Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Dominic’s confession from earlier weighs heavily on my soul.
It’s crazy how somebody can be so wrong for you, yet it feels so right.
Exhaust puffs from the tailpipes of his car as he disappears around the corner, leaving me alone in the industrial park. I had to reassure him a bunch of times that I would be okay. After all, I own this place.
Turning around, I punch the code into the iron keypad near the entrance. It’s better if he drops me off here. I can’t risk my family seeing him. His words and the look in his eyes are engraved in my mind. He really lost his cousin to the type of people I’m in charge of.
No wonder he hates everything I stand for.
If I had known, I never would have gone out with him. No wonder he was so adamant about me not becoming the boss. I kind of don’t blame him for disappearing. As much as I love him, he deserves better. But standing here, knowing that… I’m not sure I’m strong enough to let him go.
I stab the enter key. The gate moves back slowly, revealing the warehouse.
I walk across the parking lot to the building. Matteo and Lucia’s cars are parked near the loading dock. The old warehouse looks as tired as I feel. The dark brick is blackened from years of soot and weather. Rust runs down the old fire escapes and the place looks worn and forgotten.
Exactly what I want.
No one would ever suspect all the illegal operations we have going on inside.
I walk up the steps to the concrete platform and press the code next to the solid iron door. A buzzer sounds and the door opens.
The large open space of the warehouse meets my gaze as I take in the high-pitched ceiling supported by exposed steel trusses. The walls are an off-white with concrete columns coated in light gray.
Each area is sectioned off and filled with large boxes and storage containers.
Lighting and sound equipment are stored in labeled cases.
Trussing, rigging hardware, and road cases are stacked along the walls.
Bar supplies take up a corner with unopened liquor bottles, kegs, extra glassware, and bar tools kept on pallets.
There are extra ice machines, CO? tanks, refrigeration units, and tap parts.
Stackable chairs, bar stools, cocktail tables, VIP lounge seating, rope stanchions, and portable dance floor panels have been wrapped up carefully and placed against the wall.
Backdrops, signage, themed props, mirrors, and wall panels join them.
Cleaning chemicals, mop buckets, trash liners, paper goods, and restroom supplies line some of the shelves, while paint, tools, spare fixtures, and replacement bulbs line the others.
The bright LED industrial lights that run down the middle of the ceiling have been dimmed, casting the far corners into dark shadows. In the center are Matteo, Lucia, and Enzo surrounded by crates. They are working on the shipment that was delivered the day after I got shot.
A few of the boxes have been opened and I see it’s the order of the LED high-top cocktail tables for the outside patio. The slender round tables have been turned upside down and Matteo and Enzo are unscrewing the bottom.
At the sound of my footsteps, they look up. A confused expression crosses their faces.
“What are you doing here, Cugina?” Matteo looks down at the screwdriver in his hands. “I thought you were out with your investigator bae.”
“What’s going on with Madeline Toma? Did she do it?” Lucia takes a sip of her coffee.
“H-how did you know…” I don’t finish that sentence. Of course they are keeping tabs on me just like I do with them.
“Got it,” Matteo wedges his fingers under the plastic and then lifts up, taking the back piece off. Enzo reaches inside and pulls out a rectangular-shaped brick wrapped in thick plastic. A logo has been stamped on the front.
He hands it to Lucia who places it on the scale that sits on top of another crate. She makes a note then puts it into a burlap sack.
“The shipment is in good condition?” I look around at the large doors and utility access points at the far end of the warehouse.
“Yes, we got about twenty-five bricks weighing sixty-five pounds. Gino will be here in an hour to pick them up and distribute them to the west side.” Lucia makes another note in the ledger.
“Where is the other one?” I ask.
“What?” Matteo looks at me as he takes off another back piece on the table.
“The delivery that came the night of my party. Did you open it?”
“Nah, we had the guys put it against that wall over there.” Matteo nods to dual 96 x 30 wood shipping crates in the far corner. “We figured we would wait for you to come and open it. We did an overall inspection scan and there are no bombs or hazardous materials inside.”
“I’ll go take a look.” I glance at my phone. No text from Dominic. He has no reason to text me right now, but it still would be nice.
“I’ll come with you.” Lucia places down her cup and follows me. “After all, you still owe me all the details about the gala. Enzo owes me some good money.”
“I can’t believe you’re making bets about my sex life,” I snap.
“You did the same thing with everyone when I was dating Giosuè. It doesn’t feel so good when the shoe is on the other foot now, does it?”
I glare at her. “The party was fine. Apparently his new client is trying to find out if his wife is cheating on him with Valerio Neri.”
