by S. W. Frank
‘Damn, this car is wicked.’
He rolled out to the main road, flashed the headlights to get Raul’s attention then sped away trying to put distance between hell and the highway. The car handled remarkably, making it a breeze slipping around the slower moving vehicles as he headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge and when he finally reached it and exited to the FDR it welcomed him. He cut loose down the narrow stretch of highway listening to the nothingness of his mind. He was numb to the pain, stricken silent by the enormity of it. He glanced at the sleeping girl. The peaceful expression on her lovely face was antithetical to the inner turmoil he was certain existed there. Tomorrow she’d awake and the truth of this night will revisit.
The illuminated clock on the dashboard read 2:30 in the morning. Three hours ago he lay in bed and decided to call his uncle, instead he reached this girl. It took three hours for his entire life to change and for the first time in forever he longed for the dad he never knew. The brownstone came into view and he found a park, ran up the steps to unlock the door then returned for his sleeping passenger. She did not stir as he carried her inside and placed her in the guest bedroom atop the queen bed. Nor, did she blink when he stripped her of the stained clothing then cleaned the bloody gook from her face. His eyes lingered admirably for a moment on her shapely figure but as a gentleman he slid the covers up to her chin then stepped silently out the door. He prolonged the inevitable long enough. He squared his shoulders, rolled his neck like a fight limbering up before a bout, clenched his jaw in obstinacy then rushed downstairs and out the door where the others now gathered.
* * *
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gina Palazzo walked gracefully by silk covered tables as she followed the maitre’d. Les Faire, was an upscale restaurant on posh Fifth Avenue which catered to the rich and pampered. They were also discreet and offered private rooms for well…dubious clients. She requested a private table. She was here on business and to sample the food; a completely innocent dinner from all appearances. She could see the private dining rooms in the distance and smiled. There was nothing private about it; in fact, it brought unnecessary attention to anyone who occupied them. With this is mind she gladly settled for a quiet table amongst other patrons. The maitre’d escorted her to a small table in a cozy corner of the room as she requested. When a waiter appeared from the shadows the maitre’d instructed him to give Mrs. Palazzo special attention. He marched away to welcome his other wealthy patrons.
Gina tenderly touched the diamond necklace at her throat, a gift from her terminally ill husband. A menu was placed on the table and he stepped back, hands clasped patiently behind his back. She did not make eye contact nor acknowledge him in the slightest.
“Would you like something to drink?” The waiter asked.
She deliberately made him wait and he did not care. Vapid, cruel and falsely superior creatures like these were often miserable. He grinned, thinking of the large tips he made from the miscreants. Many of these spoiled socialites tipped extravagantly to assuage their bad manners. Thank you and please often omitted from their vocabulary.
He stood erect while she languidly perused the menu then ordered without looking at him. “I’ll take a martini spritzer while I wait and the vichyssoise with light cream.” The waiter nodded, removed the menu and retreated to the kitchen. In his absence a blonde man joined her.
“Good evening Mrs. Palazzo,” Evan Graham said cheerfully as he occupied a chair opposite Gina. He slid the folded newspaper across the table. “Read page three.”
She did: ‘LOTTERY WINNER AND HUSBAND KILLED IN BROOKLYN.’ The article described a double murder in a Brooklyn apartment followed by a vague description of a possible suspect. Her mouth twisted with a satisfied smile until she read the ages. Her eyes narrowed angrily and she scowled, “What the hell is this?”
Evan seemed confused. “What’s wrong?”
Gina leaned forward, her tone low and contemptuous, “Did you read this? This victim is too old. Our man is twenty-three, not thirty-nine.”
Evan snatched the paper and read it. “This must be a typo.”
“And he isn’t married you imbecile,” she hissed.
Evan looked around to ensure their conversation hadn’t been overheard, “I’ll verify this!”
Gina folded her arms, “You were paid well and assured me this would get resolved. I sent you pictures, everything you needed.” She sat straight and folded prim hands on the table as a display of her breeding. She spoke calmly, cognizant of the other diners, “I’m beginning to regret our business arrangement.”
“I’ll handle it.”
Void of appetite and thoroughly annoyed she rose, “I expect results very soon.”
She exited the restaurant leaving her companion to dine alone.
***
Luzo Palazzo slumbered in the massive bed under sedation. The cancer spread to his lymph nodes. Money spent on specialists, alternative treatments and even prayer failed to slow its deadly progression.
A once muscular and imposing man, his appearance had changed drastically, leaving a shadow of the power of his presence. An emaciated bundle of flesh and bones the only fire of life came from the piercing blue eyes whose flame began to dull. At his age he accepted the inevitable. Death neared with each labored breath and with its coming his wife became scarce. She traveled abroad attending social events to avoid witnessing her husband’s foul temper. Sensual Italian lips unaffected by disease smiled ruefully. Perhaps, she thought him a dying fool. His faculties remained intact along with his far reaching power. He knew of her many indiscretions but he was not bothered in the least. The source of his anger was her disloyalty in business. She sought to influence the Board of Directors at Palazzo Enterprises to gain executive control of his empire.
