Arsenal

by S. W. Frank

  Man, his home had gone to the dogs.

   

  19

   

   

   

   

   

   

  “Enzo!” The old woman exclaimed when he entered the market, shifting through the grapes, plucking the large globes in his mouth before paying.

  “They are good. What?” he said and shrugged his broad shoulders. “I pay!”

  The plump owner left her stool behind the counter to give Lorenzo a scolding in Greek. This was the usual ritual and he continued filling his bag of fruit and chewing.

  “It is good to see you Enzo,” she finally concluded and he lowered to hug the kind woman.

  “It is good to be home.”

  He carried the assorted fruit to the counter, spotted apples dipped in chocolate and a woman came to mind. He picked up two of the items, paid and went home to an empty house with happy memories.

  He’d bathed, changed his clothes and walked from room to room drinking from a bottle of gin. He came to his parent’s bedroom; peered inside, believing they might be there asleep.

  But they weren’t.

  Lorenzo tossed the empty bottle to the wall and stormed back downstairs. He grabbed his keys, one of the apples and went to the garage where his father’s shiny roadster sat. He climbed in, and looked over to the passenger seat, envisioning his Mama laughing, twirling her blonde hair in the flirtatious way she often did when she looked at her husband.

  He bit into the apple, working the muscles in his jaw and noticing the flavored fruit took a bite out of the residue left from the alcohol.

  Grief sometimes hit at odd moments. It may come when happy or when a momentous occasion is reached or when sitting alone. Time does thin the force of the sorrow, and retribution does soothe when the dead have been avenged.

  He was home in Greece.

  Healing began.

  He might’ve stayed there, except, his cell rang many times and he could no longer ignore the persistent shrill and answered.

  Chocolate’s panicked voice sobered him. “Lorenzo, I need your help.”

  Lorenzo reawakened. “What is wrong? Where are you?”

  “In New York. Somebody’s trying to kill me.”

  “Go to the police.” He suggested, kicking open the car door and hurrying to the house to seize his passport and wallet.

  “I can’t. I witnessed a murder.”

  “That is why you must go to the police Chocolate,” Lorenzo repeated as he listened to the background noises of honking cars and indistinct conversations. “It will take me long to get there, but I will be there. Until then, you must go somewhere safe.”

  Then he heard her weep after an extensive pause. “I can’t Lorenzo. I’m wanted for grand larceny. They might arrest me and think I’m lying.”

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  20

   

   

   

   

   

   

  “What the hell do you mean she called the Feds?”

  “She didn’t get a federal agent, but she talked to an operator.”

  “What the hell is going on around here?” Alfonzo shouted, spinning around the office to ask the furniture and walls.

  “She cracked after losing the baby. It might be a one-time lapse, but either way she picked up that phone.”

  Alfonzo scowled, kicked the desk and blew a raspberry. “I’ll handle it.”

  Nico snorted. “I can clean it up.”

  “Nico, no, no, no. I’ll issue a warning and then we let Geo handle things from there.”

  “He’s messy.”

  “Then fuck it, let him be messy and if we have to clean it up, so what.”

  “It’s your call.”

  “You lack faith, you always have.”

  Nico tapped his foot. “I have faith Geo will find a way to make things worse. I warned you. That’s all I’ll say on the subject.”

  “You know Nico, maybe the reason he screws up a lot is you have low expectations for him and when he falters you’re standing by saying I knew it. I’ve seen Geo in action and he’s more than competent, so chill with the Geo bashing.”

  Nico made a face. His eyes were twinkling sarcasm. “He’ll put a tag on the body with his info.” Nico laughed and put his hands in the air. “All right, you go ahead and scare the missus and I’ll go assist Ari with the babies like I promised.  Maybe, tonight Ari and I will make love so loud you’ll want to put a sock in our mouths.”

  “I won’t hear you anyway, you’re in the basement. Think I forgot how Ari gets on, shit, I don’t want you making that racket on the same floor with my innocent kids.”

  “You sure us being there isn’t an inconvenience?”

  “I’m hoping you find the perfect fortress quick fast ‘cause family does have a way of overstaying their welcome.”

  “Don’t worry. I have a property in mind, but I have to do some modifications before I can move my family in.”

  “And how long will that be?”

  “A month give or take two.”

  “I’ll help speed that up. Give me the address and I’ll arrange to have a construction crew there today.”

  “The modifications I’m talking about have to do with security, but I’ll accept the offer to make the place a bit more swanky.”

  “Write down what you have in mind and I’ll assign an engineer to the project.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.”  

  When Nico exited, Alfonzo flopped back in his seat, exhausted. He cradled his arm, eager for the cast to come off, but that wouldn’t be for a few more weeks.

  The distinct tap on the door was his Capo.

  “Yeah, entre.”

  “Alfonzo, we have a problem.”

