“Where did your father get this?” he whispered.
Elena blinked. “That’s not what his note said.” She pulled a folded piece of notebook paper from her bag. In shaky handwriting: Find Sol Mazotti. Give him the box. He’ll know. sol mazotti
Sol looked at the key. Then at Elena. Then at the grimy window overlooking the laundromat, where steam rose from dryers like ghosts. “Where did your father get this