His trusted advisor and friend Alberti Luca kept him abreast of every clandestine meeting as did those she approached to elicit favor. She failed to understand the nature of his business or his connections. Her flirtatious charms were entertaining at most but his associates were men of honor who recognized an opportunist in a skirt. They also feared retaliation if any dared to act against him.
“Are you comfortable Mr. Palazzo?”
The blue eyes were alert. The medication was wearing off and the dull pain increased but he refused to remain drugged. He wanted his senses when his wife arrived. Blue eyes settled on the nurse’s large bosom. Long ago he may have seduced the woman, very long ago. He shut his eyes focusing not on the pain scraping at his bones but the past.
Twenty-four years ago he lost a great woman in his quest for power and duty. He was a despot who chose power over love, a frailty Gina exploited and he allowed. His ascension required a woman like Gina, ruthless, ambitious, a socialite of Italian birth. Yes, he traded love for power, something he required to fulfill his destiny.
In Europe’s elitist society Gina’s lavish dinner parties gained him political and business allies which were necessary to expand his business empire. Her parties were the talk of Palermo; those who attended were the echelons of society. Yes, these were the people who secured his ascension from obscurity to a reputable businessman. Marriage to Gina for him was purely business. Part of the contract entailed she provide him with a male heir. This was his only request and she agreed and in return he gave her money, status and protection. He came to care for her, not passionately but genuinely as one would a friend. Eight years later their relationship changed when she failed to deliver on her end of the bargain.
He visited a specialist after considering her state of non-conception was perhaps a male infertility problem. The doctor assured him; his sperm count rivaled any healthy male half his age and suggested his wife see a fertility specialist. So, they did.
Luzo sneered at the memory. Gina was infertile and feigned ignorance once the test results were revealed. However, he did not believe her and it is then he realized the depths of her manipulations. Gina played him like a boy!
In the course of the marriage he had se
veral affairs. He decided not to divorce Gina for purely business reasons; she was a great hostess, friends with the wives of many of his associates. An ambitious woman scorned can be a man’s worst enemy. To prevent any further cunning, he maintained complete control over her finances by allotting a monthly stipend and restricted access to his business. To further repay her for the duplicity he moved a mistress into his private country estate and left his wife to the business of socializing.
It’s Maria, the American woman he brought to Italy under false pretenses in which he had the greatest remorse. He deceived her, had her believe he merely desired a caretaker for his estate and nothing more. He wooed her kindness, charmed her with his worldly sophistication and ultimately achieved his goal. She came willingly to his bed and stole away with his heart. Such wonderful memories he had of her sweet smile and quick wit. She was a religious woman he corrupted with his lies and when they were unveiled she flew back to America leaving him crushed. He of course, went after her and sought to explain his deception but she refused to listen. Maria….the one I allowed to go…the one regret!
He returned to his life, busying himself with tedious things to forget her. Time nor women brought him peace. Then several years ago he modified his will and instructed Alberti to learn her whereabouts. He discovered she was unmarried and owned a modest hair salon. To make amends he flew once more to America.
He sighed from the painful memory.
The once trusting girl grew into a stunning woman. Her shock and displeasure at seeing him was evident. “What are you doing here?”
The customers were gone and a worker swept the floor feigning disinterest in the stranger. He unfastened his cashmere coat to sit, “I’ve missed you.”
“What have you missed, my foolishness for not seeing your lies?”
The worker continued sweeping.
“Buenos noche Elana, hasta manana.” Maria said to the woman as she removed the broom from her hand.
Elana nodded, “Gracias, Buenos noche.”
Once Elana exited Maria glared at him, “How dare you come here, what do you want?”
Her English improved. He folded his arms, “I’ve come to make amends.”
Maria removed her jacket from the closet, “Vete, por favor!”
He rose and walked to her. “I will always love you Maria.” He said then turned to leave and the front door opened. A young boy entered.
“Mami you ready?”
Luzo stopped to greet the young man with eyes the color of a clear blue sky, “Hello.”
The boy nodded, his mannerisms much older for a boy his age, “Yo, what’s-up. Mom you ready?”
Luzo glanced back at Maria, “arriverderci,” he said then exited the salon to the tinted car parked at the curb. He saw the truth and her attempt to conceal it. The opaque blue eyes like his, could this be true? The driver-bodyguard waited for his instruction as he settled in his seat but Luzo’s mind was elsewhere, his eyes fixated on the shop window. He could see them clearly, mother and son –his son.
“Nico?”
“Yes Mr. Palazzo.” The bodyguard answered once he settled behind the wheel.
“You see the boy?”
The bodyguard nodded, “Yes.”
“Let no harm come to him.”
“Yes, Don Palazzo.”
“Water?” The nurse asked anxiously. Luzo’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of a plane soaring overhead and it ended his reverie. Perhaps, the nurse thought I died, Luzo smiled thinking. A refreshing breeze cleansed the putrid air and the smile grew. This one was nice. He could tell such things. A series of coughs weakened the already frail body and he slumped against the pillow in pain. The nurse quickly injected him with morphine and rubbed his forehead. “Rest Mr. Palazzo, try to sleep.”
