Ferenzi's face slackened ajar in an affected dumb look. Tasìa told herself, don't fall for it, this guy is anything but dumb.

She smacked the seat of the chair beside her in invitation.

He turned to Annebél and he chortled nervously.

"Mind if I do?"

"You'll have to sign a waiver. I can't guarantee she is housebroken."

Tasìa looked at her, crosséd.

Annebél shrugged.

"I'm just giving the man fair warning, Avellana."

Ferenzi laughed, even still, but hoarsely.

"Jeez . . . What have I got myself into? Thinking I should have stayed put in Asunción. Watch the fights, make some bets, check on the old lady. See if she is up for some grab and play. With me this time. Ay-ya-ya.

"No. I says to the boss, because his sister keeps calling and bothering him, I'll check it out. Why? What do I care? Sal is a weirdo piece of shit with the makings of a serial killer." Ferenzi turned to Tasìa as he sat down beside her. "You knew that, right?"

She smiled. This guy is a pro. He knew exactly what to say to get on our good side.

She responded in kind. Tasìa reached down, brought up a bottle of beer, twisted off the cap, and offered it to him.

"Weirdo, definitely. But Sal is way too sweet to ever harm anyone," Tasìa said with a good measure of conviction in her voice.

Ferenzi, distracted, winced as he watched Agu.

"Annebél, how is that brother of yours doing? Has he gotten any better?"

Annebél took her seat and poured the remainder of the vodka in her shot glass.

"He hasn't changed."

Ferenzi grimaced.

"Those treatments were expensive."

Annebél looked off, sadly.

"Yeah. Waste of time. Utter futility. Made little sense to kick heads in, inside the octagon, if it didn't serve a greater purpose."

They grew quiet, sullen even. Tasìa paid attention to that conversation, their casual back and forth, but she wasn't buying into it.

She had given him the answer he least expected from her. He had tried to get her to open up about her culpability by playing the part of someone sympathetic and sharing the same animus.

Sal was taking that girl to Asunción. There are other family members involved.

Now he was trying to get her to feel at ease by playing up his relationship with Annebél.

Did Annebél buy into it?

Ferenzi took his first sip. He held up the bottle and nodded in approval.

"Forgive my interruption, what was that, Avellana, correct? Yes, of course. You were saying about my bosses devilkin, Sal, what did you call him, 'too sweet to harm anyone'?"

Tasìa looked the tall mobster in the eyes with the trust of a child bleeding through.

"He always brings me lavender blossoms and roses."

"What," Ferenzi gasped, incredulously.

"Sometimes he comes by on Fridays and visits me," Tasìa elaborated as she patted her thighs, "when I am plying my trade. He has never done anything to even suggest he is violent. Actually, he is kind of shy. Sometimes, I even have to undress him."

There it is. His tell. Tasìa thought. He was sizing her up while clenching his bottom lip, as if to say a muted 'huh?' Tasìa could tell he was wondering why Sal never kidnapped her and brought her to Asunción.

"Never shows any sign of violence," Ferenzi asked, incredulous in his tone.

Tasìa looked away.

"Be honest, Avellana. It's on me, the burden is on me to let his family know what really happened that night."

Tasìa took a big gulp of beer and she cleared her throat.

"I get that. You see. He didn't visit that night. It was a Wednesday, after all. I wasn't expecting him, but I did see him. I was walking to the Quick Mart for some beer, practically the only thing I eat is the liquid bread, and I saw him in his car.

"He was there in the fuel station carousel. Crying. He needed to leave, but he just stared off into space. I walk up to his window and I tap on it. He was so, so very agitated. It is the most violent I have ever seen him.

"He was a wreck. His pupils were like this big. I asked him about the shit he was on. He admitted it. Thought he was dying. I convinced him to let me drive him to the back of the parking lot to have a talk before the store clerk called the law on us.

"I take him back there. He gets all paranoid that if they find out about his plans, they would kill him. He starts losing his breath. So, we get out of the car, I suggest we go on a walk.

"He starts running. I catch up, and I ask him what's wrong. He says he fucked up, big time. All the pressure, he couldn't take it anymore. Too much bullshit, he said. Then he started talking about his plans."

