Mobster's Bones (Mobster #5) (3 page)

“Hey, Alessandra, what are you doing here?”

Gus. He hopes to rise to the top of the Mafia food chain here in Palmetto, New Jersey, when Antonio is crowned boss but after what I saw the other night, I think he’ll be lucky to be a gofer for Antonio when the time comes. Gus and I have never been close. Not like I am with Antonio, Vito, Ronnie, and Louie. They are sort of the up-and-coming rat pack of the Delisi crime family. Gus has always sort of been on the sidelines. He’s weird and he always gave me the creeps.

“Antonio invited me,” I tell him, but I don’t share the real reason. He’ll know soon. I have been in this life long enough to know that you don’t share information you don’t need to. If Mr. Delisi wants Gus to know my story, then he won’t make him leave the room when I tell it. You learn the rules quickly.

The warehouse ceilings are so tall that the loud chatter of the mobsters here rings off the walls. I sit down in a folding chair at Antonio’s table. It is easy to spot because his father is sitting down at the head of the rectangle.

Meetings aren’t always here. It depends on the business at hand and who is coming. I’m the only woman in the room. Tonight happens to be a big meeting. The Furlottis are coming—a fairly new alliance that almost went very sour very quickly. The rift that grew was mended, but there is still a ton of palatable tension in the air. I can taste it in the back of my throat as I sit here.

A hand brushes my shoulder and I turn. It’s Antonio. With one glance, he tries to reassure me that everything is going to be all right, but I don’t think he can fix this. Knowing that makes me even more afraid. I look up at him and I feel eyes on me. I scan the room and see the typical good-humored conversations and introductions that are taking place before the meeting starts. Nothing out of the ordinary. Gus is across the room. He is just turning his head to talk to Ronnie. “You okay?” Antonio leans down.

“Yeah. Just nervous.” My hands flip over and over in my lap.

“Don’t be. This is your family.”

I smile and nod. “I know.”

***

“Clear the room! Donny and Antonio stay.” Mr. Delisi turns his head toward me and signals in my direction. “Alessandra, stay seated,” he orders quietly. Chairs shuffle along the cement floor and a murmuring of goodbyes flutter through the attending mobsters as they prepare to leave on Antonio’s father’s orders. My heart rate kicks up a notch.

The ugliest part of this is admitting defeat. The poison that has taken up time in my life and made me afraid to leave my home needs an antidote. I’m afraid the only cure I can think of is to turn to the mob boss. I nibble on my nail quietly as though I’m outside the principal’s office waiting to be scolded.

Donny speaks first. “What’s going on, Alessandra? Antonio said you’re having some problems.”

Mr. Delisi leans back in his chair, giving me his full attention and ready to hear my story. The problem is there isn’t much story to tell. The whole thing has been more like a peculiar feeling until the stuffed animal beheadings.

“Um. Well. I’m sure Antonio told you that someone was in my house.” My hands keep moving in my lap, wringing around and around. “But besides that it’s been little things. Sometimes I feel like I’m being followed or watched. Occasionally, I see a silhouette of a man, then I blink and he’s gone.”

“You’ve had a tough year. Losing your mother. You think part of it could be that?” Donny is insinuating that this whole thing is related to my grieving and that pisses me off.

“Don’t you think I thought of that!?” My words are impolite and my tone disrespectful.

Antonio rubs circles on my back. “Don’t get yourself upset. Donny’s just trying to understand the whole thing.”

Mr. Delisi finally speaks. “Antonio, I want you, Louie, and Ronnie to look into this. Alessandra, you need to let Antonio know if anything else happens. Donny and I will do our own investigation. Until we figure this out, stay sharp and keep the doors locked.”

In a way, I feel like a weight has been lifted, but in other ways I’m mad at myself for not being able to solve this on my own. Going crazy has crossed my mind more than once, unfortunately. Donny and Antonio stand. I get up too.

“Stay, Alessandra.” I look at Mr. Delisi and sit back down. Within a minute or two, we are alone. “You’re like a daughter to me.” Mr. Delisi leans closer and rests his hand on mine. “I have a great amount of respect for your father, and your mother was a terrible loss.” He pauses, and I hang on, waiting for what he has to say next because I know this is leading somewhere. “I think you need to see someone.”

Terrific; the
shrink talk
.

