The Mafia Trilogy (22 page)

“People tried to hurt us, but we escaped and everything is okay now.”

“Well, that’s good. When do I get to see Rosina?”

They’re listening. I say trouble, and she doesn’t even blink. She’s good. She’s sending me a very clear message that she already knows everything I’m telling her. Tell her something she doesn’t know.

He looked around in a conspiratorially way and whispered, “I need your car. I have to drive somewhere. I can fix things.”

Mrs. Capote reached in her purse and produced her car keys. A white piece of paper was attached to the key ring. She slid them across the table and tapped it twice with her finger.

Darwin waited a breath and then looked down. Written in pencil, he read the words:
FBI listening.

He looked up and nodded so subtly that only she could tell.

“Go, Darwin. The car is two rows up. Push the lock button, the horn will honk to help you find it,” she whispered. Then she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Save my daughter again. Get the bastards who have done this to you two. I heard what you did in Rome for Rosina. I’m proud to call you my son-in-law, even if the men running to this table right now don’t think so. You’re a real man, Darwin. Now, get out of here.”

Darwin squeezed her hand back and jumped up from his chair so fast he knocked it over. He ran for the Starbucks door, spilling empty chairs behind him to block his pursuers’ path.

He hit the door in full sprint and bolted for the second row of cars. He recognized the two-door BMW convertible right away.

One look over his shoulder, and he saw two men coming out of the Starbucks behind him.

He made the car, dropped into the front seat, cranked the engine with the stick already in first, and popped the clutch. Spinning out of the parking spot, his door slammed shut with the forward motion.

He saw the two men coming to a stop in the rear view mirror.

There was only one place to go. He had no leads on any mafia family members. He knew nothing about them, where they hunkered down, or where they did business.

But there was one place he knew where this had all started. One particular store where he tried to do the right thing and now he was paying for it.

The store where he had to shop, even though he hated going in there, for the mint tree lotion that Rosina had grown to love so much. He’d read about it online and looked everywhere for it, until one day someone said you don’t go to the Body Shop in the mall for that. You go to an adult store.

The same adult store in Mississauga where he bought his wife her lotion. The same adult store where a man had carelessly dropped a piece of paper that had the address to Buttonville’s old airport location and the time for that night’s meeting. The note had said
group therapy for phobia sufferers
.

When Darwin picked up the paper, he read the heading quickly to see if it was worthless, and then tapped the man on the shoulder to hand it back to him. The two words
phobia sufferers
had caught his eye.

He’d gotten a cold stare, handed the man the note, looked away and went to buy his wife her mint tree.

It was the same man he killed later that night when he’d ventured out there, in the dark, which he would never normally do, to see if he could join or sign up for the group therapy on phobias in his yearning to heal even more so Rosina didn’t have to live with his worst moments. He had wondered why it wasn’t being held in a doctor’s office or a counseling office. The fact that he had decided to go in the dark would be a step in the right direction and maybe he would have triggers to deal with that could be talked about during the session if he could stay.

It was all for his wife.

But that man, Vincenzo, had stumbled in front of his Ford and with the interior light on, Darwin hadn’t seen him until it was too late.

It all started at the adult store.

It would all end there too.

Chapter 15

Alfred came up and knocked on her door an hour later. She lay spread-eagle on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“They’re gone,” he said through the door.

She didn’t answer him. She lay there, happy as hell that her parents were okay, but missing Darwin so much it hurt.

“Rosina, can we talk?”

“What do you want?”

“Can I open the door?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry. I agree, the FBI looks like a bunch of bumbling fools here. Remember, though, it’s not me. I just came on duty. I, personally, didn’t do this stupid stuff. So if you need someone to talk to … I’m here.”

She waited a moment. “You can open the door.”

The knob turned and he opened the door. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I have news. It’s not good, but it’s not bad either.”

“What is it? Just tell me.”

“We have visual confirmation that Darwin is alive and well.”

She turned her head and looked at him sideways. “Where is he? Are you bringing him here?”

“Not exactly. He met with your mother at a Starbucks in Mississauga.”

“Darwin went to a Starbucks? He must be on the run for sure,” she said and smiled, attempting humor.

Alfred frowned.

“Never mind. Go on.”

“He met with your mother, and she gave him the keys to her car. He left in her BMW when my colleagues tried to talk to him.”

“So now he’s running from the FBI. You guys must be really scary. Or do you think it’s because he’s figured it all out and doesn’t trust the very people we’re supposed to trust?”

Alfred dropped his head a little and looked at the carpet. “I guess we deserve that.”

“Damn right. Now, tell your colleagues to get the real bad guys and stop worrying about my husband.”

Alfred stepped out and clicked her door shut.

Rosina rolled into a ball and prayed it would all end soon.

When Greg interviewed him over and over and took his statement the night Vincenzo was run down, Darwin never revealed the adult store connection. He couldn’t allow Rosina to know he would ever visit a place like that.

It wasn’t a bad thing. Many good people shopped in stores like that. He was sure of it. He was a good person. He shopped there.

