“Mrs. Marshall, could I please use the copy machine?” asks Angel. “I have to make copies of the upcoming dance information. I’m assigned to it since I’m on the senior student board.”
Mrs. Marshall barely looks up from her paperwork. “Sure.”
Angel makes his copies. Once he’s finished, he grabs a paperclip from the desk while Mrs. Marshall is occupied. He places it on the glass of the copy machine and then makes copies of the paperclip. He then collects all those copies and places them back into the paper tray. Angel collects the copies of the school dance announcement, and leaves saying,
“Thanks a lot, Mrs. Marshall. Have a great day.”
“You’re welcome,” she says. “Just in time, I need to use the machine.”
Mrs. Marshall walks over to the copy machine, and puts her sheet of paper on the glass to copy. She needed five copies. Once done, she noticed a paperclip appearing on each sheet of paper. She checks the clear glass of the machine, but can’t find anything. She attempts to make one last copy of another sheet of paper; the same annoying paperclip appears on the copied paper. She’s clearly frustrated, and places an out-of-order sign on the machine. She thinks to herself that she needs to ask Angel if he, too, had a problem with the machine.
• • •
“Hartford police department.”
“David, the masked killer may have struck again last night,” Lieutenant Roberts says.
“Where? Another kid?”
“Meriden. The girl that got away, she didn’t this time.”
“Oh no,” an upset David says.
Just last night, David had shared his thoughts with Roberts that Connecticut may be dealing with a serial killer. Keeping that in mind, Roberts sends David down to Meriden to see what he can find out about the latest killing.
Detective David arrives at the Meriden police department.
David pulls out his identification to show the desk officer. “I’m Detective David from the Hartford PD.”
“Yes, what can I do for you?” Another Meriden detective, Detective Kor, walks by David.
“David, how are you doing, buddy?” Kor asks.
“Hey, Kor. I just heard that you guys had another homicide last night.”
An obviously disgusted Kor says, “Yes, second homicide in two weeks. That happens in the big cities like Hartford or New Haven, not Meriden. We may have a couple for the entire year; we’re not used to this.”
“Whatcha got?”
“Well, it’s the survivor from the earlier, masked sicko attack.”
“Yes, my lieutenant said that much to me. He sent me down to see what I could find out. Kor, I believe this nut is tied into a couple of other murders. We may have a serial killer on our hands.”
“You’re kidding?!”
“Was she killed in a car?” David asks.
“No, she was in her home,” Kor says. “She was pierced with some type of sharp object.” David pulls out a photo of the Monkshood flower.
“By any chance, was this flower anywhere nearby?”
“Yes,” says Kor, “lying near the kid. Do you believe it’s a calling card?”
“Apparently so. It’s been at a few homicide scenes. That’s four homicides where this rare flower has shown up now.”
“That’s definitely not an everyday flower.”
“I need to head back to the station,” says David. “Please fax me whatever you can once your paper-work is completed.”
“Sure thing, David. Do the same for me, please. We have to get this psycho ASAP.”
• • •
That afternoon, school lets out, with, no football practice. Chris is giving Brandon and Dominic a ride home. Because of the newspaper report, Chris carefully opens the trunk of his car. He doesn’t notice that everyone in the parking lot is doing the same. Everyone in Connecticut, in fact is doing the same.
As Chris completes his trunk search, Brooklyn walks up to him. She gives him a hug and a peck on the cheek, and sees Brandon and Dominic in his car.
“I need a ride today, hon’,” says Brooklyn.
“Okay, baby.” To Brandon, he says, “Push the curve, kid.” Brandon knows that means to get into the backseat with Dominic so that Brooklyn can ride up front.
Chris is heading towards Brooklyn’s home first to drop her off. “Let’s get together tonight. Interested?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m interested. You’re in the doghouse, so it’s time for you to start begging for forgiveness.”