“Your father should not be kept in the dark. Talk to him and get some professional help. We’ll take care of the rest.”

I nod agreement for no other reason than to please him.

“Thank you.” I stand and lean down to give him a hug. I know that he means well and that he actually does care about me. Over the years, he has been very good to my family. And I’m sure he will help me with this.

“You better take it easy this weekend. You played like shit.”

“But we won.”

“The coaches don’t only want a win, they want a fuckin’ show. Alcohol is fuckin’ with your game.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jake mumbles, dismissing me as we walk through the tunnel of the stadium. In the stands, the crowd is cheering and chanting, readying themselves to head out for victory parties. Even underneath in the locker room you can hear the fans. The rest of the team stayed on the field basking in the glow of the win. Jake flips on the lights.

“Your scholarship is going to be history if you don’t get your head in the game,” I comment. Jake’s eyes tip to mine, telling me he has heard this before. He rips off his jersey and throws it on the bench by his locker.

“I’m gonna shower.” Jake’s shoulders are slumped as I watch him walk away. “I’ll be out in five.” I sit on a bench and stretch my legs out in front of me.

“Take your time. I’ll be here.”

I pull out my phone and search through the apps to find a game to play. The fluorescent lights above me flicker and go out. Darkness swallows my sight in the damp smelly windowless locker room.

“What the fuck, Troy!?” Jake yells from the showers.

“It’s not me!” I toss back. “Hold on!” I get up and use the lockers to feel my way around. I press the screen on my phone for a light. I hold it in front of me.

“Shit!” I screech. In the blue illumination, Vito’s face inches from mine.

“Troy!” Jake calls. “Are you okay?”

I grab my chest. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong with the lights!?”

“I’m looking into it,” I answer while continuing to watch Vito with my screen light. “What do you want?” My chest is jackhammering.

“I need a favor.”

“No. Turn the lights on please.” Is this guy serious?

“You don’t know what the favor is.”

“This conversation sounds vaguely familiar,” I reminisce sarcastically.

“It’s just for an hour.”

“A lot can happen in an hour,” I deadpan. “Especially with
you
.”

“Tell Jake you have something to do. I’ll be waiting outside by your car.” Vito walks out of the locker room, flipping the light switch up on his way out. I watch him go and can’t believe this is happening yet again.

Jake appears with a towel wrapped around his waist. “What’s going on?”

“Something’s come up. I have to go.”

“Where? I thought we were grabbing pizza.”

“There is something I have to do.”

“I’ll come with you, and then we can get some slices.”

“No,” I sigh. “I have to go alone. I’ll catch up with you later.”

***

The steps from the stadium are never ending and I clip down them at a fast pace anxious to know why the fuck Vito is back here. From across the parking lot, I see my car but no Vito. He said he would meet me here. I get closer and closer, realizing he is in the passenger seat.
How the hell?
I move faster and fling open the driver’s door.

“How did you get in my car?” I am irritated.

Vito is stoic for a second and then a smile spreads across his face.

“You broke into my car, didn’t you?” I answer for him. “Yup, you did.”

“Drive,” Vito growls.

I slip the key in the ignition. “Where?”

“Get off campus and I’ll tell you.”

Vito directs me to the highway again, like last time.

“Are we going back to Chicago?”

“You ask too many questions.” Vito watches out the window, ignoring me. “Turn off onto the highway, north.”

Silence bangs off the windows of the small interior of my car. Edgy and nervous, I attempt to engage him in conversation.

“How’s Erin doing?” I turn away from the road for a second to see his profile. It’s hardened, his jaw tightly clamped. Maybe bringing up his girlfriend was not a good idea.

“She’s good,” he comments icily. “I don’t like to talk about Erin when I’m working.”

“Oh. Why not?”

I must be really stupid. It is difficult to come to terms with things like this about yourself when you are in a precarious situation. I should have kept my mouth shut. The air in the car sizzles. Vito’s fists are resting on his legs, clenching and unclenching.

Where the hell are we going?

“She’s a distraction when I’m working. All I want to do is be with her, but I have to be here.”

“Makes sense.” I drop the subject. In fact, I make a decision to only speak when spoken to until this is all over. Vito points to a clump of trees. I turn the car and my tires dig into the tall dry grass on the side of the road.

“Here?”

