4. Dario
4
Dario
I lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. The apartment was quiet. The others had gone downstairs to the basement club for drinks. Probably to make plans without me listening.
They didn’t trust me despite the fact I’d been instrumental in Thea’s rescue from the sham wedding. Not that I blamed them. I still had one foot in Francesco’s camp, and as far as he knew, I had never stopped working for him.
A headache throbbed behind my temples. The remains of my hangover refused to go away, the conversation with Dad replaying on a loop in my brain. The fact Francesco had someone watching him meant he was in grave danger.
I needed to cut ties with Francesco once and for all. The only reason I hadn’t done it yet was it might be useful to have an ‘in’ with him. While I strongly suspected he didn’t trust me, he had no concrete evidence of my shifting allegiance. After all, I’d secured the video footage of Thea with the two assholes, which I would never have done if Thea meant something to me.
At least, that’s what I hoped he believed.
Knowing I couldn’t put it off any longer, I pulled out my phone to call the old bastard. Only when I did, I saw I had an incoming call from the man himself.
“Boss. I was just about to call you.”
“Dario, I have some…sad news.” I detected a hint of glee in Francesco’s voice, in direct contrast to his words.
“Sad news? Has Torrance had another accident? I told him to get his eyes tested after he crashed the car last year.”
I heard a growl in the background and grinned to myself. The psycho stronzo was obviously listening in on the call. Knowing Francesco, he had it on speakerphone. He loved an audience when humiliating one of his men.
“It’s about your father.” I sat up, no longer feeling quite so amused.
“What about Papa? I spoke to him earlier, and he said he wasn’t well. Have you seen him?” I doubted he’d been to visit my old man. Francesco’s minions attended him, not the other way around.
“There’s been an accident, I’m afraid. It seems one of my enemies decided to put a hit on your father.” My blood turned to ice in my veins. “I regret to tell you he’s been killed in a car bomb attack.”
Papa was dead.
“How did you hear?”
“One of my contacts on the mainland called. Fausto was in Naples. We don’t know why. Do you have any idea why he’d be in Naples?”
The phone slid from my hand and dropped to the floor. I could hear Francesco calling my name in the background, but I tuned him out. If Dad had been in Naples, I had a strong suspicion that’s where Thea had gone.
I took a deep breath. I needed to hold it together and pretend I still trusted Francesco.
“Sorry,” I said when I retrieved my phone. “It’s a … shock.”
“I’m so sorry, Dario. I know how close you and your father were.” The sub-text was clear. He had reason to question my loyalty.
Forcing the rage and grief down, I sucked in a lungful of air and schooled my thoughts. Francesco would jump on the slightest suggestion I knew something. I had to be more careful than ever to avoid arousing his suspicions.
“In answer to your question, no, I have no idea why he was in Naples. He told me he wasn’t feeling well. I assumed he was still at home.”
“Hmm, how strange, but never mind. That’s not important. I’ll expect you back here tomorrow. We have things to discuss, and I imagine you’ll want to begin organizing the funeral.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied on autopilot, still reeling. How could Papa be gone? I couldn’t imagine life without him. He’d been my bedrock after Mama passed.
“I assume you have no updates on my wayward daughter?”
“No, she’s still in the wind.”
He hummed. “Oh well. I remain optimistic she’ll show up very soon.” I didn’t like the sound of that. Was he aware she’d already flown back to Italy?
Francesco ended the call after a few more empty platitudes about how much my father had meant to him and how sorry he was to learn of his untimely passing. It was all bullshit, but I played along, even if I wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in the bastard’s head.
Francesco, and by extension Torrance, would be watching my every move when I returned to Italy. But if I was very careful, I could track Thea down and help her end Francesco. Even better, I was willing to do the job for her. Nothing would give me more pleasure.
Papa’s old friend, Carlo, was my best bet for finding Thea. If Papa had been in touch with her, it had probably been via Carlo.
I went to find my other phone, the one Francesco didn’t know about, and called Carlo.
