Glancing through the messages I see they’re from reporters and media. Even people from CNN had called looking to schedule an interview. I had been receiving similar messages at the Grabano Enterprises office, which handled legitimate business transactions and my dad had been fielding other requests at Grabano and Sons. I’m glad Dante volunteered to handle this shit as I didn’t have the time. Shoving the messages in my jeans pocket, I turned towards the elevators only to see Special Agent Phillips and his minion coming in through the front doors.
I crossed my arms and watched them through narrowed eyes as they made their approach. Any pretense of shaking hands was forgotten. I guess once you’ve shared space in an interrogation room, formalities were no longer needed.
“Mr. Grabano how is it that any evidence regarding the case of your uncle is missing or the chain of evidence has been tainted, making it useless?”
“I don’t know and why are you asking me, it’s not my job to keep track of that shit. Did you check with the PD?” Ask a stupid question and expect a smartass response. That’s how I was raised.
“They can’t account for the errors or oversight.”
“Yeah, well, guess that’s our tax dollars at work.”
“It’s very convenient for you, though, isn’t it?” Phillips asked, crossing his arms to mimic my stance.
“Are you serious? This is my uncle’s murder we’re talking about. I want his killer found just as much as you do.”
“I’m sure you do,” he replied with a smirk that made me want to grab him by his blue neck tie and choke the fucker. Instead I relaxed my stance and smiled back. Felicia was watching our conversation with interest as was the doorman who had moved inside. Phillips’ suspicions that I killed Uncle Marco were right on, but he didn’t have a case if he didn’t have evidence. Thank fucking god our payouts to the local PD had paid off.
“Some of the evidence in the homicide investigations of Anthony Russo and Anthony Costi was also tampered with, but not all. I think you’ll be hearing from me real soon and you’ll want to have your attorney present.”
The deaths of the Lil Tone and Big Tone had been impulsive and sloppy. We didn’t call in any cleaners after and did it ourselves. If any of the remaining evidence linked the crime scenes to me, I was fucked. With a big smile, Special Agent Phillips turned and walked away, his minion following him out the door. I stared after them with an unfamiliar sensation churning in my guts; fear.
As soon as I was in my condo, I grabbed one of the burner phones and called Dante.
“This needs to go away. I want to know as much as possible about Phillips. I want to know his dirty little secrets and his weaknesses. Where does he live and does he have family nearby? Get someone on it asap.”
“I’m on it,” he said and hung up.
Tossing the phone onto the marble countertop, I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and drained half the bottle before taking a breather. Special Agent Phillips had been just a nuisance before, but now he was becoming a real problem and posed a threat to my family and business. My knee jerk reaction was to just kill him, but this time I checked my impulsiveness. Whatever direction I decided to move in, it needed to be well thought out, but it needed to happen fast.
Chapter 21
Natalie
Between my mom, Miranda, and me, we kept a constant vigil at Grant’s bedside. I found a reassurance in watching the rise and fall of his chest. After seeing him stop breathing and his heart stop beating more than once, I never wanted to witness that again.
There was a constant rotation of nurses and doctors checking on Grant’s progress, which he was making. After three days he was transferred out of the critical care unit to a regular floor. When we found out he was going to be sharing a room with an older man recovering from hemorrhoid surgery, Miranda placed a call to Dominic and less than an hour later Grant had his own room at the end of the hall away from the nurse’s station and high traffic area. He remained unconscious through his relocation, but he was breathing unaided and displaying signs of swimming towards the surface of consciousness. Each flutter of his eyelids and incoherent mumble were signs that he was coming around. It was a good thing too because even though it had only been a few days, Grant had lost weight and it was hard seeing him physically shrink, his body receding beneath a tangle of IV lines.
On the fifth day after the shooting, Grant woke up. I was back at the hotel room taking a shower after a long, much needed run when my mom burst into the bathroom.
