Page 11

Dante

After breakfast, we went out to the driveway where the limo waited.

I led Della by the elbow.

Tito stepped up and smiled at us as he opened the limo door.

“Hey cugino,” I greeted him. “Sorry that you only get to guard us on a date.”

“You're sorry?” Della asked me.

I nodded at her. “I am sure he and Rocky wanted in on the Deacon hunt.”

“Nah,” Tito replied. “We had our fun a couple of weeks ago on our last limo ride.”

Della smiled at him then looked over at me.

I turned to Della and said, “I’ll let them tell you about it on the road. Climb in, babe,” I urged.

Nodding at me, she scooted in on the seat.

I slid in after her and smiled at her.

Tito shut the door.

Della gazed around in awe.

I did as well and I realized I’d become used to this years back. The limo had all of what I described to her. Seat warmers and vibration, a full bar, TV, music, on screen WiFi and more. To me, it was overdone. My father had a high sense of overdoing things. “Did Deacon have a limo?” I asked her.

“Uh?” She looked distracted as she glanced over at me.

“Deacon, did he have a limo?”

“Oh no, he didn't seem to care for them. More of a large SUV built like a tank kind of guy. But at one time, O had a few of them. She loved riding in them as long as the windows were tinted.”

“I bet,” I scoffed. “She did some awful things, so she had to hide when out in public.”

Della nodded as she folded her hands into her lap. “I know that now but I didn’t have any idea for the last ten years about her crimes. I mean to have believed what she did for me was generous? When in reality, she had killed my parents? And I still don’t know why.”

“Do you believe Deacon knows anything about it?” I asked her.

Shrugging, she released a long breath. “I don’t know. Valencia and I never knew the things he did. This last week has been a time where I've been thinking about different scenarios when she could have been doing or planning these crimes and I never caught on.”

Reaching over, I took her hand in mine. “Don’t do that to yourself, Della. You didn't know and if you had, what would you have done?”

She paused and shook her head. “Run away?” She shrugged. “Then again, Valencia was right. I didn’t have anyone.”

I now took her other hand in mine. “Well, you do now.”

She gazed into my eyes then smiled. “Yeah, I do have you. So tell me about this tour we are going on?”

I stared at her blankly for a few seconds and then said, “Oh, yeah! The Metairie.” I’d almost forgotten that I told her this would be a touring type date and it would be, but then I was going to take her to her apartment to show her the movers. I pulled out my phone. “They have tours with guides but I discovered there’s an app tour.”

“An app?” She smiled at me. “Like on your phone?”

I nodded. “I came up with the idea and you have to give the tour office more notice than I had in mind.”

“It figures.” She smiled at me.

“I’m not the most patient of guys sometimes.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you are.”

“Yeah?” I stared at her.

“Sure, you were going to wait to…be with me.”

“Yes, then my dad and Zia pushed it. But damn, am I glad they did.”

“Me too,” Della whispered then leaned in close to kiss me.

Minutes went by as we held each other. The kiss got deeper and more breathless.

I couldn’t help it, I tugged her up onto my lap as my hands wandered. I caressed her all over. God, I wanted her, right here and right now. Finally, I broke the kiss and abruptly set her from my lap onto the suede leather seat next to me. We stared into each other’s eyes.

“Dante?” a voice spoke.

I blinked as I caught my breath and looked over at the speaker. It was Rocky. Reaching over, I tapped the mic and replied, “Yeah, Rock?”

“We have pulled into the…” the man whispered the words. “... city of the dead .”

I paused and chuckled. “Damn, I forgot about your um…”

“Yeah?” Rocky replied. “My what?”

“Your fear of cemeteries.”

“I got good reasons to feel that way. I didn't know we were doing that today,” Rocky replied. “I mean Metarie is spooky, man. I thought we were going to—”

“Yes!” I cut him off. “We are doing that afterward.” I glanced at Della and smiled.

She opened her mouth to ask about this.

“Tell Oscar to drive up the rows then turn onto Neversmile,” I told Rocky. Then I looked up at Della. “Ok, I’ll set the app.” I made a few taps and was there.

My cell phone speaker started up, “The most stunning ‘city of the dead’ is Lake Lawn Metairie Cemetery. This picturesque cemetery boasts some of the grandest funerary architecture and sculpture in the US. Live oaks surround Greek temples, gothic and Islamic style tombs, obelisks, and marble monuments with beautiful ironwork and stained glass. The resting place of many of New Orleans' most influential and notorious citizens, Metairie Cemetery holds the graves of over 9,000 people on 65 landscaped acres. Nine Louisiana governors, seven New Orleans mayors, 49 Kings of Carnival, and three Confederate generals rest alongside madams, brothel owners and bandleaders.”

Della looked out the widow in awe as the tombs slowly passed by. The limo had slowed down to maybe 2 miles an hour. We arrived at the Neversmile row right on time.

