Julian’s Bar and Grill sat at the cross section of
Surrounding Carpicize were remnants of the old Capasso Regime, life long members who each equally shared a distaste and distrust for their new Diva. Martina De Rossi, though was in attendance at the funeral, many found her inaccessible and isolated.
“For twenty-two years I stood by Don Giovanni with all the decisions he made, I did my best to help steer this family in the right directions. But this I will not stand for,” Carpicize said from the head of the table. He was in his fifties, but looked forty with his jet black slicked back hair and narrow face. He wore a dark black and maroon suit, his fingers shined with various rings. Down each side of the table were senior members of the Family, each in their late 30s to early 50s, some fat some super skinny; killers and hustlers and thieves sitting around. Everyone not trusting the other more than they could see each other, especially in these tempestuous times of instability. “I will not have an outsider, especially a little girl, take control of the family. A family I worked so hard to bring back from the edge of death!” And Capricize slammed his fist down on the table, emotion splayed out all over his face. He received applause from the thirteen men sitting around him.
“But could it be so bad? I mean, I hear she’s done wonderful things for the Panera Family in
“You think this is good for us? She’s not a fuckin’ war-time capo even! The fucking Don’s funeral is front page news on the fuckin’ Post and Daily News! The fucking melanzane can read, Bobby! They’re going to know we’re a fuckin’ rudderless ship! Maddon’ if my father was alive to see this shit!” And Carpicize was standing now, leaning over the table. The fat faced Mafioso turned red and faced forward.
Carpicize sipped some wine and cleared his throat. “Now understand me here, I’m not saying I should be the boss, but I’m saying that the boss should come from within. And this little principessa needs to go.” His eyes grew wide to make sure everyone got the message. “She needs to go before she grabs on to too much. She needs to go before she meets with any other bosses in any other families. No allegiances can be made, nothing. She needs to be taken out, sooner the better for everyone.” And everyone dumbly nodded along.
“I know some guys up in
“Ok, we’ll talk here in a minute about that.”
Sean Clark walked into the 4-7’s Command Condo and found himself looking at the faces of NYPD’s top brass. He stopped short, slowly closing the door behind him, as three men in deep blue suits sat with their elbows on their knees, cups of coffee in their hands.
“Where’ve you been?” Captain Ramirez said from his office.
“Uh… I had a date?”
“The Commissioner wants a full report on the going ons with the Capasso Family since you’ve seemed to cozy up with this … new capo.” Ramirez said in a hushed tone.
“Heh, I got some news for you then,”
“Well, whatever news you do have, the boss has been waiting for an hour to hear it. I hope for your ass’s sake that this news you got is going to be good.”
“Oh, just you wait…” And
“Ahem, um, sir this is Officer Sean Clark, who’s been working on the Capasso Case.” And Commissioner Kelly extended his hand and
“Looks like you’ve been worked over officer,” the Commissioner said.
“Yeah, you could say that,”
“So what’s to report?”
“Heh, get ready for this,” and
“With the Capasso Family floundering as of late, Don Giovanni decided to look outside for some help to redirect the flow of money into the family. As we know, the Italians have been slowly pushed out from the major money making schemes in this city. But such is not the case in
“That this lady capo is the new boss of the Capassos?” The commissioner said in slight awe.
“Yeah. That means it’s now the De Rossi Family,”
“De Rossi? What do we know about this De Rossi?”
“She’s twenty-four, Canadian National, has a huge apartment on the Upper East Side, well guarded. She’s somewhat clueless as to how much shit she’s in,” and
“Is this credible information?” The Commissioner asked.
“Our CIs are some of the best in the business,” Ramirez said.
“I’ll give you the short version,”
“’The Carpenter’? That’s a funny nickname,” one of the men with the Commissioner said. Ramirez and Clark exchanged a look.
“A ‘Carpenter’ in mafia-speak,” started Ramirez, “is someone who makes bodies disappear. ‘Painters’ do the hits, ‘Carpenters’ get rid of the bodies.” Ramirez said low.
