Queen of secrets, p.1
Queen of Secrets, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by E.J. Tanda
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Tanda, E.J.
Queen of Secrets/by E.J. Tanda
ISBN: 979-8-9857497-0-0 (eBook)
Visit my website: www.ejtanda.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, storylines, and encounters come from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, events, organizations, or locales is entirely coincidental. The book contains mature content which may be disturbing to some readers. Suitable for ages 18+.
Edited by Laura Mitchell
Proofread by Emily A. Lawrence
Book Design by Tatiana Vila
Formatted by Stacey Blake
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part Two
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
For my Nani. All my love, your Pumpkin #1.
And to the Langone family: without all of you, this story wouldn’t exist.
Heat spread through my body. A fire deep inside burned and consumed me. Blinded by red, my mind locked somewhere between consciousness and freefall. I stood in the confines of my hallway, barely holding onto my resolve of duty to family. I’d suffered every emotion but one—rage.
The anger that lay dormant in my soul was now present. Like smoke, adrenaline crept up from the ground and slithered its way around my legs, passing my heart and settling in my brain. The toxic poison desensitized all rational thought.
This felt primal.
I wanted to be hit. Hit hard. Pain was welcomed. Pain would make me feel alive again. This time, I’d hit back. Just beyond that door was my excuse—my freedom.
My heels sank into the Persian rug fibers that lined the hallway in our home. I would force myself through the door and face my demons. This was my house. The only place I had left to go. With my dead daughter’s nursery behind me, the level of violation was incomprehensible.
I unclenched my fists and threw open the bedroom door.
Rose was on top of Frank, naked, while he lay like a rag doll. The sound of the door striking the wall made her whip her head around. Her eyes were doll-like, black and lifeless. She focused on me—the woman standing in her way. Her message was clear: conquer and stake her claim, like a dog marking its territory. To Rose, this wasn’t betrayal—it was a business move. A divisive power play used in my absence.
“Violetta, I told you a long time ago, you gotta make your man happy in bed.” She puckered her mouth with her signature red lips and kissed the air between us while she straddled the remnants of my obligation. That was all I needed to unleash my fury.
Life would end here. Now.
Hers.
His.
Mine.
Ours.
I didn’t know. I didn’t care.
La Principessa
The Offer
October 2002
Barbara
Poor Mrs. Passarelli. Her pain was gone now. The old woman lay in her open coffin, peaceful, no more life support, safe in her eternal resting place. Frail hands held rosary beads to her chest. Cancer took her quickly.
In our short time together, I came to love her and tried not to let such things affect me. Loss was common as a senior caretaker. I prided myself on providing quality care, but sometimes God had other ideas.
“Fly with the angels,” I whispered over her lifeless body. “I’ll miss you, sweet girl.” Once the words were out, I knew my work was done.
As I passed through the crowd of mourners to leave, Mrs. Passarelli’s daughter tapped me on the shoulder. “Barbara, I wanted to thank you again for everything. My mother loved you.”
“My pleasure and honor, ma’am.”
“Mom wanted you to have this.” She handed me a silver necklace and pendant from her pocket. “Saint Christopher. For protection. Said you’d know why she gave it to you.”
Tears I’d held back rolled down my cheeks. Cheeks that stung that morning, covered in a healthy application of makeup. The shiny pendant flickered in my hands from the dreary mortuary light. Protector saint. And all this time, I thought it was understood that she was the one who needed caring.
“Thank you. It’s lovely.” I patted my wet cheek and wished her goodbye. “I’ll be praying for you.”
I didn’t want to drive home and face my family. Private moments were hard to come by in a crowded house. I settled on a small bench near a weeping willow, the perfect location for me to do some weeping of my own. A few minutes had passed when a woman dressed in a business suit and holding a briefcase approached me.
“Barbara Jackson?”
“Yes?” I answered, surprised she knew my name.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. May I sit?”
The woman didn’t wait for an answer before she settled beside me. Diamonds on her Rolex flashed in my eyes.
“My name is Sofia Giordano. I’ve known the Passarelli family for years. I spent many summers here in San Jose when I was young.” The woman lifted her face to the sky and inhaled deeply. “New York has nothing on California skies. So sad about Mrs. Passarelli. Such a sweet woman.”
“I’ll miss her dearly.”
“I apologize for the timing—less than ideal, with the service and all—but I must return to New York this evening. My family needs your help. I understand you were Mrs. Passarelli’s caretaker?”
“Yes.”
