by S. W. Frank
Matteo had many relatives; the guard he shot was a relation.
When he re-entered the tragic abode he fetched a beer from the fridge, guzzled the flavored hops and barley until the can emptied. He closed his eyes, and when then they opened they were focused. He recalled a time brothers exchanged words,debating halves and wholes. The entire famiglia’s future was at stake and a Don’s selfishness was put on hold.
Giuseppe had once patronized a megastore during the height of the holiday season. He had walked the aisle and noticed an employee using a buffer on the floor as crowds maneuvered around the cleaner. His first thought was how stupid of the manager not to foresee an impending lawsuit. A Don saw ahead; from Amelda’s action he clearly envisioned a mafia war. The Peglesi's were many.
He tapped the intercom and summoned the guards at the gate, requesting they come inside for a brief meeting along with his Capo. He tossed the can in the waste bin and went to wait in the center of the staircase. Giuseppe had a direct line of sight to the entrance.
The Capo rushed inside, spotted his Boss and inquired. “Don Dichenzo, what has happened?”
Giuseppe answered him by shooting and the guards who entered with him. He squeezed the trigger twice, dropping the human targets. Their bones cracked on the marble, harder than the stare of a Don seeking to protect his own.
For Amelda to murder Matteo, betrayal must be the root.
In the grim hours before dawn, Giuseppe focused his sight on his shoes. Not a single speck of blood touched his clothes, yet the contamination clung invisibly to his skin.There isn’t a word spoken when death covers a crime; only a breath escapes the wrongdoer.
Giuseppe rose wearily to climb the stairs to the master suite. There remained an unfinished act. The bedroom door was opened with the sleeve of his shirt, and he stepped inside the once marital chamber.
He used the affectionate name from childhood before Amelda had become a wayward teenager and began torturing her brother. “Meldi.”
Her head rose from the face of the corpse. Her eyes were that of a trusting sibling. Giuseppe loved his sister and he saw affection for a brother. “Si fratello.”
“He is dead sorella, go to Ignacio. Men have broken into the house and killed your husband and others. I have driven them away and our famiglia is safe again.”
In a trance of despair she listened. A blood trail is what she left as she passed. When she had gone, he went to the bed and very carefully he adjusted the body upright. He pulled the bedspread up and used it to yank the knife free. Blood did not spurt. The body fluids had already seeped out.
Giuseppe wrapped the knife in the cloth and then moved back to the door. He aimed at the wound and fired. The corpse jerked, another shot opened the chest area leaving no sign of the penetrating incision.
Giuseppe then proceeded to alter the evidence, methodically destroying any surveillance footage before cleaning everything he touched. The gun he used for the crime, the knife and cloth were all destroyed. The polizei would never find the items unless they sought to stick their hands in battery acid mixed. The investigation would verify his story. There is fear of death if anyone opposed a ruthless mafia’s version of events.
Outdoors he withdrew his weapon and fired loud shots to the trees in a re-enactment of someone defending himself against an ambush of killers. But of course the assassins did not exist, because the killer of loyal men stood gripping a weapon in his hand.
A guttural groan reached the sky.
The cursed life of a Giacanti must bleed.
***
Tiffany pulled the covers over her legs and curled toward Tony after returning from the bathroom. In the quiet house of his Boss at three in the morning is when she broached the subject.
“Time to let me in Tony. You’ve been silent long enough. I want to know what the hell is going on and I want to know now!” she demanded. He wasn’t asleep. When Tony slept he snored.
He rolled in her direction and they were face-to-face now on a bed softer than her ass. Tony’s chiseled features were visible in the dark and so were the glint of his eyes. He put his arm around his lady, did the Tony sigh that sounded more of a groan than a breath before telling her, “You already know what I do, you’re only seeking confirmation.”
Tiffany’s lashes descended. She couldn’t sleep, not after what happened. Thank goodness his Uncle wasn’t killed or anybody else. She heard his lies to the cops and she hadn’t said a word. When they asked her about the incident she repeated what she heard. But, tonight she wanted to hear from his mouth what the future held. Her sister was falling for Giuseppe Dichenzo and unlike Tony he was deeply entrenched in the mafia world. She worried for her sister; she really did because this lifestyle wasn’t for everybody. But at least Nicole knew upfront who Giuseppe was and what he did. Here she was with a man she’d been with for years and he was still a mystery.
“I love you and we were supposed to get married, but how can I marry somebody who refuses to talk to me about important things?”
“I’m not hiding anything from you. Your eyes are wide open, what do you see?”
She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. “A woman between a rock and a hard place that has to make a decision.”
“Then make it and stop waiting for me to give you the answers.” Tony shook his head. “When I told you about my mother you thought you could repair a broken relationship. Your problem is you want to fix people. You can’t solve everybody’s troubles and you can’t expect someone to change when they’ve shown you who they are time and time again.”
She turned her head in his direction. “Is that what you think, I’m trying to change you?”
The masculine beauty of his eyes didn’t hide the anger. “Yes I do. The minute things don’t have the result you want then you analyze me like a student in your dance class.”
