by S. W. Frank
“Ne, I must leave Carlo with you. I am going on a business trip.”
He heard her sigh. “Why can’t he stay with your wife or Sophie? I have a full house.”
“My Mama has the newborn and my spoiled sorella there.”
“Say no more, bring him over.”
“Grazie,” Giuseppe replied and his jaw clenched as he put away his cell and reclined for the duration of the short drive.
When the car arrived at the Diaz’ the guards expected Giuseppe. He was given entry to the fortified estate.
The silhouettes of figures bore heavy artillery, and there wasn’t a pot-bellied security guard among them. Alfonzo’s people remained on high alert, even after his abductors were caught.
The vehicle halted in front of the large home. Lights shone downstairs. The woman of the house waited there, he surmised.
He exited with Carlo and strode to the door that opened before he reached it.
“Hi Geo, put Carlo upstairs in Vincent’s bed.” Selange directed.
She yawned and closed the door when he entered. He kicked a plastic scooter out of his way and preceded to the stairs, grateful Nico’s family hadn’t asked to stay at his home. He would have told him to take a bus to hell.
Selange waited downstairs near the door until he returned. She must have thought he intended to leave when she said, “Call when you’re back. Good night –safe trip.”
However, he didn’t exit, he sat, crossed his leg and stretched his arm across the top of the sofa. “We must talk Lion Tamer.”
She frowned. “It’s late Geo.”
He noticed she tightened the sash on her robe. Unlike Nico, he found his sister-in-law irritable. Her exotic beauty was undeniable. However, that innocent face, so sickening sweet and the pouty heart shaped lips did not move his dick only his mouth. “Sit.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re in my house. Go home and order your dog around.”
“Sit, or we can visit Alfonzo and I will share my suspicions that you hide something.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The agreement with the families…ne…something is missing from the fine print…perhaps a side deal…eh? Cosa –what is it? You can tell me.”
She seemed relieved. That was odd, Giuseppe thought.
“Really Geo, you’re paranoid.”
Giuseppe uncrossed his leg. When he leaned forward his eyes were sparkly. “We have a common love, our famiglia. We also share in the deep heartache of losing a special woman.” He noticed her shoulders tense and her chin rise. She had steeled herself against his words. Ah, she has an important secret Giuseppe determined by the defensive posture. “I have always admired your loyalty to Shanda –a strong friendship forged before you met Alfonzo. I think sometimes, how did that loyal Donna that I respected betray my fratellino!”
“Oooh, there you go. I knew it was only a matter of time before you started this shit. Why do you keep doing this? Do I throw crap in your face just to make you mad?”
“It hurts to hear, but nevertheless, you will hear me.” He barked. “I understand better with years removed from the pain you caused my fratellino that I was angry, ne disappointed because I believed you would never hurt Alfonzo. I suffered, and do you know why?”
“No.”
“Because, nothing is as important to Alfonzo as you. But, today there is a new fear; it is that you will do anything to make amends for your wrong because guilt appears on occasion, just as mine visits over Shanda.”
The white of Selange’s eyes had taken on a pink shiny color. “You make me sick sometimes Geo. We were cordial. Then you go right back to being an ass. I try hard to ignore your jabs but I can’t anymore. Get out, please, just leave Geo.”
“I will leave when I am ready.” He exercised his power, daring her to summon a guard. He reclined with a sneer. “I understand sickness visits when we are weak. I am not immune to lapses. Tell me about this post-traumatic stress disorder. Will you suddenly run to the kitchen shrieking, grab a knife and then stab me or does your symptom only involve sex with Nico?”
“You’re a jerk. PTSD is a serious disorder.”
“I am trying to understand these episodes to avoid becoming a victim.”
She flinched.
“Ah, do not get the Allie face. You have nothing to prove –to anyone. Alfonzo…the entire famiglia has forgiven you. I prefer to make sure you do not have a relapse. Now, tell me Bella, what are the full details of your bargain?”
Selange’s fury unclamped. “None of your business.”
“A part of Bruno’s asset was not yours to barter. You have possibly awakened a hornet’s nest. There are shareholders and then there is Bruno’s famiglia that will take issue with your contract.”
Then she looked directly at him. “Let them.”
“Are you prepared for a war with the DeMarco’s and possibly losing Maria in the crossfire?”
Selange scowled. “Stop trying to scare me Geo.”
“I am only pointing out possible consequences.”
Selange muttered. “Maria legally inherited Bruno’s estate. She’s going to be fine.”
“The DeMarco’s are certain to contest the will. They are rich and greedy. They may have her killed and make it look accidental to receive their rightful inheritance.”
“There was nothing I could do Geo. I had to buy Al time.”
“And you have. What else did you agree to?”
She sighed. When she looked at him, his heart softened at the sorrow. “I can’t –I can’t tell you.”
Giuseppe nodded. He answered honestly. “Prometo, I will keep what you say confidential.”
“And then you’ll blackmail me all the time.”
His sudden chuckle irritated her further. “Oh am I that wicked?”
“Yes, Geo, you’ve done a lot of foul shit.”
