by S. W. Frank
“There are men within every organization who wish to ascend.”
“Names cazzo!”
“Names?” Yosef chuckled. “There are too many.”
“Matteo, was he one of these many?”
“The Peglesi boy was only a peon. His gambling opened the door for his troubles, thus he became indebted to others. The person who came to end my life is the equivalent of a Capo. His name does not matter. I will deal with him personally. Who he has bargained with to kill us all is a name I do not know, but I will find out.” Yosef sneered. “Shoot me and the family you speak of so highly of dies.”
Yosef omitted many things in the cliff note version he’d given. The deal brokered with her husband long ago had included many players. The cases of weapons that were missing wound up in the hands of another Don in which a side deal was brokered. Many exchanges of money took place that day. The big pay-out he expected would have been from the painting. But, that did not occur, and he was sent to jail. Inside he had years to think about many things. Like, how did the authorities know exactly when to arrest him?
There are only few that a man in a high position confides.
Upon Yosef’s release from prison, he observed the shift on the outside. Much had changed; governments and allegiances who were once foes were friends and vice versa. Yes, it is true there was a debt he had to pay in the form of making good to an old man’s family. That part was not a lie or his feelings for the woman pointing the gun at his heart or the hit. Except there was no reprieve, marrying Sophie is what brought the pause. No one had expected him to come to Sicily. It took quite a while for the ambitious Capo to locate him, by then he had wed a Giacanti and the fear of reprisal caused hesitation. However, Yosef suspected the recent attacks were with the assistance of Matteo Peglesi. Who else would know the intimate schedule of the Dons and their sophisticated security?
You see, the heart of men is greed and power. Matteo was both.
“I should put a bullet in your chest,” Sophie remarked with contempt.
“But you will not Sophie. You care for me and believe what I say. We need each other, don’t you agree?”
Sophie pulled the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Maria awakened with the birds to kneel in prayer. She asked forgiveness from the Forgiver. The children remained asleep. In their mother’s absence she busied the children with activities. Tomás was being a tremendous help and stayed late to play games with them. She realized how astute he was when he suggested she rest for a bit when the energy of youth overpowered that of a mature woman. She had taken his advice and when she woke it was morning, the children were tucked in bed and she found the note from Tomás who said Bruno called and would be delayed. He would call in the morning and Bruno kept to his word.
“I miss you bella,” he said when she took his call.
“Is all well?” she had asked.
“Of course,” he lied, not wanting to speak of the family’s concerns via phone.
“Will you return soon?”
“In a day or so. How are the nipoti?”
This made her smile. “Lively as always.”
“Kiss each one. Children are to be cherished.”
“As a woman cherishes you.”
“That makes my aged heart sing. I am grateful to have your love donna. When I return we will wed immediately unless you desire a grand wedding.”
“I am not a girl of spring who covets pomp and circumstance. Our love is all the extravagance I need. An intimate and private ceremony here will be enough.”
“Bene…bene. Ah, I believe we are at the same place in our lives where we appreciate the value of simplicity, sí?”
“Sí.”
“Your son has arranged more guards for the grounds. The media is relentless and he does not want anyone disturbing your sanctity.”
“You tell such sweet untruths, but I understand.”
“Bene.”
“Bruno?”
“Sí?”
“Stay well.”
“But of course. I have not rediscovered happiness to squander in recklessness.”
“Flatterer. But, it is nice. Te amo.”
“And I love you Maria.”
That was their conversation prior to her need for repentance. The call she made after to Sophie is the reason she kneeled in contrition.
A word is powerful, and so is the position of Don Alfonzo’s mother.
Chapter Thirty
“I didn’t do shit!” A female shouted. High heels clicking had become a familiar sound during the day and night.
Another lady brought in for suspicion of solicitation, but like she vehemently screamed, “That skank cop set me up. I’m walking looking cute and shit and he asked me if I wanted to party and I said sure, now I’m being hauled in here. That’s not right.”
“All right Angel…same thing you said last week,” a faceless officer replied before a cell could be heard opening and closing.
Angel continued talking until another detainee yelled, “Shut the fuck up ‘ho I’m trying to sleep!”
Selange tried to block out the noises; lying on her side with prayer hands as her pillow, she closed her eyes. Music, almost inaudible filtered from somewhere. She identified the tune; classics never die.The song was ending, but the verse spoke to what she wanted –peace.
‘…I knew I was fine about this time yesterday
I don't need answers,
I just need some peace,
I just need someone who could help me get some sleep,
Who could help me get some sleep…?’
Inside a block of concrete and bars how do you rest?
Mental stone is what filters out the environment to find a peaceful place. Selange smiled at the wonderful memories as a child, her teen antics were so silly now, and she chuckled. Oh, she was a klutz in the kitchen her mom said. If she wasn’t cutting her fingers trying to chop lettuce, then she was gagging on a chicken bone stuck in her gum. Yeah, not fish, chicken. Who but Selange can do that?
