The Dogfather

rather than almost shaved off. Still, the two agents shared a bodily resemblance, as if they worked out in the same gym, performing the same number of reps with the same weights using the same equipment. In particular, both Deitz and Mazolla had overdeveloped, hence oversized, necks, on top of which sat what appeared by comparison to be shrunken heads. Deitz and Mazolla resembled Guarini’s men in only one respect: Like the Mafia, they wore those bowling-league-style jackets.
    With Rowdy’s leash in my left hand, I extended my right to Deitz and said, “How do you do?” Why Deitz? A lifetime with dogs has given me an almost uncanny and definitely canine ability to recognize authority. Mine is merely a derivative gift. Rowdy, possessed of the real thing, ignored Mazolla, looked at Deitz, and returned his eyes to me. He showed no inclination to fall at Deitz’s feet as he’d done at Enzio Guarini’s.
    “You’ve been keeping some strange company lately,” Deitz said.
    I don’t like personal remarks from strangers, and from the second I met him, I didn’t like this particular stranger at all. More significantly, neither did Rowdy, who showed not a trace of his usual friendliness. He didn’t issue a woo-woo or wag his tail, and his warm brown eyes had a cold glint. When a dog who loves everyone decides to dislike someone, trust the dog.
    I said, “Aren’t you supposed to say what a nice day it is? Admire my dog? You’re supposed to start by building a positive alliance with me. That’s what I learned in journalism classes. When you’re going to interview people, you start by putting them at ease, creating a cozy atmosphere.”
    “Miss Winter, we’re not journalists. We’re here about the company you’ve started keeping.”
    “The company I keep is largely canine. To the best of my knowledge, Rowdy and Kimi haven’t committed a federal offense lately.”
    “Enzio Guarini. Alphonse Favuzza. Edward Zappar-dino. Thomas and Timothy Bellano.”
    “Edward. So that’s his first name. I’m surprised. Somehow, he just doesn’t look like an Edward, does he?” To Mazolla, I said, “Does your friend have something against Italians?”
    It was Deitz who replied. “Miss Winter, you’ve got yourself caught up in something you don’t understand.”
    “Dog training? You’re wrong. I’ve been doing it all my life. I understand it pretty well. I just make it look easy.”
    “We’ve noticed that you enjoy doing favors for people. We have a few you can do for us. You’re in a position to install a small number of listening devices in interesting places,” Deitz said.
    For a big, rough dog, Rowdy can move with remarkable grace. Now, he glided in front of me and came to a calm halt to create a sort of woofy battlement.
    “I’m a dog trainer. As you can see.” I pointed to Rowdy. “Enzio Guarini has a dog. A very nice dog, as it happens, a dog that does not require the investigative services of the local animal control authorities, never mind the services of the FBI. What I’m in a position to do is train the dog. That’s the only position I’m in.”
    “We could use your help,” Deitz said.
    “Sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”
    Deitz’s eyes landed on my recycling bin. “Those your wine bottles?”
    “You’re an ATF agent, too?”
    “I’ve got some advice for you,” Deitz said. “You don’t have to do us any favors. Okay. That’s your choice. But don’t take any favors either. Train his dog. Leave it at that.”
    “No favors,” I said, half to myself. “None at all.”
     

CHAPTER 16
     
    On my way to Carla’s flower shop on Monday morning, I steeled myself to refuse any bouquets or potted plants she might offer in return for my introducing her barbaric Anthony to the fundamentals of canine civilization. I needn’t have worried. Carla’s little shop was jammed with silk greenery, plastic vines, stuffed animals, ceramic shepherdesses, American flags, brass tubs, decorative basketry, greeting cards, posters, and Mylar balloons. There was barely a flower or a living leaf to be seen. When I walked in, Carla was holding a can of air freshener that she’d evidently just emptied in its entirety in the small, enclosed space.
    “I always love the smell of a flower shop.” She greeted me. “Don’t you? Oh, you brought a crate. That’s nice. I never got around to ordering one. I been keeping Anthony in the car out back.” His distant, muffled yaps were audible, but Carla