by Tara Oakes
I hear his words. “Yes, um. We-we have a vacation house out on the North Fork. We can go there while we make the arrangements.”
The detective nods and closes his pen, recapping it before hiding it back in his jacket pocket. “We’ll need you all to stop by the precinct and make formal written statements regarding the intruder. And once again, Mr. DiBenedetto, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The tired looking, grey-suited man politely excuses himself and exits the room through the swarms of crime scene experts and forensic workers. The coroner’s office has already left with the two ambulances, one for each of the bodies. The first one carrying the dead hit-man from the front porch, and the second… the second one carrying Nonna.
~*~
“Cars are ready, Dom.” Mike carefully enters my office and whispers.
The police are still weaving in and out of rooms, carefully piecing together their investigation. It’s just after dawn, and each one of us is our own mixture of sadness, anger, and exhaustion. Momma and Aunt Marie left for the vacation house about an hour ago. I sent a detail of two men along for protection.
V’s upstairs packing a few bags to take with us while consoling Theresa. So far, I’ve been able to hold myself together. Nonna was just as close to me as she was to my sister, but I can’t give into mourning her right now. I have to handle the things I know others won’t be able to.
I’ve made arrangements with the funeral home, and called Ellen, my secretary, asking her to set up the florist and to make the phone calls to friends and family with the service times. The church was called and Father Mahoney is setting up the funeral mass for Monday morning, two days from now.
I’ve emailed the obituary to the newspaper and contacted the lawyers. Everything that I can think of was done for Nonna’s arrangements.
“Mike, I’ll be out in just a few minutes.” I let my brother-in-law know that I’m not quite ready. He closes the door softly behind himself.
There’s nothing more I can do for Nonna, so now I need to work on the other pressing matter that’s in need of my attention.
The hit man.
With Nick, my tech guy on the west coast, I know it’s even earlier for him, but it doesn’t stop me in the slightest from dialing the digits to wake his butt up.
“Boss?” His words are groggy, tired, his voice scratchy.
I can relate. “Did I wake you, kid?”
“Nah. I’m just plugging away at something. A couple of dead ends so far. I can’t get anything beyond a pizza shop in Staten Island.” he sounds disappointed in himself.
I home in on the handful of words that just rocked my world. “Did you say pizza shop? In State Island?”
He sounds confused. “Yeah. The money wired into EJ’s account, the money that was used to anonymously pay the photographer. It came from a pizza place in Staten Island. But… here’s where it gets weird. I can’t find an owner listed. I can’t figure out who was behind the money transfer.”
I slump back into my chair. If there’s one thing the mob is pretty damn good at, it’s hiding the true ownership in businesses. “Nick… this pizza place. It wouldn’t by any chance be Nunzio’s pizza on Martin Street would it?”
There’s a pause. “Yeah. He-hey… how’d you know that?”
I rub my temple harshly with my forefinger. “Because I know the owner. You can stop trying to find it on paper, because you won’t find anything other than another dead end bogus name.”
“OK, boss. So… is this a good thing? I mean if you know him then we can get this figured out, right?”
I laugh from stressed exasperation. “Pretty sure he put a hit out on me, so I wouldn’t exactly say it’s a good thing.”
I end the call, and close my eyes while I fit the pieces together. There are some rough edges but it all falls into place. EJ and Moretti are in this together. Moretti supplied the cash to EJ to hire people to follow V, putting me on the offensive. Then, Moretti steps in as mediator to squash the whole situation as if he’s doing me a favor. All I have to do is sign over part of my company to him. The share I’ve managed to wrangle back from EJ and out of the hands of organized crime.
I’d finally done what John and I had been trying in earnest to do for years. I’d separated the company from all ties to the criminal underworld. Here they are twisting my arm to give it right back to them.
The only loose end is… where does Carmine fit into all this? Was he sent here as a mole, keeping tabs on how close I was getting to them? He’s conveniently missing just when I would need protection the most.
This night could have turned out differently. My grandmother didn’t have to die. If it turns out that Carmine is playing a part in this, is partially responsible for her death. Lord help him, because as soon as I’m done with Rizzo and Moretti, I’m coming for him.
~*~
“There’s no way Carmine had anything to do with this, Dom.” Theresa is adamant from the back seat.
I hold tight to the wheel as we drive into the early morning sun. “Since when are you his personal cheerleader, sis? It wasn’t even two days ago that you were swearing at him, wishing him a painful death? Well it looks like you’re gonna get your wish.”
“Oh? Is that what you do know, Dom? Are you a hardcore monster just like Carmine? Like Daddy?” she spits back.
“Enough!” V shouts out at the both of us. The interior of the car isn’t big by any means, and her yelling is almost painful to the ear drum. “Theresa, back off. This isn’t the time for you two to do this. Nonna wouldn’t want you two to fight. Dom is not going to do anything to Carmine without a damn good reason.” She stares me down from the passenger seat. “Isn’t that right, Dom?”
She’s taken this so much better than I ever thought she would. Theresa did too, up until the possible Carmine connection.
