“You could go out and buy a dress for the funeral. Did you pack something black?”
“I did not.”
“Lefty will drive you to any mall you want to go to. He has instructions to take you wherever you want to go. I put a credit card in your purse last night, along with some cash. You can go shopping for just a few hours?”
“Shopping.” She shook her head. “Fine, whatever.”
Bria dashed out of the room, leaving me alone and feeling abandoned. That was a feeling I knew all too well. I didn’t like it.
Chapter Eight
NICCO
Ineeded that nut. I was more at ease, and now I could face the day without yelling or shooting anyone. There was something about Lala I couldn’t resist. I showered right after our dangerous romp. Gloria never even opened one eye. No harm, no foul. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her or me, or Lala.
I let the warm water wash me of my sins. I switched the water to cold to force myself to wake up completely. I was relaxed by the snatch and I needed a clear head to deal with the bullshit that was coming my way.
I dressed in all black because I was mourning, and it was tradition. After my shower, Gloria was asleep. I checked to see if she was still among the living. Ambien and chardonnay hadn’t ended her privileged life. I had summoned Cenzo and Frankie over for a talk. This would be a covert interrogation. Who wanted our father dead? Who had access to him? Who was I holding a bullet for?
Cenzo arrived first. He didn’t look well. I poured him a glass of scotch to take the edge off, but it didn’t seem to make the difference in his demeanor. I sat and watched my brother pace the floor in front of me. I didn’t know what he was thinking. We were close, but I was having trouble with my grief. I learned Cenzo was physically in Chicago when Dom died. He shortly thereafter boarded a plane to come here for the council meeting. That didn’t mean he hadn’t conspired with someone to un-alive him. Cenzo bumped heads with father more than any of us. That didn’t make him guilty of anything.
“I can’t believe father is dead.”
“Come sit down.” I extended my hand to the chair across from the sofa.
He stopped, looked down at me, and took a seat on the chair directly in front of me.
“Fuck. I wasn’t prepared for this.” He shook his head.
“No one is ever prepared for death.”
“When you called me, I didn’t believe it. Father was healthy as a horse. Fuck, he was healthier than you and me. He had a personal chef. He ate organic homemade food. I’m out here eating Harold’s Chicken, Home Run Inn pizza and Portillos.”
“I don’t know those places.”
“Chicago joints.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve been thinking. It’s really been bothering me. I don’t know. I just don’t know if I believe father had a heart attack. I know that’s what the hospital said, but I don’t know. I just have this bad feeling.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t have any heart problems that we knew about. After ma died, he made sure he was healthy for us kids. I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t want to believe our old man went out because of a bad ticker.”
“Well—”
“Did you look into it? Are you sure?” He inquired.
“He died of cardiac arrest. It’s right there in his death certificate. Do you want me to look into it?”
“Yes. It wouldn’t hurt, just to be sure. I thought he was going to grow old.”
“He was sixty-six.”
“People live to be older than that. I never even imagined life without him.” He drank from his glass until nothing was left. Then he placed the empty glass on the coffee table that separated us.
“I’m with you. I can dig a little deeper.”