“C’mon baby, don’t be like that. Why you being so cold?” he asks, with a sad face.
“We’ll discuss it later,” Brooklyn says, with an attitude.
Chris pulls up to Brooklyn’s home. He moves over to give her a kiss, but she turns her head away.
“C’mon now, give me some spit.”
“Christopher, It’s called give me a kiss, please.”
“Oh, so you want to play me in front of my boys?” he asks with a smile.
“No, it’s more like you’re trying to show off in front of your boys like you got it like that. I don’t think so,” Brooklyn says with her arms folded. The corner of her lip is curled and she has one eyebrow raised.
Chris shakes his head as Brooklyn gets out of the car.
Brooklyn’s coldness amuses Brandon and Dominic, which isn’t good for Chris’s swollen ego.
“Thanks for the ride. Bye, Brandon, Dom.”
“Later,” they both say.
Brandon moves up to the front seat as Brooklyn walks to her front door while Brandon and Dominic rub it in with Chris. Brooklyn is searching in her backpack for her house key. When she looks up from her bag to find them watching her, she sticks out her tongue at them, and they laugh. She then yells to Chris just before she walks into her house.
“Get some freaking gas before you pick me up!”
Brandon and Dominic laugh at Brooklyn’s comment.
“You know you treat her like crap, right?” says Brandon.
“Dude, c’mon, she’s lucky to have me. These girls ain’t loyal, you have to keep them in line.”
“Oh my God, Chris Greco is quoting Chris Brown?” Brandon asks.
“Your girl is beautiful and smart,” says Dominic. “Every guy in town would love to have her.”
“That is true, but look at me. If you look up ‘beautiful,’ you’ll see a photo of Chris ‘D.J.’ Greco.”
Brandon rolls his eyes. Dominic asks Brandon, “Is he serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Well,” says Chris, “her contract is about to expire soon. I just gave her an extension for looking good, but she’ll be free agent once I leave for college.” Chris puts his car in drive, and then drives away.
After hanging out for a while, kicking it, Chris drops off Brandon. Dominic decides to get out as well. He wants to talk to Brandon alone; however, as soon as they get out of the car, Lucy calls his cell phone and he answers. Dominic waits for him to have a free minute.
“Hello,” says Brandon.
“Hi, gorgeous,” says Lucy.
“What’s up, handsome?” says Brandon, and they both laugh at their silliness. Dominic shakes his head, points a finger in his mouth as if they’re gross.
“Have you had anything to eat lately?” Lucy asks.
“No,” he says.
“I just made some ravioli with sausages.”
Brandon thinks about what Angel told him about dating a Latina. “No rice and beans?”
“I got some in the fridge from last night. Why? You want some?”
Brandon laughs to himself.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, just asking. Did you make the ravioli with spaghetti sauce?
“Of course, silly.”
Brandon recalls what his dad said about avoiding meals with red
sauce made by women. Suddenly he has no appetite. He doesn’t want to hurt Lucy’s feelings, so he keeps it to himself.
“Thanks, baby, but I’ve been dealing with some acid reflux; I’ve got to pass.”
“Aww, baby, I’m sorry. It’s too bad, it’s really good.”
“I’m sure it is, but thanks for looking out for me. Bye, baby.”
“What’s up, Dom?” Brandon asks.
“Remember the last time we walked home from practice?”
“Yes, I recall.”
“That killer the police are looking for in the newspaper? That’s the person I saw at the end of the street behind us.”
Brandon is shocked that a killer was on their trail. “Are you sure? That’s unbelievable.”
“I think I need to go to the police and let them know what I saw. Will you come with me?” Dominic asks.
“Yes.” He pulls the newspaper from his backpack. “It says here to contact Detective David if you have any information. I’ll get my parents’ keys to the car. We can go now.”
Dominic agrees that now is a great time.
Brandon is spooked; he checks the trunk prior to leaving. “All clear.”
