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Authors: S. W. Frank

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BOOK: Avarice
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Nico shut the door, knelt to remove a nasal inhalant along with a sharp scalpel. He never removed his gloves. There wouldn’t be
any time to sanitize prints. He hoped Bianca remembered not to touch anything up front with bare hands.

The small bottle was placed at the jeweler’s hairy nostril and squeezed. He coughed awake, eyes opened and when he went to sit forward found he couldn’t. “Take whatever you want,” he said. “Please I have a family.”

Nico ignored the plea. “I’ll ask a question. Answer. If you don’t answer satisfactorily I take a finger.”

The man’s eyes bulged. “Okay…okay.”

“Did you buy diamonds from a South African named Gamba?” Was Nico’s test question.

“Yes…yes.”

“Who assisted in getting the clearance for the shipments?”

There was a hesitation from the man. Nico covered the man’s mouth and severed his pinky. The heat of the man’s gulps warmed Nico’s leather encased palm. The eyes which had bulged were wet as the pain of the missing digit shot up his arm. When he quieted to a whimper, Nico’s hand retracted. “Let’s do this again,” he said and placed the scalpel to another finger.

“Wait…Don Vecchio…Vecchio!”

“That wasn’t so bad was it?”

The man cried buckets. “Please…please…I have money…take it.”

“No thank you. But I do have more questions…” Nico started but the sound of the front buzzer cut his words.

“That is my eleven o'clock appointment. He has come early. But he will know something’s wrong if I am not here.” The jeweler babbled.

Nico taped his mouth to watch the monitor. Bianca buzzed in the customer. They talked, the case was being opened and jewelry placed on the counter. Bianca wore a smile which enamored the man apparently because he boldly touched her hand. She pulled it back, but Nico had this feeling, killers often do when something is not as it seems. He looked at the screen and noticed the shoes were black sneakers. The coat although wool, from the clarity of the film was cheap quality. Before he could stand, the man’s hand brandished a weapon and shoved the barrel against Bianca’s cheek. A robbery at 10:36 in the morning. This was not the rich customer the jeweler expected, but an amateur thief.

 

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

 

 

 

Bathed, fed and sexed had restored a portion of Alfonzo’s lost energy. He wasn’t yet one hundred percent, but hell he wasn’t dead either. He’d managed to complete a few push-ups. His body groaned lazily and he pushed past muscular complaints. Get the blood circulating, tighten the muscles loosened from the days of sedentary living, is the motivational speech he repeated to keep moving. Working against gravity he did a handstand, letting the blood rush to his head, curled his legs and then bent his arms several times to go up and down until the moans became acceptance.

The door opened and Anita stood there. “Buenos dias, I see you’re doing better,” she said.

Alfonzo stood upright and then flopped on the bed. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“Sergio wants to speak with you.”

Alfonzo sighed. He considered sending his cousin away but figured what the hell. “Let him up.”

Anita gave an affectionate smile. “I am glad you are better. Do not overdo it. Get back in bed and I will bring you lunch soon.”

“You’re trying to turn me into an invalid.”

“No, these are your wife’s orders. She says you need the rest because you have yourself too long.” Anita waved her hands at him. “Now back to bed!”

Alfonzo felt like a kid as he climbed back in the bed and Anita came to tuck the covers around him, squeezed his cheeks and then departed.

Alfonzo chuckled.

Then as he snuggled to the pillow, Sergio entered. “Hey Alfonzo, I didn’t know you were sick. Are you all right?”

Alfonzo noticed the bruising to his cousin. “What the fuck happened to your face?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing swelled your lip, okay.”

Sergio shru
gged. “Matteo and I had a misunderstanding.”

Alfonzo slid up. “Matteo paid you a visit?”

“Yeah, but it’s cool.”

Alfonzo squinted. “Are you sure Sergio that I don’t need to talk to Matteo?”

“Nah, nah, I’m going to Italy and pay him a personal visit. I came tell you I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah. I’m going to stay with Lucia. I asked her to marry me.”

“Did Matteo strong arm you to make that decision?”

“It doesn’t matter. I love Lucia.” Sergio sat on the foot of the bed. “Tell me something though cuz, how do you keep your relationship fresh and the love solid?”

Alfonzo closed his eyes for a moment and opened them with a scoff. Sergio had a lot to learn, didn’t he? “Every relationship is different. I suppose you have to know yourself and what you’re willing to give to make a relationship work. Sergio, nurture her mind and body. Women do that all the time for their men. Be good to her Sergio, don’t lie and cheat. Respect, honor and being loyal is
the only way I can love my wife, otherwise I’m saying words I don’t mean. But we’re all different.”

“I envy you man that you’re able to make sense out of shit when I’m still struggling to understand.”

Alfonzo didn’t have a chance to respond. Giuseppe entered, obnoxious and crass as usual. “Why was I not invited to this meeting, eh?” Then he dived on the bed, put his hands behind his head and said, “Okay continue.”

“Man get off my wife’s pillow, she doesn’t want to smell your stink ass underarms!”

“Ah, she has smelled far worse with your breath.”

“You own the bad breath department.”

Sergio grinned at their repartee. Sometimes they acted like kids.

Giuseppe kicked his legs out. “Your beds are always too soft.”

Sergio joined the fun. “This bed is too soft, and this one is too hard…”

“And then the big lug broke the bed down,” Alfonzo finished.

“Because it was too weak to hold someone strong!” Giuseppe admonished.

Sergio’s fist covered his mouth. “Ah, that was good.”

But Alfonzo’s wit wasn’t lost and he countered. “It was built for refined men not jungle beasts who see furniture and think they’re in the woods.”

