An Offer You Can't Refuse: A Miami Mafia Crime Thriller

by Sal Bianchi

  I hesitated in front of the door. Even though the bar was bustling at night, and I was liable to get my ass kicked if I were to waltz in after dark, it was usually okay for me to stop by during the day. It was mostly older members, having breakfast, playing cards, and generally just minding their own business. I wasn’t about to wimp out now that I was here, though, so after a moment of hesitation, I pushed open the door and strode inside confidently.

  As I suspected, the large space was mostly empty. A few men were sitting at the tables by the windows, sipping coffee and talking quietly. Some looked up at me with surprise as I passed, but they didn’t say anything, and just went back to their newspapers or conversations.

  I allowed myself to relax and actually felt a little silly for getting so anxious in the first place. I could see the back of Colletta’s big, bushy ponytail as I approached the bar. I was almost there when a meaty set of fingers wrapped around my arm.

  “Well, look who it is,” the man who’d grabbed me sneered. “It’s the little turncoat, himself.”

  I frowned as I looked up at the man. I’d seen him before, but I couldn’t remember his name. Around me, the bar had fallen silent as people listened while pretending not to notice the exchange. This man had just addressed the elephant in the room that everyone else had pointedly ignored.

  “Let go of me,” I replied calmly.

  I was strong, and fast, but this guy was easily a foot taller and nearly twice as wide. I remembered him now. His name was Domenico. He was a low-level grunt whose job was basically just to be a set of walking muscles. Big, intimidating, but dumb enough that I could probably outsmart him in a fight if I wanted to.

  I didn’t really feel like fighting this idiot, though. Not when I’d only come to say hi to Colletta, so I really needed to try to settle this peacefully.

  “Or what?” Domenico sneered as he gripped my arm more tightly. “You gonna go run to the b--”

  He screamed halfway through his sentence as he was struck in the back of the head by a spatula. I flinched at the unexpected outburst and watched as he let go of me to rub at his own head frantically.

  “Or you’ll get more of this,” Colletta snapped, brandishing the spatula like a sword.

  “Colletta,” Domenico whined. “That was really hot, you burned my head.”

  “I wouldn’t have to hit you if you’d grow up and act your age,” Coletta scoffed. “Now go sit down and shut up. Drink some water. You need to sober up.”

  He shot me a sullen glare before skulking away to a table in the corner where several of his friends were sitting. They shot me angry looks, too, but I just ignored them and took a seat at the bar.

  “He’s drunk this early in the morning?” I asked as Colletta set a cup of coffee down in front of me before passing the bowl of cream and sugar my way.

  I took it gratefully. I hadn’t wanted to impose on Roxanne when she’d handed me the cup earlier, but I usually liked my coffee really sweet. A fact that Colletta knew well after years of looking after me.

  “Ha!” she scoffed. “Quelle’idiota. He’s been here since last night.”

  “It’s almost noon,” I chuckled as I chanced a glance over to him. The group was mumbling and still glaring my way.

  “You’re telling me.” Colletta rolled her eyes. “But forget about them. Let me get a look at you. How long has it been since you were here, huh? You just run off one day to start that little detective agency and never even come to visit. Don’t you feel bad for your Zia Colletta?”

  I could feel eyes on my back as the other people in the bar eavesdropped on our conversation. Only Colletta would casually ask me about that like it was nothing. The entire reason I was having to deal with muscle-headed morons trying to attack me on sight was that I’d left. Usually, the only way to leave the mafia was to die, either at the hands of the law or at the hands of your own Family. Breaking the rules and walking away with virtually no consequences had thrown the entire organization into an uproar. Most of the older members just looked the other way and pretended I didn’t exist. The younger, less experienced members, like Domenico, weren’t as easy going about it.

  “I’m sorry.” I smiled. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Busy ratting us out to the feds,” one of the men at the table muttered darkly. Colletta’s face contorted into a snarl, and she opened her mouth to yell something at them.

  “Do you have any sfogliatellas?” I asked her before she could say anything. I didn’t mind putting up with it, but I didn’t want Colletta to have to deal with it. She glared at me as though she knew what I was doing, but then sighed.

  “No, but I can make some,” she said as she turned to walk into the kitchen.

  “No, wait,” I called as she walked away. “If you don’t have any already made, it’s fine.”

  “Nonsense,” she called back. “it’ll only take a minute.”

  I sat back down awkwardly. I’d only meant to diffuse the situation and asked for the first thing that popped into my mind. I actually wasn’t that hungry, especially for something as rich and sweet as a sfogliatella.

  “All right,” Colletta announced as she returned a few minutes later and dropped a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me. “They’ll be out of the oven in just a few minutes. And I don’t wanna hear any protests. You’re skin and bones! Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re hungover, too. I’ve told you a million times you need to eat to get over a hangover. You probably starved yourself this morning when you got up, didn’t you?”

  I was equal parts touched and embarrassed by the scolding. Colletta was the closest thing I had to a mother. After my real mother died, I’d been raised by my father alone, but Colletta was the only one who showed me any kind of love and affection. Our relationship was complicated, since she was actually an employee of my family, but I’d always seen her as my family above all else.

