by William Cain
He only lives to serve Elsie now, and he will find her killer if it’s not Joseph Riggoti. He will have his revenge, and closure for his wife. He has his doubts about Riggoti ordering the hit and thinks his judgment was clouded because he thought Riggoti was a nuisance. That was a bad move he made, unlike the characteristic planner he is, always making the right decision. He believes Gangi knows it was wrong to take Riggoti out, but there was no stopping Biggie Battaglia, and Biggie privately curses himself for letting his foolish nature, his anxiety, and boyish impulses take over.
When he met Elsie in grade school, they were so young and instantly developed a liking to each other. As they grew up, each knew it would be hard to stay together, he from the Italian tenements, she from a wealthy Irish family. Biggie remembers well the looks both sets of parents would make when he, Gen and she, Elsie, were together, dating happily, laughing at all his dumb jokes, catching his sly looks at her figure or her fetching new outfit. They were in love before they knew what love was. His saddest days were when she went to college and he had no prospects. And then it happened. Benito DiCaprio’s house burned down and he saved Benito’s daughter Consuela from being burned along with it. It changed his life, and Elsie’s, too. When she returned from college for a visit, she found him working in the DiCaprio business, the legitimate one, and going to college also, paid for by the DiCaprio trust. It made him, suddenly, an undeniable prospect for Elsie’s hand in marriage.
He misses Elsie. He remembers meeting her in elementary school, the cute girl with the pig-tails. He can’t remember exactly when he fell in love with her. Maybe he’s loved her since the beginning of time. A solitary tear makes its way down his cheek, like it always does when thinking about Elsie. He leaves it there.
It’s all he has left of her.
And now, here he is, a widower. And he is angry. And he is dangerous.
He will have his way.
That’s one thing he’s used to, getting his way.
And he will have it.
◆◆◆
Alberto Gangi calls, and after the usual formalities he gets to it. “Gen, now that the Riggoti sanction is over, I need to tell you what I’ve been doing after the Michelangelo affair.”
Biggie considers what they did; it was the right thing for the Family. “That’s two years ago, Al. That’s old news. What could you possibly have left to talk about with what we did to that creep?”
“Well, you remember I mailed his wife the insurance policy,” Gangi replies, referring to the severed ring finger of the man they threw overboard. That heavy weight and chains keeping him secure in the deep waters of Lake Michigan. Gangi mailed the finger, with the man’s wedding ring on it, to the man’s wife, so she could collect from the Family the insurance money due her. The Family keeps money aside to ease a wife’s anguish over the loss of a husband. It makes the life easier and is fairly standard practice for men in their line of work. The wives always know to expect bad news one day. It’s not a surprise.
“Yes,” Biggie says. “I remember.”
“Well, I’ve been hitting that up lately, his widow,” Gangi tells Gen.
“You dog!” Gen declares loudly.
“Yeah, she didn’t miss him anyway. He used to beat her. So, in bed the other night, she told me about it. Then she added ‘good riddance.’”
“What made you decide to chase her?” Gen asks.
“She called me,” he says. “I have to tell you, she’s not bad looking. And sex with her is like, out of this world. She has some appetite.”
Then Gangi adds, “I’m kind of getting bored with the ‘revolving door.’ Maybe I should settle down.”
Biggie then asks, “What about the other one?” referring to his girlfriend in Asheville.
“You think I could keep both?” and he laughs.
Biggie just shakes his head, “No, Al, you can’t have both. Not if you want to stay alive. Those two women are familiar with guns. Ms. Coleman was a detective, and when she works for me these days, she carries her old service weapon. The other one is a little crazy, from what I hear. I don’t want to bury my best friend, Al.”
The conversation takes its regular journey, and they decide to have dinner soon, then hang up.