Tiffany blinked. His mother had said her son was fucked-up, but Tiffany didn’t see that, what she saw was somebody accustomed to pushing people away. “Then maybe Tony you need to start analyzing why you want to marry me then?”
A long sigh occurred. He loved Tiffany. He was certain the feeling was mutual, but in light of everything going on at the moment he couldn’t honestly ask her to hang around to dodge bullets. Tiffany was tough, but people aren’t indestructible. His Uncle wailed like a bitch but he noticed Nico’s wife, Tiffany, Nicole and the nurse lady hadn’t panicked. They had something inside that he supposed is what’s needed in crisis –calm. But was Tiffany tough enough to deal with not knowing everything about his work and stay out of trust?
He wanted Tiffany safe. “I want you to go with your sister tomorrow. She said she has to fly to Japan for an engagement. When you get back we’ll talk about whether we’re going to have a wedding or not, okay?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Selange arrived at the brownstone after Teresa asked if she could pick her up because she didn’t have her car. When Selange arrived she went inside to say hello to the girls but they were out with Teresa’s mom.
“They wanted to get nuggets, so my mom took them out and then they’re going to her house.”
“Oh,” Selange replied as Teresa fussed with her hair. “Don’t let the girls eat too much of that processed chicken. The USDA passed legislation that allows domesticated chicken to be exported to China for processing and then returned to America where it’ll end up in many fast food restaurants and those canned soups.”
“Word?” Teresa was surprised. “I didn’t know that.”
“The consumer often finds out about stuff after bills are passed. Companies and governments operate on a need to know basis. This legislature is more a quid pro quo. China doesn’t allow beef products from America for fear of mad cow disease, so this is what the U.S. hopes will foster a favorable return. Money is the root of all evil, politics, too.”
“Girl, tell me about it.”
One of the reasons Selange liked Italy was because most Italians utilized locally grown produce. She sighed when Teresa sat down. “I thought you were ready?”
“I’d rather talk here. I don’t know if I feel like going out right now.”
Selange took a seat. She was a tad peeved. She’d consumed water and peanuts in anticipation of eating a gourmet meal at the restaurant on Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard. “All right, I’m here. So what’s going on with you?”
“Everything.”
“Let’s pick a starting point. Teresa why didn’t you tell anybody Domingo beat you?” Teresa’s sad face pulled at Selange’s heart.
“Girl, I don’t know how to explain why I didn’t after the first time.”
“So, you did tell somebody?”
“I told Alfonzo a while back and he intervened?”
Selange wasn’t aware of this. “Yeah, when?”
“A little before Amelda got married.”
Selange blinked the bad memories of that time away. “So when did he start hitting you again?”
“Sometime later.”
“Teresa, we’re family. You could have said something and we would never have allowed Domingo to continue with the abuse.”
Teresa felt ashamed that she hadn’t picked up that phone again and called Alfonzo. But, she was afraid Alfonzo would kill Domingo. Embarrassment also played a factor in her decision. There’s humiliation in admitting, Domingo who claimed to love her used force to keep her in line. He had behaved for a while, but then the verbal and physical abuse began when he started using. What’s difficult to articulate is the blame she assigned to herself for putting up with his shit for so long. She had this warped idea that an alpha male meant a hard-core muchacho oozing testosterone that used intimidation sometimes to get his way, even with his woman. She fooled herself in to thinking Domingo’s over-bearing ways wasn’t controlling, but machismo. Tough chicas were always talking about their alphas. A thug can be damn sexy. On the streets the bee-bopping hombre’s with tight faces and tighter hearts were bad to the bone. Teresa had been around enough and witnessed dude’s slapping their girls around. Domingo was an alpha, a Boricua thug and only a strong chica could tame his ass and she was the one because she was bad to the core.
So, when Domingo yelled, she got up in his face and yelled back. When he tried to control what she wore, she flipped him the bird and strut her ass right out the door. But, there’s always a tension, never complete peace in a volatile relationship. There’s always fear creeping across the skin in the presence of a man like Domingo. She didn’t want to piss Domingo off, but something often did. The drugs worsened along with his temper.
The thug she loved came home after a bad day.
Yup, frustration and the inability to cope with stressors made her a punching bag. That backhand slap which sent her in to a wall resulted in a tiny scar on her mouth that she hid with lipstick.
Teresa sighed; she couldn’t explain it to a woman who had a good man. Alfonzo didn’t treat women like trash. Teresa never heard anybody claim Alfonzo beat on women, even before Selange. Dudes were afraid to fuck with him, even way back in the day and ‘aint nobody accused him of being soft ‘because he treated a woman with respect.
Word, she had lied to herself, been brainwashed by unhealthy relationships and other girls who found nothing wrong with dudes controlling their movements and words. There wasn’t anything cute about that shit when Domingo was kicking her ass. She’d been a weak girl masquerading as a woman until she woke the fuck up. That’s when she met Jesús but by then the dysfunctional relationship had gone on so long, she was afraid to leave, she was scared shitless by the dudes Domingo had begun to hang out with. He’d threaten her, tell her he’d have one of his mob friends make her disappear and she believed him.