“Ugh, I hate that guy. I would love nothing more than to ice him but then we’d start a real war,” Lucia groans. “Did you talk to him?”
“Yeah, much to my dismay. He made a lot of cryptic references about chess and dead butterflies.”
“Really?”
“Then he somehow foreshadowed my untimely demise.” I stand in front of the two crates and fold my arms.
“Fuck him. He is such a chauvinist. He wants women to bow down to him like he’s some sort of god.” Lucia waves a dismissive hand. “Now tell me what happened with Dominic going down on you in the limo.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not that serious. We were drunk. All we did was make out and then he ate me out.”
Lucia squeals. “That glow on your face this morning said otherwise.”
“Well, he didn’t remember any of it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he didn’t bring it up at all today during our investigation.”
“Maybe he didn’t know how to. After all, you two did end on bad terms.” Lucia walks around the box and stares at it.
“It doesn’t matter. He revealed to me today that the reason he went into law enforcement was to avenge his cousin who got killed by the mob,” I admit.
Lucia snaps to attention. “Our family?”
“No, another family, I guess, he didn’t say who.” I glance at the top of the crate. “There’s no note…” I rest my chin against my palm. “Matteo, grab me a crowbar please.”
“Maybe you two should talk about it?” Lucia offers.
I snort. “I thought you hated Dominic and wanted to kill him?”
“I only hate him because he hurt you. If he makes amends and you’re happy then I’ll be okay.”
“Here you go.” Matteo comes running around the space and places the crowbar into my hands.
I guide the end into the lip on the crate, locking it in place. Then I press down with all my might. I swallow the pain from my injury. The lid cracks open along with the sound of wood splintering.
The three of us peer into the box.
“What the fuck!” Matteo cries.
I’m speechless.
The box is filled from bottom to top with raven feathers. Long, sleek plumes rest next to one another piled high like snow. Tightly layered barbs carry a subtle sheen, reflecting hints of blue, purple, and green in the warehouse lighting. The edges taper to a fine point.
“I was wondering why the box felt so light when I moved it,” Matteo mutters.
On top of the feathers is a piece of paper. Bending over I pick it up.
It’s typed.
How convenient.
As the three of us read the note in silence, I realize it’s an excerpt from a poem.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
“That’s an excerpt from The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe,” Lucia gasps.
“I remember Ms. O’Leery made us dissect that entire poem piece by piece in high school,” Matteo grumbles.
“This is fitting though seeing as how we just got a box full of raven feathers,” Lucia adds.
I clutch the paper in my hand. “This is a warning. Someone is trying to tell us that the Marconis are back.”
“How? That’s impossible.” Matteo cries.
“Someone must be trying to resurrect their names and come after us.” I stare at the typed script.
“This poem is a warning. ‘Forgotten lore.’ Everyone has forgotten about the Marconi’s until now.
The ‘tapping’ and ‘rapping’ at the door signifies this delivery.
The abundance of raven feathers signifies the deaths that have occurred or will at the hands of this family. ”
“Wow, Cugina, that’s deep.” Matteo lets out a low whistle.
“This is why you got straight A’s in English class back in high school,” Lucia laughs.
“Let’s open the next box.” I grab the crowbar.
The second box reveals the same result. A mountain of raven plumes with a single piece of paper on top. The typed note contains another excerpt from The Raven.
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow: —vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
“‘Ghost’ has to mean the Marconi family has been a ghost for so long and now they’re back, right, Cugina?” Matteo points at the words on the note. “But who the fuck is Lenore?”
“That’s the poet’s lover who died,” Lucia replies.
“We didn’t lose anyone with that name,” Matteo mutters.
“Poe is lamenting his lover, so the person who sent us this must be lamenting the elimination of the family.” I look around as if expecting the answer or sender to pop out and explain it all but only darkness fills the space.
“We need to be careful, this sounds dangerous.” Lucia adjusts her coat.
“Eh, I don’t know about that. I mean what gangster is going to be running around quoting Poe? They just have their guards go and off people.” Matteo closes the lids.
“Someone who is smart and calculated and wants to torture their victim until they kill them.” I sigh. I’ll admit, whoever this person is would have won Ms. O’Leery’s approval in seconds with the symbolism that is going on here. “Come on Matteo, we need to go, we have a meeting at my place with AJ.”
“What do you want to do about the crates?” Lucia asks.
“I don’t know, just leave them there for now. Maybe we can return the favor if we find out who this is.” I shove the pieces of paper into my pocket and head for the door.
My nerves are on edge and my heart beats faster.
By some miracle the Marconis have been resurrected and are out for revenge.
But who is the one calling the shots?