by S. W. Frank
“I’ve hear enough, I have to go.” Alfonzo said.
“My parents, uncles, cousins, brother, sisters were all murdered by those who sought to maintain the old ways. My father believed in a new way, one without unnecessary violence or exploitation of the poor.”
The young man said nothing, yet he remained to listen.
“You sell drugs to the poor and addicted. You make them weaker, you rape their minds by dulling reality but you found your way and learned there are other avenues to wealth.”
Alfonzo’s mouth was tight. The man knew too much and yet knew nothing.
“My father’s way was to acquire wealth through more legitimate means, politics, government contracts and influence.”
“And what type of influence was that, huh?”
“Reason, all men have a price and a weakness.”
Alfonzo sneered, “You left out force.”
“Force?” Luzo was amused, “Persuasion is a force I have used. Isn’t such motivation required at some point?”
Alfonzo found he indeed possessed his father’s gene. He gripped the railing and seethed, “Why did you involve my mother. She’s a good woman, why didn’t you leave her alone?”
The ailing man’s eyes swept him into the sea, “You cannot stop the workings of the heart. Love does not listen to reason.”
“You say all of this but you never fought for her. You never fought for me!”
“And son this will be my biggest regret, but on my last breath I fight for you both!”
Alfonzo spoke. His words were of despair, “You’ve brought nothing but hell into our lives.”
The boy’s anger was understandable.
Alfonzo added, “I’ll never be like you.”
Luzo’s eyes narrowed, “My father, Sergio Giacanti had three sons, I was the eldest. We were separated when my father’s enemies sought to claim his empire. My father did not tell me this, yet my ears listened always. I was sent to study business in France and my brothers due to their young ages were sent to a relative‘s home,” he coughed, “you see my father suspected what was to come. He was wise.”
“Why are you telling me ancient tales old man?”
“Silence!” He said hoarsely as strength waned, “these tales are your legacy.”
Alfonzo twisted in the chair, “Finish your damn story if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Don’t be insolent!” Luzo scowled, “history is important in order to understand your future.”
“Why tell me this now?”
“Because you have obligations whether you want them or not.” He forced himself upright, this was too important to take to his grave. He must divulge important information to his son, things not known to anyone other than his brother. “We are by blood direct descendants of the most powerful Mafioso in history, Sergio Giacanti but we cannot claim this name or we will be exposed. The man you will come to know as Carlo Dichenzo is my youngest brother, Anthony Giacanti. My birth name is Salvatore Pietro Giacanti. When my father sent us away he believed us safe but members of a rival family who sought control of his position began to bribe and kill for it. No one could be trusted. One summer my parents were killed along with everyone I knew and loved.” Blue eyes bore into his son as he recalled that murderous summer. “My brother, three year old Guiseppe was killed in his bed. Anthony hid in a cousin’s barn when the men came and I escaped the horrors simply because I was in France. Anthony lives with these horrors and his blood runs cold with hatred for the men who did this deed.”
Alfonzo sat patiently, certain more was to come.
“My schoolteacher, aware of the danger, kept me in France and secured Anthony’s safe passage there. Our identities were changed and after many years we returned to our beloved Italy. We could not tell anyone we were the sons of Sergio Giacanti. We began anew with the assistance of my schoolteacher and his family.”
“Why go back?”
“My father unbeknownst to me entrusted important documents into my care. I found them in a trunk filled with my clothes. Ledgers filled with the names of his affiliates, identities of informants in Europe and abroad and detailed records of monetary transactions. There were billions of dollars in dummy accounts across Europe and America. I went back for revenge and with these ledgers it came easy.”
“What exactly has this to do with me?”
“Frank Monticelli was my father’s friend and the man who betrayed him. He fled to the Americas and with the protection of his associates has remained untouchable. I suspect he knows my identity and the existence of the ledgers. When I die you must escort my body home. Alberti will make the introductions to my affiliates. There can be no lapse in leadership in Palazzo Enterprises. You must stay there until you have established your position as my heir. Your mother will be safe here but you will not. In time the United States government will seek to bring you to justice simply due to who you are. You are not safe here anymore. ”
Alfonzo frowned, “I can’t leave my family.”
