Chapter 23 Reinvention Finale
Thank you for your patience! I hope never to string a story out like I have this one. I hit the "wall" and couldn't come up with an ending. As usual, my Beta, Kathy, made this readable.
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Joe Morelli, a.k.a. Antanios Khoury, stood behind the oak tree watching the interment of Helen Mazur and Valerie Plum. The family was arranged single file, holding hands. Frank was on the end holding the younger granddaughter's hand. Joe couldn't remember her name, Mary or Maria. Next was Edna Mazur. The older granddaughter was next in line holding Albert Kloughn's hand.
"Damn, she's not here," Joe muttered. "No way she'd miss her mother's and sister's funeral unless she was too far away or too embarrassed to show her face."
Ranger's earbud whispered, "Forty yards, southeast behind the oak." It was Cal standing in civilian clothes at a different grave.
"Copy one," whispered Ram. "Copy two," whispered Cyrene.
Carlos moved slightly to his left giving Joe Morelli a better look behind Edna.
Joe saw someone move behind Edna. It was Carlos Manoso. "What the hell is he doing here?"
By the time the graveside service ended, Joe had his answer. Frank was holding one granddaughter's hand, Albert the other. Apparently the third child was left with a babysitter. Edna was relying on Manoso to walk through the uneven cemetery ground. She was visibly shaken, having just buried a daughter and granddaughter. Even Joe's hardened heart understood the need for a strong and steady arm. Edna always had a softer spot for Manoso over Joe.
Joe had been unable to find out anything about Stephanie Plum. He hadn't attended the viewing as it was filled with people who might recognize him. Instead he waited outside in the dark to talk to people as they left. The early gossipers were remarking the reason Stephanie hadn't attended as she was overseas with her job but was able to pay for the two funerals. The consensus was split, the daughter should have attended the funeral and others were commending her generosity. Some were still passing around the transgender gossip about Stephanie becoming Steven. After seeing her at Pino's, Joe didn't entirely scoff at the gossip.
All were surprised at the appearance of Edna, Frank, and Albert. They truly found the Fountain of Youth in Florida. Several questioned why Carlos Manoso was present until others reminded them Frank had been an Army Ranger years before. Perhaps Carlos was supporting a fellow Ranger. Finally a few viewing visitors remarked about Carlos Manoso's very professional looking wife, the redhead. She was very athletic but then what would one expect from Rangeman. Nobody understood how he could have been in love with Stephanie Plum, she was ordinary looking, mentally unstable, and prone to one disaster after another.
A few scattered gossipers brought up the failings of Joe Morelli, his drug charges. "I'm sure Stephanie drove him to drugs the way she drove her mother to drink."
Joe did not attend the church ceremony. It was harder to hide in the church. He did watch from across the street just as he was doing at the cemetery. Just like here at the interment, there was no Stephanie Plum. He had no target. Joe's handgun remained in his pocket. He returned to his car and drove back to East Windsor and his wife.
Once back at Casa Manoso, Michelle noted her grandmother's wane waning appearance. "Grandma, do you want to go upstairs and take a nap?"
Edna mentally shook herself, "No. I'm afraid I might slip away in my sleep. I need to be among the living." Putting her arms out she motioned for Michelle to come to embrace her. "I need your strength right now until I get centered again. I have to stay around to greet your young one. Hopefully, the baby looks like your husband."
Michelle understood. While she had "a thousand chores" none were more important than being with her grandmother and the rest of her family.
The following morning, Ranger was the first one down the stairs and into the kitchen where he found Edna humming while she cooked sausages. Ella was nearby mixing batter. The two women looked radiant. "Good morning ladies."
Edna's eyes shone as she put down her tongs and came over to Ranger wrapping her arms around his chest. "Indeed it is a lovely morning, stud muffin. I can't thank you enough for all you've done for us."
"You seem chipper today, Edna," Ranger said as he carefully reached around to take Edna's hands. He didn't trust the twinkle in her eye.
"Today is a new day. The number of days ahead for me is far less than what is behind. I can't afford to waste any. What was is past. It can't be changed, but I can face the sun and move on, plus I have a few gentlemen friends waiting for me back home." She hooked her arm through Ranger's and walked towards the dining room away from Ella. "Michelle told me you had a visit from my husband while recuperating in Florida."
Ranger wasn't entirely sure if it was a visit or a reaction of to some of the pain meds.
"Carlos, I was so depressed last night, I was afraid to go to sleep. I even considered crawling in bed with you and Michelle but didn't think you would appreciate it."
Ranger's eyes opened a bit but saw Edna may have been kidding. He hoped she was kidding.
"Last night, my dear husband came to me before I went to sleep and told me it wasn't my time. I needed to get back to living. Each day is a blessing even if it is filled with pain or disappointment. I asked him if he was tired of waiting for me and he smiled and said, 'My dear, time has no meaning here.' He also told me I was not to blame for Helen or Valerie. He reminded me that I encouraged Helen to explore the world before settling down in marriage, but she was never interested in being anything other than a wife and mother. With his urging, I remembered her constantly berating me for not keeping a perfect house, joining my lady friends playing canasta, dancing the night away with my husband, and playing cowboys and Indians with Step…Michelle. I can still feel the rain as it bounced off my face as I taught your wife how to catch raindrops in her mouth. Valerie stood inside and scowled. She drove my husband and me crazy. I figure she was a genetic mutation, a termagant, and she passed it on to Valerie. Thankfully, my other granddaughter inherited the happier, crazy Mazur genes. Michelle should have had a better childhood. I hope you continue to let her be the free spirit she's tried to be for so long."