“You came highly recommended as someone we can trust. Someone capable of discretion and confidentiality.” Sofia opened her briefcase and withdrew a contract crowded with words. “The job pays twenty-five hundred a week.”
My heart fluttered. Twenty-five hundred a week was more than I had made on any job. Ever. There had to be a catch.
My eyes narrowed. “You’re going to have to tell me more.”
“Before we continue, please sign this document.” She handed me a pen, clicked open, poised to sign, and a bundle of papers with the heading Non-Disclosure Agreement.
“I’m not comfortable signing something I haven’t read.”
“Merely for insurance purposes. Standard practice in my firm.”
“You’re a lawyer?”
“Criminal attorney.”
I didn’t need more problems. But the money—my God—it would come in handy. What was the harm in listening? The promise of twenty-five hundred dollars a week, maybe a way out of the madness, made my knees shake. With sweaty palms, I signed on the bottom line.
“My eighty-one-year-old great-aunt has Alzheimer’s. Her behavior is what you might expect, but she isn’t a typical patient.” Sofia lowered her voice. “How should I say this? My aunt’s late husband was a member of an organized crime family. Some call it the Mafia. She might bring up her past, things that should not be repeated. She will say things that sound unusual, remarkable. Should you take this job, you will be expected to keep those remarkable things to yourself. Tell no one. No family. No priest. Not even the Sandman.”
My throat tightened. “I am required by law to report anything she implies about harming herself or others.” My voice cracked on the word law.
“Absolutely. Medical information may be disseminated at your professional discretion. But understand, Ms. Jackson, anything non-medical in nature must never be repeated. Failure to comply will result in immediate and non-negotiable termination.”
I nodded. The Mafia. Holy shit.
“If you decide you want this responsibility, you have the job. You’d arrive at her house at ten a.m. to provide lunch and dinner, check her vitals, and spend time with her so she can get to know you. Report back to me anything alarming about her health that you feel requires further medical intervention. Then we’ll go from there.”
“I need time to consider.”
“Certainly. It’s a fair wage, given the conditions I’ve imposed upon you. Remember
I dug my heels firmly into the grass. “My current financial status? How do you know about that?”
Sofia looked me straight in the eyes. “I make it my business to know everything about my clients.”
“You hire a private investigator or something?”
“Not exactly.” The faintest smile crossed her face. “I have many resources at my disposal. If you give me your answer by noon tomorrow, I’ll pay you in advance.”
I nodded.
Sofia zipped her briefcase and stood to leave. “My aunt is spirited, at times, but I’m sure you’ll come to love her. She’s been living alone for some time, and we worry. Most of the family has moved away, and it’s been hard to provide her the right kind of care.” She handed me her business card.
“Thanks,” I said, slightly dismissive, ready to end this strange conversation.
“I look forward to hearing from you, Ms. Jackson. Ciao.”
“What’s your aunt’s name?”
“Violetta Giordano. I wrote it on the back of the card along with her address.”
As quickly as the mysterious woman sat beside me, she was gone—vanished like vapor into the group of mourners standing around after the service.
The job, although frightening and elusive, was almost too good to be true. The money she offered would go a long way toward my daughter’s medical school bills and a car on its last legs. How could I turn down such an offer?
How hard could it be to keep an old woman’s stories to myself? With the way Marcus and I were going, we’d be broke before the new year.
Something had to change.
I parked in the driveway of our tiny home. Final rays of sunset made my new pendant sparkle and reflect in the rearview mirror. Tears escaped my lids. St. Christopher, protector saint, huh? Keep it together, Barbara. Damn.
When I thought about what the charm represented, I knew why Mrs. Passarelli had given it to me. We never discussed it, but she must have known. I decided I’d wear it every day, hoping it would provide the protection I needed. With a deep breath, I rubbed away any leftover sadness from my face. After helping Darnell with his homework, I planned a hot soak. Long baths helped me avoid Marcus.
On my way inside, I stopped at the mailbox and fisted handfuls of bills with late notice stamped on the envelopes. The big red type had me gripping my stomach and made walking through the front door that much harder.
I didn’t want to face Marcus. I didn’t want to get into it again. Because of his gambling problem, I had to hide money or he’d spend every last penny we had. He knew today was payday, so he’d be there with his hands open, searching my purse, or on his way to the bank. Thankfully, I kept cash tucked away for emergencies. Getting and keeping a job proved to be another challenge for Marcus. His little stint in jail for falsifying checks didn’t help matters much.