“Cosa?” He asked. “What is foul that I have done to you?”
“Talk mess about me to Al, and then try to stir up trouble.”
“You are living, sí?”
“Vaffanculo!”
“You are angry.” Giuseppe grinned. He did enjoy rattling Al’s happy home. Perhaps, he should cease. His fratellino might bust a blood vessel one day, Selange, too. “I will cease with the –as you say –foul shit.”
“Buggiaru!”
“Eh,” he put a hand to his chest. “I am offended by your lack of trust.”
“Yeah right.”
“Stubborn donna, for the sake of famiglia, you must tell me the terms of the agreement.”
“I’ve told you.”
Giuseppe wanted to shake sense into her; instead, he did not lose his temper. “I have negotiated with many Mafiosi. There is always a caveat; tread cautiously with ill reputes that profess honor. That is why you cannot trust anyone but loyal famiglia, capisce?”
Giuseppe made a valid point, but she refused to share with Giuseppe what she hadn’t yet told Alfonzo. “I don’t want to upset Al while he’s recuperating. I’ll tell him first once he’s fully recovered.”
“By then, the damage from your action may be irrevocable.” Frustrated at her obstinacy he tried a different tactic. “We will exchange confidences.” He patted the empty cushion. “Veni ca.”
Selange sighed and joined Giuseppe on the sofa, but at the far end. “I’m really tired of this sparring match. You won’t win.”
“You do not want to hear my tragic news?”
“Missing dinner is tragedy to you, but go on.”
“Nicole has lost our bambino.”
“What? Oh no Geo I’m so sorry. When did this happen?”
Giuseppe frowned. “This morning. I arrived home, to find her in distress with self-inflicted wounds. She did not take the miscarriage well and suffered a mental breakdown.” He omitted the bizarre mumblings.
“Oh no!” Selange gasped. His question about her PTSD made sense. He was worried she might try to hurt Carlo or him. “Where is she? Did you contact her pa
rents?”
“I will contact them when she is better. They are still in mourning.”
Selange understood. They had recently lost a daughter. “Geo, I’m sorry –oh man. Why can’t we be civil and just talk to each other anymore without all of this? Life is too short.”
“You are right. Let’s begin with the truth from you.”
“I agreed to launder their money.” She admitted.
“Cosa?” His eyes were wide and he grumbled. “Why Bella –why do you make me crazy?”
“That woman wasn’t giving an inch, neither was the Russian. I had to convince them…I played the only card I had left.”
The woman she mentioned had a reputation of being hard as nails in business. Selange was not lying there. “But you risked your life for a debt that is not yours!”
“You’re wrong. When Al and I were married, we agreed to share everything –that includes the debts. We’re going to get through this together.” She sucked in air. “I did what I had to do.”
Giuseppe shook his head. “And you plan to use your beloved charity to funnel their money, eh?”
“No!” She replied vehemently. “I purchased a failing bank in Cameroon some time ago under a dummy corporation. Nobody knows I own it and that’s what I plan to use.”
Giuseppe scoffed. “But, the families will know.”
“No they don’t. I’m not stupid.”
“Nevertheless, I must rectify the situation before your cleverness kills us all.”
“But it’s a done deal.”
“I will handle things from here. But, I want an assurance that you will never intervene in Alfonzo’s business again.”
“I can’t promise that. If Al is in trouble, I’ll do whatever I have to do in order to keep us safe –that includes you.”
He gestured dismissively with his ring hand. “No grazie Donna.”
9
“Where is she?”
“Fuck yourself!”
“Where is she?”
“You heard me or are you deaf?”
The sloped eyes hadn’t blinked. The man in formal attire might appear out of place in the poverty-stricken hellhole but he was at home amid squalor. Beneath his skin were scars from growing up in worse conditions. As an orphaned boy, Deshi scrounged in dumpsters, slept in trash-ridden alleys and witnessed acts between adults that a child considers gross.
There were sick tourists that preyed on homeless children. They arrived in Cambodia with their mental ills, luring youngsters with false promises of food and money. Many of those children were never seen again. Unlike his counterparts, Deshi recognized opportunity. He sometimes agreed to accompany the sick, but not before requesting and receiving advance payment. He’d watch where they slid their billfolds with a simpleton’s smile. The sexual predators possessed grand egos, often larger than their child-size penises. He smirked at the memory of their surprise when a boy plunged his rusty knife into their throats. Afterward he removed their wallets without ever engaging in their sexual perversions.
Deshi was a teen when he met Tim at a resort in Phnom Penh. He came in contact with many foreigners as a busboy, but Tim was not the usual obnoxious tourist. He tipped generously and spoke Khmer fluently. He had no interest in boys.
History had drawn Tim to Phnom Penh. Deshi also learned during Tim’s stay that a distant relative had died in the Vietnam Conflict.
Many Americans died.
Many of the women were left pregnant.
Many took home disease.
Many also smuggled opium to the states.