“Keep going further in.” Vito’s deep voice bounces around in the small cab of my car as I navigate through the sparsely spaced trees. I swallow hard, nervous about whatever is going to come out of his mouth.
What are we doing all the way out here?
“Pull over.”
I turn the wheel and park beside a large tree. “Pop the trunk.” Vito gets out and I pull the lever, hearing the squeak of the trunk rising with a snap. I join Vito at the back of the car, dried leaves mashing under my feet, and I stare at the typically hollow compartment.

“What’s that?” I inquire, perplexed by the black trash bag inside. “You put something in my trunk?”

“Trust me. You wouldn’t want to ride with this in the back seat.”

My eyebrows tighten in confusion. My mind runs through different ideas of what could possibly be in the bag: guns, drugs, or something else illegal. My mouth dries up and my breathing becomes hollow and of course I have to ask.

“What’s in the bag?”

“You don’t want to know.”

He’s right. I should stay the fuck out it. Let him do what he has to do and then get the hell out of here. I am alone with a mobster in the middle of nowhere off the highway. Common sense says run, but instead I reach forward and separate the top of the dark plastic, peering inside. Bleach wafts through the air to my nose, making my eyes tear. Another scent comes with it—rancid chicken.

“Holy fuck!” I use my free hand to cover my nose. It’s white, whatever it is. I stick my fingers in a little deeper to get a better look.

“Holy shit!”

Vito rips my hand out and closes the bag.

“See. I told you that you didn’t want to know.”

“Bones!? Of what?”

Vito flips his gaze to me, his eyes communicating,
Are you serious?

I know what the bones are from; I just don’t want to admit it.

Vito lifts the bag out along with a shovel I didn’t see earlier. He stamps off toward a cluster of trees a little ways away. The trash bag is deformed with the elongated pieces inside. Too quick for me to catch it or do anything about it, I double over and throw up all over the crunchy leaves in front of me.

Over my retching, Vito mutters, “
Chooch.
”

A week has passed since I spoke at the meeting. Since that night, no eerie feelings of being watched, no weird coincidences, and nothing out of the ordinary at my house. Dad has been especially attentive, and home. I didn’t want Mr. Delisi to think I was ignoring his recommendations so I placed a call to a health clinic and have an appointment next week to talk to someone.

This morning I actually feel good. I am excited to have a girl’s shopping day. This is the first time I have looked forward to anything in a long time.

“Did you decide on a college?” Dad probes at breakfast.

“I’m still thinking.”

I haven’t told my father but I am planning on applying to Notre Dame. I haven’t told anyone. My reasons are shallow so I am having a hard time convincing myself that there is a purpose other than to see Troy again.

“You’ve had a year to think, honey. Mom’s gone. You need to move on.”

“I know,” I say with my head hanging in my cereal bowl. Talking about it makes it hard and that little bit of excitement for my day turns sour, so I shove the thoughts of my mom’s death down. I don’t want to think about it.

“Maybe you should go talk to someone.”

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“Absolutely not! No one in our family is oobatz!” I laugh at how defensive my dad gets and pop a spoonful of corn flakes into my mouth.

“What I think is yous has been through a lot. Losing your mom fast like that has gotta sting for you.”

“What about you?”

“Life is never the same when ya lose someone. I loved your mom very much.”

“I already made an appointment for next week,” I announce.

“Great!” Dad stands and rinses his bowl in the sink. “I’ve got things to do.” He kisses me on the top of my head. “Spend some time today looking at colleges.”

“I can’t. I’m going shopping with Megan.” My dad frowns but it isn’t really disappointment. It is a fake annoyance. My dad always wants me to do what makes me happy.

“You girls stay outta trouble.”

“We will… love you.”

“I love you too, San.”

Right after Dad leaves, I rinse my dish and go to my room. I reach into the top drawer of my dresser and pull out my application to Notre Dame. I fiddle with the staple in the corner and then chew on my newly polished nail. “I should just do it,” I mutter to myself. Submitting the application is a huge step. I put it back in my drawer, wrestling with whether or not I’m ready.

***

A cherry red Camaro comes to a halt outside my house at noon on the dot. Megan is driving Antonio’s car. I bounce down the steps of my house and swing open the passenger door. Shopping is just what the doctor ordered.

“Hi.” I sit and pull the door closed.

“Hi, San.”

“Hiiiii,” a high-pitched phony female voice answers from the backseat.

