Chapter 14 Dolce Vita #2
“Mhmm. I was hoping you’d be easy. You’re far too beautiful to be a pig,” he says, and this time I laugh.
“I have been called many things, but a beautiful pig has not been one of them,” I say, crossing one leg over the other and clasping my hands in my lap.
“Why did you want to become a cop?” he asks.
“My parents were murdered when I was a kid by an assumed mafia Don. They happened to walk up on something they shouldn’t have and ended up getting shot in the head at close range with a forty-five," I say, making a point to keep eye contract. His demeanor never waivers, but I’m not surprised.
He wasn’t in this position when his uncle murdered my family. “I lost three people that day.”
“Three?” he asks.
“She was thirty-seven weeks pregnant with my little brother. She was being induced the next day and they wanted to have a date night before they had him. His name was Bradley.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says politely. “I can see how you were driven to seek justice. Was the killer caught?”
“From what I understand, they had everything they needed, but the district attorney refused to file charges,” I say.
“It’s a corrupt system,” he says, watching me closely. He glances behind me, and I turn to see Angelo.
“Detective Boggs,” he says with a charming smile, and I stand to shake his hand.
“Please, call me Laura,” I say as I firmly shake his hand. “Thank you for meeting with me. I just have a few questions regarding an incident that happened close to one of your restaurants.”
“Of course,” he says, motioning for me to sit.
“I am investigating a mugging of an elderly man next to the South Haven Street location. The man ended up succumbing to his injuries, so I am just trying to get an idea of the normal characters that hang around in that area,” I say.
It’s not a lie because that actually did happen, I’m just not the one investigating it.
“I am not too familiar with that area as that is a newer location,” Angelo says as he sits in the armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table from me. “I do believe I remember hearing about that though.”
“It was an unfortunate situation for the elderly man,” I say.
“Were there any witnesses?” he asks.
“I can’t comment on any details of the case, but we are looking at all angles,” I say, and he smirks.
“So, you do,” he chuckles. “Let me ask this way... is this something I need a lawyer present for?”
“You don’t strike me as someone who would punch an old man in the head to steal thirty dollars and a subway pass, but I’ve been surprised by less,” I say.
“Also, your alibi has been verified for that evening, so unless you just like paying your lawyer to be bored, I’d say you don’t need them for this conversation. ”
“But I do for another conversation?” he asks.
“I am only discussing the murder of Robert Alexander today,” I say simply. He sits back and narrows his eyes slightly with an amused look on his face. He’s a smart man. He knows that’s not what I’m here for. I relax a little when he takes his eyes off me and motions for someone behind me.
A woman comes over and has three glasses of what looks like lemonade on a tray. She sets each cup down in front of us before leaving the den. “Please, have a drink. Martha makes wonderful lemonade,” he says.
“Oh, that’s alright. I don’t really have much sugar,” I lie.
“Ah, it’s sweetened with stevia,” he smiles deviously. “Enjoy. It is a family recipe.”
Reluctantly, I pick up the glass. Mario and Angelo are watching me closely as they sip from their cups.
I know I’m in a bad position, but it still surprises me when I take a healthy sip from the straw.
The bitter taste is like a punch to the face.
I jump from my seat, dropping the glass to the floor as I back up.
Somehow Mario has already made it around the couch and is behind me because the second I go to pull my service weapon, he snatches it from my hand and moves away from me.
I stumble as I try to back away from Angelo whose demeanor has completely flipped.
He hardly seems like the same person as he advances on me.
I turn to run to the door, but he wraps his hand around my throat and slams me against the wall.
I am frozen in place and my bottom lip betrays me as it quivers, trying to keep me from crying.
I knew this was risky, but I have my answers now. Phillip Ricci is the leak and Angelo Costa is definitely a mafia boss.
“Why are you really here, Laura?” Angelo asks as he moves his hand to grip my chin.
“You murdered Roberto Abate,” I say, forcing as much confidence into my voice I can.
“I didn’t actually,” he smirks. “Mario did.”
That is a confession I didn’t want to hear.
Telling me that means that I’m about to die.
There is no telling what he just gave me.