“Oh,” said the man.
“Anyway gentleman, what course of action do we take in light of all of this?” The commissioner asked.
“Well, there’s pros and cons to the situation,” Ramirez started. “We could let them take De Rossi out. She’s the only real leadership element in their organization, and let Carpicize take over. He’s an ineffectual leader, and most of the Capasso Family is too dumb to understand that. Without strong leadership we could bury the major crime family members by the end of next year, and the scraps we don’t get will easily fall in with other families and pollute them from the inside. The other option we have is that we protect De Rossi and use our man here,” and Ramirez nodded to
“How close are you to this De Rossi, officer?”
“Um, I’m uh,”
“She’s taken a liking to him, you could say that,” and Ramirez smiled. The commissioner nodded knowingly.
“Then I say we use our asset here to get in close. I don’t see a need to draw blood over this issue. If things get too hot, we can offer her protection, maybe even turn her into a state’s witness, especially if she’s being chased around this city by trigger happy wops. From here on in, your officer wears a wire,” and the commissioner stood and his men followed.
“Uh sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea,”
“Heh, if you’re going to be hanging out with your new girlfriend all day, officer, you’re going to be getting us some prime cut information, and that’s that.” And the commissioner shook hands with Ramirez and Clark and let himself out.
An hour later
“Hey,” he said as he answered.
“What are you doing tonight?” She asked. Her voice was rich and the accent always put a smile on his face. He looked around the empty condo, Ramirez had gone home for the night already, leaving him to type up some reports that he didn’t really want to do.
“Nothing, just hanging out, why what’s up?”
“I’m having a late dinner with Jack Carpicize at Tavern on the Green in
“Yeah, what time do you want to meet up?” He could instantly hear the happiness in her voice.
“Dinner’s at ten, so be there before that, ok? I guess he’s already reserved a table, so just use his name when you get there, ok? And make sure you look nice,”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” and he closed his phone, got up and started looking through his dressier clothes.
Tavern on the Green was the
Clark arrived a little late wearing a black suit coat, designer jeans and a button up shirt that he left a little unbuttoned at the top. Even though it was night time he wore his Ray Ban aviators to help conceal the bruises on his face which were still healing. Under his expensive clothes he wore his Glock 19 on his waist, no holster, and deep down against his skin he had the tiny wire going from just under his throat down to the little digital recorder at the small of his back. Even wearing it made him excited and jumpy. He was sweating and swearing under his breath.
He walked in and the maitre d asked him if he was with a party. He gave the name Carpicize and was instantly shown to a table in the way back where Jack the Carpenter and Martina De Rossi were already seated, drinking wine and nibbling on an appetizer.
“There he is!” De Rossi said, a little tipsy already. She stood and gave
“Controllarlo” and he pointed to
“No Jack, no, you’re not going to pat down a friend of mine in front of me. That is a great insult where I’m from!” The goon stood behind
“Well, welcome to
He pulled it out by the grip and showed it to Carpicize. The Carpenter nodded and pointed to the table. A few of the other diners gasped at the sight of the weapon but there wasn’t much fanfare.
“You weren’t going to use that thing on me tonight, were you sonny?” He asked across the table.
“I didn’t think so, but for dinner, I’m going to hold on to it, ok?”
“That’s fine, as long as I get it back,”
“You know, I didn’t even want you here tonight, I wanted this to be a meeting of Family members, to discuss the direction of the Capas-, excuse me, the De Rossi Family. And now I get to look at your Mick face all night while I try to enjoy my chicken spiccola,”
“Ugh, you’re such an ass,” De Rossi said from her seat, and forked a ravioli into her mouth. Carpicize smiled at her and turned back to
“What is it you do in
“I do a little bit of this and a little bit of that,”
“Mm, I love a guy who thinks I’m so stupid to think I don’t know when someone’s avoiding a question,”
“Last time I checked Mr. Carpicize, I didn’t report to anyone at this table. I’m just hear on loan,”
“Yes, yes, isn’t that the trend lately. Outsiders coming into town on loan, it’s very interesting,” And De Rossi cut him a look from over her wine glass. “Anyway, I’m going to talk in Italian to Ms. De Rossi now, so if you’ll excuse us for a moment?” And he turned towards Martina. They began to converse in Italian, and the exchange became very heated.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Mr. Capricize,” and she began to walk and wobble her way out of the restaurant. Carpicize smiled at
“Why don’t you go catch up with your mistress, lap dog?” And
Outside Martina De Rossi was standing in her heels and dress, lightly touching her face with a napkin she took from inside.
