Codaselli uncrossed, then recrossed his legs.

“My error, sir,” Anchor said, not sounding too worried about it. “I apologize.”

Codaselli held up a hand. “It’s alright, John.” His eyes zeroed in on me. “Excellent catch, Mr. Tyler.”

“Here’s my question,” I asked. “Do you actually want to find your son?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not from Minneapolis,” I said. “But my understanding is you have influence here. My guess is that if you really wanted to locate Marc, you could have people swarming the streets at a moment’s notice. Maybe you do. I don’t know. But that’s not the vibe I’m getting. So my question is do you really want to find him? Because if you don’t, then I think Isabel and I are wasting our time.”

I glanced at Isabel. Her jaw was locked tight, her hands clasped together.

Codaselli tapped an index finger to his lips, staring at me. Then he pointed the finger at me. “I did hear that you were direct.”

I nodded.

“I can appreciate that,” he said, nodding. “Yes, I would like to find my son. Perhaps we can work together.”

“Working together means answering questions,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, tilting his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Yes, it does.”

“So, the first question I’d ask is why did your son leave home?”

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “That’s actually not the first question.”

“It isn’t?”

“No. The first question is why do I want to find my son.”

“I’m not following.”

“Just ask me.”

I glanced at Isabel. She shrugged. I looked back at Codaselli. “Alright. Why do you want to find your son?”

He lowered his eyes and fixed them on me. “Because I’m dying.”

TWENTY-FIVE

 

 

“The cancer is in my liver,” Peter Codaselli said. “Stage Four.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Me, too,” he said with a tight grin. “I did not plan on going out this way.” He paused. “Marc doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know you have cancer or that it’s so advanced?”

“Neither,” he said. “When I was first diagnosed, I kept it from everyone. Not sure why, but I did. Then Marc left home. It actually worked out in the sense that I was able to receive treatment without his knowing. I saw him not too long ago.” He paused. “It didn’t go well. He left again. Next day, I received the news from my doctors that the cancer had essentially won. We explored some other treatment options, but none offered the odds I was looking for. And they would’ve significantly diminished the quality of my life. I’ve opted out.”

He was saying all of this in a matter-of-fact way, without much emotion. Maybe he’d worked through it already or maybe he was the type of person who could throw up an emotional wall when necessary. Either way, he did not reveal much about how he felt about his impending death.

“So, I would like to find Marc before I die,” he continued. “And yes, I probably could have teams of people out there looking for him, but I’m not ready to do that. Yet. Doing so will draw attention and bring questions.”

I thought for a moment. “Bring attention and questions from people who might benefit from your death.”

He nodded. “Precisely. If we get to the point where I need to do that, I will. But right now, it wouldn’t be prudent for myself or Marc.”

“You said that your last visit with Marc did not go well,” I said. “Why not?”

He fiddled with the crease in his pants, then looked at Isabel. “I’m curious. How does my son speak of me?”

Isabel looked like a deer in the headlights.

“It’s alright,” he said, smiling. “I can take it.”

“Uh…not well,” she stammered. “He doesn’t say a lot. All I really know is that you two don’t get along.”

“He ever say why?”

“No. And I didn’t pry.”

Codaselli brushed at his knee, sweeping away some imaginary dust. “Marc is not a fan of my choice of business. He never has been. He’s embarrassed and doesn’t want any part of it. It’s why he left home to begin with.”

“Did he just find out?” I asked.

“No, he’s known for awhile,” he said. “He finally reached an age where he had a lot of questions and I felt he deserved honest answers. Perhaps a mistake on my part.” He waved a hand dismissively. “But I thought he deserved to know. And let’s face it. It’s not like I’m a professional athlete or actor or someone he can brag to his friends about.” He smiled. “I know that my place has made his life harder.”

I wondered if Codaselli had ever wanted out. I couldn’t read him. I didn’t know much about organized crime but I knew you didn’t just turn in your resignation.

“So he took off,” Codaselli said. “And I let him. I felt that if he didn’t want to be at home, was ashamed of our name, then he should be able to do what he wanted. I let him go. I had people to keep an eye on him, not closely, but I knew he was alright. Then he came to me not too long ago. For money.”

He shifted in the chair and for the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “I tried to leverage him.”

“How?” I asked.

“I knew the cancer had spread, but as I said, I wasn’t aware of the severity. Mortality was becoming more real, though. I knew that my days were numbered.” He tilted his head to the side, rubbed his jaw. “My business is vast. And complicated. And lucrative. There needs to be a plan in place for my passing.”

I nodded.

“I’ve always wanted Marc to succeed me,” he said. “He’s my only child. I wanted it to stay in the family.”

“Even after he made it clear he wasn’t happy with what you do?” I asked.

“Yes, even after. Call me stubborn.” He smiled a painful smile. “So, when Marc came to me, I saw an opportunity. He needed something and I offered to help. In exchange for his coming to work for me and take over the business.”

“What did he need?” I asked.

“A thousand bucks,” he said. “He needed a thousand dollars.”

“Did he say what for?”

“Not at first, but I pressed him,” Codaselli said. “He tried to be vague, but I knew he wasn’t telling me the truth. It was for a girl.”

I looked at Isabel. She shrugged.

“I don’t know who she is or why,” he explained. “He wouldn’t budge on those things. But he needed the money for her and I think he was being truthful.”

“Did you give him the money?” I asked.

“I did,” he said. “And he agreed to take over my business.”

“He did?”

“Yes,” Codaselli said, smiling. “But I was fairly certain he was just saying that to get the money.”

“So, why’d you give it to him then?”

He brushed again at his knee. “Wishful thinking, I suppose. I was hoping there was a slight chance he’d come back.”

“Come back?”

“Our deal was that he’d be back the next day,” he explained. “We’d start laying the groundwork for his succession. I would’ve shared with him my cancer diagnosis. And he would’ve learned that I don’t have much longer. I knew it was a foolish wish at the time, but that didn’t stop me from making it. I could care less about the money. I just wanted my son around.”

I leaned back in the sofa. He’d gotten hit with a double whammy. Losing his son and his future at the same time. Not an easy thing to swallow for anyone.

“So, what are you doing about it?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t believe you’re just letting it go,” I said. “Given all that is on your plate, I’m not buying that you’re just accepting the fact that he’s gone. You may not have your people out searching for him day and night, but I can’t believe that if this matters to you in the way you say it does, that you’re just accepting this as a done deal and letting your son walk.”

Codaselli pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked tired, fatigued. His clothes hung loosely on his body. He didn’t seem near death, but it was easy to see the toll everything was taking on him.

“You’re correct again, Mr. Tyler,” he said. “Someone made a mistake.”