“Natalie, he’s awake! Hurry we need to go!” She yelled this last part as she rushed out of the room to go get ready. After quickly rinsing out conditioner from my hair and washing off the rest of the body wash, I dried off and threw on a sundress and flip flops.
Al was out front waiting for us, his tinted out all black Mercedes sedan looking conspicuous. Mom and I sat in the backseat together and she had my hand in a death grip. We barely said a word to each other on the drive over to New Jersey. Was Grant going to be okay or was he going to have brain damage? This was a question his team of doctors hadn’t been able to answer. They needed to wait for him to regain consciousness in order to make that determination and run more tests. There were always so many tests.
When the elevator opened onto Grant’s floor, I could hear the excited voices filling the hallway before I stepped out to see the Grabanos were out in force. Joey D. and Dominic blocked the door to my brother’s room and Dominic smiled when he saw me, his dimples on full display, but not distracting enough for me to not notice the exhaustion stamped on his face. The area under his green eyes looked bruised and his hair stuck out in all directions from his habit of running his hands through it. These past few days hadn’t been easy on any of us.
“Miranda’s already inside,” he said and opened the door for us. He followed behind, telling Joey D. to keep everyone else out.
Grant turned his head towards us. “Mom, Nat,” he said in a raspy voice and I started bawling. He recognized us! He was talking! We rushed to his bedside where Miranda sat perched, her hand in his. Dominic stood behind me and I leaned back against him.
My mom sat down on the side of the bed opposite of Miranda and began smoothing Grant’s hair back from his forehead, pressing the greasy strands down like she had for the past five days. I think she found comfort in the repetitive movement and it was a safe area for her to touch. She did it so much though, that I was surprised he hadn’t started to go bald.
“Grant, do you need anything?” she asked.
“I’m okay, mom, just tired and a little sore.” Grant shifted and winced with the movement, favoring his right side where a bullet had been removed and where a drain for his lung had been inserted. “Dom filled me in on what happened. I remember getting shot and covering Miranda, but that’s it. All I could think about was protecting her and the baby, ya know?”
“You’ve always been so brave, Grant,” my mom cooed and fussed with his pillows. “I honestly don’t know what the world’s coming to. It seems like there’s a shooting every day. I’m glad Dominic was able to stop that man. I don’t even want to know why you had a gun on you.” She turned and gave Dom a hard look. “But I’m glad you did.”
“Just for protection, the city is a dangerous place,” he replied. She nodded in agreement and focused her attention back on Grant.
“You rest, honey, and let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Yeah Mom, thanks,” Grant said with a yawn. His eyelids were at half-mast; all signs telling us our visit had come to an end. He was out before we left the room, falling asleep mid-sentence with his mouth hanging open.
Dr. Hyashi was at the nurse’s station when we walked past. Unlike the nurse who wore scrubs, he was wearing khakis and a blue polo underneath his white lab coat. He held a tablet in his hands and I caught a glimpse of someone’s X-rays on the screen before he shut it off when my mom stopped to talk to him.
“Is my son going to be okay?”
“Grant Ross, correct
?” he asked, stepping away from the confines of the nurse’s station.
“Yes.”
“He’s going to be okay. Now that he’s awake I can tell he hasn’t suffered any brain damage and he hasn’t had any setbacks like infection or tearing of his internal sutures. He’s young and in excellent health so I expect him to make a full recovery.”
“Oh thank God,” my mom said and I let out a deep sigh, not realizing until that moment how much I’d kept bottled up inside. Dominic’s hand captured mine and he gave it a squeeze. I smiled up at him, seeing relief in his expression too.
“When can he go home?” I asked.
“I’d like to keep him for observation for at least 24-hours. If he continues to improve, I’ll discharge him. Most patients heal better in their home environment anyway.”
“What kind of care will he need? I’m able to help.”
“Good. From what I understand Grant’s wife needs to be taking it easy too. He won’t need around the clock care, but will be on light duty as he heals and regains his strength. I’d say he’ll be on restricted activity for two weeks. His body has experienced a significant amount of trauma and he won’t recover overnight.”