I don’t give my wife enough credit. I’ve been hiding these things from her, for what I thought was her own good. She has her own hang-ups with our family’s background with the mafia. None of this was supposed to have a place in our life together. I was afraid she would hold me responsible, would blame me for inviting it in.
On the contrary, she’s been more supportive than I could ever have imagined. I don’t know if it’s the shock of having a cold killer hired to come into our home for me, or her in mourning for Nonna, but she’s supporting me in every way she can.
“I will do everything necessary to protect you and to protect our family from any real threat, V. I give you my word. And I promise not to do anything that doesn’t absolutely need to be done.” Every word is sincere.
Theresa proceeds to give me the silent treatment from the back, while my wife carefully takes my hand in hers, holding tightly. She doesn’t look at me. Instead, she stares out the window as the tiny business pass by. I know we’ll have to revisit this, to talk this out fully as husband and wife, but for now she has the basics. She knows what’s happened to lead us to the point we’re at now.
The road ahead of me is sparse as we head out to the country. I steal my eyes from the road to watch her, I can see her profile, her soft skin, her tired eyes. And the lone teardrop falling down her left cheek that she tries to hide.
She’s cried more this morning than I’ve ever seen from her. Nonna was as close to a real grandmother to V as possible. They’ve always been close, they’ve always had a special bond. I convince myself that teardrop was for Nonna. I have a sneaking suspicion that it may have also have been for me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I left a few of the security team members back at the main house, but every other one of them has been brought out to the country house. The intruder was most definitely looking for me last night, but I won’t take a chance of a second attempt with someone I love getting caught in the crosshairs.
Each and every one of them are settled in, the kids catching up on the sleep they missed last night, the adults reminiscing around a table of coffee cake and cappuccino, telling stories of Nonna. Reliving her fu
nniest moments, retelling their fondest memories.
I slip away to the master bedroom, trying Carmine’s cell phone once more along the way. Still no answer. This is looking worse and worse for him. Once I’m satisfied that he won’t be answering, I don’t bother to leave a voicemail. Instead, I call Joe, one of my dad’s old employees.
Joe was in his early twenties when my dad passed and our soldiers had been disbanded. It’s been eleven years, but he’s still young enough to be able to step in for what I need of him. Unlike some of the others, he didn’t move over to another family. He took his payout and opened up an auto repair shop in Brooklyn.
I had been prepared to pull out all the stops if need be, but all it took was a simple request. He took the blood oath he made to my dad, to my family seriously enough to drop everything and come to my aid.
There were a few others just like him that would be eager to help, and so he tasked himself with tracking them down. I hope he has good news. “Joe. Dom here. How’d we do with the recruits?”
“I got six men, Dom. If I had more time, I know I could get more. I know of two that moved to Florida. A plane ride’s gonna be two hours too late,” he proceeds to rattle off the names of the men that have bravely stepped up to protect an oath that most would have abandoned by now. Many of the names I recognize from my younger years. Men that can be trusted. Men that follow the old ways. Honor, silence, or Omertà, and respect.
“How long until they’re ready, Joe?” I ask anxiously.
“They can all be here at my shop by noon,” he volunteers.
Finally, something in my favor. “Good. I’m heading back now. I want to hit the pizza shop at dusk.”
We have a plan. I have men behind me. I’m all set to go. The only thing left is to tell V that it’s time for me to leave.
~*~
“You can’t know that for certain Dom,” V fixes my collar.
“I do know it, V. After everything that brought us together, there is no way this can be the end. I’ll come home to you as soon as this is all settled. Just… just hold down the fort until then.” I try my best to hide my nerves.
She cracks a fake smile. We both hold the pretense, pretend as if everything is normal. I wonder if this is how it was for my Mom and Dad back in the day? If he would tell her what she wanted to hear. If she would try her best to smile to set him at ease, while deep down they were both just trying their best to keep the other one calm.
“You know, it hasn’t escaped me that everything was perfect when we were away on our honeymoon. None of this became real until we got home,” I make a point.
She’s finished working on my collar and now proceeds to smooth out my tie. “Is that so?”
I smile. “Yup, and that means we should go away, take another vacation, where everything can be perfect again. You know, where the biggest decision to make is whether or not I let you come first.”
She laughs. Not a fake laugh like the little smiles she’s been forcing for the last few minutes, but a real laugh. “I think that’s called a babymoon.”
“Babymoon? Why don’t you get started on booking that?” I hope she takes me seriously.
Now that my collar and my tie are perfect, she moves her hand to my cheek. “You be careful DiBenedetto.”
I move my chin just enough to kiss the palm of her caressing hand. “Babymoon here we come.”
~*~
It’s no easy feat to call a meeting of the commission. It’s not like they’re all on speed dial. In fact, the head of the Marchese family is in federal prison for the next twenty seven years. His Consigliore sat in for him today. It took every ounce of proof I have to get their approval to move against Rizzo and Moretti.
They wouldn’t outwardly approve a hit, but at this point if things were to go awry, at least I’ll have it on my side that the commission sent me with their blessing. Even if it turns into a blood bath.
