“Who kept her alive?” I fisted the square and stuffed it into my pants pocket.
Frank shrugged. “Six months after Lorenzo took your mother’s title, I received a typed note with three instructions. Announce your mother’s death in another two months. Keep her alive without letting anyone know. Defiance would get Adriano and Raphael killed,” he replied, referring to his sons.
“Someone wanted her alive but chose to keep her locked up?”
He nodded. “Two days later, a truck arrived at the gate with furniture and another note. It recommended I employ the driver as a gardener on the estate because he’d be responsible to feed your mother and provide her with certain supplies.”
“Where is he?”
“Lives in the staff quarters but you’re wasting your time if you want to speak to him.”
“Why?”
‘The man’s mute, doesn’t write and just stares dumbly at you if you ask any questions.”
“The fuck,” I snorted. “Well planned,” I muttered shaking my head. “Did you install the cameras in the room?”
The look on my uncle’s face suggested he didn’t know they existed, still he didn’t sound surprised when he replied, “they were watching her.” His expression thoughtful, he stared out into distance. “Who’d benefit from keeping her alive?”
“I don’t think it was about benefit.”
“Then?”
I relayed Mother’s rantings, my mind skimming years of possible contacts who’d want to punish her in this manner. There were too many to single out.
“So we don’t know who our mystery benefactor is?” He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “You think they were looking for something?” I caught the underlying edginess to his tone.
Ignoring it, I shrugged. “Who the fuck cares. I’d want to know who he is just to shake his hand.” I flicked my cigarette away.
“I’ll call the clean-up crew.”
“Don’t tell anyone what went down, not even Lorenzo,” I instructed, heading back to the main building.
When I glanced over my shoulder, Frank was on the phone, his tense features suggested he was spooked. He was a revered man, though, almost on par with Mother’s importance, something he nor any other man could take from her, except my brother.
Later, I stood on the luxury white yacht Mother owned sipping the expensive shit she’d kept on board for the men she entertained. Although the ripples caused by the great whites feasting on their generous meal gently rocked the boat, watching her dismembered body being thrown over the side, a calm like no other coasted over me.
“Ironic, isn’t it, Mother?” I tipped my glass at her head the mute gardener was about to toss over. “Your boat, your whiskey, your keeper, and your demise, all in my hands.” My chuckle mirthless, I downed the liquor and hurled the glass into the openwater. Still, a tiny niggle suggested Mother’s dying words would affect more than just my sleep.
Silently, I prayed for control.
twenty-two
. . .
Koro– 34 years old
I gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, breathing harsh. Waiting for him to unravel.
And he did. The look in his eyes, mad finality. The swing of his machete, poetry in motion. The spray of her filthy blood, a cleansing. The rage in his body, his salvation.
When his ass hit the floor, his breaths uneven, his shock palpable in his shaking hands, I knew he’d won.
“You did it, Remo. Finally rid yourself of her.” I whispered, my heart a shaky beat, knowing I did the right thing.
Until he stared at her, his expression disbelief when she murmured words I couldn’t hear, and then he crumbled to her chest.
A soft shiver ran down my spine. “Why does it feel like I just watched you die too?” I heard the sadness in my voice, abruptly second-guessing my decision.