The truck came to a stop in front of them, and Michael (or was it Michael Anthony?) got the door for them.
“What’d he say to you back there, in Italian?” He asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Bullshit, you’re not gonna tell me?”
“There’s nothing to tell, so why bother?” The truck slowly pulled out into traffic.
“Well, Martina, I know something’s wrong, you’re crying. What’d he say?”
“Nothing, I’m fine!”
“What’re you talking about? I’m asking you right now what he said!”
“But you wouldn’t do anything about it! There’s nothing you can do!”
“Listen to me, just tell me what he said and I’l” And suddenly there was a screech of tires and the driver, Michael or Michael Anthony cursed aloud.
“Merde!” And the front of the
“Are you ok?”
Suddenly gunfire burst outside and people started to scream.
He sat up and pulled De Rossi into the back of the truck again, where they had started out, telling her to stay down. He pressed her head down to his knees, and drew his pistol out from his jeans and tried to see what was going on outside. More gunfire, automatic sounding started to cut through the SUV, loud metallic pings and pops. Glass shattering around them.
He glanced up and saw a man in a black ski mask running up to the car and he got ready. The rear door where they were sitting came flying open and a man in a leather jacket with a ski mask leveled a shotgun at them.
“A gun, no! I don’t do guns!” She yelled over more clattering of machine gun fire.
“This is not an option, take the fucking gun Martina!” And he shoved it into her hands. He bent and picked up the pump 12 gauge shotgun and racked another round into the chamber, catching the unused shell in his hand and recycling it back into magazine tube. He looked back at De Rossi who was holding the pistol awkwardly and prayed that they got out of this alive.
Things got quiet with just the sound of crunching glass and cackling of fire. Slowly
“Come on, we gotta move!”
“Stop here,” and they pulled in behind a large granite block in the park. Sirens were approaching and
De Rossi was crying and slumped down against the rock.
“Ok, let’s get out of here,” and pulled De Rossi up.
They got back to her apartment, after taking a long hike to the north end of the park, and then a bus over to the UES. Once they got up to her place via private elevator,
He stalked around the three floors of her apartment with a fireplace poker and when he was satisfied that they didn’t have anyone waiting for them here he came back and got De Rossi.
They both had a drink in her library, by candle light and she clung closely to him. He played with her hair until it seemed like she was asleep.
He tried to move from under her, but when he did, she clung to him tighter. He sighed and then picked her up and carried her back to her bedroom where he laid her flat on her bed.
The bedroom had a big king sized four poster bed with sheer sheets hanging down. It also had a wall of floor to ceiling windows that showed the entire city and park lit up.
“You can’t go!” She said sleepily.
“I gotta,” he said back to her.
“Noooo” and she trailed off.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,”
“But I don’t want to be alone, stay.” And she tugged dangerously at his shirt by the wire. He groaned.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea Martina,”
“Why not? Do you have a girlfriend back in
“No, it’s not that, it’s”
“So stay.” She looked into his eyes, hers being so dark in the low light.
“Lemme go change in the bathroom then,” and she let him go and he walked over to the bathroom which was roughly the size of his first apartment in
He stripped down to his boxers, tucking the wire into the back pocket of the jeans and came back out. She opened up the bed for him and he slid under the sheets next to her. He found her naked already and before he could say anything, she kissed him hard on his lips, her fingers tugging at his boxers.
“Why did you bother to keep these on?”