Crown of confessions, p.27
Crown of Confessions, page 27
Whack.
My father slapped my face.
I gasped.
“Now you listena me. I love you and neva mean to hit you, but you no disrespect me in my house. Everyting I do is for you—for la mia famigila.” His voice shook. “I no let you put our famiglia in danger.” He grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me. “Dis isa no game. Itsa matter of life and death, and you not da only child I have left to protect. Tink about Antonio. Tink about Carmela and Vincenzo too.”
A huge lump formed in my throat as I rubbed my cheek. Pop’s slap wasn’t as painful as Frank’s, but it hurt more. I didn’t care what they’d do to me, but not to Tony, Carm, and Vinny. Vinny was innocent, with a bright future ahead of him. No, I had to protect Vinny. “What do you want me to say? What lies do you want me to spin this time?”
Pop grimaced, then went on. “You tell dem dat you husband . . .”
“He was never my husband . . . not by my choice anyway. He beat me and raped me.”
Pop hung his head. “He neva hurt you again. Itsa over.”
“I know what happened. I’m not stupid. I’m glad Tony did it, and I hope Frank rots in hell.”
“If you want you brudder to live, you neva speaka dis again,” he warned. “You hear me?”
The thought of my anger causing Tony’s death stopped me short.
“Yes, I hear you.”
“Remember, anger and sadness make you vulnerable, and dat isa what dey looking for.”
His words were few but wise.
“You a smart girl. You know what I ask of you.”
“Maronn,” I fired back and rubbed at my temples.
“Tell dem you no see Frank, and you tought he wasa in jail. And you brudder, you no see him since Saturday night.”
“That’s it? And you think the mayor and the cops will believe that, and leave me alone? What if someone saw me, or got Paulie’s plates? Come on, Pop.”
“You letta me worry ’bout dat. I willa take care of da cops and da mayor. He owe me a favor.”
“Fine, but first I need to make a phone call. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything you don’t want me to.”
“Who you call?”
“The Sanna Winery.”
“Dis willa be your last call. I donna know if da feds gonna tap da phones,” Pop whispered, then looked over his shoulder.
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to watch what I say on the phone,” I huffed, thinking back to my days in Brooklyn. “I need to find out where Gaetano’s services are so I can say my goodbyes.”
My God. The services? What was I even saying? This felt unreal.
“He’s gone. The love of my life, dead,” I whimpered and clutched at my chest. “Papa. I want to rip out my heart.”
“I’m here, bella mia.” He touched the hot handprint on my cheek. “Forgiva me.” He leaned over and hugged me tightly. “I remember how it was after you mudder die. I feel lika you. I wan to die and go wit her but den I see Carmela get marry. I see you go to war and coma back alive and how proud I feel. My daughter. She save men. She serve our country. And now wit Vinny goin’ to college, I know why I still here. Der is more life to be lived, Violetta. More memories to be had. You willa get tru dis. We willa helpa you, bella mia.” He held me tightly.
After a few minutes of sobbing into his arms, I blew my nose into my father’s handkerchief. I walked past him toward his office. In the two days I was out, Pop and Tony had put the office back together. A new lamp sat on the desk, and the phone had been connected again. I mustered the courage to reach for the receiver.
There was a feeling of numbness and despair now that I’d never be able to shake. The world was a different place without Gaetano in it. Flashes of that dreadful night appeared in my eyes. Paralyzed in guilt, I remembered how Gaetano’s face looked as he watched his mother grieve over his father and sisters. And the way his body lay limp on the ground while he gasped for air. He lost everything in one night, all because of me and my family’s connection to the Mafia.
Anguish wrapped around my heart, making it hard to breathe. I cleared my throat and dialed, knowing my call wouldn’t be well received. I had to try.
After a short time, the operator connected me.
“Sanna Winery,” a woman answered.
“Oh, thank God. I wasn’t sure I’d get through. Last time I called the lines were down.”