“Natalie, are you sure? Aren’t you going back to California?” my mom asked.
“Not right now. I already worked it out with Miranda and she said I can stay in their guest room. This way I can help out around the house.”
“Well, I have to do my rounds. Here’s my card, call me if you have any more questions.” Dr. Hyashi shook our hands and I noticed how warm and dry his was. He gave both my mom and I a business card. There wasn’t anything pretentious about it, just standard white card stock with the hospital’s logo and his contact information in black lettering.
We were so absorbed with Grant’s awakening and talking to the doctor, I forgot about the rest of the Grabanos who were crowding the waiting room anxiously awaiting news. Since basically half of South Philly was crammed in there, cousins of all ages sat on the floor in the hallway. As soon as Dr. Hyashi left, we were descended upon by a swarm of familiar faces: Dom’s Nona, Aunt Gloria, Uncle Franco, Bianca, Dante, Johnny, Paulie, Angela and some other relatives I met at the wedding. Joey D. had been relieved from guarding Grant’s door and he joined us, pulling me into a crushing hug and kissing my cheek. I was surprised when he hugged my mom too.
“Good news today, huh kid?” he asked.
“Yeah, really good,” I smiled up at him, feeling lighter than I had in days.
“I was worried,” he paused and scratched the stubble on his chin, breaking eye contact to glance down at his boots. I didn’t know Joey very well, but did know he wasn’t one to talk a lot. “We’ve worked together for a while and he’s like a fuckin’ brother to me. I’m glad he’s gonna be alright.”
Grant and Joey had been friends for several years. I remembered when Chelsea and I were at a bar our freshman year in college and our wallets were stolen. Grant came to our rescue with Joey D. in tow. When they showed up, a couple of guys who had been bothering us tried to start something. Grant and Joey ended the altercation before it even had a chance to begin with Joey tossing one of the assholes like he was a piece of trash. I think he said maybe two words that night and we didn’t even get his name, not until I asked Grant a few days later.
“Me too,” I agreed. Suddenly there was a change in the crowd and I turned to see what was happening and gasped. Grant was walking with Miranda by his side. He pushed his IV stand along in front of him as he slowly moved toward us. His body trembled with exertion and a light layer of sweat glistened on his forehead.
“Grant, should you be up moving around?” My mom cried out, rushing to his side once again displaying emotions I wasn’t used to seeing.
“Yeah, the doc suggested I ease into it.”
Looking around at everyone who had gathered to rally for Grant, I realized he had become a part of their family. I noticed how Paulina, Gloria and Angela hovered around my mom, offering words of encouragement and support. We were being absorbed into the fold too. Dominic stayed by my side talking to Uncle Al and every once in a while I felt him tense up as their conversation devolved into serious hushed whispers. I tried to listen in, wanting to make sure everything was okay, but the chatter filling the halls made it difficult to hear.
Dominic’s phone rang and he answered it, stepping away with his hand covering his ear. The call lasted less than twenty seconds and I could tell by the set of his jaw that it wasn’t a good conversation.
“What is it?” Uncle Al asked.
“I gotta go take care of some shit.” He turned and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here until visiting hours are over and they have to kick me out.”
Dominic and Al chuckled at my declaration and left. I could see Grant was leaning on his IV stand more than usual and crossed the room to assist. It took the combined efforts of me, Miranda and my mom to extricate him from everyone in order to usher him back to bed, where he immediately fell asleep.
“I’m going to go get a coffee. Do you girls want anything?” my mom asked. Miranda shook her head no and I asked for a diet Coke. As soon as she left, Miranda leaned back in her chair, her hand loosely entwined with Grant’s while her other hand rested across her stomach. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.
“Are you doing okay?” I asked.
She opened her eyes and looked over at me. The room was fairly dark with the overhead lights off and only one window for sunlight so the shadows exaggerated the exhaustion on her face.