"I'm trying, Edna."
"She is free but also responsible. She is finally enjoying life. Losing her mother and sister the other day was stressful. That little bit of Stephanie she hid hoping for the miracle reconciliation surfaced again. Father Lourdes talked to her before the viewing and helped her understand not everything can be resolved. We carry regret but cannot let it carry us. All we can do is ask for a helping hand from above."
Ranger kissed Edna's cheek and said softly, "I hope our child or children inherit the crazy Mazur genes. I look forward to the challenge."
Albert Kloughn needed to get back to work. He and Lisa left the second day after the funeral. Frank, Edna and the two girls stayed a few days longer. While the family had fractured, they were bonding together again. All made a point to stay away from the Burg and rarely left Casa Manoso. But the proximity to the Burg further depressed them. They wanted to see old sites but the thought sickened them. They had made new lives in Florida and decided to return. Carlos promised to bring Michelle down often before the baby was born.
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The winter cold gave way to a lovely spring in New Jersey. Vito Grizzoli had been at his winter home in the Caribbean since early October. He had grown to detest winter cold. His work was handled locally by his consigliere, his underboss, as well as the capos with near daily phone or email communication. He received daily notes from his niece, Terry, in Sicily. She was happy there. Before he returned to New Jersey he decided to visit her in Sicily. He wanted to share in her happiness.
The flight to Palermo went via Paris. To break up the trip he spent a couple of days in Paris. The weather was rainy and cool. He was looking forward to the Mediterranean climate. At least it would be warmer on his aging bones.
He and his bodyguard had reservations for a few nights at Le Meurice. Vito appreciated the hotel's grandeur but at well over $1,000 a night it had better have more than good sheets. He and his bodyguard, Rudolpho, decided they needed a walk after the long flight. They walked briskly down the Rue De Rivoli getting the stiffness out of their legs. There were a number of restaurants and cafes in which they could dine, but old tastes won out. Instead of a French meal, they turned into Tutti Amici's. Living in the Caribbean since last fall, they had eaten their fill of fish. They ordered Spaghetti Carbonara. A meal of pork fat could be tolerated one or twice a year. They were wiping their mouths after the meal when the bodyguard stiffened and reached under his coat. "Don Signore Marco Giuffrida is heading our way."
It had been ten years since Marco and Vito had seen one another but the bodyguard was good: he remembered faces. The two Dons met each other like long lost brothers.
"Vito, you are trim and tan, you've been away from Jersey for a while. That place ages people prematurely."
"Yes, the air is cleaner in the Caribbean and the winters are filled with sun, fishing and lovely women."
"Are you now retired?"
"I'm looking at my options, Marco. All these worldwide electronics, international door-to-door shipping, it's hard to establish territory. Immigrants, casinos, legalized drugs, and the building depression make me think it's time to let others fight for the scraps."
"You've done well on the scraps."
"Well enough, but my mind craves a simpler life now."
"Vito, you've never been extravagant. You are more like a cheap SOB."
"No, no, Marco. I have no use for the luxury life. Though having set money aside has let me enjoy my vacations someplace away from the pollution."
"Are you leaving the business to Teresa?"
Vito shook his head no. "She is a very smart but stupid woman. It's said men's brains are in their pants. Her brain is also in men's pants. Lately, she's been making bad choices. I sent her back to Caltanissetta to Zio Umberto. I'm headed there in a day or two to surprise her."
Marco looked confused, "Vito, my friend, I was in Caltanissetta only last week. Teresa left Sicily months ago with a new husband. He's a Lebanese engineer. He speaks Sicilian Siculo very well, so people say, but with a strange accent. Maybe it is the Lebanese."
Vito remained calm but inside a full dialog was under way: She mentioned she would leave Sicily in a few weeks to travel to London and return to New Jersey for the summer. There was no mention of a man. "Where did they go?"
"They went to New Jersey."
Vito said shrugged, "No need to continue to Sicily. Maybe I should return to my little island where it is warmer. Tell me Marco, how is your family?" Vito had perfected the ability to think while listening to others drone on while his mind processed other information. Back at the hotel, Vito fumed. Why had his own men not reported Terry was back in America? Who was this Lebanese? Had there been a takeover? Who was in charge? He dare not show weakness or Ragni would swoop in and clean house including Vito Grizzoli. But he needed to know. Who could he trust?
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Vito watched the young Carlos Manoso move into Trenton and begin Rangeman. He seemed to understand the unofficial rules regarding business arrangements and came to Vito early on. He explained his plans to start a security company but needed to make money first. Vito offered him a job, which Carlos immediately turned down, fearing Vito had misinterpreted the visit. "No, sir, I am going into bond enforcement for Vincent Plum to raise capital. I am not out to break your people's balls or other Family members unless they give me the trouble. I am not a policeman. I will be working to find those who skip out on their bonds. I would encourage your people to keep their court dates."
"I can't control everyone."
"No, sir, but understand if balls need breaking, it is not a ploy against you."