“Then you will put them in danger. The only way to ensure they are safe is to gain the respect and power of my affiliates. Use the ledger to persuade when necessary. You must take over the company Alfonzo…you have no choice.”
“I do have choices old man.”
The Giacanti lineage remains a threat.” Luzo took a deep breath, “Frank Monticelli is a threat. He holds a grudge against my father and his clan. He will extinguish our lineage if he can, but you must keep it. You and my brother’s son are the last male descendants of the Giacanti’s. You are a threat.”
Luzo frowned; the boy would not understand the old ways. The honor of men pledged to La Costra Nostra.
Alfonzo sighed, “Why should I do anything for you?”
The boy was being difficult, “Hate me but it is not for me you do this, but those you love.” Luzo said.
Despite Alfonzo’s feigned disinterest, he would do the honorable thing. Luzo understood enough about human nature to know this to be true. He weakened with each breath, “As long as the Giacanti family survives, they are a threat to Monticelli and stand between him and power.”
Alfonzo growled, “You’ve burdened me with your sins and your father’s as an inheritance.” He spoke vehemently, “Thanks!”
“I know you will honor me. Remember under no circumstances share this with anyone. Do not liquidate or transfer any of the Palazzo assets. Right now, your uncle controls the business and when you’re ready he will teach you everything. Only my brother’s waste management companies partake in any illegitimate activity.”
“Why indulge in any illegitimate activity?”
Luzo smiled at this idealistic pretense, “Certainly boy you must know even respectable men make not so respectable deals. You are green and have much to learn.”
Alfonzo rose, the man had cleansed his soul. He thought about the biblical verse which speaks about the sins of the father being visited upon the son. Luzo Palazzo’s sins were rivers of blood. What was he to do with this knowledge? The immediate threat was not his father but the woman he married. “Where is your wife?”
“She is being taken care of, do not worry.”
“And the hitman she hired tell me how to find him.”
“Alberti will assist in that matter, he is loyal, and he will be your most trusted advisor. Your uncle Carlo will help as well. There are enforcers who are instructed to do as you ask. I have brought them here as added protection.” Luzo withheld a secret about Alberti, one the youth did not need to know, yet and a secret Luzo sought to keep.
Alfonzo moved to the door. He pitied the dying man. “May God have mercy on you papa for what you have done to my mother and me.”
“Son,” he said to the retreating figure, “I am sorry, I do love you. Possono i santi vegliare su di te; may the Saints watch over you.”
Alfonzo said nothing; the prayer fell on the head of the damned. He opened the door and walked past the guards. He stared ahead into the sterile halls into nothingness. His world
was forever altered by revelations he could not ignore. He waved away Alberti as he approached and walked outside into fresh, crisp air alone.
In a trance he hailed a cab and leaned against the cracked rubber seat as he absorbed what he was told. Uncle Al, Selange’s mom, Shanda, Jay, all innocent victims…and a hitman with one name…Freddie.
The cab arrived at his mother’s home and he noticed the curtains peel back. His mother opened the door and ushered her son to the living room where a large box sat atop the coffee table. She sat and faced her son with lines of stress creasing her eyes. Alfonzo loved his mom but tried to reconcile the lies. They talked in length and a deeper understanding ensued. He could not blame her for wanting to protect him from his father’s sordid life, yet her attempts failed. His blood was poisoned with the Giacanti’s. He should take a knife to it, cut his veins and bleed it out of him. This would purge the disease and finally set him free. His face twisted in agony. Being born was a curse. He should have died at birth then maybe everyone else will be alive.
Finally, his mother retired and he sat alone staring at the box. He tore off the wrapping and opened the lid. Inside were not ledgers but photographs and flash drives which he surmised contained confidential information.