That got him a slap in the head and a wrestling match ensued. Sergio stood clear. Grown-ass men tussling on a bed is worse than little boys.

They would’ve gone on longer if Emilio hadn’t knocked on the door and then walked in after Alfonzo shouted, “It’s open, turn the damn knob!”

“Holá Alfonzo, Jessica sent me to check on you. She heard you were sick,” Emilio announced.

Alfonzo scowled. "Damn ya'll gathering for the dead or what?"

“She was worried.”

“Tell the chica, I haven’t died yet and for being a pest I’m not leaving her shit in my will.”

Giuseppe roared. “Now that will kill her cugino!”

“I’m going to take off,” Sergio interrupted.

Wise aquatic eyes roamed the faces and settled on the loner who many didn't understand.
Earlier Sergio shared his plight and said he envied Alfonzo's life. Alfonzo had to set the record straight because it's something they all needed to hear. "Never envy anybody’s life primo...never think anyone has it easy. I understand what you're dealing with even if other assholes don't. I know how it feels to be told you aren’t shit. That stench follows you everywhere." A finger tapped his sweaty forehead, flushed red by wrestling with Giuseppe. "I changed how I thought about myself; that's when I cleaned away the smell. You’re a solid guy...fuck the negative crap anybody told you...you've proven them wrong. I’m proud of you. Don’t worry I got your back primo… your side and your front.”

S
ergio looked down at the floor. To Alfonzo say he was proud of him…him…the dude who sought out his father for cash but gained a family was like hitting the lottery. Damn. “Thanks, that means a lot.” On this quest to maturity he went unaided. He swallowed the fear of uncertainty, realizing the future appeared brighter with the support of his family. With a nod he took his leave. During his departure mean ass Giuseppe called his name. Sergio turned around and the words he never thought he'd hear were spoken. "Cazzo, I too am proud that you have grown a pene. Call if you need my assistance. No one beats mio cugino but me, capisce?"

“Yeah...yeah…whatever the hell it is you just said.”

Giuseppe tossed Selange’s pillow at Sergio and then the brothers were at it again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

 

 

Bianca placed her hands in the air as the man gathered the jewels from the counter. Perspiration ran from his forehead despite the cold temperature outdoors. He was nervous which is not a good sign.

“I never liked my boss, he was always very mean to me,” she said as a distraction. “I am glad you rob him.”

The man seemed surprised. “He was?”

“Yes.”

The robber relaxed. “He’s stupid. Don’t worry I won’t hurt you lady. I just need the money. I got laid off from my job and with Christmas coming…bills…you know?”

“Yes, it is very hard.” Bianca agreed. “There is money in the register.”

He put his hand on the counter before reaching over to open the drawer. The amateur did not wear gloves and Bianca shrugged. She had considered killing him at that moment but decided robbery was a perfect ruse. Let the foolish man explain the bodies when he got caught.

As promised, he did not harm her. In fact as he exited he apologized. “I’m really sorry. Have a Merry Christmas.”

The door closed and Nico stepped out with Bianca’s pocketbook. He tossed her an antiseptic. “Wipe his handprints and yours.”

“But Nico this is perfect.”

Nico overheard the entire conversation. The desperate guy wasn’t a killer. There were three dead bodies in the back room. The poor sucker would get life in prison for committing murder during an armed robbery. No, he didn’t deserve imprisonment for being stupid. Had he come with that rubber gun when the guard was alive, he’d be dead for sure. He vetoed Bianca and cleansed the prints himself. He didn’t have time to debate. There’s no guarantee the guy wouldn’t get caught, but at least the police wouldn’t find any evidence.

Now if he chose to confess, well then that’ll make him a jack-ass.

They were on the street minutes later, strolling with pretentious smiles past windows with holiday decorations. Nico glanced over his shoulder. In front of the jeweler’s shop, the eleven o’clock customer had arrived. His finger was pressed to the buzzer and his face peered in the glass. Had they lingered a moment longer, the body count would have risen to four.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

Sal and Allie were with Jessica and her mom at the mall shopping for last minute gifts. They had full escorts, nothing new in that area. Allie had often complained about the mean men, but after Africa she was extra friendly to the guards. Selange supposed she felt bad about the way she treated Estefan and wanted to make up for it. There’s no way to do that, though. When someone dies the things you never said dies too.

She sat with the Angelina and Vincent on the patio for lunch, watching their dimples as they chewed. Visitors were coming in and out. Family, mostly, except for Tony who recently arrived.

Phone calls to her staff, prearranged gifts and a holiday party she left in the hands of her assistant Cam. Giving back was her mission. Fleeting is this life had become her motto and she never wanted to have any regrets that she hadn’t done enough or failed to make a difference no matter how miniscule.

“Daydreaming, eh?”

Selange leaned back when Giuseppe picked up Angelina, inserted himself in her chair and then cradled the toddler on his knee. Why did he always smell like washed money, Selange wondered? “Not really.”

Vincent offered his Uncle a piece of his sandwich and Giuseppe did not decline. “Grazie Vincenzo,” he thanked the boy sticking the bread in his larger mouth. “Very good.”

Angelina giggled and Vincent smiled before feeding his Uncle more. Selange found their happy faces contagious. Despite her brother-in-law’s acerbic tongue he was great with the children. Selange spoke first, “I’m sorry about your car. I’ll cover the bill. Shanda told me you’re demanding she pay but I’m the one who put her up to it.”

Giuseppe took her drink and gulped it down before she could stop him. “Mimosa in the afternoon, not so innocent a drink, like you, eh?” he said sitting the empty glass down.

“That was rude.”

A grin is what he gave in response. He bounced his niece up and down. Angelina laughed along with her Uncle. “I do not need your money.”

BOOK: Avarice
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