Over time, Vito and Ranger developed a working relationship of trust and honesty. Ranger was willing to do work for the Mob if it wasn't wet work. When Ranger introduced Stephanie Plum to him at a restaurant in Hamilton, Vito could read the admiration, even love, in Carlos' eyes though his heart was far behind. The few times Vito's men got stupid and went against either Ranger or Stephanie, they regretted it, especially DeChooch. After DeChooch's 'suicide', Vito contacted Ranger privately, "Giustificato." (Justified)
Ranger and Michelle were returning from a luncheon appointment with a big client when Ranger's cell phone murmured. He glanced at the caller and answered, "Don Vito, Buona sera. Come è la pesca?"
Vito growled, "To hell with the fishing. I need information. Have you seen Terry recently?"
"Don Vito, please let me pull over to the side of the road. This conversation will be difficult."
Michelle looked over and suspected she knew what was about to be discussed. She pulled out her cell phone and texted back to Rangeman they were parking for an important telephone call that may last a while and the next office appointment will have to wait.
When Ranger stopped the car, he took a cleansing breath and continued with the call, "Yes, I saw Terry two weeks ago in Manalapan Township. Rangeman has expanded into Monmouth County."
"What the hell was she doing out there?"
"Sir, normally I wouldn't know, but things have been happening that concern my company and my wife. I needed more information. Terry has resumed Global Security and moved her territory. She and her husband have a purchased a home in Manalapan Township. It is quite secluded and very well-guarded with active and passive units."
"She has guards patrolling the grounds?"
"Yes, sir."
"I didn't know she was married until two hours ago. Have you met her husband?"
"Yes sir, but not in his current identity. I knew him before. She is married to Antanios Khoury who passes himself off as a Lebanese engineer."
Vito moaned. How did Terry learn his name? Was this a deliberate stab to his heart?
"Do you know him, sir?"
"I knew him nearly 60 years ago. You don't need to know more."
Ranger could guess. The man vanished soon after arriving in America. Did he run afoul of the Mob in New York? Ranger had speculated on various scenarios but never put Vito's name with the thoughts. "Don Vito, Helen Mazur and her daughter Valerie died some months ago. My wife and I agreed she should keep a low profile from the Burg gossipers at the funeral as her new identity is unknown to most. One individual, Antanios Khoury was quite vocal around Trenton looking for Stephanie Plum. His words were very disrespectful and dangerous. For my wife's sake, we identified him. He's Joe Morelli."
Vito mumbled expletives quietly and then spoke clearly, "You said Global is back in business. Are they tied in with Allied as they had been in the past?"
"Yes, sir, and the concrete company, Penchant. All three are now part of a bigger corporation named GAP Industries. Terry and Joe are the CEOs. They are conducting business as before but with a 15% tag."
"Are they successful?"
Ranger was wondering why this conversation wasn't being held with the consigliere or capos unless he suspected they were involved with Terry. "They were originally in East Windsor but there wasn't enough high-end building. They dropped their clients and Rangeman picked them up. GAP Industries is in Manalapan Township where there is an increase in growth. The business deals exclusively with new construction contractors."
"You said Rangeman was also in the area."
"Yes, sir, we are sticking with existing facilities. We are not pedaling drywall and concrete."
"How are they doing?"
Ranger was hesitant. "Fires have started again." Ranger and the rest of the staff had long suspected arson was a way for Joe to drum up new business. Perhaps Vito also suspected.
Vito sighed and his voice aged twenty years, "Thank you for your honesty, Carlos. I wish you much happiness with your wife, Michelle."
"Thank you, sir. Può vivere molti anni." (May you live many years)
Vito huffed, "I seriously doubt it. Come to my island, we will fish and talk about better times. Goodbye, Carlos."
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The betrayal hit Vito full force. Not only was Terry responsible but so was Vito's consigliere. The man should have told Vito that Terry was back. Plus, there was no way she could get control of Penchant and Allied without his help. Then there was Bustello, the attorney. He was in the process of signing over Allied to Terry a year ago. When questioned, he explained Terry had said she had her uncle's permission. She has never been so reckless and disrespectful until the Christmas affari triste (sad affair) with that bastardo Morelli. The newspapers went crazy.
Michelle looked at Ranger, "He didn't know."
"Apparently not. There may have been a silent coup and now Vito's life could be in danger. We don't know if Terry is in charge or consigliere Antonio Scarletta or underboss Franco Franchetta. We need to stay completely clear."
"Will Terry and Joe succeed? "
"I doubt it. Neither is that smart. She succeeded because she had her uncle's backing. Joe was a lousy cop, dancing on the dirty side. He was also lazy. He milked you for information to solve many of his cases."
"Yeah, I finally figured that out. What will happen?"
"Ragni will clean house."
"Who?"
"The Five Families run New York and Northern New Jersey. Ragni runs South Jersey down to Baltimore. Vito's wife was a Ragni. She died years ago and Vito remained loyal and in return he was given South Jersey minus Atlantic City. It was logistics. It's easier to control out of Philadelphia than Trenton. Vito runs the docks, railyards, and unions. He also is heavily into computer fraud. The contraband he let the immigrants run; the Latinos, Russians and the like. Those enterprises are too dangerous now, no code among members. The problem is Vito will also be eliminated as a weak link unless he can solve the problem himself first. Ragni has no choice."
"Joe and Terry?"
"They'd better find a good travel agent and soon. I believe New Guinea might be nice this time of year."
Vito scrolled through his cell phone. The name and number were wrong, but he purposely put it in that way so others wouldn't find it. It was an elaborate code that if called as written would get a car rental agency in Fort Lauderdale. Vito unscrambled the number and listened to the ring.
The voice at the other end was strained yet excited. "Hello?"
Vito waited.