It was more about her preconceived notions of what an adult store represented. Pornography, smut, low lifes, and sexual deviants. Sure, in some of the trashier places, there could be an element of that. But in the nicer ones, it was a real store with real products for men and women and loving couples.

Darwin believed it was something Rosina would accept better in years to come, but so far, in their relationship, anything too deviant had been taboo. He was fine with that. Their sex life was great. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell her where he bought the mint tree bottle yet.

But after this mess was cleared up and behind them, he’d have to tell her. She was his wife now and that meant honesty. Full disclosure. There could be no other way to live.

He pulled into the store’s access ramp and parked in the middle of the lot, leaving the car idling, checking in all four directions to see if anyone watched.

Five minutes later, satisfied he hadn’t been followed and no one spied on him, Darwin turned the car off and got out.

He locked the door and leaned against the side of the car, taking in the area. He couldn’t make any mistakes. If this was a mobster hangout, he could very easily walk in and be killed. He had to be sure. He had to careful.

This was end-game stuff.

He was tired of running. He couldn’t live like this all his life. There was no way. Rosina needed a calmer existence. He needed a calmer existence. He couldn’t produce another novel if the stress level remained this high. These people and their sick, pathetic code of ethics weren’t just fucking with his life and his wife, they were fucking with his livelihood too.

That meant if he was on the run for the next few years under the threat of death, he wouldn’t be able to write well, thereby not able to provide for his wife.

Then he thought of Salman Rushdie and his book,
The Satanic Verses
.

“Oh shit, he did it, didn’t he,” Darwin said to himself. If Salman could run from the Ayatollah in Iran, with millions in bounty for his head, and live to publish again, then Darwin could run from a few mafia boys.

But still, this had to end. No justifications, no figuring things out and making deals. Nothing but a complete cease of all pursuit. The only way Darwin would achieve that was to kill the man who sent out the order.

The adult store was the only contact Darwin had.

He pushed off from the car and crossed the parking lot. The clouds had come in completely now, blocking out the early afternoon sun, a dim grayness cast on everything.

Darwin was only walking, but his breath increased as his blood pressure spiked. It was time again. He could feel the violence in the air.

He rolled his shoulders and bent a little to loosen up his muscles. After the accident last night, even though he didn’t feel like he got banged up too bad, his muscles cramped in strange spots.

A quick check in his jacket pocket told him his weapon was still there and at the ready.

The store’s door opened. A man walked out, a black bag in his hand. He looked at Darwin and sheepishly looked away.

What do you have there? A toy for the wife? Embarrassed much?

Ready to finish this, Darwin hit the door and entered the adult store.

It looked just as he remembered it. Movies on the walls by the door. Further in, the adult toys and then the lubrications and massage oils. Near the counter sat the Kama Sutra section with bottles of mint tree.

The clerk was on the phone, whispering away and smiling like he was talking to his girlfriend. One customer stood in the far corner, surveying movie box covers. He nodded at the scruffy looking clerk and tried to control his stomach. He hadn’t eaten all day, only a couple of Tim Horton’s coffees.

They had more mint tree than the last time he’d been here, but that wasn’t what he was here for this time.

What do I do with myself in a store like this while I wait for the customer to leave? Shit.

He turned around and looked at the toy section. Some of the items were so big, they looked humanly impossible to enter into someone.

“You need any help?”

Suddenly the clerk stood beside him. Darwin jumped a little.

“No, just looking.”

The clerk nodded and turned away.

“Wait. I gotta question. Do people actually use that thing there?”

“What, the Rambone?” the clerk asked, and looked back at Darwin. “Oh, yeah. It’s one of our better sellers.”

“Wow. I’d assume after using it, the user would have to go in for surgery.”

“Not really,” the clerk replied, smiling.

The door chimed as the customer left the store. Darwin was alone with the clerk.

“There’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?” the clerk asked.

Darwin looked him up and down. He wore beige khakis and a brown T-shirt. His hair was unkempt and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in a few days.

The guy didn’t look like a fighter. Darwin would ask his questions, get the answers he needed and leave.

“I want to speak to the Fuccini boss.”

The clerk frowned. “Fuccini who? I don’t think anyone named Fuccini works here.”

“No, not someone who works here. The Fuccini Family boss. I know this store is used as a contact point. Get him on the phone or send out a note. Do whatever it is you guys do, but get me in touch with him. Now.”

The clerk put his hands in the air and stepped back. “Okay weirdo, that’s enough. You can leave now. I don’t know anyone named Fuccini and I have no idea what you’re talking about when you say
contact point
.”

Darwin grabbed him with his right arm and tried to pull him back. The guy spun with lightning speed, both hands wrapped onto Darwin’s forearm. He lifted up, spun again in a circle, throwing his hands above his head without letting go of Darwin.

With his arm twisted like a windmill, Darwin had to bend and roll with it. Before he registered what was happening, Darwin was off his feet and flipping in the air. He landed hard on his back, the clerk still holding his arm.

The clerk’s foot came down onto Darwin’s chest and applied pressure.

“Are you that fucking stupid? Holy shit. You really are just some silly kid who got mixed in over your head. Boy, do I feel sorry for you.”

Darwin tried to twist away, but the clerk spun his arm to point where he thought it would break.