◆◆◆
Thinking about the Michelangelo affair brought back a flood of memories. The thoughts surrounding Detective Henson make Biggie smile. He met her last July when she was investigating the murder of Elsie. She looked familiar, and he remembered her from years earlier. She was with her dad, Jericho, in Chicago where he served as a detective. A couple of high-profile crime figures were found dead, and Jericho came to Gen’s Italian Club in Chicago around 1988 to question Gennarro Battaglia. He had brought his daughter to see how investigations work, how they play out, and to witness firsthand the goings on and personality of the underworld.
He was almost fingered by Jericho Henson for that double killing, right after he took over the DiCaprio Family. The two guys were at odds with each other over assuming control of the Family after Benito’s retirement, and each enlisted Biggie’s help, which he gladly gave them. When the time came for making moves, they were both surprised when the Family agreed to support Gen. After the customary threats the two guys made, the Family also agreed to their removal, from earth. Gangi convinced the Family after bringing the two men’s capos forward and hearing their agreement. They weren’t liked anyway; they were troublemakers.
Gen did the killings himself, and Jericho found circumstantial evidence…and the bodies. Biggie called in all of his favors—judges, senators, cops—to have the bodies disappear. He and Gangi chopped them up and flew them to the four corners of the globe. Plop. Into the seven seas.
The phone rings, and Biggie takes it out of his pocket, stares at it, squinting, then pulls his head back and says out loud to himself, “This is fuckin’ strange.”
It’s Jericho Henson.
“Hello?” Gen answers softly, he still can’t believe it.
“Hi, Gen, you haven’t been to any of my lectures lately, and I was wondering how you’re getting along. It’s been a while.”
“You will not believe this, but I was just thinking about you. Right now.”
“Oh, man. Not the double murder from the eighties, I hope.”
“Yup.”
“I’ll never live that down. I had to move away to get some peace after that. Did you get our condolence card Gen? Irene wants to know. We are so sorry, Gen. I feel for you.” Jericho is sincere, and Gen can hear it. They may be polar opposites, but they’re both men, and they do think a lot alike. It’s in his lectures, the criminal and the cop, that they are alike in many ways.
“It means a lot, Jericho,” Gen replies.
“Addie will solve your case, Gen. I trained her myself. Remember, good soup takes time,” Jericho advises.
“I hope so,” but Gen thinks his way is faster.
“Let’s meet up for lunch. Why not come to my next lecture? It’s in Nashville. I’ll send over the place and time. Then you can tell me how you made those two guys disappear from the morgue.”
“You know what? I’ll be there, and I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Gen guarantees.
The two of them end their call with Gen wondering just how much he can confess to Jericho about that medical examiner in Chicago, and the man’s gambling problem.
Maybe he’ll tell him everything.
Jericho deserves it.
Chapter 6 Addie
Feb
You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams. Dr. Seuss
Addie left her apartment, a conflicted soul, confused at times, so many emotions crowding her. Last night, she started cooking, and she hardly ever does that. She’s not very good at it, but it’s her coping mechanism. It’s therapy, and it helps her think. At least she didn’t start smoking. That’s her other dead end, gotta-have-it coping tool. Last night it was all about Frank. She wants to trust him, want
s to be with him, but she has a lot of buts. It’s driving her crazy. What’s really driving her crazy is that she can’t stop thinking about this man. It’s interfering with her work. And she likes it. She let it happen, this falling-in-love thing. She knew it was happening, and she let it happen.
Addie’s always considered her family worth dying for, fighting for, it’s important to her. She wants Frank to be part of it and wonders if he wants that, too. She thinks so. Her thoughts turn to her brother Bill and how poor his health is. He lives in Santa Fe with his family and he’s always been ill, or abusing, or abusive, or in jail. That’s another sad story, and it makes her mother cry a lot. Bill’s her biggest family problem, her biggest fear, his dying. Or is it losing Frank? Addie doesn’t want to replace one fear with another, one problem with another. But she’s afraid she’s fallen in love with him and she can’t or won’t stop herself.