Adriano and Rosa
At the police station, Detective David is making phone calls to every florist in Connecticut, southern Massachusetts, Rhode Island and New York, trying to see if anyone has purchased the Monkshood flower. After reading up on the flower, he’s discovered that they’re grown in the northern hemisphere, and must be ordered by a florist or over the internet. It’s not easily purchased just anywhere. Detective Jordan spontaneously decides to take a trip with his fiancée to Charlotte, North Carolina. He comes to the station to grab his GPS system from inside his desk.
“What’s up, Cooper?
Detective Cooper David’s back is to him when he arrives. He turns around and wags his finger at Tariq. “You, you! That’s the most clever B.S. I’ve ever heard. I wouldn’t have ever thought of something like that.”
Tariq just smiles.
Detective David gets a call from the front desk.
“Yes, send them in,” he says, then to Tariq, “A couple of kids just showed up. They believe they’ve seen this killer.”
“Really?” I’ll sit in with you before I head out to North Carolina for a few days.”
Dominic and Brandon are escorted to Detective David’s desk by a police officer. David extends his hand to shake each boy’s hand.
Before the boys can introduce themselves, Detective Jordan interrupts.
“You’re Brandon Turner, All-American, one of the most heavily recruited quarterbacks in the country. Nice to meet you, nice to meet both of you.” Detective Jordan is all smiles.
“You’ll have to excuse my groupie colleague,” David says, snickering. “What can I do for you boys?”
“That masked person in the newspaper drawing- I’m pretty sure I’ve recently seen them one night we were walking home.” Detective Jordan pulls up two chairs.
“Have a seat, guys. Did you see this person, as well, Brandon?”
“No, I didn’t. We were briefly separated at the time.”
“Describe to me what they looked like.”
“The person was maybe 40 to 50 yards away,” says Dominic. “Rossi had a dark-colored overall jumpsuit. A football jersey on over it, black with a red number zero. Red hair, not overly bright like a clown, but red. Rossi was wearing some dark sunglasses, as well. From the distance, I could see a mask that resembled the mask like the drawing. The mask was possibly a white or an off-color white. That’s pretty much all that I know.”
“Rossi? You’ve said ‘Rossi’ a few times now. Why do you call them that?” David asks.
“I’m Italian. My grandmother used to say in the Old Country that a person with red hair is called Rossi. She’s even mentioned a spooky story in Italy about a Rossi over there.”
“That’s interesting,” says David. “I’m Jewish so I don’t know many Italian sayings. So you have don’t have anything else to add? Anything at all?”
“That’s all, sir.”
David sits back from where he was perched on the edge of his chair.
“I’m up for a story if you care to share,” he says. He looks over at Jordan who nods in approval.
“Even I don’t think that I’ve heard this one before,” says Brandon, who seems just as interested as the detectives.
“Sure,” says Dominic. “Prior to living in Connecticut, I lived in the Bronx, New York. One summer night, I was on the fire escape relaxing, listening to my grandmother talking to one of the neighbors in our living room.”
Dominic leaves out the part about smoking marijuana on the fire escape; however, Brandon figured that out when he said the key word, “relaxing.”
“My grandmother and ancestors are from Veneto, Italy, but the story is about a couple in Milan, which is a little more than a hundred miles away.”
• • •
It’s 1985, in Milan, Italy; the De Luca are the family that everyone knows, one of the wealthiest in northern Italy. There is only one heir to the De Luca fortune, a son named Adriano. Every woman in the city is trying to be his wife. Young, old, it doesn’t matter. They all want to be by his side. The only problem is Momma De Luca; she is very protective of her only child and guards him from the fast women of Milan and the surrounding cities. Even as a young adult, she’s shielded him from opportunists. She’s taught him well because even he feels that the women of his city aren’t interested in him as a person, but only in what he could do for them. Since Milan is in the northern part of Italy, Adriano wants to see the rest of his country, especially now that he’s in his mid-20s. He’s never seen southern Italy; his mother has always kept him on a short leash. He goes to a map on the wall, closes his eyes and lays his finger on the city of Bari. To him, that’s a good sign of fate, and he purchases a plane ticket to Bari.