She looked sadly at Selange. The people Domingo started doing business with were friends of Amelda’s husband. Domingo had said when they were at the wedding; Matteo had given him a business card and told him to contact him if he ever needed anything.
One day, he did and these guys came to the shop. She’d been working there at the time and when he went into the office for a closed door meeting, she knew, street instinct told her, Domingo was heading somewhere he didn’t want to be. But when she tried to talk to him, he told her to shut up and she did.
“Family can be your worst enemy Selange.”
“Teresa, not when they really love you.”
“I thought that guy Matteo had Domingo’s best interest at heart. He was family in a way but what he did was help Domingo feed his greedy drug habit.”
Selange’s eyes were slits. “What does Matteo have to do with this?”
“Domingo was giving him a cut of the profits he made from the distribution. I thought you knew.”
Selange was on her feet. “No the hell I didn’t. Alfonzo doesn’t deal with drugs Teresa!”
“Well apparently Matteo did.”
Selange blew hard. Her mind was racing a thousand miles per minute. Alfonzo couldn’t know, oh geez, Amelda, did she know about Matteo?
“Teresa, you better not be lying to me!”
“Girl, what the hell I have to lie about?” Teresa was tempted to tell Selange to leave, but it was too late, the police were coming. They wanted to charge her with Domingo’s murder, although Jesús did the crime, the police couldn’t find him, he’d disappeared. She knew Alfonzo was responsible for him being MIA, and inadvertently she became a prime suspect. The cops offered her a low-down snake trade to avoid jail. They said if she helped them nail Alfonzo they’d offer her protection. The scheme was to have Selange on U.S. soil to face assault charges and they’d work on her, and get her to cooperate in their investigation concerning this drug triangle. She agreed. The police dangled her ass over a barrel. The police were threatening to put her girls in foster care. She hated the position she was in, but Alfonzo had clout and she didn’t.
Teresa despised herself for turning on the only person she trusted; the kindest of the bunch.
Selange read something in Teresa’s eyes. Women have premonitions that they should follow. Selange trusted her gut. Casually she strolled by the window and in a sideways glance viewed the street. Her guards had their arms spread on the hood of the rental car, being frisked by NYPD. Unmarked cars idled in the center of the block. Her initial thought was to slice Teresa’s throat, but then she thought about her children and Domingo’s girls.
The rays of a setting sun were karma shining through the windowpane on her face. She tried to rectify her wrongs, but it seemed no matter what she did or how much she donated, she had to feel the piercing sting of betrayal.
She scoffed at herself on this late evening, yes the hell she did because being good to people didn’t guarantee goodness in return. She’d come because she cared about Teresa and would do anything for Maria. This bitch used her kindness to set her up.
Goddamn you Teresa, her mind screamed!
“I need to use the bathroom,” Selange said casually and then hurried to the privacy of the waterproof enclosure to place a call.
She called Maria. She woke the poor woman up. She had to talk fast, so spoke fluently in Spanish. “Maria, you have to keep the kids for a few days. I’m going to be detained in jail. Please tell Alfonzo under no circumstances can he come to the U.S. or its territories. The police I suspect are going to detain me as bait to get him here for questioning concerning Matteo. Tell him please to trust me, I know he’ll want to come, but Maria, you have to convince him tha
t he has to let me handle this one alone. The children need one of us and he can’t help. I’m hiding my cell in Teresa’s bathroom under the sink so tell him that is where he can send someone to get it. And under no circumstances is he to trust Matteo –Maria do you understand?”
“Aye, what no, I will come. Teresa did this didn’t she?”
“Maria, mama, por favor, do not tell anyone but Alfonzo what I’ve told you. I have to go. I’m counting on you to make Alfonzo listen, please. Te amo mama.”
“Te amo. I will tell him. Do not worry. I will take care of the children.”
“Yo sé. Gracias…gracias.”
She disconnected and choked quiet the sob as she worked loose the metal back on the device. In urgency, like a crackhead about to freebase, she shakily removed the data chip and flushed the damn thing down the toilet. Then she knelt to the cupboards and opened the door. Cleaning items, dust and grime met her. “Okay, well damn Teresa, I guess you don’t clean very often.”
She grimaced as she stuck the cell way back in a corner and then stood and washed her hands. She exited the bathroom and found Teresa in the center of the room crying.
“What are you crying for?” Selange asked, pretending she didn’t know the woman called the police.
“I’m sorry Selange.”
“About?”
“The detectives said they were going to charge me with suspicion of murder.”
“”Who’d you murder Teresa?’
“Nobody.”
“Exactly, so why are you crying?”
“Because they said if I got you here, they’ll consider that I have cooperated with their police investigation into organized crime and they’ll offer me protection.”
“They did, wow they’re generous?” Selange took a seat. “They played you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They don’t really want me; the cops are always trying to arrest Alfonzo.”
Teresa nodded, swallowing her stupidity. “They threatened to take my girls.”
“They always use the children.” Selange shrugged. “Can I use your phone before they get up here? I dropped mine down a grate right after I called you.”