A thin drizzle fell, soaking through my wool coat as the priest droned on. More people than expected had shown up for the service, which made me both happy and sad. While I was pleased Papa had had friends, it also brought home how little time we’d spent together in the last few years.
Since Torrance manipulated me into joining the mafia, I’d spent most of my time traveling on business, doing Francesco’s dirty work.
Dad hated it, but once he saw I wasn’t willing to listen to him, he gave up trying to change my mind.
Francesco stood a few feet away, zero emotion on his face, with Torrance a step behind. Every so often, I caught Torrance watching me. I’d been on a knife-edge since arriving in Italy. It was only a matter of time before Francesco wanted an update on the progress I’d made trying to trace Thea’s whereabouts.
“ As Jesus said in the Gospel of John, 'I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though they die, yet shall they live.' Our faith reminds us that death is not the end, but merely a transition into the next life with God. ”
I hoped Papa found his way into heaven. He’d made some poor decisions in his time, but unlike me, there was no blood on his hands. Not directly, anyhow.
“ While we grieve Fausto’s absence from our lives, we can be confident that he is at rest in the arms of the Lord… ”
A woman sniffled as the priest murmured something about the mercy of God.
“For dust you are and to dust you shall return.”
I felt the weight of Francesco’s gaze on me for a moment, but I focused on the priest’s face as he clutched his bible and murmured the words I’d heard before when we buried my mother.
“ Let us commend Fausto to the mercy and love of God. May angels lead him into Paradise, and may his soul dwell in God's house forever .”
At least my father was being laid to rest beside my mother. It was what he would have wanted. She was the love of his life.
I picked up a handful of damp earth and sprinkled it over the shiny coffin. It was mostly empty, a token really. There had been very little left of my father after the car bomb explosion and fire. Just a few bone fragments, a foot, and some clothes. The only reason I knew it was him was the ring recovered from the ashes.
His wedding ring.
Papa had never once removed it. It stayed firmly in place even after my mama’s death. He’d said it reminded him of how much he loved her. Still loved her, despite the fact she’d passed on.
I hoped they were together now. Happy in the afterlife.
People began to drift away once the priest murmured his condolences and left, probably to warm up with some medicinal wine. The weather was milder than usual, but it was still cold.
“Come back to the house, son,” Francesco said. “We have things to discuss.” Anger at his blatant disregard for my feelings surged through my veins, but I swallowed it down. As much as I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze hard, I couldn’t afford to reveal any weakness.
I turned to face him, my face blank.
“I will once everyone’s paid their respects.” Carlo had arranged a small gathering at a local bar, where people who knew my father could have a few drinks and remember the man he was. They’d expect me to appear.
Francesco’s jaw tightened in annoyance. He didn’t give a fuck that my father was dead, other than the fact it inconvenienced him.
“You have tonight, but I’ll expect you first thing in the morning.” He leaned over the open grave and smirked as he kicked some dirt in. Torrance nodded at the guards who stood nearby and then they both headed back toward the waiting cars, leaving me alone, my fists clenched in anger.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” I whispered, the tension leaving me once the black cars drove away. “I should have listened to you.” He’d tried so hard to make me leave before Francesco got his claws into me. He never wanted the mafia life for me. But I’d been young, arrogant, and foolish.
A figure caught my eye. An old woman, hunched as she moved slowly near a statue of a weeping angel, holding a bunch of vibrant yellow flowers. Roses perhaps.
The figure disappeared, and I forgot about her, my thoughts consumed with memories of my father. Him playing football with me as a child, helping me with my math homework (despite his best efforts, I always found math difficult).
He’d done his best to be a good father, despite the life choices he made.
“I’ll miss you.” A tear threatened to break free, but I wiped it away with a damp sleeve and turned to leave. Now was not the time to grieve for my father. I needed to find a way to end Francesco first.
“I’ll miss him too,” a soft voice said, making me jump. When I spun around, the old woman I’d seen a short while ago stood facing me. Only she wasn’t old at all.
The small, stooped figure stood up straight and removed the shapeless hat and shawl.
“Thea, what the fuck are you doing here?”