Then she thought about the kids. Wow, the many personalities under a single roof. Little people with strong wills are what she had.
She saw their faces, Vincent and Angelina, so sweet –so happy. Aldonza ‘Allie’ her unruly alley cat with a mouth that shocked even her Uncle. What could she say about Sal? The oldest, simply a good boy who made her heart swell with pride. She missed her wonderful children…oh…it hurt…a pain that all loving mothers know when they can’t hold their kids.
“I need my medicine…ya’ll know I’m diabetic!” Someone shouted.
Sleep finally arrived after sadness departed.
The gates clanged open. Selange was handcuffed. She didn’t say anything to the uniformed court officer whose face was the most sympathetic she’d seen since her detainment. The weekend was over and she was finally going before a judge in the evening court session.
Weary. That’s how she felt after passing on baloney sandwiches and a questionable colored drink she suspected was Kool-Aid. The steps that entered with confidence were slower and sore from the hard bench which alternated as a bed when she couldn’t fight sleep. She hadn’t cried, only sighed when her right to a phone call was never upheld.
The smell of musty armpits,
bad breath and human excrement clung to the air from the holding cells she passed. There’s humiliation in such treatment when people are unable to bathe or have privacy to use the toilet without someone looking at their ass. A person’s dignity can be broken when handled like an animal. The penal system that many innocent and guilty were thrust was meant to break the spirit. Take away the basics, talk to a detainee like they’re filth and self-preservation kicks in. Animal behavior takes over and etiquette is tossed to the wind. Walking the streets are products of prison degradation; not 48 hours of discomfort but years. She thought of Yosef for some reason. Fifteen years or something like that Sophie said he served. The thought of spending hard time behind walls of iron and stone in a jungle of degradation had her appreciate freedom and a life that was far better than death.
Yes, death.
Spirits die when incarcerated; she was hell-bent on living –free.
The hearing was to determine whether she remained in custody or released on bail. She was escorted to a private room prior to appearing before the judge and her spirit lifted oh yes it did when she was told her attorney Martin Scheppe was there.
Thank you universe!
When he entered the man looked angry. “Hi Mrs. Diaz, these bastards were giving me the run around all day. First they didn’t see your name in the system and pure nonsense. We have five minutes before we see the judge. This is one time I promise you, bail will be granted if the entire case isn’t dismissed right here.” He pulled a cell from his pocket. “I have your husband on speed dial. He wants to speak to you.”
Selange almost lost it when Alfonzo’s voice boomed over the line. “Babe, are you okay?” he asked.
“Honey I’m fine. How are you and the kids?”
“Babe we’re good. You’re coming home. Mark my word, alright?”
She wanted to tell him something, but didn’t trust her environment. “I miss you guys.”
“As soon as you’re free Martin’s driving you straight to the airport. The jet’s waiting on the tarmac.”
“Okay, love you.”
“You should know by now that my life isn’t shit without you.”
The tear arose.
Love can’t hide.
“Neither is mine.” Martin gestured they needed to review a few things, number one, her ‘not guilty plea.’ Reluctantly she said good-bye and handed the phone back and the attorney got straight to business.
The door opened after their preliminary conversation and she was escorted in front of a harried looking woman in a black robe who frowned too much. Selange was asked to state her name.
“Selange Diaz.”
Then she listened attentively as the Judge read the charges and then asked why she had not answered the subpoena. Selange answered, she was never served. But, the Judge seemed to have heard that line before and skipped straight to the highlight. “How do you plead?”
“Not guilty your honor.”
Then the circus clown Prosecutor from the District Attorney’s office started outlining why she should remain in custody until the next court date. Then Martin Scheppe earned every gold dollar he was paid. He dropped a laundry list of Selange’s ties to the community, her service to the city as a former teacher and every good deed she performed after sliding out her momma’s vagina. And the legal whiz put the icing on the cake when he spoke of the denial of her right to a phone call, entrapment and Selange’s mental distress. Oh, he went in hard about the filed bogus assault charge from the deceased who passed away in a tragic car accident this morning. You’d think he was arguing before a jury in the spitfire oratory that had the Judge saying enough!
He got the rest in for the record, just in case. No witnesses put his client at the alleged assault –and it was physically impossible for Selange to be in New York when there’s video which proves she was in Italy at the exact time of the alleged physical attack.
Released on her own recognizance and the formality of a court date were given for Scheppe to appear and officially have her case dismissed.
The Prosecutor approached as the attorney rushed Selange from the courtroom once the handcuffs were removed.
“Mr. Scheppe, can I have a minute?”
“No, call my office in the morning and set up an appointment. I’m sure you want to kiss my ass Paul, but not today. What your office helped do by railroading this woman makes you guys the goddamn criminals!”
