncle Mimmo says. Calmly, he sits down on the stool, folds his arms, and says, âListen ⦠how about we stop talking in code?â
Tano nods.
âIn code?â Lou says.
âI mean, why donât we talk clearly?â Uncle Mimmo says.
âOkay, letâs talk clearly.â
âRight. First,â Uncle Mimmo says, raising his thumb, âI donât understand the way you guys work these days. In the old days, we all understood and we got along fine. Now everythingâs fucked up. Minchia, first you donât want to ask for protection, then you rob me, and now you come and threaten me! Look at me, I got white hair! Iâm a quiet guy who minds his own business. Besides, excuse me, but donât you still got your arrangement with the police? Minchia, you used to be better organized, and with all due respect you didnât used to fuck up quite so much. Donât you know that when the police guy wanted to do an Identi-Kit picture I made him draw a baking pan?â
âA baking pan?â
âRight, thatâs what I told him. From all I could see, with a shovelful of the sergeantâs brains all over my face, the murderer was the spitting image of a baking pan. Apart from the fact that even if I did see him, do you people think Iâd cough up the name of somebody who blows a sergeantâs face off?â
Tano shakes his head, Absolutely not.
âSecondly.â Uncle Mimmo raises his thumb again. And with the same thumb, he presses the button that opens the cash register, jumping at the TA-TANG as usual.
âWho the fuck makes these registers?â he says. âThey give you a brain hemorrhage every time you wanna make change!â Then he sighs, calmly takes out a wad of banknotes, moistens his thumb and index finger with his tongue, and starts counting. One, two, three, four ⦠fifteen.
âHere, hereâs a hundred and fifty euros. Taking into consideration goodwill, position, neighborhood, clientele, and any other fucking thing you want to consider, I think the price is right. Now just do me the pleasure of taking these euros and giving them to whoever sent you. Then next month on the dot, come back and Iâll do what you want. And tell whoever sent you that Uncle
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