Chapter 6
Lucia outdid herself for the party.
She had an interior designer set up stunning balloon and ribbon decorations in Luigi's ballroom. The chairs and tables set out for the occasion were folded over in ivory and gold swathes.
Behind the house on the lawn by the swimming pool, the lighting was improved with the installation of intricately designed lamp posts around more sitting areas.
Caterers were on hand to serve champagne and bite-sized edibles to guests on demand. A jazz band provided music for those who wanted to dance.
It was supposed to be a small, intimate affair. However, it looked lavish, something to suit a large crowd. The guests were awed as they stepped in. Donald Silva was the first to arrive and was instructed by Luigi to send up his lieutenants as they got there.
Luigi waited in his study for them, serving them drinks as they walked in and making small talk. When Donald finally came in with the last one, he sent for Paulo. Paulo came in moments later, looking flush and bright eyed.
“The man of the moment,” Luigi hailed him and gestured at the spot next to himself. “Come, stand here.”
They were in the lounge area of his study.
Paulo stood to the right of his armchair.
To Luigi’s left, his consigliere sat in the only other armchair.
Manzano, the underboss, sat across from them in one of the twin sofas.
Next to him was Alesandro Aldo, the capo in charge of distribution.
He sat with his hands clasped together between his legs, a classic sign that he was ill at ease.
On the next sofa, Julio Amerigo, son of Ignacio Iron-fist Amerigo, sat still, sipping his Bacardi and Scotch on the rocks.
Julio’s father’s mafia empire had been among the most powerful in Harlem until the police found a tattler among his lieutenants. All of his men, including Luigi’s father, Antonio, had been hauled off to prison.
Fortunately for Luigi, his father was the only one among them to escape a life sentence. After ten years, he had been released on parole. Despite the risk of getting caught and going back to prison, his first task had been to find the man who betrayed his boss and make him pay.
Iron-fist Amerigo had two off-shore accounts that had escaped the long reach of the law. His son provided funds to Antonio from them. That way, the assignment was completed in less than a year.
However, after sending the turncoat to his grave, Antonio stepped away from the ruins of the Amerigo empire to begin his own business concern. His son Luigi was among his first caporegimes, despite being a gangly youth at the time.
Little Julio only came around after his own attempts to recruit and set up a fearsome crew sent him to prison. By the time he joined the Frazetta family, Luigi was his father’s underboss and not just because he was the Don’s only son but because the caporegimes looked up to him.
Now as he sat addressing his lieutenants, he wondered if the son of his late father’s former boss was the mole he’d been warned about.
Next to Julio was Eddie Clemente. Eddie also had a glass in his hand, and he was drinking faster than Julio. He was the iron hand that crushed all annoying competitors of the family’s club and transport and security businesses. He was the least likely to betray his Don.
“I called you all here to make an important announcement,” Luigi began. “Earlier this week, Manzano told you all my decision to put our other operations on hold for a while. This was because I came across an interesting business proposition.”
Manzano’s craggy face broke into a smile. His excessive love for money was well known.
Luigi allowed this weakness only because Manzano had never acted out of line in his pursuit of money. While he dipped his fingers in a lot of things, they were never trades that Luigi would disapprove of.
He smiled at Manzano now before he continued talking. “I made a new contact last week who set up a meeting between me and the president of a West African country. The man has access to the purest heroin from Colombia, and he has people who bring it in using diplomatic pouches.”
Luigi paused to let the import of his words sink in. Around the room, he saw different eyes light up.
“All we have to do here is distribution,” he finished.
“What is our cut?” Manzano asked.
“50 percent of profits,” Luigi replied.
“Now that is an insanely good amount,” Julio noted, smiling.
“Only you can negotiate that well,” Paulo said proudly.
Luigi waved away his compliment as if it didn’t matter. “We’re picking the first consignment tonight.”
Alesandro’s brows furrowed. “Tonight?”
“Tonight,” Luigi confirmed. “I’ve secured three trucks for pickups. These are the designated spots for the first consignments…” He jotted down the addresses on a piece of paper and gave it to Donald. “This is not just for Alesandro to do. All of your crews will be assisting him tonight.”
Alesandro drained his glass and rose to his feet.
Luigi rose, too. “And no, none of you will be leaving my party. Just get your crews together and send them to the addresses.”
The men pulled out their burner phones to make calls while Luigi took his leave. His little ploy was now in its final stage. By the end of the dinner party, he’d have answers.
As he went down to the ballroom to meet his guests, Donald went with him.
“You told no one about this meeting last week,” he noted.
“Yes,” Luigi said and waited.
Donald said nothing more. He knew his Don, who never spoke about issues unless he wanted to. This was the first time Luigi was keeping his most trusted men out of the loop. Donald was certain there was a good reason for it.
Downstairs, they found Brooke with Constanza and Fiona, Julio and Manzano’s wives. Her parents hung on the periphery, holding half-filled champagne flutes and looking lost. On the other side of the room, her sister, Camille, was in an animated conversation with Sylvio Rocco, the club manager.
Luigi made his decision instantly and headed toward Brooke. His presence caused a ripple to go through the room. The guests close to his path all scrambled to shake hands or exchange cheek kisses with him.
When he finally got to his guests of honor, they had already turned to wait for him. He flashed them the warmest smile he could muster. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams, I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally meet you.”