Selange was whisked to a limo, paparazzi called her name, asking dumb questions such as, “Why isn’t your husband here? Do you think this is a witch-hunt?”
The door closed and they were a mob outside the window, mouths and mikes close to the car, shut out and left in the rearview mirror as the driver got her out of there.
During the commute to the airstrip Martin spent most of his time on the phone with his legal secretary giving instructions on papers he wanted filed. On occasion he glanced in his client’s direction and frowned. Lawyers are people; many care despite their oftentimes unsavory reputation. There are degrees of criminals, the cold heartless kind that’ll murder a kid, and the desperate who commit illegal acts to pay for habits, and those caught in a web. Mrs. Diaz loved her family. He tried not judging her because when he asked himself on occasion, what he would do to defend his family, the answer was always –everything.
They reached their destination. A short distance away a corporate jet waited to take her home. “I’ll notify you when you need to return, until then take care Mrs. Diaz.”
“Thanks,” Selange replied and then escaped to the fresh air. She hurried to the aircraft where a stewardess waited.
“Welcome Mrs. Diaz.”
“It’s nice to see you again Marilyn.”
“Same here Mrs. Diaz.”
The moment Selange boarded, the delicious aromas caused her stomach to growl embarrassingly loud. However, that wasn’t the only surprise she found inside the comfortable plane. There were flowers, a tray of food, a soft robe and slippers along with a masseuse waiting.
“Your husband wants you to have a relaxing journey.”
Selange hiccupped. The stewardess handed her the robe and a towel. “Your cell is there. Your husband said the children are having fun with Nana and you’re to call him only after you’re refreshed. He said that’s an order and I’m to make sure you comply or I am fired.”
Blanketed by love; Selange was free to let go.
The tears were safe to flow.
Chapter Thirty-One
Multiple bombings in the city of London, Tripoli and Israel had the media’s attention focused elsewhere. The polizei all across Europe were on high alert. Terrorists are blamed for everything when sometimes the events are to distract law enforcement’s probing lens.
The diversions worked.
The gathering on the secluded property bequeathed to Alfonzo where olive and almond trees stood was heavily fortified. The roadways were blocked; a chopper passed overhead at timed intervals, dogs snarled and were held tight on leashes by watchful men.
The trio entering the renovated farmhouse did so with determined gaits. Nico’s soft shoes tapped across the floor first to lead the way to the rustic living room to where a small group huddled on the sofa beside an old man. His complexion was fair, although for years he baked under the sun.
Sadly, Bianca looked up into Nico’s face.
She was very pregnant and unbelievably lovely. She held her belly and pressed her hand to the sofa’s arm to stand. “Nico, I am sorry. Do not be angry with me por favore.”
Alfonzo and Giuseppe joined their cousin, eyeing the group. They all had questions. But apparently Nico needed an answer about his person
al business first. “Why’d you hide the truth from me?” he asked.
“I did not want to bring more troubles to your home.”
“But you have!” Giuseppe snapped, unable to mind his business.
The old man said something in Tigrinya. Bianca nodded.
“What did he say?” Nico inquired.
“He said this is not the setting Nicolo Serano for such a discussion.”
“Tell him, no offense but who the hell is he to tell me anything?”
The old man frowned, spreading crow’s feet around his eyes. He spoke and Bianca translated. “He said he is your elder and his name is Nicolo Giacanti and what he says is law.”
A slew of questions followed. Their great-grandfather’s brother could not answer them all in a night and told the curious trio, that is a story for another time. And then Alfonzo asked, “Who attacked the Protezione?”
“Mafiya,” the elder Nicolo answered. “Israelis.”
And immediately Yosef came to mind.
“Yes,” Bianca agreed. “They executed everyone.” She looked at Alfonzo. “This timing is suspect. No one knew of our location except my father.”
“What about your brothers?” Alfonzo asked.
“No. They were not told until the incident happened. They believed I had gone to Paris. I did not tell my daughters either.”
“Then your father had a hand in this.” Giuseppe spoke the collective thoughts of the Dons.
Then Bruno who had entered as they talked said from the archway. “My daughter is part of my heart. There is another who knew of her location. Sophie.”
Alfonzo scoffed. “Shit!” He looked at the child with the color of the sea and the skin of earth. This was his relation, all of them were and the old man, well damn he was ancient but looked younger than the dudes he saw in their sixties. “Then we need to speak with Sophie.”
Giuseppe frowned. His mother? Could she have orchestrated the killing of the Protezione, but what would be the purpose?
Nico spoke up in her defense. “Sophie’s not psychotic. If anything she leaked the information inadvertently to Yosef.”
“Or Amelda,” Alfonzo suggested. He couldn’t count that out, especially after learning about Matteo’s duplicity.
The elder Nicolo interjected in his language. “This is mafia doings. The Protezione were loyal to the Giacanti’s. Remove them and Giacanti’s become vulnerable. Look around, besides family who else is there to trust?”