“What are you doing here?” Ronnie reminds me of my father—a jokester, likes to have fun, but don’t get on his bad side or you’ll get what my father gives out, rage.

“I’m on Megan duty.”

I look at Megan and she sweeps her long red hair away from her eyes, rolling them.
Great!
I think sarcastically to myself.

“Antonio doesn’t want me going to the mall alone,” she informs me.

“You’re not alone. You’ll be with me.”

“I made that point. Doesn’t count.”

I huff.

“Torturing Ronnie will be fun though,” Megan adds on the brighter side.

“Taking me to Victoria’s Secret will not be torture.” Ronnie bangs the seat with his hand, psyched.

“We’ll see.” Megan’s tone is jeering.

“Anything new with the wedding?” Talking about Antonio and Megan’s upcoming wedding should help keep my mind off things.

“Oh, no!” Ronnie perks up. “No wedding shit!”

“As a matter of fact, I thought we should pop into some boutiques to look at some dresses.”

“Hell no!” Ronnie yells.

“What’s the matter, Ronnie? Are you afraid there won’t be anything in your size?” I razz him.

“How are you feeling?” Megan inquires, changing the mood.

“Okay,” I say with a little shrug of my shoulders. I don’t want to dwell on anything today but clothes and shoes.

***

“This is absolutely gorgeous. With your red hair, it is going to look amazing on you,” I gush while Megan holds up a beautiful slinky black dress. She gives me a skeptical gaze.

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Never. Starting your honeymoon off with a sexy dress is definitely the way to go.”

Megan heads to the fitting room and I give the racks another once-over.

My eyes flip quickly to Ronnie, checking on where he is. Typical, he is on his cell phone by the entrance, probably talking to Antonio about business.

A strappy blue dress catches my eye and I grip the hanger, pulling it out. It is covered in tiny blue crystals. I examine it up close, checking for any missing stones, when my phone dings with a text message. I retrieve it from my purse with one hand to see the screen.

Unknown caller:
No blue.

My eyebrows come together at the odd text and I look at the number—no ID.

I run my eyes over to Ronnie. He is clearly engaged in a conversation, his phone to his ear. His number would come up anyway. My phone dings again.

Unknown caller:
That dress is for a slut.

It dings again.

Unknown caller:
The dress is for a slut who snitches.

My palms sweat and my ears ring with the pounding of my heart. I trace my eyes all over the store. There is a woman a few racks over not on a phone. The clerk is at her register smiling as she checks out a customer.

I text back:
Who is this?

And my breath stays lodged in my throat as I wait for a response. Tears fill my eyes as each second ticks by with no answer.
Snitch! What are they talking about?

“So what do you think?” Megan is out of the dressing room. I pause and look up. “What’s wrong?” My face must say it all.

“Nothing.” I wipe my eyes. “You’re right, it’s too much.”

Snitch.

Snitch
rolls around in my head. Someone knows I told Mr. Delisi. Panic erupts from deep within me.

Who? Ronnie?
I trail my eyes over him, watching him. No. It can’t be.

Antonio, Megan, Donny?
They are my friends.

Vito? Louie?
A stabbing pain begins behind my eyes and travels across my forehead, a headache. Who is calling me from an unknown number? My nose stings and my eyes hurt. What the fuck am I going to do?

“Are you okay?” Megan comes closer to me, and I take a step back.

“Yeah.” I smile to reassure her I’m fine. “Just thinking of my mom,” I lie. “Get changed. I want to try that new Chinese place.”

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yes,” I snap. I didn’t mean to be short with Megan. “Let’s go,” I say more gently. Megan turns and heads back into the fitting room. I tap
delete,
removing the texts, and shut down my phone. I force it back into my purse and swear not to turn it back on until tomorrow. I meet Ronnie at the doorway, wanting to stand close to him. It makes me feel a little safer.

He takes one look at me and tells the person on the phone to hold on.

“What’s up? You okay?”

“I wish everyone would stop asking me if I’m okay! I’m fine.” My agitation is clear and Ronnie backs off.

“I gotta go,” he tells the person on the other end of the line.

Megan joins us. “I’m ready.”

Ronnie takes a long look at me—
too long
.

“What?” I scold.

“Let’s get some lunch,” Ronnie suggests. “I’m starving.”