Brooke’s father shook his hand, and her mother followed suit. “Thank you for inviting us,” the father said.
Luigi realized then that he didn’t even know the man’s first name. I have failed in my upbringing of Paulo, he reasoned.
“You have a beautiful home, Mr. Frazetta,” Mrs. William noted.
“Yes, thank you. And you two have been blessed with beautiful daughters… absolute treasures.”
Brooke came forward then. There was a tentative smile on her face as she shook hands with Luigi. “I’m sorry for the other day, Mr. Luigi,” she said. “Paulo explained your silence to me. We should have come to you first.”
Luigi took a deep breath and exhaled exaggeratedly. A broad smile spread across his face. “I wish my son would learn some manners from you.”
“He’s actually sweet,” Brooke replied, “and good to me.”
“If he was anything less, I’d disown him,” Luigi declared.
The small party laughed.
Luigi turned to Mr. Williams. “I must apologize for the short notice of our invitation,” he said. “I just couldn’t wait to meet.”
“It’s okay,” Mr. Williams assured him.
“Where’s Camille?” Mrs. Williams asked Brooke at the same time her daughter started to ask Luigi about Paolo. The band struck up a stirring piece just then.
“Come, let us dance,” Luigi said and took Brooke’s hand.
Her father and mother linked hands to join the dance. Soon, half the guests were on the dance floor.
While they danced, Luigi made light conversation with Brooke. She seemed like a shy girl and was clearly younger than Camille. It was easy to conclude that she was the kind of impressionable woman who would make a good wife for Paulo.
However, Luigi was not one to come to hasty conclusions.
He was Luigi, after all. Most young women would be shy around him.
Even at 46, he was still handsome, with a head full of ebony black hair.
The tales most women had heard about him through the grapevine were usually enough to keep them bashful around him.
He still had to observe her behavior around Paulo.
It was only after the dance that he got the opportunity to speak with Camille. By then, Paulo and the rest of his henchmen were down. The trap had been sprung.
“Are you still mad at me?” Luigi asked Camille.
Camille shook her head. “No. I think I may have overreacted that night.”
“And you didn’t call to tell me that?”
“You didn’t leave me a number to call,” Camille protested.
“You didn’t think to come over?” he pressed.
“I’d already…” Camille heaved a sigh. “Doesn’t this feel weird? Paulo and Brooke? You and I?”
“It doesn’t to me,” Luigi said. For three annoying nights, he had agonized over whether to reach out to her or ignore her. Now, he was on the verge of losing her. Was it the fight? he wondered.
The band was striking up the first notes of new music.
“But if you do find it weird,” Luigi said, “then I’d understand and leave you alone.”
“Dance with me?” Camille asked.
There were a number of people hovering around, hoping to get Luigi’s attention. He ignored them completely now and took the hand she offered.
* * *
Just after Paulo and Brooke cut their engagement cake, Donald came to Luigi. The blankness on his face told Luigi everything he needed to know even before the consigliere bent to whisper the news in his ear: Weinberg had raided the pickup points and arrested his men.
Luigi instructed him to go up to his study with his lieutenants and wait. As they followed orders, Luigi went out to his estate’s security post to leave strict instructions. “Do not let anybody in or out of this property except by my leave,” he told them.
As he walked back to the house, he made a call to John Campo: “More than a dozen of my staff have been arrested at the wharf because they went to pick up sacks of flour.”
“Flour?” John asked in bewilderment. “Why would the police arrest them for that?”
Luigi grinned. “Beats me. Anyway, I need you to get them all out immediately. Threaten those cops with everything you can think of. Whatever happens, my men are all getting out tonight.”
“Of course,” John replied.
When Luigi finally went into the house and up to his study, he met grim-faced men.
“I’ve sent an associate to the precinct,” Donald told him.
Luigi shook his head. “Call him back. I’ve sent someone else.”
Donald frowned in puzzlement and cocked his head. When Luigi said nothing in explanation, the frown evaporated, leaving behind an unreadable blankness.
“I have absolutely no idea how this happened,” Manzano said.
“We have a traitor in our midst,” Luigi said. “That’s why it happened.”
“What?” Paulo’s eyes were wide. “That’s impossible!”
“Be quiet,” Luigi snapped. “You’ll each submit your cellphones to me and answer any questions I ask. Until I find out who betrayed us, nobody is leaving this property.”
A hush fell over the room.
* * *
All through the night, Luigi questioned his son, his consigliere, and his caporegimes. While they bristled at the indignity of coming under suspicion for a crime as low as ratting, none of them dared to challenge him.
They submitted their cellphones meekly and answered all his questions.
There was nothing incriminating in the phones, and their arguments for their innocence all checked out.
Determined to get to the root of his inquest, Luigi widened the net to the other guests in his house.
Under his direct supervision, he had Dante gather them all from the poolside and lead them to the ballroom, where he collected their cellphones.
Predictably, they offered no resistance.
Rather, they were terrified. Brooke burst into tears, and while her parents comforted her, Camille protested what she described as their humiliation.
Luigi only gave them superficial apologies and had Lucia usher them into the guest rooms around the central area of the house.
The rest of the night was spent poring over call logs, texts, and sent emails and email inboxes. Still, the truth remained hidden.