As she drives to the stationhouse, her thoughts turn to Ellen, her best friend, who she met as a child. Addie considers Ellen to be part of her own family. She met Ellen when her parents joined a bowling league, and Ellen was brought along by her own parents. That was thirty-eight years ago, and, although they lost touch in their twenties, when they reconnected, their friendship remained solid, and it’s been that way since, and it’ll be like that forever. Can Addie have the same rock-solid relationship with a man, this puzzle, this Frank?
She’s working things through, and the closer she gets to making a decision, it’s always this—to open her relationship up with Frank and give herself to it. She’s wearing herself down. She doesn’t see any other outcome, any other way. She won’t deny herself. To hell with the hurts and disappointments. She’s a risk-taker, and she wants to take this risk. It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome and a gentleman. Strong and quiet and funny and even, maybe, romantic.
She remembers last night. After talking with Juvieux she got the distinct feeling he knows something, but can’t tell her. That ticks her off, but it’s how the game is played.
She was making chicken marsala, which turned out to be slightly burned white meat with something that looked like poorly treated mushrooms. It tasted great, even if it was bad, because she made it. The low calorie count meant she could eat a lot of it, and she did. She tried watching television, but she couldn’t concentrate, her thoughts drifting and landing in her personal zone. After a while, she turned it off and picked up what she was reading at the time, The Last Mrs. Parrish, which was beginning to show how devious and underhanded people can be towards each other, assuming personalities, deceiving, and lying.
After she started reading, Frank texted her. She dropped the book so fast it fell onto her foot. Wincing with pain, she snatched her phone.
ft: ‘adelaide, i know you’re there. please answer me’
She did. They talked with each other over the message thread for hours. As she’s driving, she remembers a few clips that keep replaying in her mind.
ah: ‘what’s important to you frank’
ft: ‘respect, love, honesty,’ he says, ‘you?’
ah: ‘family, and if it’s one thing i’ve learned it’s to kick toxic people to the curb’
ft: ‘i agree, my biggest lesson i learned is to keep my mouth shut’
ah: ‘i have a confession to make, please don’t laugh, i didn’t have sex until 24, does that make me a prude?’
ft: He knows she’s teasing him, but she probably was 24, it’s not that unusual, she really wants to know if he thinks she’s a prude, ‘you’re the cutest prude I ever met … i was 16’
ah: ‘wow’
ft: - ‘I also have a confession, ready? I like meatloaf, it’s embarrassing’
ah: ‘ha ha, my favorite film is goldfinger, you know, pussy galore, odd job’
ft: ‘mine is little big man with dustin hoffman’
ah: ‘i’ll have to watch that’
ft: ‘why don’t we watch both together’
ah: ‘down big boy’
ft: ‘why did you break up with me’
ah: ‘i didn’t break up with you, stop saying that, i need to know for sure, i’m processing a lot of emotions, don’t want to be hurt’
ft: ‘i won’t hurt you’
ah: ‘you don’t know that’
ft: ‘you’re right, i can’t tell the future, but i can tell you my convictions’
ah: ‘which are’
ft: ‘one is to not become a bum like my father’
ah: ‘reggi’s husband?’
ft: ‘he’s not my natural father, my father was a drunk, he killed someone with his car in tennessee’
ah: ‘oh, that’s bad’
ft: ‘he died a while ago, complications from alcohol, i really didn’t know him, my mother left him’
ah: ‘i’m sorry’
ft: ‘don’t pity me girlie, just want you to know i have strong feelings for ideas, people, people like you’
ah: ‘have you been drinking?’
ft: ‘no but i’m gonna start right now’
ah: ‘ha ha ha, you’re cute’
ft: ‘yer damn right im cute’
ah: ‘gnite frankie’
ft: ‘gnite adelaide’
She put her phone down, thinking, I thought he was going to tell me he loves me.
And he’s still cute.
Pulling into the stationhouse parking lot, she makes up her mind about Frank, to see him again, and she’ll tell him the next time he pings her.
The quiet period is over.