I assumed it was GHB, but it could have been cyanide for all I know.
They are both bitter and have the same symptoms. They get into the system in about the same amount of time, depending on the dose.
I am rendered speechless as his admission which makes Angelo laugh. “Phillip said you were a little spit fire who refused to leave this alone. I find that interesting, considering the reason Roberto was killed,” he says.
“W-why?” I ask.
“Because he raped a little girl,” Angelo says. "My cousin’s kid, actually. He was his Little League coach. You’d think someone with your history would want the fucker dead, but you played into the bullshit story that the media fed everyone about how wonderful he was.”
“Murder is murder,” I say as the room starts to spin. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, trying to focus my vision.
“I suppose you are right,” he smiles. “Murder is murder, even if they don’t actually deserve to die. Maybe they are just an overzealous detective on a mission to destroy every mafia family she can get her hands on.”
“He took everything from me,” I mumble as my body becomes weakened. I’ve never thought about what my last words would be before I die, but I refuse to let it be some bullshit where I am begging to be saved. “I wanted to take everything from you the way your dad did to me.”
“What?” he asks. I try to force more words out, but I can’t. My mouth falls open when I try to talk, I just groan as my body goes limp. “Laura. What are you talking about?” He shakes me, trying to keep me from passing out.
He is saying something else, but I don’t understand him anymore as I am moved down to lie on the floor. The world is blurry, but I can clearly make out my mom and dad. Mom is holding a baby, and I smile.
“Mom? Dad? I’ve missed you so much,” I manage to choke out. They both smile at me, and Dad holds his arms out as if welcoming me into a hug. “Is that Bradley? Can I hold...” I lose all of my remaining energy. My eyes close as I slip away.
My body feels heavy, but I feel like I’m floating at the same time. A tremendous weight comes over me as my brain drags me to consciousness. It’s dark outside but someone is carrying me. I am too weak to move, but I groan.
“Angelo, she’s waking up,” I hear Mario say.
“Lay her down out here. She needs the fresh air,” he says. His tone is unrecognizable. If I’m not mistaken, he sounds... remorseful.
I am laid on something that feels like a bench seat.
I roll to the back of the seat and curl myself into the fetal position with my arms shielding my face.
I don’t know what emotion I am feeling yet, so I am just going to protect myself the only way I know how.
When I was in foster care, sometimes the other kids in the placement were absurdly abusive to me because I was so small.
The foster parents didn’t give a fuck that they would put stuff in socks and beat the shit out of me with it.
I always ended up curled up like this with my hands protecting my face.
I flinch when one of them puts their hand on my waist. “Leave her be,” Mario says. “Just give her time.”
“I need her to talk to me,” he says, still sounding defeated.
“Angelo, you nearly killed the woman,” Mario says. “Look at her and tell me what you see right now.”
“She looks... scared,” he says flatly.
“Precisely,” he says. “You won’t get shit from her as long as she’s like this.”
“Mario, don't forget who is in charge of this family,” he says firmly.
“No. I love you man, but you just need to stop. You can’t force shit and expect her not to shut down.
The human mind can only tolerate so much.
She was talking to her dead parents so unless you want to trigger a complete mental break, at least let her come out of her current state,” he says.
“We will be at the island in a few hours, so just give her some time.”
“Alright,” Angelo sighs.
“And watch her because I’m sure she’d rather throw herself into the ocean than be on a boat with us,” he says.
Everything gets quiet for a few seconds, but I hear Angelo move and then he sits beside my head.
I nearly come out of my skin when I feel his fingertips on my scalp.
He gently runs his fingers through my hair.
Each time he strokes my hair, it relaxes me more.
For some stupid reason, I feel safe. They confirmed my suspicions that I was nearly murdered.
Somehow, the man who tried to do it is the one who is calming me down right now.
I let him continue to soothe me as the boat sways, moving us through the water.
I haven’t looked up, so I have no idea where we are, but I don’t particularly care right now.
I’m sure by now, everyone sees me as a laughingstock.
All of that hard work I put in will be reduced to me getting murdered.
Knowing Phillip, they will list it as a suicide or some dumb shit.