"No, sir, this is not Salvatore's Pizza." It was a code it was too dangerous to talk, but the recipient would call Vito back shortly.
Vito waited for the return call. It was only seven minutes later. "Don Vito, you are recovered?"
"Che tipo di domanda è?" he grumbled. (What type of question is that?)
"È stato detto che stai per morire." (I was told you were dying.)
"Manache!" Vito swore then quickly apologized. "Please, signora, who has told you I am dying?"
"Signore Bustello."
Vito's attorney. "Signora, is anyone else saying the same?"
"Si, si. Antonio Scarletta and Franco Franchetta. They came to the office with Ms. Terry last month. They wanted to rearrange accounts quickly to continue the businesses because you were so ill.
Vito suspected his consigliere and underboss had to be involved as well. He now had confirmation.
"Signora, please tell me you still have the key to the locker."
"Si, si, Don Vito. I have kept it up to date. Do you want me to use it?"
"Si, la mia femminile." (My beloved)
"Don Vito, you have taken care of my family all these years. I will not fail you."
There's nothing like a good spy in Bustello's office. When "the key" is inserted and turned, Vito's leaders will find themselves at each other's throats. Their money and investments will be flushed, and papers released implicating each other. They will be intent on revenge and Ragni will be able to move in with minimal effort. Those who don't pledge immediately loyalty will not see their money or save their lives. Only one other person knows the name of the attorney spy and her brother was sitting in the same room as Vito, the bodyguard. If Vito ever died, she knew to turn "the key" immediately.
Vito prepared "the key" for emergencies, hoping he'd never find it necessary. He had laid out his plans years ago and with a heavy heart he was going to have to set it in motion. Vito hung up and turned to his bodyguard. "We are not going to Sicily."
Terry was like a daughter to him, as he and his wife were childless. Terry's mother was his sister who married a straniero, a foreigner, in Trenton named Thomas Gilman. Thomas Gilman was an attorney who did corporate work for Vito. He was not a trial lawyer so he was never associated with mob defense cases. Terry was a privileged child, the lovely blonde child with more money than sense. She was a wild child and preferred to run with the edgy crowd and in particular, Joe Morelli, his brother Anthony and even the dimwitted Mooch Morelli. While the Morelli boys were out laying everything in skirts, Terry was working her way through the 501 Levi set. She started birth control at age 14 after a pregnancy scare a year earlier. She was an early bloomer. No matter how much she trolled the trash, she kept most of the male fishing expeditions out of Mercer County. Her only permanent companion was Joe Morelli which is why they were voted the King and Queen of the Senior Prom. She went to college at Princeton and got a degree in law from Penn State Dickinson. She returned home to work with her father for a year before his passing and then went to work with her uncle Vito. Fully expecting to become his consigliere immediately, but was told she needed to be groomed for such a lofty position. She accepted her probation but never expected it to last so long. When she asked Vito why, he said her decisions weren't always made with the Family in mind.
"What do you mean, Zio?"
For one, calling him 'uncle' was not the level of respect he expected. He would answer her, "You cannot sleep with the enemy."
"Joe?" She laughed. "I've got him right where I want him. He ignores our problems out of his need for me. He also lets me know when we have legal concerns with the police. More than once he's told me about problems in our distribution areas."
"He's your snitch?"
"Yes," she laughed. "Snitch for my snatch."
Vito was horrified at her crudeness. She was raised to be a lady.
"He's too dangerous. He flies off the handle too often. Look at the way he talks to Stephanie Plum."
"I don't believe he'll marry her. She's a disaster. She'll never be a decent…anything. She's a lousy bond apprehension agent. There's not a domestic bone in her body. The only thing she has going for her is she'll sleep with him on demand."
"And if he does marry her, what will that do to your boy toy?"
"Nothing changes. He's not faithful to anyone but his own cazzo."
When Joseph and Terry were caught nearly In flagrante Christmas morning, everything began to crumble. The photograph broke open Terry's and Joe's secrete. Joe Morelli, a police detective, was sleeping with the Mob. When Stephanie Plum disappeared, the three suspects were Joe, Terry or Helen Plum. Terry's name was in the newspaper way too often. Her usefulness began to diminish. One needs to keep a low profile to become a consigliere and possible heir. The Valentine's Day surprise when Stephanie reappeared to give Joe's engagement ring to Terry made Vito wary of his niece. Was she seriously considering marrying Joe Morelli? When she bailed Joe out and paid for his drug rehabilitation, that's when Vito knew Terry was on thin ice and it was cracking quickly. The Global Security fiasco was the last straw, he should have ended it then, but he hoped Terry would return to the fold. Her trip to Sicily was to get Joe Morelli out of her system. Instead, she married the SOB!
Don Vito lived frugally unlike so many other Dons. He paid Ragni promptly and filtered most of his "excess" money to the Caymans. Ragni had asked him why the frugality and Vito replied, "I would like to retire someday." The someday was at hand, but first he had work to do. He needed to call Ragni.
"Primo Don Vicenzo, Vi auguro buona salute."
"Vito, how is the fishing, my brother?"
"It is time, Vicenzo, it becomes my full-time profession. Ash has settled on the door threshold, I must sweep it clean."
Ragni didn't like hearing what Vito was saying. "Tell me, my brother."