This was my life. I don’t know how I got here, exactly. Twenty-one years into the relationship and still no wedding ring and no marriage certificate. We talked about marriage a few times but never said I do. Mom and Dad’s divorce changed how I viewed marriage. On one hand, marriage was only a piece of paper; on the other, it was a bond and testament of love, something Marcus couldn’t or wouldn’t commit to. In a sick way, I still loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him—there was a difference. So, we coexisted with two wonderful kids.
Being the main breadwinner was hard. It meant more responsibilities, and more responsibility meant more stress, which often spilled over into our relationship. Two things kept me here: the illusion of a nuclear family for my kids, something I never got, and the fear of being alone.
With the way things were, I was afraid now. Our current situation had sparked some huge resentments in me, resulting in heavy arguments that sometimes went too far. I didn’t know how much more I could take from him, mentally or physically.
A shiver ran up my back.
I trudged toward the door, fanning out the bills in my hand. Shame washed over me. We desperately needed income. In days, our utilities would be shut off. I couldn’t ask Leticia to get a job and pay us rent. No. I wanted her to focus on school. I thought about Sofia’s offer and grappled it against my pride.
Ready to be an actress for my kids, I shoved the bills in my purse, slid my key in the lock, and brushed away a loose tear.
“Hey, guys. I’m home,” I yelled from the doorway.
Leticia kissed me on the cheek, then grabbed her coat off the chair. “Hey, Mama. I’m off. Switched to nights again. I’ll be in the ER now for the next few weeks, then back to days next term.”
“Nights, huh? Log those hours, baby. I’m so proud of you. First doctor in the family.”
“Not yet but getting there.”
“You’ll do it. I know you will.” I patted her back. “I’ll leave leftovers in the fridge.”
I approached the kitchen where Darnell was doing his homework at the table.
“Mom, did you pay for my graduation pictures?” Darnell asked. “It’s due by the end of the week.”
My stomach clenched. “Not yet. I’ll write you a check tomorrow. I can’t believe my little boy is going to graduate high school this year,” I said proudly.
“I have to pass chemistry first,” Darnell said.
“Yes, you do. We’ll work on that tonight.”
I hung my purse on the chair and looked around the room. Beer bottles littered the kitchen. Marcus came in showered and dressed to go out. He stood there in his favorite black leather jacket and pants, smelling of cheap cologne. He called it his lucky outfit, but it wasn’t lucky at all.
“Hey, baby, I need money. Me and the boys are going over to Leroy’s house for poker night.” Marcus kissed my cheek and rummaged through my purse for my wallet.
“Marcus, don’t take it all. I lost my client. I was just at the service.”
“That old bag held on for a long time.”
My jaw tightened as I formed the words in my mouth. “She wasn’t an old bag. She was a sweet lady.” I shook my head at him.
“I feel lucky,” Marcus said. “I won’t be coming home empty-handed tonight. I promise you that.”
“Only fifty, Marcus,” I whispered in his ear so Darnell wouldn’t hear me. “We need the rest.” I grabbed my wallet from his hands.
“Don’t you eva tell me how much I can have in my own damn house!” He yanked the wallet out of my hands.
A lump grew at the bottom of my throat. Marcus emptied the fold, dropped the wallet on the table, and slammed the door on his way out.
Into the quiet that remained, I injected all the cheer I could muster. “Well, Darnell, I guess it’s just you and me for dinner tonight. Macaroni and cheese sound good? I’ve had a long day.”
“Mac and cheese sounds good. Ya, you look tired. Are we still gonna do my chemistry project after dinner?”
“Sure, son. I love you.”
“Love you too. One day, I hope you tell Dad off.” Darnell pursed his lips.
“One day, baby.”
After dinner and two hours of chemistry, I did online research about the Giordano family. Violetta Giordano had married a man named Frank Di Natale in 1940 but later changed her name back to Giordano. Frank was a member of the famous Molanano crime family. His father, Frank Di Natale Sr., worked directly for the crime boss, Joseph Molanano.
The Giordanos and Di Natales had ties to the Brooklyn mob. Frank Di Natale went to prison, then went missing years later. Authorities never found his body. Suspicion—not evidence—that Frank was killed by another member of the mob for bad business dealings left the San Jose police department with an unsolved crime.
As I dug deeper, I learned that Sofia was a high-profile attorney in New York who represented only a few clients. It was a short assumption that her clients probably had mob ties. What I’d read made my shoulders tighten, but I really had no other options. Ms. Giordano was an old woman who needed my help. I’d treat her like any other patient, regardless of her family background. I’d do my job, remain professional, and hope for the best.
I picked up the phone and dialed the number on Sofia’s card.