Grateful, he closed his eyes. Tomorrow Nurse Gordano would be added to his will. For now he was too weary to do more than rest.
Sleep came and he welcomed it.
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHT
The procession of mourners was covertly watched by the lone man in the rear pew. Inconspicuous among the throng of mourners in the old cathedral he scanned the faces of the grief-stricken assembly with amusement.
In Mrs. Jillian’s fifth grade drama class he had a small role in a play. He played a tree. This was the extent of his acting career but today’s performance was worthy of an Academy Award nomination. He lowered his head to wipe away a non-existent tear searching for one man, a young man fitting a very specific description, a young man with blue eyes. An important detail omitted by his client. When he accepted this job he was given a grainy surveillance picture along with an address and name. He followed the instructions to the letter. He went to the address given and witnessed the man emerge from the building and began following him for an entire week. Had he known the subject moved from the address months ago or had an uncanny resemblance to the man he followed or possessed an unusual eye color for a Latino, he would not have botched the job!
In light of his employers mistake he demanded half a mil more to make the correction. In his line of work, do-overs did not come cheap. In this sea of brown eyes, he maintained vigilance for a young man, six-one, one seventy-five, black hair, a tan complexion and blue eyes.
He swiveled his head slowly to the right…searching. Several women cried uncontrollably, others sat with heads bowed as the organist played a melancholy rendition of Amazing Grace preceding the eulogy. He decided he wanted cremation. The money spent on this elaborate funeral must have cost these folks quite a lot of dough.
At the podium surrounding the shiny expensive caskets were large floral arrangements and a huge screen in the backdrop with a timeline of the victim’s life in happier moments. The man smiling from the deck of a ship; the woman waving at the camera from atop the Grand Canyon, images that reminded everyone of their life and not their gruesome death.
He listened critically to the priest’s sermon, finding fault with his attribution to God’s Divine Plan. God had no hand in this deed; he thought to himself, I did. When the priest left the dais others came to speak. One after the other they streamed, saying wonderful things about the deceased couple. He fidgeted. This was the longest funeral he ever attended and most elaborate. He saw the girl when her head swiveled toward the rear looking for someone then they traveled to where he sat causing him to lower his head a fraction. Had she recognized him?
She turned around and he sighed with relief, unfortunately the excitement of seeing her and the prospect of touching her caused a sudden erection. His hands covered his crotch to hide the priapism and he closed his eyes in meditation. When he opened them again the old woman seated nearby gave him a censured glare.
“What’s wrong grandma?”
She frowned disapprovingly and slid a few inches away mumbling expletives in the church.
He smiled.
Finally, the funeral services ended and the family rose as the pallbearers lifted the caskets and walked solemnly down the aisle toward the large oak doors of the cathedral.
Everyone stood respectfully. There were weeps of anguish which grew louder and louder. They came from a middle-age woman being ushered down the aisle by a young man. He held the grieving woman whispering quietly in her ear. Directly behind him was the young woman clutching the arm of a tall distinguished man in a suit who he immediately recognized as one of the detectives on the case; Detective Johnson…also a friend of the deceased woman.
As the group approached he hunched his body to blend in with those assembled. They moved slowly past like ghosts in a dream looking straight ahead…their eyes upon the double caskets being carried out to the sun.
The young man’s head came up and searched the faces of the crowd with an unreadable expression. His jaw was clenched tightly and his demeanor one of stone. –But the eyes were fiery blue and in them he saw the look of a young man with a heart of ice; a kindred spirit, a killer like himself. He tried to contain his excitement at the prospect of killing this particu
lar one. The challenge brought elation at getting his prey. This was a fun sport, something he took pleasure in doing. The prior victims were easy targets, no challenge at all except the last guy. Yeah, he surprised him. The man actually swelled his lip. This kid was his relation and younger, physically fit, opposing in stature, a youth in appearance but a hardened man at the core. Yeah, he’d make sport of this one. This time he’d do it right!
The entire family exited and he followed, nearly colliding with a boy at the end of the aisle.
“Watch out mister!” The boy exclaimed.
He ignored the insolent kid and followed the procession in time to see the man enter the limousine.
Yeah, this time he’d get it right.
CHAPTER NINE
Detective Carey Winoski knocked on the door of apartment 1J. It flew open and a scantily clad girl greeted her. “Yeah, what the fuck you want pig-bitch?”
Nice. Carey peered over her shoulder into the cluttered apartment, “Is Nunzio here?”
Contempt contorted the youthful face before she crossed her arms in defiance, “Why the hell you keep comin’ here askin’ for my man?”
Carey was unamused by the pit-bull act. Street prostitutes were over-protective of their pimps. Nunzio was a low-down crackhead who exploited vulnerable girls, usually naïve run-a-ways from the Midwest.
“Tell Nunzio I want to speak to him.”
The girl’s hip swayed as she turned with a ‘humph.’
Voices filtered into the musty corridor and the pit-bull was overheard saying, “What that bitch comin’ here for?Don’t walk away Nunzio!