So, with a heavy heart Vito explained what his errant niece had done probably with Antonio Scarletta, Franco Franchetta, and Bustello. "I should have ended it two years ago, but I hoped she would regain her mind. My heart is broken. I will do what needs to be done. I dare not speak for you, Don Vicenzo, but there is a matter unresolved in my heart. The idiot cop trespassed on Philadelphia. I corrected it, but it hurt my standing with Enzo Cisternino. With the coming opening, I would hope the position might be filled by Enzo before Five Families find out and swoop down the Delaware."
"That is most gracious. I will keep it in mind for the future."
"It is only your decision, not mine, as always. The situation will be rectified soon."
"You are not asking for my help?" Ragni asked.
"No. The error is mine, I will clean it up. I will keep it clean."
Don Vicenzo Ragni had always admired Vito Grizzoli's ability to tend to business, keeping the police away from his door. Others needed to learn from him.
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By May, Michelle was obviously pregnant. Being in her late 30's for her first pregnancy, the doctor was monitoring her closely.
"Michelle, the little guy is fine, progressing the way he should. There are no abnormalities which was verified by the amniocentesis. You are keeping your health perfect, exercising as you should, but then I know Dr. Brown wouldn't have it any other way."
"Nor my husband and the entire office," she smiled.
As Michelle and Ranger left the doctor's office heading towards the parking lot, the lobby front desk receptionist said brightly, "Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Manoso."
Antanios Khoury was just exiting the elevator when he heard the exchange. He saw Ranger and his pregnant wife. Antanios froze. He knew Ranger's wife, it was the Army bitch from Pino's, Stephanie Plum. When did she get out of the Army? She shouldn't be out for another few years. Joe quickly turned away. He needed to think.
"Did he see us?" Michelle whispered.
"I was watching the reflection in the door. I'm pretty sure he did."
"We need to lose him if he tries to follow us."
"We'll go to Haywood. He will assume we live there, instead of up north."
"He might be a good training case for our recruits, surveillance without being spotted."
"Talk to Charlie. He'll set up the training. But as far as you…"
Michelle put out her hand, "I know what you are going to say. Years ago I would have fought you, but not now. I understand. I will keep an ultra-low profile."
"You can still teach classes, but you aren't going to be able to do the physical stuff and Ram doesn't want you on the gun range. Last time you were out there you'd rub your stomach after emptying a clip. My son prefers a quieter environment during his development. Everything else you can do from your computer."
"How long?"
"I suspect Vito will solve his problems shortly. He'll want to do it before the FBI comes sniffing around."
Joe was spending more time than he should in Trenton and the surrounding area looking for Mrs. Manoso, the bitch. He tried tailing vehicles leaving the Rangeman complex not realizing he himself was being tailed by Rangeman recruits. The only certainty he had was her OB-GYN appointments in Princeton. In true Morelli style, he tried to put the moves on the doctor's secretary to learn when Mrs. Manoso had her appointments. But the young thing could not be swayed by the aging, overweight former Italian Stallion. "I don't date old men," she brushed him off.
Terry was losing patience. "Are you still trying to find Stephanie Plum? Give it up."
"I found the bitch. She's not in the Army. She's married to that fucking Carlos Manoso. She's carrying his spawn. The bitch owes me," he said as he grabbed the decanter of scotch and a glass and sat down on the couch.
"Joe, you've got a big contract to sign tomorrow on the Perkins Hill Apartment Complex. Please don't drink tonight. You can deal with your anger later. We need this contract."
Joe was mad enough to throw the crystal tumbler across the room, but last time he did that Terry informed him how much one glass cost. Three hundred ninety dollars per glass made Joe consider throwing something far less expensive than French crystal.
Joe's anger abated for several days as the Perkins Hill contract came through. The contractor was pulling his own scams on other suppliers. In the end, the apartments would be built a bit cheaper and monthly rentals would be higher. The customer always paid in the end.
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Antonio Scarletta, Franco Franchetta, and Bustello met in Scarletta's home south of Princeton adjoining the TPC golf course Jasna Polana. They would be finalizing their control of Vito's business. For the record, Vito was still in control until his demise, shortly. At that time, they would assume control. The small contracting business they gladly gave to Terry Gilman and that idiot husband who thought he could hide behind glasses, short hair and a gut pretending to be Antanios Khoury.
The threesome teed up. The 414-yard, par-4 hole required pinpoint accuracy on the tee shot. The fairway bunker on the right was 250 yards from the tee making it an ideal trap for those with strong first tee shots. Trees lined both sides of the fairway and the green. The green sloped from right to left with a bunker catching errant putts. Birdies were rare and bogeys were plentiful.
First to tee off was Antonio Scarletta. He hooked his ball into the trees on the left, "Damn, I hope I have a shot." Next was Franco Franchetta who hit a straight ball 220 yards down the center of the fairway but it trickled to the left coming against the higher cut rough. Bustello sliced his ball over the right fairway bunker but into the trees. "That's going to be a bitch to find," Franchetta said. Bustello agreed and the attorney set off for the woods.
Antonio Scarletta was spending far too much time trying to find his golf ball on the left side. Franchetta walked back, "For God's sake just take a drop and play a new ball."
Scarletta growled, "That's a $5 ball. I'm not leaving Lincolns laying on the ground."
Franchetta laughed, "You'll be laying down Franklins or Hamiltons shortly."
