“Is something wrong?” Jo Ellen came around the island. “Is it about Artie?”
Peter angled his head. “I just got a message that kind of changes the game.”
“Hardly a game,” Maggie said under her breath, coming closer and leaning on the counter to look at him. “What is it?”
“I have a friend in the FBI, based in D.C. He’s pretty high up the food chain, so he was able to access some rather, uh, elusive information.”
The words touched Vivien—how sweet of him to care so much about their situation that he’d pressed a friend for sensitive information. Points for Peter, who opted not to tell her whatever he’d learned while they drove home. He said he wanted to tell Maggie and Jo Ellen first.
But Maggie didn’t look grateful for his effort, or his secrecy. “The FBI? This wasn’t a federal case, even though there was tax evasion. Roger was charged by the Atlanta police department. Why would the FBI get involved?”
“I don’t know, but there’s a case file,” he said. “And normally I would think that meant Roger’s crimes were worse than you thought and crossed state lines. And, of course, federal tax evasion, but I hear what you’re saying. This is the first I’ve heard of the feds being involved, so I’m surprised, too.”
Jo Ellen turned to her friend. “Surely you would know if your own husband was investigated by the FBI, Mags.”
“Not at all,” she countered. “He protected me from the whole thing. He didn’t want me included in the slightest. He was absolutely insistent that the less I knew, the better.”
Vivien made a face as she pulled out a stool to sit at the counter. “I would think he’d have wanted your help, Mom. You’re so smart and resourceful.”
“Well, he didn’t.” She looked hard at Peter. “What else did you find out?”
“That the investigation team was CCSG, out of Biloxi, Mississippi.”
All three women just stared at him.
“Crime and Corruption in Sport and Gaming,” he explained. “Did Roger gamble?”
“No!” Maggie pressed her hands to her chest, aghast at the suggestion, which almost made Vivien laugh.
He’d committed fraud five ways from Sunday, stole from clients, and laundered some cash, but the man did not gamble. Maggie’s defense of her late husband was consistent, if nothing else.
“He would never gamble,” Maggie insisted. “He didn’t bet on races, or…or associate with people who did.”
“Yes, he did,” Jo Ellen said, making them all look at her. “We all did, even if we didn’t know it.”
“What are you talking about?” Maggie demanded.
“Frank Cavallari had his fingers in all that stuff,” she said.
“Of course,” Peter said, nodding. “I had heard a rumor that the deli was a hot spot for illegal lotteries and betting. Years ago, it wasn’t unusual for small businesses like that to be a central receiving place for bets and payouts. Frank was likely a bookie who got a cut of the numbers they ran.”
“What does that have to do with Roger?” Maggie asked, looking from one to the other, and settling on Jo Ellen. “We bought Italian food from that store and went out to dinner with Frank and Betty. No…gambling.”
“But plenty of drinking,” Jo Ellen murmured. “Frank and Betty could put it away.”
“But that doesn’t mean my husband was a gambler.” Maggie took a deep inhale, the first sign that she was about to lose her temper. “And Frank Cavallari had nothing to do with Roger’s…problems. The situation was in Atlanta, around Roger’s business. When he was here, he was free of it all.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Peter said. “If Frank was somehow part of organized crime, maybe he roped Roger into working with him, even starting an arm of the gambling business in Atlanta. That would explain the FBI’s involvement.”
“How does it change the game?” Vivien asked, remembering what Peter had said earlier. “Does this mean my mom and Jo Ellen can’t get the answers to what Artie did and why?”
“Artie didn’t do anything,” Jo Ellen said.
Maggie sniffed. “Except turn my husband in to the police.”
The two of them glared at each other, tumbling right back to square one.
“It means getting background information or files will be impossible,” Peter told Vivien. “My contact said the files weretransferred to federal offices and sealed, which explains why the attorney can’t find them. It’s essentially a brick wall that will not come down.”