The app monologue kept going, “Today, we arrive at Neversmile’s tomb…The first line of the States’ newspaper article reporting his death was simply — They got Joe Neversmile. Neversmile was nicknamed as such for his uncanny ability to read his hand without looking up and never revealing the slightest hint with a twitch of face, or a raise of an eyebrow to the hand he held. It was also said he could make the dice ‘behave.’ On July 21, 1924, Joseph Harrington was returning home in his shiny new Buick Roadster, purchased only ten days before, from a successful night of craps and card playing when he was gunned down on the corner of Louisiana and Constance Street – just a couple of blocks from his house. Harrington was found slumped over the wheel of his car while it was still running with a lip split and $1304.04 on his body. $250 of it was in his pocket but the majority was tucked away in a secret pocket on the inside of the breast of his shirt next to his undershirt known as a ‘gambler’s pocket’ so it wouldn’t be picked. Neversmile’s widow Bertha was brought to the police station to view the body. She collapsed and was taken home where she refused to see visitors. After his murder, Bertha received threats that the police took so seriously that they assigned a guard detail to watch her house at night. Despite numerous clues, police were baffled by the murder – unsure if it was someone who followed him from the dice game or who had a vendetta against him. Frustrated, his Bertha offered a reward of $500 which was a considerable amount of money for that day and age.”

I opened the limo door at the spot with his crypt as we both listened to the rest.

“However, Neversmile’s murder remains unsolved. The day after his death, Harrington was placed in a receiving vault. Bertha chose this massive tomb, featuring a seated bronze female angel laying a spray of roses on one side of the doorway. When it was completed – Bertha paid for the design all in cash – in denominations of 20s and 100s. Not much of a mystery of where the money came from. Eventually, Bertha remarried Jacob Kombar and died in 1956 but was buried next to Harrington in the tomb she’d built for Neversmile. Even today, visitors still leave change at the tomb in honor of the stoic gambler.”

I exited the limo and offered Della my hand.

“The app is so cool, Dante.” She took my hand and stepped out.

“I thought so too.” I led her to the tomb.

The weeping angel statue looked worn with time, needing a new coat of white paint. I paused at the steps and dug the quarters I’d gotten for this out of my pocket then handed Della a few of them. We went up the steps and read the epitaph on the door.

What Love Hath United, Death Cannot Separate.

“Wow,” Della whispered as she stared at the words. “Bertha really loved the guy.” Then she knelt down and dropped the quarters beneath the statue’s hand.

I knelt next to her and dropped the handful I had. “See how tightly sealed all of this is?” I asked as I motioned to the tomb’s door. “How Valencia's men got inside will remain a mystery to me.”

“I know.” Della nodded. “I was passed out so I didn’t see anything. But looking at this now… I wonder too.”

“Sir?”

We both turned to see a man that looked like a security guard.

Before we could even speak, Tito and Rocky were standing next to him on either side.

Confused, the man looked back and forth at the very large Italian men.

I knew the look both bodyguards had, so I had to try to get through to them, “Wait, guys,” I spoke up. “He’s not—”

Tito disarmed the guard and Rocky had his arm up behind his back.

“Hey!” the security guard shouted.

“Guys!” I yelled.

My cousins had him in the air now as his feet left the ground.

Tito seethed at him, “Who the hell are you?”

I shook my head. Couldn’t they see he was—

“And he’s not a guard,” Rocky stated to me.

“I am so!” the guard exclaimed.

“You are not,” Rocky argued. “Wearing sneakers and where are the army stripe pants?”

The guard stared at him. “What?”

“We’ve lived here all our lives, stronzo,” Tito snapped.

“Yeah, and we know all the Metairie guys personally,” Rocky added.

I stared at the guard and took in other clues. They were right, he didn’t look right for the part. Unshaven, wearing jeans and the gun they took from him. I never remembered the security here wearing guns. I moved down the steps and stopped closer to him. “You work for Deacon.” It wasn’t a question.

My cousins set him back on the ground now.

Della came down the steps and stood behind me, peeking around my shoulder. “Petrov?”

He raised his head and replied, “Miss Della.” He now had an accent that he didn’t have before.

“Why are you here?” she asked him.

He shook his head.

Tito growled.

Tito hiked the man’s arm up higher behind his back which looked extremely painful.

“Ahhh!” Petrov yelled.

“I’m gonna break it, Petrov,” Rocky threatened.

“Don’t… I cannot talk. K-kill me,” Petrov stammered out.

Della clutched my arm and pleaded with my cousins, “Stop!”

I glanced over at her.

“H-he saved my life once,” she said. “You can't hurt him.”

Rocky halted and glanced over at Tito.

His brother slowly shook his head and looked over at Della. “We can't let him go though.”

“Good,” Petrov said. “If you promise to keep me in custody, I will tell you what I know.”

“Deal,” Tito agreed. “Why are you here?”

