“Set Gus and his sneaky Jesuit tricks onto him,” recommended Jones. “Of course, knowing Gus, he’d probably start by laming every horse in Venice.”
Mazzare laughed out loud at that. Whatever the reputation of the Society of Jesus for subtlety of approach and cunning casuistry, Father Augustus Heinzerling, SJ, was one of the most direct and straightforward men anyone knew. Gus was about as devious as a charging boar.
“We can’t just shut him up, can we?” Stone asked, sounding a little worried.
“No, Tom, we can’t.” Mazzare said. “I just think we should all be very, very careful about what we say when Joe is around.”
“And then some,” Jones grunted. “Man’s a muckraker. Emphasis on muck.”
“Should we give him press releases to distract him, then?” Stone asked.
“Tell him Elvis was spotted rowing a gondola, be about his speed,” Jones snarled.
Mazzare snorted. “Leave off, Simon. Two years—more than that, now—is a bit much to be bearing a grudge, even for you. But yes, Tom, I think giving him a prepared statement or two to use would be a good idea. If we can plant ideas in his mind we may influence what investigations he actually goes off on. In fact, if he thinks he’s going to get the straight goods from us without having to work for it, he’ll go off and annoy someone else.”
Jones grinned, and snapped his fingers. “That,” he said, “for the Jesuits.”
* * *
The next morning, as he returned to the embassy in a gondola in bright sunlight, Frank was in a much more sanguine mood. All was well with the world.
It must have still showed when he reached the embassy. His brothers took one look at him and simultaneously shook their heads.
“Boy, do you look like the cat’s meow,” Gerry commented.
“Something exciting happen?” asked Ron.
Frank was grinning from ear to ear. “Sure did. Giovanna kissed me. Twice. Once before she went to bed—right in front of her dad! Okay, it was more like a peck on the cheek, but still. And this morning, she kissed me again when I left—and that was a real one, since her dad wasn’t watching.” The grin was in serious danger of dislocating his jaw.
“That’s it?” Gerry demanded. “Nothing else? Then what caused that bruise on your forehead? That’s one hell of a hickey.”
“You have a dirty mind.” Frank thought about it. “Well. There was a spot of trouble with some goofs outside her house. No big deal. Did I tell you she kissed me?”