#better-classofcriminal

@better-classofcriminal

probably not the kind of place the vast majority of his colleagues would imagine the rather crude cop to visit.  but there were still enough things that they didn’t know about him.  not many... but a few.

this was... perhaps... one of them. a rather higher class liquor store.  bottles imported from far and wide and nestled on shelves within boxes or set aside behind glass cases.  liquid that had been crafted by time or hand or technique into something rather... unique.  and yes - he will quite often be spotted, perched at the noodle crack shack with a bowl of something barely identifiable and a warmed cheap china bottle of something that resembled sake... ...but at home.  and on the rarer of occasions, there was a small porcelain set - removed from a blue velvet box and filled with something rather more special than the usual drivel he imbibed.

because, yes.   believe it or not --  beneath the crass and abrasive exterior, behind the badge and under the uniform - there is actually a person.  a person, who - at some point - had cultivated his own taste for something a little finer... a little more... delicate.  a little more refined.

“wakatake  - shizuoka brewery?”

the name announced to the store owner with the lilt of a question.  speaking up a little ( he’s pretty sure the old guy behind the counter is about a hundred - give or take a decade, and more than a little hard of hearing... and usually took something along the lines of a raised voice or sometimes a hand waved in front of his face to garner any kind of attention ).

‘shizuoka?  far left, third shelf...’

a small nod in thanks, moving to where he was directed before his eyes landed on the squared green bottle.  an emblem of a weeping woman on the label.  a small murmur of words, thinking aloud as he quickly scans the other offerings but decides on that one anyway.

“-- ‘onna nakase’... perfect.”

For several weeks,  Inèz had been on a hunt of sorts. She knew of the word on the street. The common knowledge was that the Mafia king, Giovanni Morisco, was on his way out. And with his death, there would come a new reign. Furthermore, it was common knowledge that there was almost certainly going to be a fight between the two most likely heirs. Marcello, the natural heir, Giovanni’s son...and Matteo, the boy Giovanni had taken under his wing, rumored to be Giovanni’s favorite for some inexplicable reason. It was not going to be pretty, whatever happened. And something about the coming nastiness of it all drove Inèz to get involved - she just couldn’t seem to keep her perfectly painted little nails out of the dirt. 

What wasn’t common knowledge, however, was Matteo’s location. And so,  Inèz had been on this hunt. Thinking, asking around, coming up mostly empty handed on all accounts, aside from a few rumors that had not come to fruition. It was only when one day, a man came into the Python’s Lair, asked to see her directly, was she given her answer. And she knew it wasn’t just luck. She knew Matteo had to have sent him after hearing word that she was looking for him. And suddenly she was all the more excited to get tangled up with this Boy King. 

Even now as she made the trek to central park, she still held the crumpled piece of paper that the man had handed her several days ago. It was well worn already from her having touched it repeatedly, folding and creasing it as she read it again and again. Half of the time wondering if it was fake, the other wondering if it might be some kind of a trap. And for that reason, she had requested several bodyguards trail her, far enough away that Matteo would be none the wiser, although she was sure he would have his speculations. Just as she had hers about his own protection, which would surely be lingering nearby in a similar fashion. 

She read the text again now as she walked, taking care with her steps as she did, so as to not stumble. Noon, this Thursday, central park, by the lake. As she made her way there, she wondered if the filtration system would be out today, But from afar, she could see people jumping off the piers, sunbathing by the water, and she knew this could not be the case. ‘How fortunate,’ she thought.