“The boss has us watching the Metairie for the Italians. I suppose he meant for us to look for you guys?”

“Why?” I asked him.

Petrov paused, then he said, “He wants to get V returned to him.”

“What?” Tito asked as he looked upset.

“That was the order—” Something hit the man in the arm and he shouted out in pain.

Immediately, Tito rushed over to us, then dove for me and Della, shoving us to the ground.

Gunshots went off above us. Della was trembling and she groaned beside me. I stared at her face and tried to see if she had been hit as I had to tug my arm up to pull her closer.

Then everything went quiet.

Tito slowly rose up with his gun aimed as he spanned it around. “Rocky?” he called out.

I felt a bit of fear about those flying bullets. Rocky was like a brother to me. Hell, Tito was his brother so I could only imagine what he felt. I pushed at Tito’s large chest, so I could get up.

“Stop it!” he growled at me. “Not safe.”

I released a long breath and tucked Della close.

“I’m good,” Rocky finally replied from somewhere above us.

“The Russian though, he’s um…” Rocky didn’t finish.

Tito grabbed my arm and Della's to pull us both up like we were stick people. I held onto Della as he rushed us to the limo.

Oscar, our driver was kneeling low by the car but he had the door open.

Rocky pushed us both in and slammed the door.

Tito and Oscar scooted down along the ground then jumped into the front.

Rocky got in too and the limo took off.

Della and I stared through the back window to see Petrov on the ground in a pool of blood.

“Oh!” Della cried out in horror and placed a shaky hand over her mouth.

Just then, the middle window between the front and the back lowered down.

“Sorry, Cuz,” Rocky spoke up.

Tito nodded. “Sorry to you as well Miss Della. They got him.” He tapped his cell and spoke, “Luca, we need a cleanup.” He paused, then said, “Yeah, at the Metairie. The Neversmile crypt. Si, sì, tuo fratello è al sicuro.” Yes, yes, your brother is safe.

Suddenly, the car swerved to the right then back to the left. “Hang on,” Oscar called out. “We got company!”

“We are under attack!” Tito’s voice came over a speaker somewhere in the Limo, “Stay down!”

Damn, we’d barely gotten out of the cemetery before the attack resumed. I grabbed Della and belted her in. Metal pings were now hitting the car. It was entirely bulletproof, but I wanted Della belted in, just in case we— The car had swerved badly as if it had run over a curb while going fifty and it probably had. My body was now flying from the seat and hitting the floorboard. I clawed my way up and sat down again.

“The hell?” Della looked a bit white in the face as she turned and belted me in.

I smiled at her then tugged her to me.

She held me tightly and shuddered. “Is it…D-Deacon?”

“His men, I think,” I replied.

We then heard gunfire and I reached over to tap the speaker. “Do not fight them,” I told my cousins. “Just get us hom—” The car swerved again, cutting me off.

“Motherfucker!” Rocky swore over the speaker and a smattering of gunfire went off as he emptied his gun at whatever target was out there.

I slid closer, worried my cousins might catch a bullet just as a screeching metallic sound nearly deafened me. I looked out the window at the road behind us and saw a car rolling as it hit the sidewalk.

The limo lurched forward and swerved a bit then straightened itself out. Or Oscar straightened it out actually.

Finally, everything seemed to calm down as the limo slowed.

Turning to face me, Della grasped my cheeks with both hands and asked, “Are you all right?”

I nodded and pulled her close to hold her tightly to me. “Are you?” I smoothed my hands over her ribs and waist, checking and dreading the fact I might find blood or some kind of wound. “We’re safe now.”

“We got ‘em!” Rocky’s voice came over the speaker.

“Yeah,” Tito’s voice came on as well. “My brother took out the tires and I got the windshield.”

“All in a day’s work as a goodfella!” Rocky cheered over the speaker.

I scoffed as I didn’t care to live a scene from that movie or any other mafia film. I felt relieved like they did that we were all alive but cheering was something I wouldn't take part in. “Ok, ok…Thank you cousins for saving our lives. You can take us home now.” Going to Della’s apartment was not going to be possible.

“No, we can’t do that,” Tito replied.

“What?” I asked as I scooted forward and pressed the middle window button.

The glass slid down.

Tito and Rocky turned in their seats and stared at me.

I recognized the expressions they wore. Of course, I did. They wore the looks that said they had their duty to fulfil. They had orders that I wasn’t going to appreciate. “My dad?” I asked them.

They shook their heads.

“Fuck, it was Luca then.” I pushed my fingers through my hair in frustration.

They both nodded.

I knew telling them to disavow orders from either man would do me absolutely no good.

Luca could be considered as a younger version of our father. Only keener and not intent on the time consuming arguments. In fact, he was quick to shut your excuses down. Then walk away with a you’d better just lump it attitude.

With a huff of air, I tapped the window button again and swore, “Shit.”