Chapter 7 Reggi
Feb
You can’t blame gravity for falling in love. Albert Einstein
Reggi slowly opens her eyes. It’s morning in Heritage Hills. Outside the wind is softly making its way down the hilltops and valleys, rushing cold, chilly winter air downward. Reggi’s reluctant to leave the warmth of her blankets. It’s cold in her room, she likes it that way, the way she sleeps. She leaves a crack in her bedroom window to let the outside pour in. She always does.
She’s refreshed, she’s been a good sleeper since she was a baby. She leaves her warm bed and quickly dons her winter housecoat, thick and patterned, full length and light pink with a floral pattern more strongly colored, then makes her way to the master bath to freshen up a bit.
Reggi notices the quiet as she leaves the bath and enters the kitchen to make morning coffee. Turning the television on to hear the news program, and bring some chatter into the house, she decides to have a breakfast, before she showers, of eggs and toast. But before that, the thermostat needs raising as she takes a cup of coffee over to her breakfast bar.
Looking outside over her rear deck, it’s a sunny day and after warming up the cold will give way to warmer temps. She sees her throw lying over the family room chair. When she arrived home last night she was really tired, and didn’t bother to hang it up. She paints the picture as she recalls the memory of the night before, with Ken. She imagines he had taken her, rather his driver had taken them, to a dinner dance, so he could show her off and mingle with the elite inside Asheville. The mayor, other dignitaries, the wealthy crème de la crème, even the governor, and a smattering of other minor politicians would have been there.
She begins to reflect on her life and the changes that her relationship with Ken will soon bring. Things will be different when Ken and she marry. Reggi asks herself how she would manage the vast estate Ken owns and the active life he runs. Properties, artwork, board meetings, investments, enormous cash holdings. It’s overwhelming for just a girl from Summit, Mississippi. But she’ll bravely rise to meet the tasks. Ken will be as proud of her as he will be privileged to just be with her.
Reggi knows Ken wanted her to stay the night. She remembers him holding her tightly, kissing her neck, whispering.
Then she strongly took his hands from her waist and made that stare that said take me home.
She almost gave in to his romantic longing. But, she’s a lady. And this is how it must be.
When her concentration returns she fi
nds she’s spilled her coffee. Her hands are shaking. Her eyes are tearing.
She heads to the master bath again, not bothering to eat, and suddenly feels very tired. Once inside the bath the woman staring back from the mirror looks a mess. Her hair in disarray. She looks horrible. “Who would want you she says,” then louder, then screaming it “Who? Who would want YOU!?”
Stopping, she stares at herself a while. Then a smile cracks her lips.
Life with Ken is going to be wonderful.
She turns the shower on, still smiling.
Chapter 8 Edwin
Feb
Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors. African proverb
His cell is ringing, and as Frank fishes it from his pocket, he looks down and sees his brother-in-law is calling through. He hardly hears from him, so it must be pretty important. Frank doesn’t have a bad relationship with Charlotte and Ed, and when they’re together, it’s natural and easy going; they just don’t talk a lot. Frank talks to his other sister, Megan, almost every other day. They take vacations together, and his son and her sons are close because of the time they spend together. Edwin and Charlotte’s daughters hardly know their cousins. Frank hasn’t even seen their older girl Madison in six years, and Frank must have been in Asheville fifty times over that period.
He answers the call, “Ed, hi, how are things, girls ok?” Frank asks.
“They’re good, thanks.” He coughs a little. Frank can hear him wheezing a bit. He sounds out of breath. Edwin isn’t well, but he continues to eat and drink like a college boy. He never outgrew bad habits, and they’re coming home to punish him. “Frank, Reggi has, apparently, been away for six weeks jet setting—Denver, San Francisco, Naples, Wyoming—with Ken. She told me he gave her a pony and stabled it at the ranch in Wyoming, named it Princess. You get that? Your octogenarian mother has a pony. She tells me his ranch there in Wyoming is awesome after it snows. She invited Charlotte and me to vacation there soon.”
