The Good Daughter: A Mafia Story

by Diana Layne

  He turned too early. The road was still at least five miles ahead. If he’d been concentrating more on driving and worrying less about his missing wife, he wouldn’t have gotten lost.

  To some, to chastise himself for worrying about his wife, who was in the hands of the mob, might seem heartless. It partially came from his belief to live in the moment. Worry was a waste of energy. But mostly, he knew his wife, and had confidence in her abilities. She would find a way to stay alive until he found her. He had no doubt if a chance to escape presented itself, she would take it. By now, she would have realized his leaving was a set up, and she would know he would come after her.

  Making her think he left her for another woman had been a last minute plan, the best he could do under the circumstances. If it had gotten her out of town and back home to Dallas, that would have sufficed. He hadn’t counted on Carlo moving so fast.

  It made no sense to lament fate though. Once again he would do what he had to do. He always had. It was a code he lived by.

  Sandro had been manipulated like a puppet for too many years. More than once, doing what he thought he had to do meant violating his honor. Missing the all-important free kick in the World Cup game that would have brought honor to his whole country, being forced into laundering money in the restaurant business he’d built for his family.

  Now, doing what he had to do meant drawing the imaginary line to regain his lost honor as well as his wife. He would settle for no less. Once and for all, he wanted the Mafia out of his life, and his family together and safe again. He wanted a normal life. One not haunted with distress and deceit and danger.

  Sandro remembered when once everything looked so hopeful. A time of sweetness and innocence. A time when the future promised a life brimming with happiness. A time before Carlo had brought the Mafia into his life . . . .

  * * *

  Ten years earlier

  “I feel like words aren’t adequate, but I had a wonderful time. Like a dream come true.” Nia wrapped him in a hug as he prepared to board the long flight home to Italy after their passion-filled night. Where she had, as he promised, retained her virginity, even if she had lost some of her innocence. Never would he have imagined that a trip to the States for a friendly soccer match would result in his thunderbolt, finding his true love.

  “Email me.” He refused to let her go though the attendant had called for his flight to board. He prayed all he had done, all they had shared, was enough to last in her memory until they could meet at the upcoming World Cup in the summer. If she promised to write, then at least he’d be on her mind part of the time. Dio, he hoped most of the time. All the time. He knew she’d be on his mind.

  “You want me to email?” She seemed so amazed. Why was she amazed? He was the one most blessed to have met her.

  “Every day.”

  “Every day? Sheesh, what would I put in an email every day?”

  “Anything. Everything. What you do during the day. . .”

  “So, you mean like a journal?”

  And that’s what she’d done. Her first email arrived in his inbox eight days later, a typed account of what she had done every day for a week. Not exactly what he had in mind, even if that’s what he’d told her.

  He called her. Her roommate answered the phone. Anxious to hear Nia’s voice, he decided at that moment, he’d get her a cell phone. They were smaller than they used to be, maybe small enough that she’d carry it with her.

  “Hey, Nia, your Italian stallion’s on the phone.” Although the roommate had obviously moved the mouthpiece away, he heard her. He walked to his bookshelf and as he checked the translation of what she’d called him, he heard Nia express disbelief. “What? No way.”

  And then she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Why does your friend call me a horse?”

  “Sandro! My, God, it’s really you. Remind me to kill you, Kelsie,” she called off into the room. “Sandro!” she said again, happiness bubbling in her voice. “I can’t believe you called.”

  “Did I call too early?”

  “No, I have a class soon.”

  “I won’t keep you then--”

  “That’s all right. I mean . . . is something wrong?”

  He made his voice deliberately firm. “Si, something is wrong.”

  “Oh, God. What? You’re injured! You can’t play! What happened?”

  “I am not injured. I play on Sunday. Will you be watching?”

  “Of course. I always watch. If you’re not injured,” she continued, “why--”

  “It’s this email.”

  “Email?”

  “The one you wrote me.”

  “Oh.” She sounded puzzled. “What’s wrong with it? I did as you asked.”

  “Si, you told me what you did day-by-day. But where is the recounting of the passion we shared? Or a mention that you miss me? That you dream of me at night and awaken with my name on your lips?”

  “Sandro,” she breathed, her voice low and intense. “I can’t put that kind of stuff in an email--”

  “Why not? Was the passion we shared only imagined? Are we not lovers?”

  “Well . . . I mean . . . you know . . . anyone could read it . . . and, um, like Giuseppe said, you’re known as a lady’s man.”

  “And you think I would share our private emails, that I just play with your affections?”

  “Well . . . you know . . .”

  “Did you not promise me your virginity?”

  “Of course, but--”

  “Were you playing with my affections?”

  “No, I was serious, but--”

  “So you think I’d take your gift lightly? Use you then leave you?”

  “I don’t know. For all I know you have a hundred lovers over there, and I would be one of many. You could even sit around the computer with someone else and laugh at what I wrote.”

  He managed to control his temper by reminding himself Giuseppe was right. She was stubborn. “Remember what I told you?”

  “Every word.”

  That was better. “Remember when I told you I loved you, and I would marry you?”