“Um, yes, ma’am. The telephone company was able to restore the line this morning.”
“May I please speak to Mrs. Conchetta Sanna, please?”
“Sorry, ma’am. The family has requested no more inquiries. Are you a reporter?”
“No, I’m a friend of the family. Do you know when she might return? I need to speak to her.”
“I can leave her a message if you’d like. But she’s leaving for the hospital and won’t be back until after visiting hours.”
“The hospital?”
“Yes. To see her son.”
“Wait, Gaetano’s alive?” I asked, confused. “The fire chief told me he died.”
“No, ma’am. His father, Efrem Sanna, died in the hospital. His son suffered a bullet wound to the chest. He and his mother were the only survivors in the family.”
My heart stopped, then started again. My grape grower was alive. I closed my eyes as tears of joy cascaded over my cheeks. It was as if God had restored my faith and given me a third chance.
“Which hospital is he at?” I asked impatiently.
“Sorry, ma’am. I can’t give out that kind of information.”
“Please, I must know.”
“Who is that?” I heard another woman’s voice in the background.
“Oh, sorry, Mrs. Sanna. I thought you’d left already,” she muffled. “Can I get your name, ma’am?” she asked, returning to the call.
“Violetta Giordano.”
“She says her name is Violetta Giordano, and that she needs to speak to you,” the woman explained.
“Give me da phone,” an angry voice said. “You no calla here no more,” Signora Sanna snapped. “I lose my husband and my two beautiful daughters. Dey burn everyting. My son isa fighting for hisa life. You stay away from us, or I kill you,” she screamed through the receiver.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My voice shook. “Please Signora, I never wanted this. I love your son. Please . . .”
“Gaetano isa all I have left. If you coma here again, you willa be sorry.” She hung up.
My hand shook as I put down the receiver. Gaetano was alive, but how would I get to him? How could she keep me away? After everything that had happened between us, I couldn’t let that happen. I’d wait a few days and then go to him. Waves of emotions enveloped me. My stomach knotted and lurched. I ran to the bathroom and threw up.
In the days that followed, I thought of nothing but being with Gaetano. I wanted to run to my lover’s side as he recovered alone in his hospital bed. I wanted to hold his hand and tell him that everything would be fine and that we didn’t have to hide any longer.
From the little I’d gathered from Tony, no eyewitnesses came forward. It didn’t surprise me. The smoke provided the perfect veil for our escape, but there was always a chance someone would come forward.
The test would be how the Molanano family covered it up.
Two things had happened at once: the fire, and Frank’s disappearance. This meant involvement from the cops and, eventually, the Molananos. Pop was right. It would only be a matter of time before someone asked about Frank.
A week later, the first string of officers showed up with the mayor. They came with a warrant and probed around. They didn’t mention one word about the fire; they only asked about Frank’s whereabouts. They wanted to know where their informant was.
After what Frank said to Paulie in the car, it was safe to assume that Frank had been sent out here to feed information to the feds about the Molanano involvement in the casino business. Their incessant need to find my deceased ex-husband caused them to lurk around the ranch almost daily. Thankfully, Pop got rid of the body.
Because Frank worked with the cops, it made things sticky. If this were just Molanano business, things would be dealt with in the old way—the Mafia way. It put us on edge, especially Pop, because it always slowed business when the feds got involved.
But every time I was asked, I lied so the cops would back off and make the Molanano family happy at the same time. My answers to their slew of questions were simple but ambiguous. This frustrated them, and they probed for more answers.
The police chief took pictures of my injuries. According to Tony, the officer told the mayor that he’d reviewed the notes from the medical examiner of what happened back in Brooklyn and that this case screamed of a possible domestic dispute that may have resulted in Frank’s mysterious disappearance. He went as far as to say that I was the key suspect in Frank’s case.
When asked about my injuries, I told them it was a horse-riding accident. They nodded but came back with even more questions to see if I’d break, always trying to find motive and any possible leads of Frank’s whereabouts.