Tim listened to Deshi’s hardships and the kind American arranged to bring him to America. Since, then Deshi flourished. Through ingenuity, he managed to carve out a luxurious lifestyle, smuggling and killing. The Deshi Clan consisted of many of his friends. They were the forgotten children of Indochina and those in his organization were brutal.
When Tim called, Deshi knew the time had come for him to repay a kindness with zeal.
The silver haired bold-talker’s name was Lee Hendrickson and he knew nothing of Deshi’s past. Had he’d known, he’d fear the intruder and reconsider his response. Deshi’s knee broke the man’s nose and sent him flat on his back in his bed.
“Where is your niece?” Deshi asked again as his men ransacked the house.
“What the fuck? Come on, she aint here. I swear, she aint here!” The occupant of the unkempt home exclaimed. His nose bled profusely. Snot also accompanied the leakage as it traveled across his cheek to the rumpled sheet.
“Okay,” Deshi said, looking downward at the slob in dingy briefs. “I believe you.”
Bravado had fled the wounded. The response was common.
Deshi watched the injured occupant’s eyeballs swivel to the other figures in the bedroom. He suddenly jumped to his feet, crashing through the door to flee the home invaders. His bare feet withstood the weight of three hundred pounds but the wood floors of the old house groaned as he ran along the corridor.
Deshi briskly walked not far behind the slow runner.
The sight of the man in his underwear lumbering to the lower landing of the house was comically sad.
Lee fell into the wall, knocking over a lamp, looking up at his pursuers. Frightened, he rushed toward the front door, but something sharp stuck in his leg and he hit the floor, nose first.
“Unh!” He groaned, leaping up to limp several feet.
A whoosh, followed by a crack accompanied the excruciating pain that slammed him on his belly. He wiggled toward the door, peering at the door handle that held the hope of his salvation.
Maybe, I’ll make it outdoors, he must have thought, believing optimism surpassed fatalistic thinking. A human squirmed, leaving blood tracks as a slug gives away its direction with slime.
Hope is what he grasped although the signs suggested death would be unpleasant.
He reached out a hand, felt a tug to his calf and shouted in agony when his flesh tore.
“Hurts, huh?” Deshi inquired in a monotone voice, reflective of his indifference.
The man on the floor rolled supine and gaped at the knife saturated in his blood.
“Look, I don’t know where she is.”
Deshi snapped his fingers and a cell were placed in his hand. “There are several incoming calls from Sicily on your phone. Who do you know there?”
“Nobody! Nobody! It was a wrong number!”
“For every lie, I will take a finger.”
The bleeding Liar’s arms and legs were pinned. Without a word, Deshi severed his pinky. He then stood as the screaming man howled in agony, thrashing about like a fish on land.
“Okay, okay, it’s my niece that called. That’s all she did was call to check on me and her mama!”
“Where can I find her mama?” Deshi asked.
The man went silent. The beads of sweat bubbling from his pores held a stench.
Deshi motioned to a henchman who disappeared from the room and moments later returned with a cloth and jug of water. He shoved the cloth in the man’s mouth, held it closed and poured water in his nostrils. The choking noises were loud. The tortured flab buckled in spasmodic jerks. When the man moaned, the rag was removed for him to cough out blood-tinged spit.
“Please, that’s my sister. Please tell me what you want with Diane.”
Deshi found the attempt to negotiate irksome. He hit the green circle on the screen and paced as the number rang.
A woman answered. “Hi Uncle Lee.”
“Hello, is this Diane Hendrickson?”
“Who’s asking?”
&nbs
p; “Your Uncle Lee had a terrible accident. Your mother is next if you do not return to the states within 48 hours.”
“Who is this?” She shouted.
Deshi gestured for the men to release the Uncle and he sat up crying.
“Describe your injuries.” Deshi commanded the weeper.
“Diane…oh…girl…these people broke my nose, cut off my finger and they’re torturing me. They don’t know where your mom is –run far –“
Deshi cut Uncle Lee’s throat. The body hit the floor with a thud.
“Uncle Lee! Uncle Lee!”
“He cannot talk anymore. He’s been cut off. I will call you in 48 hours. If you do not answer, if you contact the police, if you attempt to run as Uncle Lee mistakenly advised, I will harm your mother and then I will hunt you and kill you slowly!” He disconnected, gestured to the men to destroy the evidence and stepped over the corpse to wait in the car.
10
Yesterday a psychiatrist visited. During the session, he asked Nicole a litany of questions. She answered each one, coherently, aware that if she didn’t he’d prescribe psych meds and possibly commit her.
After the assessment, he determined she had a nervous breakdown and prescribed meds anyway, alleging the medication would help her. But, she didn’t want the meds, she wanted to leave and discovered, she could not. She had to stay for further monitoring, she’d been told by the doctor.
“Bon giornu,” a soft-spoken nurse greeted upon entry with a small white cup and a bottle of sealed water.
Nicole played along. “Good morning.”
“Here are your meds.”
She shook the pills in Nicole’s palm and handed her the bottle of water that she drank after swallowing the meds without a fuss.
“Would you like reading material Signora?” The nurse asked in English.