  “Of course I remember. But you couldn’t have been serious.”

  He didn’t comment.

  “You weren’t serious, were you? We barely know each other.”

  “Perhaps we’ve just met in this lifetime, but our souls have known each other forever.”

  “You’re really serious?”

  “I am an honorable man. You may trust what I say . . .”

  * * *

  An honorable man. Once Sandro had been honorable and trustworthy. Until he was left with no choice.

  But the time had come for new choices. New promises to keep. He would be honorable again.

  A dark-colored, long-bed Ford truck slowed and turned into the parking lot as Sandro checked the map one last time. Three dog kennels sat in the back of the truck. Probably early morning hunters waiting for the store to open to get hot coffee or gas for their truck. He barely had time to make note of that when a big black car drove by and passed the store. Unusual for two vehicles to be so close together this early and in this weather. The further north he’d driven, the more deserted the road became. At times the isolation and darkness was so complete, he felt totally alone in the world.

  He put the Accord in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

  One man searching for his missing wife.

  * * *

  The black car that Sandro saw pass by the store after the truck pulled in, slowed, made a u-turn and headed back to the convenience store.

  Giovanni parked next to the truck where Joey and Eddie sat. Giovanni hit the switch to roll down the window. “What’d you think? That guy who just left. He gonna be a problem?”

  “Nah, some out-of-towner,” Eddie said.“Looking at a map, probably lost. Most likely he thinks we’re hunters.”

  “So, you think she’s headed here?”

  Eddie glanced around thoughtfully. “Since sh
e definitely took the road and there aren’t any houses or turn-offs before this store, this is the most likely place. And there’s a phone inside, something she’s no doubt looking for. If she’s walking fast or jogging, she should be here before daylight.”

  “Hell, she’s in great shape, she’s probably running, probably already here and just hiding out--”

  “Maybe not.” Giovanni interrupted Joey. “She’s pregnant.”

  “You serious?”

  “That’s what she told Angie. And she was throwing up earlier.” Giovanni grimaced at the memory.

  “Shit. I don’t like this,” Joey muttered. “At any rate, she’ll push herself as hard as she can. She could still be here.”

  “The snow’s letting up. I’ll get the dogs out and prowl around. If she’s hiding, they’ll find her.” Eddie opened his door.

  Joey climbed into the Town Car to wait with Giovanni while Eddie set his dogs to search. They disappeared around the back of the building.

  “Killing a woman’s bad enough, but I don’t want to whack a pregnant woman,” Joey said.

  “You think Carlo’s gonna want her dead?” Giovanni pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

  “Don’t see any other way. Sandro shows and he’s dead. She’s a witness. Carlo never leaves loose ends.”

  “Damn, you’re right.” Giovanni puffed then blew out the smoke. “I don’t think I can whack a pregnant woman either. Mikey could’ve done it.”

  “Yeah, but he’s no longer with us. Carlo’s pretty fucking crazy over this whole thing. I think he must’ve loved Sandro like a son. This betrayal has cut the boss deep.”

  Eddie came back with the dogs, stomping a light dusting of snow off his boots. He stopped by the car window as Giovanni rolled it down. “No sign of her.”

  “We better get out of sight then,” Giovanni said, tossing his cigarette out the window. “We can go down that road that runs beside this place. We’ll be able to watch it from the back.”

  “Or I can go down further on this road, then turn around and park on the side and watch the front. We’ll cover two angles that way and she won’t likely think of me as anything more than a hunter.”

  “Okay. We got binoculars. You see her, you signal us and we’ll move in on her together.”

  “Store opens in an hour. If we haven’t seen her by then, we’ll have to backtrack. Get the dogs out again.”

  Chapter 19

  Dave lay on his battered sofa sleeper staring at the light patterns created by the TV on his tiled ceiling. He’d hoped the droning of the all-night cable-news channel would drown out his thoughts, or at least cover up the sound of the rats scurrying in the walls of his fifth floor studio apartment. It hadn’t helped in either case. His mind was a sticky mass of hot black tar, the kind mixed with rocks and spread on the cracked Texas roads on a blistering summer day.

  Nia. Marisa. Sandro. Marisa. Nia. Marisa. Sandro. Mar--

  Straying too often to the Mafia princess, Armstrong. Not good business, that.

  And yet it was a struggle to pull his thoughts away. Was Luigi home yet? Were they together? In bed?

  “Damn it!” Dave squeezed his eyes shut. Focus on the business at hand. Nia. He must do his job. He must make sure he was safe. He owed her.

  Forcibly he pulled his memories to exactly why he owed Nia. Aside that they grew up next door to each other, and he’d loved her for as long as he could remember. He needed to remember that he’d made that one huge mistake in his life. He, who always strove for perfection. He’d made a total ass of himself, and for a time, he thought he lost his reason for existing.

  His memories were painful, humiliating. A good distraction from Marisa. He deserved the punishment letting himself entertain inappropriate thoughts for even one second. From contemplating making another huge mistake . . . .

  It had been a decade earlier, he remembered, and he was home for Easter. The holiday fell late in April that year, and Dallas was suffering an early heat wave. It was at least twenty degrees hotter than it was back in D.C. where he’d been living the last couple of years.

