Page 57 of Her Dark Salvation

One of the benefits of working at a university? Twenty-four seven access to archives and primary source material not available to the outside world. A few students sat at wide wooden tables, hovering over open notebooks. Some were goofing off, playing board games. Others used their textbooks as pillows, having lost the battle against nature’s inconvenient requirement that humans sleep.

Being in my forties, I remembered how information searches worked before the internet. Back then, looking up newspaper articles meant searching through a stack of index cards organized by keywords to find the correct roll of microfiche, then loading it into the viewer to access the article.

I removed my gloves and coat and placed them on the desk next to the index computer. I searched for Valenzano, DeVita, Moretti, and Shaughnessy. Most of the hits came from theBoston Globe, a few dating back as early as the 1940s. I printed the indexes from each decade predating the internet, retrieved the rolls, and settled myself in front of a viewer.

The articles themselves, especially the early ones, didn’t tell me much more than I already knew about the history of the Boston Mafia or the key players like Big Frankie Valenzano and Antonio Moretti. Those two were local legends, especially among Italian-Americans in Massachusetts. But the pictures were fascinating.

The Valenzanos shared a strong family resemblance. Anyone with eyes could see Vinnie was related to Big Frankie. And the pictures of Vincenzo—Vinnie senior—looked nearly identical to the man who’d walked into Marco’s office two weeks ago. Aside from the mustache, I couldn’t tell them apart.

An article from 1962…

Italian Mafia Suspected in Cuban Cigar Heist

Famed mafiosos Antonio “Tony” Moretti and Marco L. DeVita are primary suspects in a missing truck shipment that contained over a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of Cuban cigars.

That was a lot of money in 1962. And what was with these men naming their children and grandchildren after themselves? I shook my head and scrolled to the bottom of the page where two black-and-white pictures, one of Big Frankie and one of Tony, stared back at me.

Law enforcement believes Tony Moretti and Marco DeVita are capi under the current Don of Boston, Francesco “Big Frankie” Valenzano. At the time of printing, neither law enforcement nor the Boston Globe had a picture of Marco DeVita.

My stomach dropped reading Mr. DeVita’s name in the newspaper even if it was referring to his… father? Grandfather? The DeVitas had been involved, that much was clear, and his legacy and fortune were tainted with blood. I shifted in my seat, but pushed my unease aside and continued my research.

By five in the morning, the only thing keeping me awake was anxious curiosity and my insatiable hunger for answers. Luckily, I’d reached the final index—an article from 1988.

Funeral of Antonio Moretti Draws Who’s Who of New England Organized Crime

Italian businessman Antonio Moretti, Jr., son of Antonio “Tony” Moretti, Sr., famed mafioso and known associate of the Valenzano crime family, was shot in the head and killed last Saturday, sending shockwaves through the Italian-American community. Police found Antonio Jr. in the driver’s seat of his Cadillac outside the Charlestown shipyard. Authorities suspect the assassination was executed by the Shaughnessy crime family in retaliation for recent infractions involving gambling territories.

The article went on and on, detailing the Moretti family’s involvement in organized crime since the 1950s as well as a laundry list of gangsters who’d attended the funeral. I skimmed to the bottom.

Antonio Jr. leaves behind son, Luca Davide Moretti. Luca’s mother, Lucia, passed away in 1982 from complications during childbirth.

Below the article was a grainy, black-and-white photo from the funeral, taken at a distance, no doubt by law enforcement or the paparazzi. I couldn’t imagine the family or the Valenzanos allowing journalists at such a private event. The casket was closed, which I knew was an added insult. A young boy stared down at its black veneer.

Luca. My heart broke for the little boy in the picture.

He held hands with a man and a woman who stood on either side of him. A fat ring on the man’s pinky finger caught my eye and turned my stomach.

I knew that ring. I’d seen that ring almost every day for the past two weeks. I swallowed and looked to the face of its owner. Marco DeVita’s dark, passionate eyes were fixed on the casket.

I blinked rapidly. Exhaustion had my mind playing tricks, and in my rush to leave the house, I’d forgotten my reading glasses. I squinted and tried to refocus, but I knew those eyes. They’d held me captive for weeks. The man in the picture was identical to the man I’d left only hours before, but that was impossible.

I sat back in my chair and chewed the side of my finger. What the hell was a fifty-year-old Marco DeVita doing in a picture from 1988?

ChapterSixteen

Marco

Iwalked off the elevator and into the foyer. Anna looked up from where she sat behind the desk studying her screen. Her eyes weren’t as vibrant as usual, her body not as tense. I knew the feeling; it had been a late night at Vesuvio. We were drinking and playing cards till well past 1:00 a.m. when Carmine’s wife called and gave him an earful, forcing us to go home.

“Good afternoon, Mr. DeVita.”

“Anna,” I replied, trying to soften my usually gruff voice. “Any calls while I was out?”

“No.”

Good. I didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone. The low-grade headache from all the whiskey made me irritable.

I took quick strides to my office, but when I reached for the door, I stopped short, caught in the net of Anna’s legs. Sheer black tights hugged her shapely calves, and a seam trailed up their backs from the spikes of her heels to where her little black dress met the middle of her thigh. Its long sleeves hugged her arms, and the square neckline was cut low, revealing the tops of her breasts. I tongued a fang, willing it to retreat, but the sight of all that creamy skin and tight, black silk made me ache with hunger and need.

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