Adriano is walking around Bari sightseeing. He’s not familiar with anyone there and doubts many know him, either. He comes across a small boutique. Through its window, he sees the most strikingly beautiful woman ever. Adriano feels he must go inside, but his nerves tell him not to. He’s never been nervous speaking to a woman, so this is strange. He straightens himself up using his reflection in the window. The young lady who is the only customer in the store notices Adriano, but pretends she doesn’t see him fixing himself up. Adriano takes a deep breath and goes in.
He’s casually walking around the boutique looking at some of the items for sale. The woman is aware of him making his way toward her, but doesn’t look at him. She decides to make it tough on him, in fact, by walking in the opposite direction without giving away that she knows he’s trying to get near her. The sales clerk is aware of Adriano’s intentions and he decides to play some interference.
“May I help you?”
“No, I’m just sightseeing for now. I’ll let you know if something catches my eye.”
The beautiful woman hears Adriano say the key word, “sightseeing.” She knows he must be an out-of-towner.
She asks, “Where are you from?”
“Milan.”
“Welcome to Bari. Have a wonderful trip,” she says. She makes her way toward the exit. In a panic, he runs after her.
“Hello, my name is Adriano.” He extends his hand and she shakes it.
“Rosa.”
“I admire your taste; I noticed what you were looking at.”
“Spying on me?” She squints her eyes at him with a smile.
“Guilty. Well, I wouldn’t say spying, more like admiring. Looking for anything in particular?”
“Not really. Just window shopping. Everything’s a little pricey.”
“I agree. I’m just walking around killing time. I’m not that familiar with the area.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re a touris
t.”
“Have you ever been to Milan?”
“No, I don’t get to travel out of the country too often.”
“No, it’s a city up north,” he says with a laugh.
She laughs, too; she was being sarcastic.
“I know, but it may as well be another country, since I’ve never been on a vacation or been anywhere.”
Adriano now feels comfortable, so he asks, “If you have some time, would you like to have a cup of coffee with me? I could tell you all about my city and you could tell me about yours.”
“Sure, I have some time to spare. I know of a coffee shop around the corner.”
“Great. Shall we?”
After a brief walk, Adriano and Rosa arrive at Ms. Bruno’s, an intimate coffee shop that could fit ten people at best. Only two customers who are conversing with each other are in the shop as Rosa opens the door. A tiny bell goes, bing, when the doors opens.
Sitting behind the counter on a stool is Maria Provenza, who’s conversing with her friend Maria Cuocco. Both Marias are in their early 70s, are widows. Maria P.’s husband Anthony bought the coffee shop in 1969, honoring his wife by calling it Ms. Bruno’s. Maria’s maiden name is Donato, Anthony got Bruno from Maria’s brown hair and penchant for wearing brown clothes. Maria P. fit the nickname perfectly. However, the hair today is white as snow, but the clothing is still brown like on the day Anthony met his bride. When Anthony passed away six years ago, Maria P. kept running the coffee shop without missing a beat. From the moment she opens at seven a.m., Maria C. keeps her company until she closes at five p.m.
Both white-haired Marias look at the entrance and smile.
Rosa walks to the counter and gets on tippy-toes to reach over to kiss both ladies on their cheek.
“Hello, Mrs. Provenza. Hello, Mrs. Cuocco.”
“Hello, beautiful child. Who is this handsome young man?” asks Maria C.
Adriano blushes at the compliment. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“This is Adriano, from Milan.”
“Pleased to meet you ladies.”
“Wow, you’re a long way from home,” says Maria P.
“Nice to meet you as well,” says Maria C.
“The usual, Rosa?” asks Maria P.
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