“Yeah, just ready to have Grant back home and I love my family, but they’re driving me a little crazy right now,” she said with a laugh.
“I don’t think the hospital staff knows what to with them all.”
“Are you still okay with me moving in to help take care of Grant?”
“Yes, of course! You can move your stuff in now if you want?”
“I will this weekend. My mom can’t take any more time from work and has to go back. We’ll check out of the hotel then.”
“Maybe Grant will be even stronger tomorrow,” she said, the hopeful tone in her voice hard to miss as she looked down on his sleeping form. His chest rose and fell steadily, his breathing unencumbered since the chest tube had been removed.
“That would be amazing.” Once Grant was discharged, I never wanted to see the inside of a hospital for a very long time.
Chapter 22
DOMINIC
I walked with Uncle Al to his car where he leaned inside and pulled out a thick yellow envelope from the glove box.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“All the intel you requested. Johnny printed everything out as a precaution.”
“Good thinking.” I unclasped the envelope and pulled out a stack of paper. The very first sheet was a copy of Phillips’ driver’s license, street address and all. The next page was a print out of a Google Earth image that provided an aerial view of his house in West Chester. Johnny had even included a list of the vehicles registered in Phillips’ name. “I’ll look the rest of this over back at my place. Please tell Johnny thanks. He did a great job on this.”
I slid behind the steering wheel of my Mercedes and slipped on sunglasses I’d left on the dash after tucking the envelope between the passenger seat and console. I opened the sunroof and pulled out of the parking lot to head back to my condo. I was on Route 70 when I noticed a car following me and it was the typical government-issue sedan. The tail kept at least two cars back and kept up with lane changes. I decided to have some fun and lose the Fed following me and knew the perfect spot. Just as we were coming off of the Ben Franklin Bridge, I had my turn signal on to make a sharp right. This would drop me down onto Columbus Boulevard. I started to make the turn and the sedan happened to be right behind me. Looking in the rearview mirror, I waved and banked hard to the left, cutting across to the lane that led to the Vine Street Expressway and Independence Hall. Horn
s blared and I heard someone call me an asshole. The Fed following me didn’t have great reaction time and he was forced to continue on.
Instead of going to my condo as originally planned, I decided to review Phillips’ file at the Grabano Enterprises office instead. I’d rarely set foot inside the office before becoming the boss. Since I occasionally had to sign documents for real estate transactions and other dealings, my visits had become more frequent. The office itself was on the thirtieth floor at One Liberty Place and consisted of three suites. Estelle worked the front reception desk and she had to buzz you in during daytime office hours if you didn’t have a code for the front door lock.
After parking in the basement garage, I took the elevator up to the sixteenth floor with the envelope tucked under my arm. Punching in my code, the lock on the large wooden door clicked and I pulled on the brass handle. Estelle looked up when I stepped in. Her fierce, “no nonsense” expression quickly morphed into smile when she saw me. Estelle was a fixture in the office and had worked there for close to twenty-five years. She was tiny, maybe five feet tall and not even a hundred pounds, but she was a fierce gatekeeper. When I did make it into the office and told her I didn’t want to be disturbed, she kept everyone out and never transferred a call.
“Dominic! What are you doing here?” she asked while walking toward me with her arms open. I stooped down and kissed her soft, wrinkled cheek. She always smelled the same for as long as I can remember, a mixture of rose perfume and cigarette smoke. She released me from her hug and I held up the envelope.
“I have some paperwork to review and thought I’d do it here. How are things going?”
“The phone has been ringing like crazy, what with those reporters and all. I told them you were too busy, but they’re insistent. Nosy too. Asking about your love life and if you’re single. What does that have to do with you being a hero?” I chuckled at her indignant tone. My mug shot had gone viral and had not only the news interested in interviewing me, but the gossip sites too. They wanted to know who the good looking “hero” with a questionable background was. They were desperate to figure out if the organized crime rumors were true or if I was just successful on my own merit with running the multiple businesses that carried the Grabano name.
Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3) Page 15