Fratelli: The Awakening (The Vampire Cartel #1)

5. Questions but No Answers

Chapter 5

Questions but No Answers

A rsenal Park - Baton Rouge, Louisiana

April 13, 2018

( 9 Days Before Death )

“Come in here!” Jeff said.

Dolly had just reached the fire station, a place Jeff, her boss, rarely frequented. He preferred his office in the downtown municipal building. His request for her to return to work felt odd.

“Now!” he insisted.

“What did I do? What? Okay, okay, wait,” she said.

Dolly fast walked behind him to catch up. She was late. She had to stop by her friend Charmaine’s house and tell her about the strange ordeal with the filling station stranger and then his visit to her home. Her best friend would do some research on the performers at the University, just out of curiosity. She needed to do a stranger danger check. Charmaine swore that last night Dolly had brushed shoulders with a major celebrity and was just too ignorant to know it. The back and forth and constant Google searches for them delayed her for another hour to work.

“I told you; I haven’t slept. Jeff. Why are you acting weird?”

Jeff held the breakroom door open for her to enter. Once it shut behind them, leaving them alone, he confronted her. “Who have you been talking to?”

“What?” she asked.

“Stop saying what . Answer me,” he said.

“I—I—I haven’t, I don’t understand,” she stammered.

“You’re suspended, pending an investigation. I got the call twenty minutes ago,” he said in a single breath.

“For being late?”she asked.

“No! For the forged test results that hid your vision issues. They’re demanding another exam to verify your vision score,” Jeff explained, his voice lowered as he took a seat, overwhelmed.

“What?” she gasped.

“Oh my god, sit down, Dolly. We’re fucked. They investigate you and that trail leads to me. I am close to 25 years vested. My pension is at stake. All this for helping you. Who the fuck were you talking to? Who reported you?”

“About my eyes, no one, Jeff. I would never. No one knows about the issue but Russ, and you know he won’t tell,” she said.

“Bullshit. Someone called the Chief and dropped your name. Told them where to look. I can’t help either of us at this point. It’ll destroy my life. What am I going to tell Ava?” Jeff dropped his face into his hands.

“I won’t let that happen.” She touched his arm. “I’ll resign first. I’ll confess.”

He looked over at her.

“I’ll do it today,” she said.

Both understood the inevitable sacrifice. Their city was a tough place to live, with state jobs and public service positions scarce. Bereft of their parents, Dolly and Russell, felt like orphans. Their prospects and optimism eroded along with the agricultural jobs that disappeared upon the Mill’s arrival. Now, the choices were stark: work at the Mill, breathe in harmful toxins for minimum wage, engage in street life, or scrape by on meager earnings barely enough to avoid welfare. Jeff stood as the last beacon of goodness, and she was determined not to cause him or his family any harm.

“Thank you for helping me, Jeff. I’ll find some other work. I always do,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry Dolly. I don’t know what to tell you at this point. Things get too tough we can take Russ in, but not the both of you. We don’t have the space,” he said.

“Is not your problem,” she forced a smile instead of tears. “Let me make the call. Or do I need to put it in writing?”

“Writing. Email it to me and HR,” he said.

“Okay. It’s okay. Tell the guys I said bye. I’ll see ‘em around,” said Dolly.

“Dolly?” Jeff said.

“Don’t say it, Jeff. We both know my family is cursed. I’m surprised I lasted this long here,” she half-joked.

“If I could have prevented this, I would have,” Jeff said.

“I know.” After hugging his neck and then letting go, she hurried to the bathroom to let her tears out in privacy. Sliding down against the stall wall, she suffered alone. The job had been her first solid income. With it, she got approved to rent a townhome and could live at least one paycheck ahead of the last. After an endless bout of crying, she left the stall, washed her face, and returned to the common area. There, she drafted an email. She admitted to manipulating the system and changing her scores. In her message, she sought forgiveness, hoping her resignation would prevent further scrutiny. Despite her intentions, she knew that her confession might lead to police involvement.

Lucio’s caravan arrived at an abandoned Walmart. The parking lot buzzed with activity. His connections with the mayor had given them cover in the daylight to conduct his business. However, he expected more discretion. He’d noticed the need for a change amongst those in his organization.

“Lamont is here. I made sure the others were briefed,” said Tristan.

“You do not agree?” Lucio pulled on his black gloves as he questioned his driver.

“It’s not my place to question your decision, you know this, but I have my concerns. Leonardo and his team are handling the southern states. They’ve made a few mistakes, but—treason?”

“And a few mistakes can be one too many with my enemies,” replied Lucio. “Lamont will take Leonardo’s place when the time is right. Do it publicly with the triad present. Send a message to the capus. For now, make it all family.”

“Understood,” said Tristan.

His driver exited the vehicle with a large, black umbrella. The morning sun was not something Lucio favored. On the surface, Don Lucio Di Salvo, a Sicilian-French native who looked no older than thirty, managed the world’s top entertainers and athletes through the Di Salvo Entertainment Enterprise. He also gave back to Louisiana’s less fortunate communities in the name of his clients.