  Which is why he was outside, de-winterizing the pool. His parents hadn’t hired the pool service to do the job yet, and he wanted to swim. So, he’d do it himself. Perhaps by tomorrow he would be able to get in the water.

  “Dave, are you here? I saw your car out front. Where are you?”

  Nia. She was back from school, home visiting for spring break. His heart rate accelerated. “I’m out here.”

  She stopped at the double French doors that opened onto his parent’s patio. He’d never forget how she looked in her wind shorts and baggy soccer jersey, her hair in a ponytail and as usual, no shoes on her feet. Little girl look in an all-woman’s body.

  “Dave, you’re home,” is all she said before she launched herself into his arms. “I knocked but no one answered. I just let myself in.”

  “You know you don’t have to be invited.” Her curves felt more womanly. She felt good in his arms. “Mom’s grocery shopping and Jared’s out in his art room, working on his latest masterpiece.” His voice became sarcastic, and he winked. “Most likely he has a naked girl out there and he’s painting dirty pictures.”

  Nia slapped his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of him. He’ll be famous someday.”

  “Famous, my ass. He’s almost thirty and still lives at home. He needs a job.”

  “You know it’s my older brother who talks like that about my younger one, not the other way around.” She pulled away.

  Reluctantly, he let her go. “Which brothers?” She had two younger brothers, two older.

  She shrugged and grinned. “Well, any of them. Name one. How long are you going to be here?”

  He told her, and they chatted while he finished the pool, but soon it became obvious her mind wasn’t totally on the current conversation. He wondered if it had to do with her new “boyfriend”. Dave couldn’t believe how she’d hooked up with the same Italian soccer star she’d had a crush on for years. But now the dude was back in Italy. He was bound to have dumped Nia, or would soon. And when he did Dave could pick up the pieces. He breathed a sigh. He’d almost waited too late.

  He decided he couldn’t go back to D.C. without letting her know how he felt. “The pool will be ready to swim in tonight. You want to come over?”

  “Sounds great. We haven’t fixed ours yet. You want the two brats to come?” She jerked her head toward her two younger brothers who were outside playing ball.

  No, he didn’t, not at all. “Sure, they can come.”

  “Hey, guys,” she called to them. “Want to go swimming tonight?”

  “We can’t, Nia. We’re going over to Tim’s house.”

  She looked back at him. “Guess it’s just me. But I can’t stay too late; Sandro’s supposed to call me about midnight.”

  The Italian player was calling her from Italy? Dave forced a smile. “I guess I can survive if it’s only you who makes it over,” he said, thinking how perfect it would be. It was his parents’ bridge night, and his brother had a hot date with a new model. He and Nia would be alone with plenty of time for him to convince her he would be better for her than Sandro, the soccer player.

  And if she couldn’t be convinced, he’d let her know he would be there when Sandro dumped her and left her broken-hearted.

  Early in the evening, as time drew closer for Nia to come over, Dave started thinking about Sandro. The more he thought about competing with an international soccer star, one she’d had a crush on, no less, the more Dave’s confidence waned. Nia had been in lust with the guy for too many years. Maybe Dave couldn’t compete.

  He went to the bar and poured a drink. Bourbon on the rocks. Somehow the drink disappeared so he made another. He was on his third glass when Nia arrived. By now he felt better, much more relaxed, confident even.

  They played in the water like old times. She was a strong swimmer, so they could play tag games without fear of her drowning. Finally, she pleaded defeat.

/>   “You win.” She got out of the swimming pool, grabbed a towel from the table, and plopped onto the lounge. He watched her from the water, waiting for her request.

  “Swim for me,” she said.

  He was on the swim team in high school and college. She’d always loved to watch his butterfly stroke. “If I won,” he joked, “how come I’m the one who has to swim?” In truth he was flattered and would have been disappointed if she hadn’t asked.

  “I’ll juggle a ball for you if you want, but I don’t swim as prettily as you do. Go on, stop stalling. You know you want to show off.”

  He swam for her.

  “You look so wonderful when you do that. You still practice don’t you?”

  He pushed up out of the pool, dripping water. He took her towel and rubbed it over his body before he sat on the edge of the lounge. She scooted over and made more room for him.

  “Yeah, I still practice.” He let his gaze roam over her, taking in her lithe muscular body, barely covered by a bikini held together with flimsy ties. The cooling night air had her nipples pebbled beneath her wet top, and goose bumps raised over the exposed parts of her body. Which was most of it. His Speedos grew uncomfortably tight while silence stretched out between them.

  “Dave, why are you staring at me like that?”

  He pulled his gaze from her body. “I want to kiss you.”

  She tried to get up.

  He took hold of her shoulders. “Stay.”.

  “No. You know about Sandro.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I’m here, Sandro’s not.”

  “Dave, I’m involved.” She tried to squirm away.

  “You really think he’s being faithful?”

  She stopped squirming. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He’s in Italy. He’s a superstar who no doubt has a legion of groupies... Besides, you’ve never kissed anyone besides him.”