  “I ate a little,” I protested. “A cornetto and some coffee.”

  “Ha!” she barked as she thrust a fork into my hand. “Some breakfast, that is. It was probably at a girl’s house too, huh? Look at you, your clothes are all wrinkled, and your hair’s a mess. Did you even look at a mirror before heading over here?”

  I hadn’t, actually. I’d only gotten as far as contemplating having a shower before Roxanne returned, and then I’d had to leave so she could get ready for work.

  “You’re lucky that scruffy look is popular with the girls,” Colletta laughed. “Come on. I know you don’t like eating when you feel sick, but you’ll feel better faster.”

  I rolled my eyes and forced myself to take a few bites for her sake.

  “That’s my boy.” Colletta beamed before taking a dishrag from somewhere behind the counter and proceeding to wipe down the countertop. “So, tell me about this girl. Is she your girlfriend?”

  “Nah, just someone I met recently.” I shrugged as I took a sip of coffee.

  “Typical Nicky.” She shook her head in mock disapproval. “Always out breaking girls’ hearts. I wish Alessandro would get out and find someone. He’s always holed up in his office all alone. It isn’t good for a young man to only focus on work.”

  I swallowed painfully at the mention of my brother. It was still a very sore subject for me, and one I usually didn’t enjoy talking about.

  “How is Alessandro?” I asked tentatively. I could feel a shift of tension in the air, and I knew that the patrons behind me must be quietly listening in.

  “He’s doing just fine,” Colletta answered confidently. To the average person, it might have sounded like a normal response, but I’d known her long enough to be able to sense the anxiety in her voice. It was understandable, since she couldn’t really speak ill of him in front of so many people, even if she wanted to. “Working too hard, as usual, but he’s taken to the position fabulously. I’d say better than Marco, even.”

  I could hear some low murmurs behind me at that, and I smiled with amusement. People obeyed my brother out of habit and loya
lty to the family, but very few people shared in Colletta’s opinion that he was doing a better job than our father had. My actions and his response to them were probably a pretty major component in that, but I still wasn’t sorry about my decision to leave.

  “I’m glad he’s doing well,” I smiled. “Anyway, I better be going. It’s already past twelve, and I still haven’t started working.”

  “All right, Nicky,” she smiled a little sadly. “Oh, but take these before you go.”

  I watched as she quickly turned and headed back into the kitchen. She emerged a few minutes later with several plastic storage containers.

  “Here are the sfogliatella.” She grinned as she pushed the largest container toward me. “And here are some pre-made meals, since I know you’ll probably be eating those cup noodles and microwave foods for the rest of the week. Do you have a fridge at that office of yours? You should refrigerate them as soon as you can. Freeze some of them, too. They’ll keep for longer.”

  “Colletta.” I protested as she continued to shove containers at me. “I don’t need so many. I’m not sure I even have space.”

  “Don’t talk back to me,” Colletta retorted. “If you’d come to see me more often, then I wouldn’t have to worry so much. “

  I sighed as she laid the guilt on thick. I did feel bad that I didn’t stop by to visit more often, but it was just better for everyone involved if I stayed away.

  “Okay,” I conceded as I carefully stacked the containers. “Thank you. I’ll try to come to see you again soon.”

  “You better,” she warned. “Ah, and before I forget! Give little Dante a visit, won’t you? He misses you, you know. He’s always looked up to you.”

  “Yeah, of course, I will.” I smiled awkwardly. Colletta didn’t know, but I’d actually been around to visit Dante more often than I had to see her. Dante was Colletta’s son and one of the few people within the mafia’s ranks that I still trusted.

  Ever since he was in elementary school, he used to follow me around with stars in his eyes, and he’d secretly been supportive of me when I’d left the Family. He was a good kid, and he was also the one who supplied me with some of the things I used during my investigations, like my lock-picking set and my frequency jammer.

  “He’s working at the garage down by the marina.” She smiled proudly. “My boy’s got skills like no other. He’s always tinkering around and coming up with new ways to do things.”

  “Yeah, he was always good at that.” I grinned. It was the truth, after all.

  “All right,” Colletta sighed. “I can see that you’re busy. Go on and get to work, then. And don’t forget to put those in the freezer!”

  “Got it,” I called over my shoulder as I turned around to step off the barstool.

  I left the bar with my load of goods. I felt immediately less anxious upon walking through the doors and back out into the humid Miami heat. The atmosphere inside the bar had been so tense it was nearly suffocating. It was sad to think back and remember how loving and warm the place had once seemed. When I was young, I hadn’t seen them as a mafia family, just my family. Even brutes like Domenico were kind and protective of me. It was jarring how everything changed so fast and so dramatically once I became an outsider.

  I shook the thought away and walked down the street. That life was behind me now, and I needed to focus on building something better for myself.

  5

  Nick

  I stepped into my apartment and flipped on the light switch before kicking the door closed behind me. It wasn’t an impressive place by any means, just a small ground-floor studio, but it suited my needs just fine.