He took the box to the basement where he retrieved his laptop and sat on the bed reviewing the contents. Hours later and reeking of vodka he shut-off the computer, tossed the flash-drives in the box then called Domingo to take him home.
The faces of the Giacanti clan were like ghosts come to haunt the present. Nothing numbed the shock of this day. Domingo helped him in inside then took off unaware of the man watching from a short distance.
With the rise of the sun he entered the bedroom and fell across the bed where Selange slept. He dropped the box on the floor and its contents spilled across the floor.
Glazed eyes caressed the beautiful young woman, a woman he dreamed of having a future with, how was it possible now? He apologized profusely in Spanish then blacked-out.
Selange awoke to discover Alfonzo asleep and fully dressed. Old photographs and multiple flash drives on the floor. Lovingly, she removed his shoes then knelt to place the discarded items into the open box. She stopped when she came across a document; LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT of Luzo Palazzo. The name was familiar. She remembered! The FBI questioned Alfonzo about Luzo Palazzo after Shanda’s abduction. She sat at the foot of the bed. She did not want to snoop but she was curious. She read the document and when she finished she scrambled to her feet trying to hold the contents of her stomach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Detective Winoski sat hunched over her desk staring at numbers scribbled on the crumpled paper. She and Marchese brain-stormed late into the night and determined the numbers were a possible lead to their hitman. Finally, they decided to start fresh in the morning.
The clock on the wall read: seven-twenty. She took a sip of coffee as she settled at her desk and immediately arranged the numbers into variant combinations. Marchese sat across the room doing God-knows-what as she made cold calls from the list. Some were businesses; others were disconnected or scratched off the list. Deceased, out of business, etcetera. Out of 100 combinations, seventy-one were probable contacts. She perused the list again, TRIBECA FLORALS, GAYLE HARPER, JUSTIN LIGENER, HIGHLAND RETIREMENT, HUNG CHINESE RESTAURANT, EVAN GRAHAM, SANDRA HART……she stopped reading.
“Shit, I think I got something!”
Marchese looked up, “What you got?”
“Evan Graham.”
Telephones rang simultaneously and she shouted over the noise. “I got an address over on swanky Park Avenue. I want a face-to -face with this guy.”
She was on her feet before Marchese reached the car keys. He caught up to her on the precinct stairs. Carey’s singular purpose for wanting to crack the case stemmed from professional dedication, his, a more personal one.
***
Gina placed her luggage in the capable hands of the pilot then ascended the narrow stairs to the leased jet. A smiling flight attendant named Bob ushered her to a seat. She settled there, deep in thought. Evan failed to deliver as promised. Luzo’s son lived. Dichenzo’s henchmen shadowed her everywhere. In an elaborate escape she entered a woman’s boutique, paid to enlist the assistance of the clerk and changed clothes then slipped out of an employee exit. When the men discovered her missing she would be flying over the Atlantic.
In flight Gina dozed then awakened in a cold sweat. Nightmarish dreams of the past left her panting.
Bob came over, “Is anything wrong Ms. Geraldi?”
Gina nodded, “Water please.”
He returned shortly with a glass and an unopened bottle of Perrier, “Here you are.”
“Thank you,” she said as he twisted the cap then filled her glass.
Bob left and she was alone again. The water was tepid, not cold as she liked but she drank it thirstily. Her plan to sit at the helm of Palazzo Enterprises had failed. Luzo’s men were certain to kill her the moment their employer died. She was not going to wait like a sitting duck for the bullet to strike. Oh no, she would seek the protection of Luzo’s rival. Frank Monticelli. Yes, this was her plan and a man she trusted would be at the airport to ensure she arrived without a scratch.
***
Marchese answered the phone, “Detective Marchese?”
“This is Selange Brown, I need to speak with you?”
Marchese looked over at his partner. Carey looked hot!
“Is it about the investigation?” He asked.
