“Dario!” The shift manager’s bewildered face pushed through from the crowd. With only a couple of years away from retirement, he worried about losing his job. “I swear on my son’s grave nothing was turned on. I checked it myself after everyone left. I don’t understand how this fire could have started.”
Dario squeezed the man’s bony shoulder. Walter had worked for him since day one when no one would offer an old restaurateur a job. Yet, he had learned the most from this veteran. The manager wouldn’t swear on his son’s grave lightly, his only child hadn’t lost his life in the 90’s civil war in vain. “Of course I believe you, Walter. Don’t fret, I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Worry vanished from the old man’s tired eyes. His face relaxed. “I’ll inform the staff once we’re allowed back in. There’d be lots of cleaning to do, a fresh coat of paint. Hopefully, we’ll find a willing soul or two to offer a helping hand.”
“Sooner we’re ready for business, sooner they’ll return to work and start earning money.” Ante seemed to find his voice. “God-damn-it. One evening we decide to take off and shit happens. If the fire Marshall finds out this was due to negligence or set deliberately, insurance will not pay out the damages. Money from last night could’ve burnt too.”
“All cash and credit card receipts are deposited in the bank’s night depository, so if the register burned there was only some small change,” Walter reassured him.
Ante blew out his breath. “Good to know we didn’t lose everything.”
“See, Walter would do everything right.” Dario patted Ante’s arm. Hours of toiling shoulder to shoulder with their employees had earned them their respect. He had no doubt in their time of need the workers wouldn’t
leave them in the lurch. Many bosses strived to work their staff and pay as little as possible. Dario would not have any problems replacing those who wouldn’t extend their help. Besides, jobs were scarce in offseason.
Dario took in the sorry exterior of his restaurant. Thin layers of smoke still poured from the broken windows, flattened hose extending from the pumper and disappearing inside the front doors indicated the firefighters stopped blasting the water, but the rivulets drained from the stone steps. How had the fire happened? His gut tightened anew, the fire wasn’t an accident. Yes, the inspector had warned him of faulty wiring, but since they opened there hadn’t been any incidents.
“I’ll start making phone calls.” Walter pulled out his cell phone.
Dario nudged his head toward the owner of LaGrotta still leaning against the wall. Only the level of golden liquid in the bottle he was holding had decreased. Something serious was going on. The man loved his booze, but Dario had never known him to drink alone or this early. With heavy steps, Dario approached him. Over the years they were healthy competitors, but never adversaries.
“Hey Frank,” Dario said, pointing at the firetruck. “You called them.”
Ante pushed on Dario’s shoulder for a better view of Frank. “Have you seen anyone snooping around?”
Frank’s heavy eyelids rose, revealing anguish in the man’s pale green eyes. He pointed the neck of his bottle toward the narrow alley. “A black shadow ran that way when I yelled. It’s that man, Dario. I’m telling
you. Wish as hell it was my place that burned. I should put a match to it before he gets it.”
Dario shook his head, though he suspected who Frank referred to. “What man?”
“I thought he just paid my fine, but he bought me out, Dario. How can he buy something that wasn’t for sale? I don’t understand. Now he’s offering me my restaurant back for twice the amount.” Frank pressed the almost empty bottle to his chest and dug into his pants pocket, then produced the crumpled sheet of paper. “I don’t have that kind of money. How can I buy something that’s rightfully mine?”
Ante emitted a low whistle. “Some nerve he’s got.” Dario exchanged the glances with his brother then looked back at Frank. “I know this man. Fred, right?” A glimmer of hope sparked in Frank’s drunken eyes. Dario’s throat tightened. He was about to crush that hope. “He’s a snake. This is how he conducts business everywhere. Takes over small, struggling establishments and incorporates them and replaces owners with his people. What is he offering you if you can’t buy it back from him?”
“He says I can stay and work, but he’ll place a new manager over me. The hell he will! I’ll burn it down.” Frank pulled the lighter out of his pocket. “There’s plenty of booze in there. He stocked my bar with good stuff. It’ll shoot flames thirty feet high.”
Rage burned inside Dario. Why would Fred do this? Did he truly need to buy Frank out in such sneaky way? This would not end well. Fred could take his dirty business elsewhere, but he would not succeed in his plan.
Ante clicked his tongue while shaking his head slowly. “I feel your pain, but don’t do anything crazy.”
Frank’s shouts turned a few heads. Thankfully no one paid much attention to a drunk. Dario pressed his finger to his lips. “First you need to sober up then think hard about it. Fred is like a venomous spider. If you go hotheaded against him, you’ll get hurt.”
“What am I to do, Dario? This restaurant is all I have.” Frank sobbed.
“What were you doing these past months when the Health inspector closed you?”
“Worked, where I could find some, but I’m a restaurateur, not some grunt laborer.” Frank drained the last bit of booze from the bottle.
Dario pried the empty flask out of Frank’s hand before the drunken guy could do something stupid he’d regret later. Should he offer him the money? Not only to help him but to show Fred his filthy moves did not work in this town. If Frank took him up on the offer, would he agree to his terms? No point dealing business with an inebriated person, especially not before he talked to Ante about his plan. “There’s nothing more you can do here now. Get some rest and we’ll talk later when you can think straight. Thank you for alerting the firefighters. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been here.”
“It’s what the neighbors are for. You’d do the same for me.” Frank drew in a long, slow breath then blew it out, blasting Dario with his booze odor.
Dario tapped Frank’s shoulder, then turned his head in the direction of the firefighter exiting his establishment, a device of some sort in his blackened hands. “I have to go now. Do you have someone to drive you home?”
“I’ll call my daughter.” Frank disappeared behind the glass door of LaGrotta.
“Tenants from the apartments above can return to their homes. The carbon monoxide levels are minimal, but make sure you air all rooms well.” The crew Captain’s dark eyes settled on Dario, his unyielding stare sending shivers down his spine. “The CO2 levels are above normal in your restaurant. We’ll have to wait before an official investigation takes place.”
Dario cleared his throat, loosening the tightness. “Can you at least tell me where did the fire start?”
The firefighter glanced from the small screen of his handheld and removed his yellow helmet. “Sorry, can’t do that. Fire Marshall needs to investigate.”
“Darnation. There—”
Dario jabbed his elbow in Ante’s ribs before his brother finished talking. “My shift manager says everything was turned off by the time he left.”
“Sir,” the Captain put his hand up. “We already took his statement, and we have your contact info on file. You’ll be sent an official report once the inquiry is done. Understand that we’re not at liberty to disclose any information.” He pointed at the idling truck where his crew gathered. “We’re done here.” Touching the brim of his helmet, he tilted his head. “Have a good day.”
The Captain climbed into the cabin, and the gathered crowd parted to let the pumper pass.
“A good day?” Ante’s tone reached a new high as he thrust his arms in the direction the fire truck left. “He wants us to have a good day after all of this. He’s kidding, right?”
“I’m afraid he’s not.” Dario stared at the back of the truck until its square rear rounded the corner.