  Alfonzo’s eyes descended. He could feel the news wouldn’t be good. He longed for Alberti or even Carlo as long as they sat where he did.

  “Yeah?”

  “Somebody attempted to rob the museum. The curator was killed.”

  Alfonzo heard ‘tried’ and ‘killed.’ Unfortunately, the jewel wasn’t the gem on a crown, it was a loving person taken by greed and murder.

  His eyes ascended. “Any suspect?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Offer the standard reward.”

  The Capo had begun to step out when Alfonzo stopped him. “No, double the amount and have our American associates tail the husband and the son. I want ears on this.”

  The door clicked shut and Alfonzo leaned his elbows on the desk. There’s a time when the first suspects in a murder weren’t always the immediate family. However, times had changed. The world had become violent and mental illness reigned. It was rumored the Association for Psychiatry considered classifying racism as a mental disorder.  The list of disorders he supposed would grow to include greed and jealousy. Yet, they were already considered cardinal sins.

   

   

   

   

   

  

   

   

   

   

   

  “I’m not going to sit around the damn house playing Betty Crocker.” Ari quipped and then adjusted her granddaughter’s head to her breast when the baby suddenly dropped to sleep.

  Selange felt her eyes closing, too, but she stretched them open, not to be rude. “It’s only temporary Ari.”

  “Eighteen years isn’t temporary,” she shook her head annoyingly. “Two at once, ah!”

  Selange and Alfonzo liked open spaces and vibrant colors. The house was definitely for a couple with children, with Caribbean roots Ari mused.

  Anita i
mitated Ari’s incessant complaints. Selange noticed the peripheral show, casually draped an arm over the top of the sofa and signaled for the fiery Latina to stop and behave.

  “You’ll be fine.” Selange assured her and reached out to take the baby from the stressed mom’s lap. Selange feared Ari might drop the infant, although her cast was off, Ari required PT to strengthen the muscles. “I’ll put her in the crib.”

  “Thanks,” Ari muttered. She then tossed back her head and prayed her husband recovered quickly before she had a nervous breakdown. “Anita, can I have another of your delicious quesadilla’s por favor?”

  Anita put her hands on her hips in disbelief, sucked her teeth and then returned to stirring her stew. “Get up and get it!”

  The doorbell rang and Ari peered at Anita standing in the kitchen with her back turned. “You’re not going to answer that?”

  “Your legs are not broken. Answer the door for your husband!” Anita said and rolled her eyes.

  She had recognized Nico on the monitor.

  Maria appeared on the stairs. “What is this racket, the babies are sleeping?”

  “Ask that one!” Anita retorted.

  Ari clucked her tongue at the cantankerous woman as she strolled to the door. When she saw her husband, she whispered, “Hurry up and find us a place Nico, these people are loco.”

  Nico entered the home, kissed his wife and greeted the older women in Spanish as he took his wife’s hand and led her into the den. “You have to remember Ari, this is temporary. I’m working on a new place, just be patient.”

  She hugged her husband, kissed his neck, and then rubbed her head on his chest like a cat. “You smell good.”

  Nico chuckled. “So do you.”

  Her soft hand went slowly in his pants, and she caressed his dick with the palm. “I need you Nico. My pussy is desolate.”

  Nico gripped his wife’s hips, tugged the pants she wore down in a swift motion and grunt as she unbuckled his pants and released his flesh that pointed straight at her.

  He missed his wife.

  “M’ammanchi sweetheart,” he growled hard and then showed her how much when he gripped her ass, lifted her on his thighs while resting his ass on the arm of the sofa to see-saw with her until she sucked on his tongue to gag herself.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  21

   

   

   

   

   

   

  “Mama, stop.” Diane instructed the nervous woman as she paced the floor of the rundown motel.

  Her Mama looked out the window, antsy after having to run from men with guns and holing up in shoddy places since yesterday. She turned on her daughter demanding to know what she’d done. “Why are those people chasing us?”

  “Mama I told you six times, they think I saw something.”

  “And what do they think you saw?”

  “A shooting.”

  “Girl, we got to get to the police.”

  “No, we can’t,” Diane, said for the two hundredth time, wishing her mom would sit down and be quiet.

  “You say they killed Lee?”

  “I’m sure they did.”

  “When?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “When? Who are they?”

  “I just said two days ago. Oh my god, you need to get off those drugs ma, they’re killing your brain cells!”

  “Who’s that person you called yesterday?”

  “An acquaintance.”

  “Is he fine?”

  Diane eyes were wide as saucers. “Don’t you start that shit!”

  Her mother shrugged bony shoulders, did the junkie scratch and Diane wanted to cry at how bad she looked since she’d seen her last.

  “I’m hungry.” Her mother whined.

  “Be quiet!” Diane said angrily. She’d fed the woman pizza, chicken and Chinese food within a twenty-four hour span. She couldn’t be hungry dammit. Her nerves were on edge and her Mama didn’t seem to care that Lee was dead or they were being hunted.

