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down on the table and lifted the bag, then closed his fist around the coin and held it. “I thought you took this back,” he said.
    “I thought so, too,” Gen replied.
    He seemed to be worried. “What’re you gonna do now?”
    “We’re going to eat a nice breakfast.” Mack poured a bowl of whisked eggs into a waiting pan. “Then Genny and I are going into the city to have a talk with Mr. Vitelli.”

Chapter Nine
     
     
    They left Luca pulling weeds in the garden. Mack drove separately in his truck and followed Gen over the Oakland Bridge and into North Beach. She’d told him she would be all right alone, but he insisted he accompany her and wait outside, just in case she needed reinforcements. He said he wouldn’t go in, but he wanted to be there.
    He wanted her to know he had her back.
    Vincenzo Vitelli’s house looked unchanged from the previous morning. Gen parked at the curb and watched in the rearview mirror while Mack pulled in a few houses down. She got out and gave him a little wave, then tucked her pepper spray into her cleavage and saw the flash of teeth that meant he was smiling.
    Gen wasn’t sure how this meeting would go. She’d brought the coin, but left it hidden in the trunk of her car. Next week she’d take it to her safe deposit box. Mack said he had a good hiding place, but she’d argued that it might be better if nobody had direct custody of it until its true ownership was clear. They decided they’d wait to hear what Vitelli had to say before they made a move.
    He answered the door after her first knock. His expression was dour and haggard. That said he hadn’t slept much last night and that he wasn’t at all happy to see her standing there, but he waved her inside nonetheless.
    “Come in.”
    “I think you know why I’m here.”
    “To ask if I am truffatore . Crook. Is that the word you use?”
    “That word will do, but that’s not the only question I have. The coin, Mr. Vitelli. I found it in my purse. I don’t know when you had time to hide it there, but I’d like to know why you did.”
    “I am not sure I understand your meaning.”
    “Please, Mr. Vitelli. You don’t seem to realize the predicament you’ve put me in. If the coin is, in fact, illegal, my having it makes me an accessory after the fact. If I hand it over to the Italian cops and the gold piece turns out to be legitimately yours, that means I’ve done you a disservice. But it’s hard for me to believe everything is on the up-and-up. If it’s rightfully yours, why have you made sure – two times now – that it isn’t in your possession? You see my dilemma.”
    Vitelli scrubbed a hand across his unshaven jaw, then went to the couch and sat down.
    “Mr. Vitelli?” Gen took the chair across from him. “Will you please tell me what is going on.”
    “The Carabinieri confiscated the statue.” He didn’t elaborate.
    “But you hid the bag in my purse long before they showed up.”
    “Yes, while you were on the phone in the kitchen.”
    “You must have known they were coming and what would happen when they did, and you didn’t want them to take the coin.”
    He raised a hand and his eyebrows at the same time, then let them fall.
    “Is that Italian for ‘I had a feeling’?”
    He nodded. “I did not know they were coming, but I thought someone would.”
    “I’d ask if the coin is rightfully yours, Mr. Vitelli, but I know you will simply tell me yes.”
    “Then why did you come here?”
    “Because I have what looks like an ancient Roman artifact in my possession that doesn’t belong to me. And it doesn’t take a heap of smarts to see there’s more going on that you want to admit. I wanted to ask for your story one more time so I can try to decide what to do. So. Please tell me.”
    “I am an old man who is loyal to my country.” His voice grew weaker and a bit uncertain. Still, he seemed determined to speak the words. “I may have been blind. Naïve. But I am committed to preserving my