The girl’s voice held a nervous timbre, “Yes. I would like to come by the precinct today.”
“Come in at noon.”
“Okay.”
He turned to Carey, “Selange Brown’s coming in to the precinct.”
“Yeah,” She cocked her head at him, “what she want to know now?”
He shrugged, “Probably looking for answers like the rest of us.”
Carey turned onto the busy street. They found the address on the paper and parked. The police placard prominently displayed on the dashboard.
“Look,” Marchese said as they headed toward the door, “we gotta’ be quick.”
Carey acquiesced, “Yup!”
“If this checks out, we may have something concrete for L.T.”
Unfortunately, they hit a dead-end. Evan Graham sublet the apartment to an old Army Medic in his sixties who dabbled in self-expression through art.
They returned to the precinct disappointed.
Selange Brown sat waiting when they returned. Marchese escorted the young woman to his desk. As a police officer he pride himself on deciphering body language and what he detected was a young woman seeking answers but to what exactly?
“How can I help you?”
“Who’s Luzo Palazzo and why are the FBI interested in him?”
What does she know?
He placed his elbows on the worn metal desk, “Luzo Palazzo is a businessman with suspected mob connections. He uses his legitimate international real estate investment company as a front for illegal activity, money laundering, extortion and even murder.”
“What does this have to do with Alfonzo?”
He answered honestly. The girl needed to know. “Alfonzo is his son.”
“But Alfonzo believes his father’s dead.”
“He’s mistaken or he’s been told a lie because his father is Luzo Palazzo. DNA confirms it.”
Her eyes squinted, “How long have you known this?”
“A few days.”
“Does any of this tie into my mother’s killing or Shanda’s disappearance?”
“We don’t know for sure but we think it’s possible.” He answered holding on to the confidential information about the bullets matching. The same guy who killed her mother, shot Alfonzo and killed Jay.
“What’s your theory detective?” She asked.
He leaned against his chair, “My theory is you’re in over your head Ms. Brown. Your boyfriend’s trouble.”
> From Alfonzo’s highly inebriated condition last night she surmised he must have recently learned the truth of his parentage. He could not be held responsible for whom his father is, no child should be forced to carry so large a burden. He was not the man seen through the detective’s narrow investigative lens. “Alfonzo is as much a victim as I am.”
Marchese swiveled in his chair, “Someone may be trying to kill your boyfriend young lady and your life may be in jeopardy through association. I advise you to get as far away from Alfonzo Diaz as possible.”
The detective’s advice brought an angry response, “Your job is not to give relationship advice detective it’s to apprehend criminals. There’s a killer out there and I advise you to find him before he kills again.”
She marched out and he sighed. Hopefully, she’d take his advice but experience told him she would not.
***
Alfonzo stood outside of the brownstone surrounded by a group of massive men. Their stern expressions conveyed something important transpired. A sense of foreboding inched across her skin. Her first concern was of Shanda.
Alfonzo intercepted her at the car as soon as she stepped out. “Where the hell did you go, I’ve called and you didn’t answer?”
Selange manually locked the door to the Nissan before addressing him. “Maybe I should rethink this arrangement especially if you feel I have to answer to you whenever I go out.
They were face-to-face.
He became subdued, “Selange, this isn’t a game. You can’t go running around without someone. It’s too dangerous.”
“Why, am I in danger Alfonzo, is there something you’re not telling me?”
His eyes smoldered at her naiveté, “Of course you are, we all are.”
“Is it because whoever killed your uncle and my mom was after you for some reason?”
The muscles in his neck pulsed. He underestimated Selange’s keen perception. “Where did you hear that?”
“Not from you. I saw the will. You’re a mobster’s son and it doesn’t take a genius to deduce there’s someone who doesn’t want you to benefit once he’s dead.”
He took her arm and led her out of earshot from the men, “We‘ll talk later Selange, I can’t get into it right now. There are a few things I have to do. I want you to stay in the house, por favor.”