The minute Pop found out they might arrest me, he had a sit-down with the mayor and the chief of the police. Immediately after their meeting, which I’m sure involved some greasing and leveraging, the mayor and the cops backed off. The mayor even apologized to me and said he was sorry for the disruption. He shook Pop’s hand, and the police chief tipped his hat. They left. The only question that remained was the investigation in Napa. What did they know about the fire?
I didn’t know how the investigation would go, but with José dead and Gaetano shot, I was pretty sure a manhunt was underway. I prayed that no one identified me that night, but every day someone knocked at the door, I was sure they’d take me away. With Gaetano alive, I didn’t want anything else to jeopardize our possible future.
I put faith in one thing: the Mafia mentality. Gaetano knew, as I did, that if he said it was Frank, the Molanano family would breathe down his neck. Knowing him, he’d want justice, but he knew who bankrolled the winery. On death’s door, he’d have to lie, as I had.
Molanano lawyers would be engaged. They’d feed the Sannas a story of what to say and instruct them not to press charges or they’d be dealt with. In Mafia fashion, it would be another huge cover-up. Tony kept me in the loop, but there were things he couldn’t share. I’d have to learn more as the days passed. Without communication with Gaetano, my only answers would be in the newspapers.
Sun poured through my window and forced me to rise early. I’d forgotten how much I despised the summer heat at the ranch. I went to the kitchen to get something to drink. Tony stood at the stove, cracking two eggs in a frying pan alongside some bacon. The smell was heavy and made my stomach feel off.
“You want some?” Tony asked.
“No thank you.” I clutched at my gut. Oddly it felt firm and swollen. “I think I’ll just have some coffee. Too much pasta fagioli from last night.” I poured myself a cup. “Did you bring it?”
“It’s on the table. You sure you don’t want to eat?”
“After everything that’s happened, my stomach isn’t doing so good. Must be nerves.” I sat and rubbed my belly.
“Well, ain’t you gonna read it? You been pumping me for information every day. It’s all in there.”
My heart fluttered as I opened the newspaper.
I flipped to the third page. There, in black and white, was an article about the mysterious fire, José’s murder, and the attempted murder of Gaetano.
SEVERAL CASUALTIES AND 50 ACRE FIRE LEAVE FAMILY AND STAFF IN PERIL.
Authorities continue to investigate what led to a five-alarm fire at the famous Sanna Winery. Three individuals succumbed to smoke inhalation, and one died from a gunshot wound. One other remains hospitalized.
Police chief Eric Bradford states there were reports of fireworks and loud noises coming from the estate, possibly a late July Fourth celebration.
Fire captain Eli Willis said, “There were several possible causes of the fire. Traces of gasoline were found at the scene. There may have been a spark from a firework. A winery representative confirmed that gasoline was used that day to power various equipment. This appears to be an accident rather than arson, but we are looking into every detail due to the homicide and attempted homicide.”
Fire crews discovered owner, Efrem Sanna, and his two daughters had died at the scene from smoke inhalation.
The investigation took a strange turn when Chief Operational Manager Gaetano Sanna, son of the late owner, was found unconscious from a gunshot wound to the chest. He was taken to a local hospital for emergency surgery. Sanna also sustained third degree burns but is expected to fully recover.
Family lawyers stated that when Mr. Sanna woke from surgery, the famous vintner said he didn’t know who shot him, stating “with everything that was happening around me, I couldn’t get a good look through all the smoke.”
Head groundskeeper José Cortez was also shot at close range and died at the scene. When questioned, Cortez’s daughter, Esperanza Cortez, stated she found his body lying in a pool of blood in the winery’s guest house. The grieving daughter and hotel manager said, “I’m devastated. I loved my father. He didn’t deserve this. There are crazy people in this world who only mean to do harm.”