I nod and pray that I can eat.

***

It’s late when Ronnie and Megan drop me off. I am disappointed that the day didn’t turn out the way I had hoped. Those texts shut down any chance I had for having a good time.
Snitch, slut
—the words swim in and out of my thoughts. They’re harsh words. Telling me to fuck off would be less of an insult and carry less of an eerie sting.

Ronnie’s door opens.

“What are you doing?” I clip.

“I’m going to walk you to the door.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“No, you feel pity for me.”

“What?” He’s confused, but I set him straight.

“Poor girl who’s seeing things and lost her mother.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ronnie’s voices climbs. “I don’t think that!”

“Yes you do!”

“What are you going oobatz for?! I’m trying to be nice!”

“Fuck you, Ronnie! I know you had to come today to watch me, not Megan!”

Megan’s sigh is so loud that I can hear it over our arguing.

“Can I come in and get a drink?” she requests, keeping her voice neutral.

“Of course,” I grind out, flinging the Camaro door open.

My anger starts to fade, and I am not really sure what I was mad about in the first place. The three of us get out of the car and go up the steps to my front door. I unlock it, pushing it open with rough movements. I’m pissed, not at Ronnie, but with the whole day and the fucking loser who gets off sending me cryptic and offensive texts.

My routine of turning on all the lights starts in the hallway and I work my way to the kitchen. I smell coffee like someone brewed it recently. Dad’s car isn’t in the driveway. He must have come home, made coffee, and gone out again. Fleetingly, I think about the fact my father never drinks coffee after eleven a.m. or he is up all night long.

I flip on the kitchen light and it blinks. It takes me a second to realize someone is at the table. I’m startled. I take a step into the room, covering my nose from the earthy rotting smell that mixes with the aroma of coffee. Then hesitantly I creep closer, closing the distance between me and the table. Etched in large letters marring the wood are the words
“I know how much you miss your mother.”

A scream from the deepest part of me comes up and out of my mouth in a deafening screech—another one comes, then another. The screams keep coming; I can’t stop them. I fall to the floor, feeling the cool tiles through my jeans.

Ronnie is over me. His lips are moving but I can’t hear him over the ringing in my ears. He’s mad. He is trying to scoop me up off the floor but I’m fighting him like a three-year-old throwing a tantrum. Hitting, clawing, punching. My screams turn into the word “no.” I yell it until I am hoarse. I want to run but my legs won’t work the way I want them to.

I’m not sure when or how I made it to the couch in the living room or how much time has passed. Everything whirls around me in snapshots. I can’t feel my fingers. I want to move or get up but my body isn’t responding.

The house is a buzz of hushed voices as Antonio, Vito, and Mr. Delisi arrive. The image replays: propped up with a cup of coffee clutched in the fleshless fingers, wearing the pearls we buried my mother with—a corpse. Shriveled skin and empty eye sockets glare back at me in my mind’s eye.

Antonio: “How the fuck can this happen?”

Mr. Delisi: “I don’t know, but everything stops until we figure out who did this!”

Antonio: “I’ve got to get her out of here!”

Mr. Delisi: “Agreed.”

Vito: “I’ll take her.”

Antonio: “You got a place?”

Vito: “Yup.
”

Their voices hush.

Antonio: “Keep it to your fuckin’ self! Can you handle this?”

Vito: “I handle what needs handling.”

Even though my eyes are stuck on the back wall of my living room, I can hear them. It’s like being stuck in a sound box for a horror movie; everything is sharp and surreal at the same time.

Mr. Delisi: “Get her out of here before Vinny gets back, and I want a priest present when she is reburied. Do you understand? Let’s get this fuckin’ done.”

Antonio: “What sick son of a bitch would do this, Pop? A stalker?”

Mr. Delisi: “I don’t know, Tonio.”

Antonio: “This is beyond fucked up. And I’ve seen some fucked up shit.”

Vito: “Whoever did this better hope I never find them.” Vito’s tone, a deadly mutter.

Antonio: “Are they gone?”

Vito: “Yeah. Ronnie went with them.”

Antonio: “Help me get her up.”

Vito and Antonio stand me up. Their strong fingers are under my arms.

Megan: “Here, I packed her a bag.” Her voice is thick like she’s been crying. “Can I go too?”

Antonio: “No, honey. Vito will take care of her.”