  I walked the few steps over to the kitchenette tucked into the corner of the apartment and opened my fridge door. A half-empty case of beer and an assortment of condiments stared back at me. I was out so often that I tended to just eat out while I was on the job. Honestly, I preferred that anyway. I could manage cooking for myself just fine, but there was such a wide selection of options available in Miami that I could have eaten out every day for a week without having the same thing twice.

  Still, I was grateful for the meals Colletta had prepared for me. Sometimes it was nice being able to come home and sit down with a nice home-cooked meal.

  After I’d finished putting all the containers away, I walked over to my bedroom to grab a fresh set of clothes. After walking home in the hot sun wearing the same clothes I’d had on since yesterday, I was eager to have a shower and get cleaned up.

  Once I finished washing up, I changed into a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I tended to dress more professionally when I consulted on a case with the SDCT, but when I was just working on my own cases, I preferred to keep it casual. It was more comfortable, and it helped me blend in and maintain a lower profile, which was imperative when one of my main tasks was to follow people around covertly.

  I plopped onto my couch to check my phone for any new emails or missed calls. I frowned with dismay when I discovered that I had zero of either.

  After leaving the mafia, I’d opened up a private investigation agency. Unfortunately, business was painfully slow. I was lucky to get a single new client per week, and I wasn’t established enough to charge more than the bare minimum. It definitely didn’t help that certain members of the Family were actively working to sabotage me.

  I didn’t have any concrete evidence that it was the mafia, but several weeks ago, negative reviews for my business started popping up all over every major business review site on the internet. I’d been shocked at the time, since I hadn’t even had that many clients. It quickly became obvious that this was most likely just another ploy to get me to fold and come back.

  I had a small office in an industrial park near Downtown where I would meet clients when I was fortunate enough to get them, but lately, it seemed like I was going there less and less.

  In a way, it was lucky that I lived near the coast in Hallendale Beach, because it meant I could make money via gambling. There weren’t a lot of casinos in Miami, but the massive one in Hallendale Beach was big enough that I could easily finesse a few hundred a night out of the endless stream of tourists that frequented it. It wasn’t the most stable means of making a living, but I was good enough at reading people that I could usually make enough to pay the month’s rent after a few rounds of poker.

  After double-checking one more time for any new messages, I decided to just focus on the two clients I already had.

  One was suspected infidelity, which was, unfortunately, one of the most common reasons clients hired me. The other was a young woman who was attempting to find her birth mother. Apparently, the mother had gotten pregnant as a teenager and had the baby taken away against her will. The client didn’t have any details aside from this.

  I frowned sadly as I read through the facts of the case again. I could sympathize all too well with how the young woman was feeling. I’d lost my mother when I was very young, and even though I’d had Colletta, there was just no filling the void that such a loss left behind, even now.

  Since I didn’t have a lot to go on yet for that case, I decided to focus on the infidelity case instead. The woman who contacted me suspected her husband was cheating when he started staying late after work and would conveniently “forget” his phone in his car when he got home at night. She’d given me his name and photo as well as a rough outline of his schedule. It looked like he’d be getting off work for lunch soon, so I decided to lock up and head down to the office building where he worked.

  I checked to make sure I had all my essentials: gun, switchblade, lockpick, etc. Once I was sure that I had everything I might need for my investigation, I headed back out the door. I locked it securely behind me before walking out into the parking lot and toward the flashy, sleek black sedan parked in the spot closest to the stairs. It wasn’t something I would have usually been able to afford, but I’d gotten a good deal on it in exchange for helping a client who suspected his business partner of embezzling money from t
heir shared company.

  The drive down took about ten minutes, and by the time I got there and parked in a space near the entrance, I was worried that he might have already left. Luckily, I’d gotten there just in time, because I spotted him leaving with a group of coworkers just a few minutes after I arrived. It was only men in the group which most likely ruled out the possibility that he was cheating with one of his coworkers, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t meet someone later.

  Sure enough, he broke away from the group in the parking lot before heading to his car alone. I followed him discreetly and carefully made sure I kept my distance so it wouldn’t be obvious that I was tailing him. I followed him all the way into the city center until he stopped and parked his car along the street. I did the same and deliberately chose a spot far enough away that he wouldn’t notice.

  I probably didn’t even need to be that careful, as the man seemed to be focused on wherever he was heading as quickly as possible. I watched him through the rearview mirror of my car for a few seconds before getting out to follow him. He was weaving through the people on the street around him, obviously in a hurry.

  Finally, he ducked into a little cafe at the corner of North Miami Avenue and Fourteenth Street, tucked between a bookstore and a Chinese restaurant. I stood by the entrance and pretended to be reading an advertisement pasted to the front window of the restaurant next door. I could see him through the large glass windows at the front of the cafe. He went straight to a table at the corner of the restaurant, near the front but still out of sight enough that someone looking directly through the front window wouldn’t be able to spot him or the woman sitting there.

  I waited for a minute to ensure that they weren’t about to get back up and leave again before I strolled casually into the restaurant.