Eventually, Scarletta took a drop, penalty, and played a new ball, but his second hit kept him in the woods, not out onto the fairway. Scarletta swore while Franchetta laughed. Franchetta went ahead to hit his ball towards the green and went back to help Scarletta find his second ball. They lost track of Bustello. As Bustello stomped around the woods looking for his ball and becoming more frustrated, he didn't see the wasps' nest land behind him. A swarm of many wasps came from the nest and began attacking the man right in front of them, filled with frustration and anger pheromones. In an instant, he had several dozen stings as he waved his hands about trying to swat the angry insects away. The hand waving only further riled them up. Bustello stumbled to the fairway and collapsed. He was lapsing into anaphylaxis from the stings. Only his EpiPen in his golf bag would save him, but he ran away from his bag. Scarletta and Franchetta were bushwacking on the other side of the fairway looking for the errant second ball and did not see Bustello.
When the men emerged from the woods and saw Bustello on the ground, they ran to render aid but were driven back by the angry wasps.
Groundskeepers were the first on the scene with pressure tanks filled with soapy water to knock down the wasps allowing the emergency workers a chance to work on Bustello. His throat was swollen shut, a tracheotomy was performed on the spot, but his heart quit soon after. In full cardiac arrest, he was rushed to the hospital in Princeton but arrived DOA.
Scarletta was the consigliere to Don Vito and justified demanding a meeting with Bustello's partners the next day. Understandably, the office was reluctant, preferring to close the office out of respect for their boss. Scarletta wanted to make certain his own records were identical to Bustello's as he assumed he would be the new Don once he contacted the proper party to assassinate Vito Grizzoli. Unknown to Scarletta and Franchetta, Vito's "key" had been turned. Completely falsified records had been switched into the company's mainframe showing Bustello, Franchetta, and Terry Gilman had been stealing Scarletta and Grizzoli blind.
Scarletta went ballistic, "Who the hell keeps the books here?"
The number two in the law firm sheepishly answered, "Mr. Bustello only, handled Grizzoli interests. None of us were allowed to access the accounts."
Scarletta looked at the spreadsheets and portfolios. By his calculation, his wealth should be well over $100 million, but the reports showed he had a paltry $13 million. Franchetta had $78 million and a very impressive portfolio of overseas stocks as well as numerous overseas accounts. Bustello had $159 million mostly in overseas accounts. And Terry Gilman was worth a nice tidy sum of $67 million. Vito had $10 million.
Scarletta stormed out of the office. His mind was racing ahead. He needed to get his money back.
The funeral for Bustello was a large, well-attended affair. Scarletta faked being cordial to Franchetta. Attendance from workers at Bustello's office was lean. Word had gotten out about the swindle by their deceased boss on a Mob account and most thought it best to take a long vacation well away from Mercer County. It was during the funeral's final commendation when the sign of farewell was being performed, the incensation of the casket and sprinkling of holy water, that a tremendous blast and subsequent fire destroyed the law offices of Bustello and Associates, including the computer server in the basement.
That night, Franchetta couldn't sleep. His good friend, Bustello, was gone, his office was destroyed. He suspected Vito had learned about Terry's betrayal and was cleaning house. Were he, Scarletta, as well as Terry in Vito's crosshairs? The more he thought about it, the more panicked he became. He needed to talk to Scarletta. His garage was not attached to the house. As he walked the fifty feet to the garage, Scarletta emerged from the shadows and plunged a knife into Franchetta's heart. As his once friend lay dying, Scarletta spat, "Si muore di morte di un ladro." (You die a thief's death.) Franchetta didn't understand.
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Joe stumbled into his home's entry. He had spent the last two days on a 55-foot cruiser with several young buxom women on the pretense they needed enhanced security for their homes and businesses. The husbands thought the wives were on a ladies only cruise. When the ship docked, one husband sat in the parking lot watching who came off the ship. The women came down the pier laughing. His own wife came down arm in arm with the GAP Industries man, Khoury. GAP had been after the husband's signed security contract for an apartment complex and shopping mall. Before they were halfway down the pier, Khoury and his wife engaged in some serious kissing, fondling and dry humping. The husband quickly recorded the scene and sent a copy to the CEO of GAP, Mrs. Gilman-Khoury with a little note, "Contract negotiations are void. I'm signing with Rangeman tomorrow."
Terry sat at the home bar. She had already downed one drink and was well into her second when she heard Joe's Mercedes pull up. When Joe saw her he said, "Looks like a good idea" and sat down beside her.
Not looking at Joe, Terry asked, "Where did you say you went?"
Joe remembered his lie, "I was in Trenton looking for the bitch."
Terry nodded, "You didn't find her aboard the Silver Sprite?"
Joe swung his head around, "The what?"
Terry flipped up her tablet and played the video of the Silver Sprite at the Southside Marina at Point Pleasant.
"I can explain…" Joe started.
"No, I can explain, you bastard! You were out there making merry and fucking prospective clients' wives. Before you tell me it was a sales pitch, your little personal attention with Jason Spivick's wife has cost us a $17 million dollar contract for his new apartment complex and shopping mall."
"What?"
"Yeah, that cute little Bugatti you ordered the other day. I canceled the order. We can't afford it. We are broke. We need clients more than you need fuck buddies."
"We can get it back."
"No, Spivick contacted me and said he's signing with Rangeman tomorrow."
"Can't you just ask…"
"Ask who? Uncle Vito? Yeah, sorry, old man, we've been lying to you but could you give us $5 million. You want me to go to Scarletta? He was quite up front, we are out, completely separate from the Family business. This is our only income. I betrayed my uncle and the Family for you, a drunken bastard who can't keep his prick in his pants. The last eight contracts, I was the one who worked them while you were running all over Mercer County looking for the woman who bested you. If you don't start hauling your load around here, I'm tossing you on your artificially tanned, fake Lebanese ass, Mr. Khoury."
