"You do bodywork, right? I heard around for years-you do this kind of work, like private-eye shit and all."

"So? This is different."

"What's so different? Just nose around and find out this guy's name for me-where he lives and all."

"Not a chance," I told him.

The old man looked into my eyes, slipping into a new game quicker than a striking snake.

"Burke, this is family."

"Yeah," I said, "your family."

"In the joint, we was like family," he told me, his voice quiet.

"You been reading too many books, old man. I was never in your fucking family."

"Hey, come on, Burke. Just 'cause you ain't Italian don't mean nothing to me," he said, with all the sincerity of a real-estate broker.

"I went to prison because I wasn't going to spend my life kissing ass," I said, "and kissing some old man's pinky ring don't race my motor either. A boss is a boss-I don't have much but at least I don't have a fucking boss, you hear me?"

The old man kept his face flat against this sacrilege, but his lizard eyes blinked. He said nothing, waiting for me to finish.

"I showed you respect then-and I show you respect now," I said, letting him save face. "But don't disrespect me with this bullshit about 'family,' okay?"

The old man thought he got it. "You want money?" he asked.

"For what-for doing what?"

"I want to make this freak stop hurting Gina."

"Will she do what you tell her?" I asked him.

The old man made a clenched fist, pounded his chest where his heart would be if he had one. It was all the answer I needed.

"I'll take a shot," I told him. "Tell her to go to the park on Friday, just like the freak told her to. I'll be around, okay?"

"Burke-you'll do it right?"

"There is no 'right' about this, Julio. I'll get it done or no charge, how's that?"