The dining room continued with the motif from outside. Red brick columns were used to support crisscrossing ceiling beams that looked like polished mahogany. Every table was occupied, and the room hummed with the noise from a couple of dozen quiet conversations.

The hostess led us to a corner table that was well away from the windows. On the way, Karl and I received hard looks from several pairs of men in dark suits who were sitting at tables scattered around the dining room. I assumed that Calabrese was paying for their dinners, which mostly came in glasses.

Three other men were with Calabrese, although only the boss had his back to the wall. Two of them were anonymous soldier types, but I recognized the third one as Louis Loquasto, who was the consigliere.

Loquasto was a slim guy with gray hair, wearing a sharp suit and an even sharper expression. He was the only member of the Calabrese Family who hadn’t crossed over into the world of the undead. Calabrese probably considered it an advantage to have a trusted associate who could move about in daylight.

As we reached his table, Calabrese said something I couldn’t hear, and the two soldiers got up and left. Loquasto stayed where he was.

I nodded at Calabrese. “You’re looking pretty good for somebody who almost met true death a few hours ago.”

He looked at Karl sourly, then back at me. “You didn’t say anything about bringing a friend.”

“Neither did you,” I said. “But you don’t hear me complaining.”

Calabrese took a sip from the tall glass of red liquid he had in front of him and gestured toward the two empty chairs. “Sit down, if you want.”

When we were seated, I nodded at Loquasto. We all knew each other, so introductions weren’t needed. Calabrese said, “You guys want a drink, something to eat?”

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee,” I said. I was going to need a lot of that, just to get through my shift tonight.

Karl nodded toward Calabrese’s glass. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Calabrese made a slight gesture, and a waiter appeared at our table immediately. “A pot of coffee” – I guess Calabrese had noticed the circles under my eyes – “and another one of these.” He touched his glass.

It came as no surprise that we were served quickly. Once the waiter had gone, Calabrese looked at me. “You said you wanted to talk – so talk.”

“You’ve got some vamps from out of town trying to muscle in on your business.”

He snorted. “How’s about you tell me something I don’t know.”

“That’s kinda what I was hoping to get from you – some things I don’t know,” I said. “Like who these new guys are.”

Calabrese started to speak, but Loquasto laid a gentle hand on his boss’s forearm. “Perhaps before you say anything, we should consider the possibility that one of these gentlemen is wearing a wire.”

I looked at Loquasto. “Maybe we oughta consider the possibility that you’re full of shit, Counselor. If I wanted to take down Don Calabrese, I didn’t need to come in here with a microphone under my shirt to do it.”

Loquasto rattled the ice cubes in his glass, but didn’t take a drink. “Is that right?” he said.

“Yeah, that’s exactly right – all I had to do was sit on my hands this morning and watch while the three fangsters who had him trapped eased his transition from Undead to True Dead with a couple of silver bullets in the brain.”

I stirred some sugar into my coffee. “Instead, I killed two of them and let him leave the scene afterwards.”

I was exaggerating my body count by fifty per cent, but there was no reason why these guys had to know that.

Calabrese pulled his arm from Loquasto’s grasp. “Forget that wire bullshit,” he said.

Then he turned to me. “These motherfuckers making a move on me are out of Philly – the Delatasso Family.”

“Philly, huh?” Karl said. Not exactly next door.” Philadelphia’s about a two-and-a-half hour drive south from Scranton.

“Compared to the kind of action they’ve got down in Philly,” I said, “Scranton’s got to be pretty small potatoes.”

“It ain’t Charlie Delatasso who’s trying to expand,” Calabrese said. “It’s the son, Ronnie.”

“With his father’s blessing, of course,” Loquasto said.

“Sounds like a young man in a hurry,” I said. “How old is he, anyway?”

“Thirty-nine, I believe,” Loquasto said.

“Eldest son?” I asked.

“Only son,” Loquasto told me.

“I don’t get it,” Karl said. “Why would he take all the risks involved in starting a war – and so far from home, besides? Shit, all he’s gotta do is wait.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Sooner or later, the old man’s either gonna croak – from either too much linguine or multiple gunshot wounds – or get sent up for a long stretch. Either way, the kid gets to take over.”

Calabrese gave me an indulgent smile. “Didn’t you know?” he said. “Delatasso the elder came over, about four years ago.”

I stared at him. “Came… You mean he’s undead?”

“That’s exactly what he is,” Calabrese said.

“Our sources say Don Charles had a heart attack,” Loquasto said. “Apparently you were right about all the linguine. He recovered eventually, but the close look he got at the Grim Reaper frightened him – enough so that he took steps to postpone indefinitely any future visits.”

I nodded slowly. “I think I begin to see the problem.”

“Me, too,” Karl said. “The old man, if he’s careful, could live a long, long time. And even if junior got turned, too, he still has to wait… and wait.”

“Oh, he has been,” Loquasto said. “Delatasso told everyone in his Family that they could either change, or leave. That edict included his son, who, as you pointed out, Detective, will nonetheless have a very long wait before he can take over the business.”

“Unless he takes steps to move things along,” I said. “That’s not exactly unheard of.”

“Not gonna happen,” Calabrese said. “In some Families, maybe. But from what I hear, Ronnie is everything a father could want in a son. He loves his old man – worships him, even.”

“There’s a more pragmatic issue for young Mister Delatasso to deal with as well,” Loquasto said. “His father is very popular among his soldiers and the other members of the Family. Apparently the Don has been generous in distributing the profits of his various enterprises among his employees. I also understand he possesses a great deal of personal charm.”

“So,” Karl said, “if the kid bumped off his old man and tried to take over…”

“He would likely face vengeance at the hands of his father’s former associates,” Loquasto said. “All of which makes a takeover very unlikely.”

“So Junior’s feeling his oats and wants to make a name for himself,” I said. “And to do that, he’s gotta branch out.”

“And the little cocksucker picked Scranton,” Calabrese said.

I refilled my coffee cup. The stuff they served here wasn’t as good as McGuire’s Jamaican Blue Mountain, but it wasn’t half bad.

“Waging a war’s expensive,” I said. “And over a hundred miles from home, too. It must be costing the old man a fortune.”

“It would, if he were paying for it,” Loquasto said. “His preference is for Ronnie to stay at home and help run operations there – he held quite a responsible position, I understand. Charlie has not forbidden his son from engaging in this attempt at expansion, but he has declined to bankroll it.”

“What the fuck’s the kid doing, then,” Karl said, “putting it on his MasterCard?”

“The source of Ronnie’s funding is something of a mystery,” Loquasto went on. “But it seems abundantly clear that he has found a backer.” He gave an expressive shrug. “Perhaps in one of the other Northeast families.”

“The fucker probably promised them a cut of the profits on that new drug,” Calabrese said. “That’d get their attention.”

Louis Loquasto was probably the only man, living or undead, who could get away with the hard look that he gave Calabrese right then. The Don had just said something he wasn’t supposed to – and judging by the expression on his face now, Calabrese knew it, too. Maybe the attempted assassination attempt last night had affected him more than he wanted to admit. Even vampires have nerves, you know.