  How did they keep finding them she wondered? How?

  Her cell rang. She answered because she knew the L was Lorenzo.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “The Red Rooster on Atlantic Avenue and Thompson.”

  “I am in a silver rental. I will call you.”

  “But do you know the area?”

  “I have been to New York many times. There is also GPS in the car.”

  “Oh,” she replied.

  She hung up and leaned over her knees, taking steadying breaths.

  “Please…please…let him get here.” She chanted, as the fear crept along her skin. She was holding on by a thread. She had found her Mama in one of her usual spots, and apparently so had the frightening caller.

  He’d call again. He did every few hours, threatening to do horrible things to her body if she didn’t bring him a book. She had no idea what he wanted with an old woman’s diary. That’s the only book she found inside the velvet case that had money and jewelry. She’d taken the entire case in her hurry to get out the apartment and hadn’t even read the scribble.

  Maybe she should have, because nothing made sense. Especially, now that she knew the man wasn’t after her for what she witnessed. He wanted what she took.

  Her cell rang again. There wasn’t a name. She didn’t answer.

  Then the phone in the room rang and she jumped right off the bed without hesitation.

  “Ma, we have to go.”

  Her mother seemed reluctant to leave. Diane pulled her up and ushered her to the door. When she looked out into the hall, there wasn’t a soul in sight. She hurried her mother to the staircase and descended to the second floor.

  There was a window in the hall, overlooking the Avenue, which she peeked out of and her heart flipped over. An Asian stood by a car. He looked out of place as he scanned the street. They had a few minutes she guessed before someone discovered they were not in the room and began searching the hotel.

  The hotel wasn’t five stars, one or half at best.

  Diane raced to the exit, dragging her mom. Surprisingly she hadn’t protested. They used the employee exit to the side street. They were on the pavement when she spotted a man posted there with his back turned in the opposite direction. She cautioned her mom to be quiet and led the way to a hole in a fence camouflaged by weeds.

  She pointed for her mom to go through, glancing over her shoulder as night began to fall on the refuse-ridden walkway.

   Diane noticed they were in a backyard. An old car missing a wheel and rust on the fender occupied most of the dirt filled space. The white siding on the house had water streaks. A hanging piece of the gutter jut outward and she figured, the homeowner either couldn’t afford the upkeep or didn’t care about maintenance.

  She heard voices.

  “See anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  “She’s here. The locator says so, unless she’s hiding in a dumpster. Keep looking around!”

  Diane scoffed. Dammit, she forgot about those locators on the phones. That’s how the asshole tracked her whereabouts. She retrieved her cell and quickly removed the location setting.

  Her cell rang.

  Loud.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  22

   

   

   

   

 
 

  Lorenzo noticed suspicious people lingering outside the hotel. They were searching for someone and they wanted him bad.

  He observed the subtle check of their weapons, followed by the familiar hand signals of hunters and the military. He read their code and realized Chocolate’s situation was grave.

  He put away the cell, exited his car when Chocolate failed to answer and followed the guy moving swiftly toward the side of the building.

  Lorenzo quickened his pace. He reached the side of the narrow walkway and saw figures leaping over a fence. He returned to his car, hoping to catch Chocolate before the pursuers.

  He leaped in the seat, and skid around the corner, speeding along a residential street. Up ahead, he saw figures.

  The pair of women running were losing ground until he sped ahead of their pursuers, spun the wheel, slapped men onto the hood and reversed, shouting for the women to hop in as he decelerated.

  Chocolate gripped the door handle, but then she let go screaming.

  Lorenzo’s eyes did a scan in fast mode to see the source of her horror.

  The woman had fallen, not accidentally. Something sharp had pierced her skull. He slammed on the break, dart to one of the men he struck and yanked the gun from his holster, firing at the line of runners, hitting as many as he could as he hurried around to help lift the woman into the car.

  Chocolate was screaming, as he rushed to the front, shooting to keep the men pinned for the crucial seconds required to change gears and zoom out of there.

  In the rearview mirror he observed figures scampering to their feet. Someone most certainly took his license plate number and before long they’d track him down through the rental information.

  He fucked up.

  He entered a situation without having a full disclosure. Those were professional killers. If Chocolate had witnessed a murder, then they’re the people that probably committed the crime.

  “Mama, oh Mama I’m sorry. Wake up Mama, I never meant this to happen!”

  The piteous cries in the backseat touched an emotional chord.

  He couldn’t help but feel her pain.

  “We will take her to the hospital.” Lorenzo said to the distraught woman although he suspected her mother was dead.

  “We can’t. The police will come and ask questions.”

  Her mother suffered a fatal head wound. There wasn’t anything a doctor could do. It killed her to leave her, but she directed Lorenzo to a church that stayed open twenty-four hours. The lighting outside the building and the location was optimal to respectably leave a body.