Instead of going ballistic, Joe's brain engaged. This was his last chance to make something of himself. "OK, OK." He got off the bar stool and went upstairs. There was no way Terry would let him into her bed tonight. He needed time to think anyway.
Joe went to his room and changed his clothes. He would be going out tonight. It had been several weeks since he toasted a potential client's job site but it was the quickest way to get them to sign with GAP Industries. Reduced rates for drywall, concrete and security system helped bring them into the fold. He waited until he heard Terry go into her room. As he began down the back stairs, she was waiting, "Where the hell do you think you are going?"
"Out."
"Out where? To burn more buildings? You promised you would not get back into arson. That will tear everything down. I will not let you destroy what I've worked for."
"What YOU worked for?"
"You are an imbecile. You can't do anything right. You were a dirty cop who could only solve his cases with Stephanie's help. You blame her for your problems. You were a train wreck long before she came along. She had to save your lousy ass when your confidential informant got killed and you were on the lam."
"Leave her out of this!"
"Why? That's all you've been doing for weeks trying to find Stephanie Manoso. You think killing her will solve your problems? You kill her and I guarantee Carlos Manoso will turn you into dog food."
"He's not such a hotshot anymore. He doesn't run Rangeman. He's just a thug."
"Idiot, he's Chairman of the Board of Rangeman with four district offices, 250 employees and an estimated worth north of $500 million what with landholdings and contracts. Hell, I should have started fucking him when he first came to Trenton and thrown your sorry ass overboard. Now get back upstairs and shut up."
"No."
"No? What do you mean, no? Did little Joey find his virilità and testicoli? (manhood; testicles) Or are you simply out to air out your cazzo again?"
Joe snarled, "Get out of the way, bitch." Joe pulled a knife and waved it at Terry. "Move now."
Terry back away and Joe continued down the stairs and to the garage. Getting into his big black pickup truck, he drove away.
Terry went into a frenzy. She began throwing lamps, dishes, anything she could get her hands on. Then she stopped and went behind the bar. She had guns stashed throughout the house, but the bar held a black-as-night .45 Colt. As she turned around to find a place to sit and wait for Joe to return so she could blow his head off, she came face to face, with Antonio Scarletta and his knife.
"I came for my money," he said quietly.
Terry had the .45 tucked up her robe's sleeve. "What money? The money you've been stealing from Vito?"
"No, the $30 million or more you stole from me."
"Bullshit. I got a measly $10 million from you when you've skimmed three times that much or more from Vito. Vito's money should have been mine, but you've been stealing it. I'm keeping what I got."
With that Antonio lunged towards Terry with the knife. Antonio missed her heart, she was severely injured but had enough strength to pull the .45 and fire as Antonio came in for another strike. Terry's aim was spot on and Antonio died instantly. Terry took a bit longer as the second stab nicked the descending aorta.
Less than 10 minutes passed from the time Joe left the front gate to when the guards heard the gunshot in the house. They ran towards the house while another man, dressed all in black left unseen. His car was parked not far away. He would follow Morelli. He knew where he was headed. There was no hurry.
Joe pulled up to the back of a warehouse. Keeping to the shadows, he entered the building and carried out several dozen 5-gallon cans. The watcher then followed Joe to a gas station to fill a gas can. "Stronzo," the watcher spat (asshole). Gas stations have cameras. While the watcher was following Joe's activity, he failed to notice another black vehicle also observing. A Rangeman was keeping an eye on Antanios Khoury, a.k.a Joe Morelli.
Once Joe finished, he went into the convenience store and returned with a brown paper bag covering a bottle. Joe put the filled gas can in the back of the truck and pulled out. The little parade headed out into the country where houses sat on acreages. All three vehicles drove without lights. Joe was a little drunk and had a hard time staying on the road. He used the double-yellow center dividing lines as a center guideline underneath his truck. Good thing there was no oncoming traffic at this post-midnight hour.
Joe pulled into the dirt road leading back to the very large house under construction. Trees hid the house from the road. Neighbors were far off, also behind trees. The second vehicle's driver was back 100 yards hidden behind trees. The Rangeman was wearing night goggles, giving him an advantage. He could stay well back and follow heat signatures. He left his truck and cut through the dense woods, quietly coming around behind the house.
Joe sat in his pickup near the house, drinking from the brown paper bag. He sat for 20 minutes before he got out and began carrying 5-gallon containers into the house. After a dozen containers had been carried in, he remained inside. The Rangeman watched as the driver of the other vehicle snuck through the woods, stopped at the pickup, took the gas can and opened it and poured gas next to the tire closest to the gas cap and set the open container on the ground. He then snuck inside.
The Rangeman knew what was coming and decided to leave. He backtracked to his pickup and drove back to Trenton. While unhappy he had not been a part of the night's activities, he was pleased the problem was about to be solved.
The man who snuck into the house after Joe, watched him place the 5-gallon cans in clusters around the house concentrating against wallboard, not the rock walls. Joe wanted fires set where the draft would carry the flames up to the second floor the fastest. He set one cluster under a second-floor bridge. As he was finishing adjusting the cans, the second man came up behind him and hit him with a section of 4" x 4" wood, scrap from the bridge construction. Joe fell to the floor. His skull crushed in. The man laid the piece of wood across Joe's head as if it had fallen from the bridge above.
