There’s so much I still don’t understand, so I take a moment to reflect.
I first met Mairead at Star Mart. My ex-coworker is Eamon’s unbalanced sister. How is each new thing I learn connected to something I thought I understood? What does Mairead know about all this? I decided that I need to see Mairead. We have tentative plans to visit an escape room. I wouldn’t be “lying” to Andrea, only withholding a couple pieces of information until a later date. Hanging out with Mairead, without Andrea thinking we’re in imminent danger, could shed some light on this situation.
This board sure is a poor excuse for mystery solving, although likely still better investigative work than any ‘officer of the law’ in this city.
I catch myself before sharing the last thing Eamon said to me. The first lead I need to follow in regard to my family. This feels too personal and until I look up what “Lombardi” means, I didn’t want to involve my roommate any more than she already was.
She’s been like a sister to me since college. She loves me and my family. “Nothing else to add,” I insist.
Her face speaks volumes, never hiding how she really feels. I can tell she doesn’t believe this is all I know, but she must understand. That’s all I’m going to give her for now.
Peering into Thelma’s tank, I find her nestled within the faux skull. It’s so strange how she’s been sleeping during the night and out during the day. She’s nocturnal after all. I whisperagainst the glass, “Are you feeling, okay?” She remains immobile within her hide. “I met Louise today, your partner in crime.”
The oven beeps reminding me that the pizza is ready. We eat at the table, only the sounds of chewing fill the space. My eyes are going to cross if I stare at that board a moment longer. After we each polish off our half of the pie, I reveal, “I’m going to go through some boxes of stuff my mom gave me a while back. Maybe I can find something that gives us an idea of who would want to…” I stop myself before I think out loud.
Andrea tilts her head while taking the dishes from my hands. “I got this. Go get some sleep. You’re making less sense than the whiteboard.”
I do appreciate the way she can be mothering at times. Once the door to my room closes, I peel myself from what I realize is an extremely inappropriate dress, considering who I learned Eamon was to my brother. I think I may need to burn it.
The chilled floors are only going to become more frigid as autumn morphs into winter. At the top of my closet, I pull down extra blankets for my bed and even use some leftover washi tape, to seal the cracks around my windows that allow our expensive heat to escape.
Tomorrow, I’ll continue my hunt for answers. The day will be busy from the start… including breakfast with my uncle, earlier than normally scheduled, work at The Black Sheep, and then finding time to look up “Lombardi.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
THE LOMBARDIS
Over Thirty years ago…
“Come on numbnuts, keep up!” I bellowed to my little bastardo of a brother.
We shot down one of the alleys trying to flee the sirens, wailing from all directions. I just got done paying a visit to the Irish territory. I hated the way their shit family crests were displayed outside their bars and clubs. Lucky for them I have impeccable taste, helping them to redecorate their fronts with a brick through each window.
I stop just short of emerging from between two buildings, when brilliant lights and wailing alarms streak past us. I put out my arm, stopping my incompetent brother from running headfirst into the side of the passing police cruiser.
Once the coast was clear, we barreled across the street, raced along the river, and continued fleeing that defiled part of town till our lungs burned.
Tears streamed down my fica brother’s face.
I thought about leaving him there after I threw my last brick but knew my father would murder me on the spot if I returned home without him. What’s poetic about all this is, he looks up to me, therefore the little turd will always keep his mouth shut. It’d be touching if I actually liked him, but I’d rather see him fileted from navel to sternum, tied to a cinder block, and thrown into the Boston Bay. Not by my hand, of course.
When we arrived home, our parents were waiting.
We both got walloped pretty good.
Pops already knew what happened, of course. He has eyes and ears everywhere in this city. He carried on about how our families are allies, and he’ll be damned if he lets me trifle with their crucial network.
My face healed in a couple days, but the marks across my body took almost a month. The baby of the family didn’t undergo nearly as many lashes as I did.
That night, we both got sent to bed without suppah.
I heard Ma sneak into my little brother’s room with soup and bread, after Pops went to sleep. I however got an extra whack upside my head from a wooden spoon. She’s a wise woman. She knew it was all my idea, even though Charles didn’t say a word about anything. Ma cried for a long time, both from frustration and sorrow.
I’ll never forget the day they brought Charles home. Mama thought I was too young to remember, but how could a boy forget when his ma had a swollen belly one day, then found in a pool of her own blood the next. They took her to the hospital to heal.
When she came back home, everything was different. She didn’t want to play hide and seek anymore or push me on the tire swing. She wept whenever she thought no one was paying attention, but I saw.