The investigation remains open. Anyone who may have seen something that night is asked to contact the Napa Police Department.
“It’s a sad day for our community. Please keep the Sanna family in your prayers. Let’s help them rebuild.”—Justin M. Fitzpatrick, Editor in Chief
I placed my hand over my chin. “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch. They did it again. They’re gonna get off, scot-free. Smoke provided the perfect alibi for a hidden escape.”
“Not all of them.” Tony laughed under his breath, as if I didn’t catch his meaning. “The lawyers will take care of everything.”
“Gaetano’s not stupid, he knows they’d come back for his mother. She’s the only family he has left.” I put my head down. “But the girl, Esperanza, she hates me. She’s in love with Gaetano. I thought she’d be the one to say something, but I guess she listened to my warning. She’s the one who brought Frank and Paulie to us.”
“Bet she wishes she hadn’t,” Tony said with a smirk on his face.
“It’s not funny, Tone. José was a good man, and Paulie shot him like a dog in the street.”
“That’s business. Not personal.”
“Not personal? Paulie shot Gaetano and he’s fighting for his life in some hospital bed,” I clipped.
“I know you’re pissed at him, but he didn’t have a choice. I’m sure Paulie feels bad, but it’s kill or be killed. You know that.” Tony shook his head. “Besides, you didn’t think Don Molanano was gonna take the rap for any of it, did you? No way was he gonna let one of his capos go down. That would lead to a full-on investigation. The bookkeeping, the shell companies that put up money fronts, the lost profits. I bet the old man is pissed about that all right.” Tony slid his eggs and bacon onto his plate. “But that’s where the insurance comes in. What happened is just a nuisance to him.”
“I don’t think the Don liked Frank much. He’d become a huge liability. I wonder if he questions Frank’s father’s loyalty at this point. Frank made them look like fools.”
“Frank was a real character.” Tony said under his breath, completely unaffected, while shoving mouthfuls of eggs down his throat.
I folded the newspaper in half and fanned the greasy bacon odor from my nose. “Jesus, Tone. Don’t you even chew? Watching you eat is making me sick.” I rubbed my stomach.
“I’m hungry, damn it,” he snapped. “Don’t look, then.”
I turned away and cast my eyes back to the words in print. “And Signora. I wonder if she’ll ever say anything. She threatened to kill me if I came around. She hates everything about the Mafia. I can’t say I blame her.”
“The old broad knew well enough what would be waiting for her if she talked. She doesn’t want a dead son.” Tony wiped his mouth with his napkin. “If she’d told the cops it was Mafia related, the whole operation would’ve been investigated and seized. Even now all parties are gonna lose money, and that’s what’s gonna piss off the Don. So, if anything, that’s how Frank fucked the family.”
“Paulie better hope that the family hasn’t found out that he helped Frank burn down the winery. I’m sure that wouldn’t sit well.”
“Paulie can always say his capo gave the order and get out of it.”
“It’s that easy, huh? Paulie can get away with shooting two guys, killing Gaetano’s family, and burning his dreams to the ground?” I huffed.
“Yeah, it’s that easy.”
I shook my head in disgust.
“Even if someone did see somethin’ and they squealed to the cops, the Molanano family would find out who they are and kill them.”
I threw the paper down on the kitchen table.
“Look, I know you’re upset, but I’m gonna give it to you straight. This is what we were trying to warn you about when you came home.”
“Are you saying this was my fault?”
“No.” Tony slammed his fork down on his plate. “After what Frank did to you, the son of a bitch had it coming.” Anger clouded Tony’s face.
Tony knew as I did that Frank had broken the cardinal rule. His anger exposed his truth. I didn’t say anything, just nodded. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of us.
“Look, I’m sorry for raisin’ my voice,” Tony apologized. “I don’t want to upset you. You’ve been through a lot, sis. We all have.”
I let out a deep breath. “Have you heard from Paulie yet?”
“No. He’s probably staying put somewhere.”