The unknown man pried the lid off several of the cans; acetone and denatured alcohol, spilling one over Joe. The paint thinners and turpentine containers were elsewhere. A hole was punched on one can, a rag soaked with the chemical and set as if to catch the leak. The man returned to set Joe's jean's leg on fire. The alcohol burned a barely visible blue light. The man left, ran to his truck and waited. Gradually the house began to lighten inside as the fire became established. The man left, watching the growing glow in his rearview mirror. At two miles away, a whoosh of bright light appeared above the trees. The truck caught on fire.
The mystery man drove to Newark, where he abandoned the stolen pickup. His sister picked him up, took him to a motel where he removed all his clothes, put them into a plastic bag and handed them to his sister. She carried them to the dumpster while the man showered multiple times then rubbed himself completely with fresh cut lemons to remove any lingering chemical smells. Once dressed in brand new clothes, he took out his cell phone and made a call.
"È stato fatto." (It has been done.)
"Hai avuto problemi?" (Did you have problems?) Vito asked.
"Sì, ho preso una multa da una vespa," he chuckled. (Yes, I got stung by a wasp.)
"Spero che non sei allergico a loro." (I hope you aren't allergic to them.)
"No."
The man and woman left the motel well before sunrise. She drove him to the Newark airport and she returned to Trenton arriving before 4 a.m. when neighbors were not yet awake. The man in the trousers, white shirt, and jacket, with no tie caught a flight to Miami. He was just a businessman heading to Miami for an early morning meeting. At the airport he ditched the jacket, changed his shirt to a polo shirt and boarded a flight to the Caribbean, where he returned to his job as Vito Grizzoli's bodyguard.
00000000
Ranger and Michelle sat in their Miami home relaxing after a long day's work. A message from Tank included headlines from several Central New Jersey newspapers over the last few days. Ranger sat reading the news on his laptop.
"Giovanni Bustello, Trenton Attorney, dies from wasp stings at TPC Golf course in Princeton."
"Gas leak blamed on explosion and fire in law offices."
"Prominent businessman Franco Franchetta stabbed outside his garage in Princeton Meadows. Police are questioning his estranged wife."
"Manalapan Township woman Teresa Gilman-Khoury was stabbed to death in her home overnight. Apparent attacker, Antonio Scarletta, shot in heart. Gilman-Khoury's husband was seen leaving the house around the time of the stabbing and shooting."
"Suspected arsonist killed in Howell as a home under construction is torched. No identification has been made at this time due to the severe burns."
"Babe, you might want to read the news from Trenton. Tank sent several headlines. I'm not in a hurry to read the whole stories. If you want to read them, I'll call them up."
"Will they affect Rangeman? Can you summarize them? Otherwise, I could pass for a while."
"You want me to summarize news headlines," he smirked. "You want one or two-word summaries?" Ranger though a moment, "Vito cleaned house."
She was going to correct his count, when she realized what he told her. "Joe and Terry?"
"They aren't going to New Guinea."
Michelle thought for a bit. "Is Rangeman, and particularly one employee, totally in the clear?"
"I don't know. I hope so."
"OK, I'll read it." After scanning the headlines she looked up. "Do you think the body is Joe's?"
"Yes."
"Vito or He-who-must-not-be-named?"
"Vito. Hector would only go after Joe, not all five."
Michelle wasn't sure. Hector still protected her.
Most of the money that seemed to disappear was never found. Without reliable bookkeeping and so much tied up in offshore accounts, an actual accounting was difficult. A second key held only by Vito got into the Cayman accounts holding the flushed money. Some money went to a retired paralegal in Trenton. Some went to Ragni to get new people in place quickly. The rest went where nobody would ever find it, lost in a black hole known as the US Treasury.
00000000
Three years later, Michelle sat at her desk at Rangeman Miami. She had been in Florida for a week and stuck in this chair for seven hours. She was starting to get antsy and sore. The alarm on her computer went off, "Gym time."
"Thank God. I need to M-O-V-E," she said to the walls. Removing her reading glasses and rubbing her eyes, she needed to stretch her neck. As she lowered her head, Francisco came running into her office. "Mommy, mommy, look who's here? It's GG."
Ranger stood in the door with the most solid granite face she had seen in years. "Is there a problem, Carlos?" Michelle asked. He could only shake his head up and down. Inching past him into to her office came Grandma and Grandpa Mazur.
Michelle stared at both of them. One had been dead for over ten years, and the other was alive just last week in Melbourne. Before she could say anything, Edna began speaking, "He came for me. Isn't it wonderful? I've been praying he would come and we could be together again. I'm going to miss you, sweetheart, but it's time. You can cry, but don't be sad for long. It was one heck of a journey."
Michelle hugged her tiny wisp of a grandmother. How had she become so small and delicate? "When did this happen?"
Grandpa Mazur spoke, "Just a bit ago. She was laying down for a nap. I was waiting for her. Frank and the girls haven't found her yet. Before we both go, I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. You've become everything I hoped you would after our little Maine get-together." After giving Michelle a hug and tousling Francisco's hair, Grandpa Mazur turned to Carlos and said, "While you didn't exactly save her, you did jump in and both of you were saved. One final word, son: Stay away from those little blue pills. I died with one heck of a boner. Edna never forgave me."
With that, the elderly couple walked out of Michelle's office, but not before Edna gave Ranger one last pinch and left laughing