This year he signed a rap duo of African American young men out of Baton Rouge. Di Salvo Entertainment sponsored the University homecoming with a star-studded lineup for the students under the guise of philanthropy. It was, in fact, a low-end cover for many operations that smuggled weapons, artifacts, gems, and antiquities from the ports of New Orleans, through Baton Rouge, and onto trucks and tankers for the black market. This was his true enterprise. His brothers had others.

Beneath the shade of an umbrella, Lucio made his way into the warehouse, headed straight for the loading dock at the rear. His arrival caused several workers to pause and acknowledge him, their minds a swirl of thoughts he could tap into envy, jealousy, and a deep yearning to be part of his inner sanctum, entangled with plots to assassinate him based on their misguided loyalty to Leonardo. Among them were saboteurs, wolves in sheep's clothing.

Through the decades, the criminal underworld’s imagination had remained confined to ancient rivalries of immortals. The human thugs were oblivious to the true extent of his power and the existence of beings far beyond their understanding who controlled their lives. If only they dared to look beyond the surface, they would uncover realities far beyond their wildest nightmares.

Bored, he tapped out of his psychic power. He turned his thoughts to her. They entered an office where his men waited. He received a phone from someone. He put it to his ear.

“Why are you still in Louisiana? The brothers are meeting in Vegas tomorrow before leaving for Sicilia in a week to see Father.”

“I’m not needed for that meeting, or that trip, if I can’t find a Julia Brown descendant, am I?” Lucio replied.

“Is that what you’re wasting time on? How many women do you need to go through before you give up the hunt? There is no cure. We need to think of a different solution to save him. Not this bullshit you’ve been chasing for seventy years!” Domencio said.

“I don’t answer to you,” Lucio said.

“Get to Vegas. It’s not a request, brother,” said Domencio. “We expect to see you.”

“I am onto someone new; I think she may be worth the investment. Trying to figure it?—”

“You think? Or do you know?” replied Domencio.

Lucio’s jaw tightened. He didn’t bother to respond.

“Good, we will see you tomorrow,” said Domencio.

Lucio didn’t require a phone call to remind him of the reason his attendance was mandatory. The urgency was clear to all the brothers as they approached the countdown for Julia Brown’s curse. Papa’s accelerated aging had somehow cut the time from the three years they still had on the clock. His increased frailty and susceptibility was a reality they were reluctant to fully accept. It casts a shadow of deep concern over Lucio’s successes. Did they have three years or three months? At this point, he and his brothers didn’t know.

Lucio dropped the phone in his pocket. At the back of the store, through the door of the warehouse, he found his men. They had warmed up a now terrified Lamont. Minus, his rap partner, he looked unprepared for the life he now faced. But he would do nicely.

“Man, Lucio, bro, I’m sorry. Okay. Please. Let’s start over,” Lamont said.

Lucio smiled. “I’ve already explained this to you, bro . This is your start over.”

Dolly found herself unable to face what waited for her at home, unwilling to admit to her brother that she had failed them both once more. Seeking solace, she drove to the historic Arsenal Park in downtown Baton Rouge. She stepped out of the car to wander its trails. In time, she settled on a bench by the lake, allowing herself a moment to cry. Surrounded by the quiet beauty of the park, life seemed utterly devoid of hope.

“Mind if I join you?” a man’s voice interrupted her solitude.

Startled, Dolly looked up to see the driver from earlier. He smiled reassuringly and gestured for her to sit back down, showing he meant no harm. It was a muggy day. She didn’t understand his attire. He wore all black and was covered from head to toe. He even had on a turtleneck under his tailored suit. On his hands were gloves, and the hat on his head protected his face from the sun as did the sunglasses. Her vision was poor, but when near him she seemed to see just a bit clearer.

“Is he here? I was serious. I’ll call the police if you keep harassing me,” she warned.

“He’s not here. He sent me,” the driver explained.

“Why? Why are you two bothering me?” Dolly demanded. In response, he extended a card to her. It was black with scarlet red lettering displaying a name and an address.

“Lucio Di Salvo?” She fixated on the name. But the address caught her by surprise. It was in New Orleans.

“I can take you to him now if you’d like to ask him yourself, or you can visit later. He’d like to see you this evening,” the driver said.

“Who is he?” she inquired; her curiosity piqued. Her friend Charmaine had hit a dead end in her investigation. Dolly had requested that she tap into her connections at the University and their involvement with the homecoming events where his clients had performed. Charmaine’s penchant for mysteries and crime drama made her the perfect person for the task. Dolly hadn’t disclosed to her friend the extent of her closeness to succumbing to despair.

“He’s a man like any other, wealthy, looking to befriend someone.”

“I’m not a prostitute!” Dolly rejected the notion. She tossed the card back at him.

“I recommend you broaden your view of friendship beyond just sex, especially when it concerns my boss. It might lead you further than any tears ever could,” he replied.

Dolly’s expression soured. The man offered her the same smile as when he had arrived in front of her townhome—mischievous. Then he gave her a respectful nod before departing.

Her thoughts had darkened earlier. She flirted with the idea of ending it all. Perhaps there were other ways to escape her pathetic situation. Her circle of friends had found their ways to ‘secure the bag.’ Picking up the card, she reflected on the oddity of business cards in the digital age of 2018. Slipping it into her purse, she dialed Russell, reasoning that if their situation was to decline further, they might as well splurge the last of their rent money on a final luxury—her treat.