“We ready, Boss?” Joe asks me. He’s much more experienced at things like this than I am, but appreciate the show of respect he gives by asking for direction, although at this point I’m pretty comfortable with his guidance.
“As ready as we’ll ever be, I suppose.” That’s all he needs. His hand signals in a half circle to the men around us. We split into two groups. Half and half. Joe leads one group while I lead the other.
Joe takes his men around back where they’ll sneak up on Moretti’s guard. I’ll take my group straight in through the front door and march into the back that way. Not much for the element of surprise, I know, but I’m counting on sheer numbers for the advantage today.
Moretti will have a few goons around, no doubt. But we can easily take them if we have to. My guys may not be as young as his, but that also means that my guys have more experience than his. My guys have actually lived through wars before. His have probably only heard tales of them.
The dining section of the pizzeria is scarcely filled this time of night. Those here are having either a late dinner or just a snack. As soon as I file in with my men, the last of us, Pete, or Pastrami Pete as the men used to call him back in the day, turns the generic plastic sign on the from door to indicate that the restaurant is now closed.
He then makes an announcement to the customers. “Sorry folks, we’re closed. Pack up and head out.”
Most of them take the directive seriously enough to follow his suggestion, and they gather their things to abandon their half-eaten slices The one or two that need some additional encouragement get it as soon as Pete moves through and pounds his fists on their tables hard enough to disrupt whatever dining experience they were trying to preserve.
Once the last of the reluctant diners has left, Pete proceeds to lock the door and pull down the shade. The aproned men behind the counter stand back with their hands up, not wanting to do anything that could accidentally involve them in what’s about to go down.
“Where’s your boss?” I ask them.
One doesn’t speak, he only darts his eyes toward to back of the store, behind the kitchen doors. The other one doesn’t speak at all.
“Consider yourselves off for the rest of the night. Get lost and don’t come back.” They don’t hesitate to walk slowly from behind the marbled food display and exit through the main entrance, with Pete letting them through. He then stands guard right next to that same door.
The other two men and I continue through the kitchen and back toward the main office. Joe meets us with his men from the other direction. They’re down one man from what they started out with. He’s most likely guarding the back door, the big goon that was posted there earlier, or both.
We leave two men in the kitchen area to guard the middle of the building in case someone breaks past the guard at either entrance. The main office area is down a short hallway, the door closed.
This is my fight, so I take up the lead. I’m not about to ask any of these men to give their life for me if I’m not prepared to give it for them. I don’t knock on the door. I simply open it.
Moretti practically drops his fork onto the china plate set out on his white table-clothed round table. Rizzo sits opposite him, and chokes on his meatball as I enter, gun drawn. The other diner at the table happens to be none other than Carmine.
Three for the price of one. It’s my lucky day.
“Dom? What’s going on?” Moretti asks aloud, taking painstaking effort to seem calm.
“Hands on the table, gentlemen.” I instruct.
Carmine is the first to obey, with the other two hesitating and sharing conspiratory looks. They do, however, apply their hands palm down on the tablecloth.
“This is crossing a line, Dom. How dare you come in here like this.” Rizzo accuses. “How dare you show such disrespect.”
I laugh harshly. “Respect? Like the kind of respect that hit-man showed me last night?”
“What’s he talking about? What hit-man?” Carmine asks Moretti.
Moretti pacifies Carmine, his soldier, with his hand, making shushing motions as if the
topic is unimportant. Rizzo clenches his jaw, angered that he’s on the open end of a pistol. It’s been a long time coming.
“I think this has gotten out of hand, EJ. I can no longer support this kind of behavior. You’re sending hit-men into peoples home now?” Moretti questions his dinner guest.
Rizzo looks shocked. His mentor, his savior is now throwing him under the bus. It’s obvious why I’m here and the slippery old man is trying to weasel out of this any which way he can. Sacrificing EJ doesn’t even make him bat an eyelash.
“I want to hear you cop to it. You fucking coward,” I spit at Rizzo.
Carmine looks on in disgust at the rat sitting to his right. He shuffles his chair away from EJ as if he had some sort of contagious illness. I lock eyes with my former intern, “Don’t move a muscle.”
He looks truly shocked. “Dom. You don’t think I have anything to do with this, do you?”
I ignore the question. It’s not a priority of mine right now. I turn my attentions back to EJ aiming my gun at his chest. Joe has his own weapon fixed on Moretti.
“You stupid old man!” EJ accosts Moretti. “Don’t even try to pin this all on me. I would have been fine just blackmailing him.”
“Shut up you fool!” Moretti spits out at his accuser. EJ becomes furious with the old man and lunges across the table for his throat.
The action is sudden, and my reflexes quick. I pull the trigger, with the rebound of the handgun giving a pretty good kickback. EJ is hit in the shoulder and recoils back to fall on the floor, clutching his bleeding arm.
Carmine stays pin still, eyeing the situation.
“Whoa! Let’s not do anything rash here Dom. You have enough cause to take him out, but let’s not make this any worse than it has to be,” Moretti begins to grasp desperately for anything to spare his own sorry life.