Ferenzi nodded, "the plans that 'they' were going to kill him for if 'they' found out, yes?"

Tasìa nodded. Ferenzi wore a poker face. It was a good indication that he was not buying it. If he was finding her to be credible, likely his jowls would be hanging sloppily, and he would be grinning knowingly as if to say, that stupid kid.

Instead, Ferenzi was squared up, defensively, with his head thrown back in aloof observation.

It didn't matter, Tasìa thought. This is the story he is going to get.

For a split moment, Ferenz let the mask of amiability slip. He smirked before speaking.

"You do realize that the 'they' is us, right?"

Tasìa shrugged.

"Of course."

"But, he feared for his life, right? You are just going to go ahead and tell me his plan?"

Tasìa nodded with her most fetching gobliny grin etched on her face. She grasped her knees, excitedly.

"If you quit interrupting me, I will."

"Wait. Hold on," Ferenzi pleaded while closing his eyes to sort the matter out.

Tasìa slapped her knees.

"Oh, you are under the impression I give a damn if he lives or dies. I don't. That is yours and his business. Every client is replaceable. Even clients who bring lavender blooms and roses. Hey, some clients even bring me chocolates!"

Ferenzi studied her through squinting eyes as she laid it on thick.

"Expensive European chocolates made of exotic even narcotic plants that will only grow in the weird tropic-like micro-climes that exist in secret and hard to reach locales in the Alps. Or, at least so my lover tells me.

"Have you ever heard of Toblerone? Of course, you have, but I bet you never heard of the back alley version. Eno-Relbôt. It's so good. Still not as good as a Rico Turron Noog-Noog, but I appreciate the extra effort my lovers go to obtain the rare things. Like that bottle of Son Délice Sauvage over there.

"You simply would not believe what I put out to obtain that."

Tasìa stopped speaking. She retained a pleasant smile on her face. She watched him to see if the amiable mask would slip off, as was her plan.

His hands did fidget, otherwise, Ferenzi retained his composure.

"We've gotten somewhat off track. You were saying, Sal's plan?"

She folded her arms and leaned forward.

"Why bother? I can see it in your eyes, you no longer believe me. If you ever did."

Ferenzi stared blankly. She could tell that, set against his flabby jowls, his teeth were clenched.

She nodded towards her Desert Eagle in a fair warning.

"I do not know where we got off on the wrong foot," Ferenzi pleaded.

"When you smirked at me. I normally don't let people get away with condescension, but you being a friend of Annebél's. You see, Sal is harmless as a kitten, but, as for myself, not so much."

Ferenzi turned his head, he let out a hissing gasp.

Tasìa laughed in turn.

"Snooping around this town, have you been by an abandoned storage facility? The mess left behind was created by yours truly."

He clenched the beer bottle in his hand with a sudden shake.

"I see you have. Rumors flying around about that place, I figured you would have to check it out."

Ferenzi still looked away. His eyes pleaded with Annebél who raised her brows in an 'I told you so.'

He finally spoke.

"It appears we are at an impasse. Where do we go from here?"

Tasìa raised up from the chair. She offered to escort him out with a tug on his coat jacket as she spoke.

"Simple enough. You need a story to tell your boss. Go right out that door, tell him, Sal felt a lot of pressure. The family business was catching up to him. He had a plan to fake his own death so he hired a couple of guys to assist him with blowing up that luxurious Alfa Romeo HybrClydis. Get enough evidence together and sell it."

His composure returned, Ferenzi smiled down at her.

"Why should I do that?"

Tasìa unleashed the roll guard.

"I think you are sincere in at least your description of Sal as a nuisance, no?"

"Of course, he is nothing but trouble."

Tasìa sighed.

"Then why wouldn't you take this opportunity to get rid of him? After all, he has the 'makings' of a serial killer. You said it yourself."

As he passed through the door, Ferenzi noticed the three suitcases. He shook his head and chuckled.

"I'll think about it," was all that he was willing to commit.

As he walked away, Tasìa shouted.

"Hey, Ferenzi, you can think about it until you solve the square root of pi in your head, you will still not come up with a more viable plan."