“Michael, I hate it when you get flip at times like these. Sometimes I think you just use your slightly sarcastic sense of humor as a shield.”
“You’re right, I know. I will miss him—I’ll miss him a lot. He would have done anything for me. We grew up with the same parents, in the same house, and yet we were so different. He tried to get closer with me. I know he was disappointed that I wouldn’t bring us all over to his house for every holiday. But I just didn’t want to go there. It was all too different, beginning with his wives and their families. I didn’t enjoy myself, and I knew neither you nor Sofia would either. I don’t know, over the years we drifted away … yet, I thought of him all the time.”
“You loved him as best you could, Michael. Life isn’t perfect. You were a good brother to him, and you were there when he needed you, even if we didn’t spend our Christmas dinners together.”
Donna and Michael had arranged with Maria to take over Alex’s former restaurant for his wake immediately following the funeral. As they all entered Grimaldi’s, Michael thought of the happy times right after his brother purchased the restaurant and the many dinners he shared there with Alex and their parents. He recalled his father half-jokingly asking Alex why he opened an Italian restaurant instead of a Greek one. Michael had only been to Grimaldi’s a few times since his brother had sold the restaurant to Maria. Each time he met Alex there for dinner, Maria would join them at their table for cocktails. Michael understood again why Alex found her so alluring.
Oddly, Michael thought, he could understand his brother’s attraction to most of the women in his orbit—except his three wives.
As soon as Michael and Samantha walked in the door at Grimaldi’s, followed closely behind by the two Lesters and Donna, Maria ran from behind the bar to greet Michael. She embraced him warmly. “Oh Michael, it’s a sad occasion, but it is so good to see you.” She hugged Samantha and greeted both Lesters with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Michael noticed that her greeting to Donna was much cooler. Clearly, there was no love lost between the two women. Michael instantly realized why Donna had said she would have preferred the wake to be at another restaurant. He speculated that Maria had probably felt that Donna was not a good wife to Alex. Alex, as a form of psychological torture, played mind games with his wife and enjoyed leading her to believe, incorrectly, that he had slept with Maria.
“Samantha, please excuse me for a few minutes,” Michael said. “Donna asked me to speak with her privately. Maria, do you think you could get us a small table away from the crowd for just a few minutes?”
Maria showed Michael and Donna to a table hidden from the collection of strangely festive mourners. She appeared to carefully avoid the table that Michael knew had always been Alex’s favorite. Now unset and the only table with a “Reserved” sign on it, Michael assumed it was where Maria had sat with Alex when he was shot. He tried to imagine the scene that night before forcing himself back to the present.
Once they were seated, Donna appeared to relax. Michael struggled to ignore the images he was still constructing in his mind of his brother’s final moments, while fighting the urge to glance again at the table, just a few feet away.
“You’re so lucky, Michael. Besides being a beautiful woman, Samantha is just so sensitive. I mean, she is really a nice lady. I wish I could be that nice—I’m just not.” Michael sensed a certain refreshing honesty in Donna; she wasn’t apologizing, just stating a fact.
“Listen,” Michael interjected, trying to keep the conversation from getting too emotional or psychological. “Alex wouldn’t have been attracted to you if you were all that sweet. And you would have never been attracted to him if you were all that sensitive. So, you two were a great match.”
Donna, appearing suddenly distracted, glanced at her gold-and-diamond-studded Rolex watch. “Michael, I’m sorry, but I just need to make a quick call, and I know my cell’s battery is dead. Can I borrow your cell for a minute? I’ll just run out to the ladies’ room where it’s quieter.”
“Sure,” Michael said without thinking. Donna thanked him and vanished for a few minutes.
“Everything all right?” Michael asked her when she returned with his phone.
“Oh, fine, fine,” Donna said, quickly downing a double shot of Grey Goose vodka. Likewise, Michael finished his martini uncharacteristically quickly, waiting for the effects of the drinks to work their magic and loosen up the evening and the conversation.
“Alex loved you—you know that, don’t you, Michael?”
“I do, and I loved him.”
“He was never quite sure of that,” Donna said.
“I know. I always kept some distance.” Michael was feeling almost apologetic. He remembered the times his brother and parents would try to bring them all closer together, but Michael always resisted. He wanted to go his own way. He also knew the two worlds they lived in could not mix easily.
“Listen, Donna. It’s complicated. My brother and I were different in some obvious ways. I couldn’t do what I do and earn a living if I mixed at all in Alex’s world. Have you ever seen the security and background clearance you have to go through today to be a senior executive for one of these companies? It takes weeks to do. They actually look at every place you’ve ever lived, every driver’s license you’ve ever had; they check court records. It’s crazy.”
“Michael, no offense, but the people you hang out with are bigger crooks than Alex’s gang. It’s just not the type of shit that shows up on background checks.”
The drinks were kicking in. Michael laughed knowingly. “I forgot how crazy—but good and honest—you were, Donna.”
“He was proud of you. I think, on one level, he admired your family life and he always bragged to his cronies about how well you were doing. You know, the CEO thing and all that.” Michael felt that Donna meant this, but he sensed she also needed to say something to soften what she had just said in case she had offended him. “It was something Alex knew he could never do. It just wasn’t in him.”
“Donna, when we were leaving the church earlier you said, ‘Be careful.’ What did you mean by that?” Michael asked, looking right into Donna’s eyes.
“Listen, Alex was not one to tell his wife everything. But I know he was worried. First, he had some guys trying to take a cut of his business. I don’t remember how much they wanted, but Alex said they approached him back in September and wanted either some big payment up front or something every month.”
“How did Alex react?”
“You know your brother. He told them to go fuck themselves. He told me they just looked like a bunch of kids, and he wasn’t about to just start paying them his hard-earned money.”
“Could one of those kids have been that guy Luke who shot him?”
“I don’t know because I never saw any of these people. Alex only said that they were Italian and then he said maybe Portuguese. You know your brother; he was never good with accents, let alone languages.” As she spoke, Donna’s eyes darted around the room watching the parade of friends and acquaintances in the restaurant behind Michael. It was a practice that had annoyed Michael in the past. He remembered it now.
“The police think this Luke guy was just a punk who needed money, and someone paid him to kill Alex. He couldn’t have been the brightest crayon in the box to have shot Alex in Grimaldi’s with all those off-duty cops around. Many of those guys were Alex’s friends�—they shot that kid like fifteen times. He’s dead, but finding who hired him might be impossible now. I don’t think the police have any real clues.”
Donna paused to reach for her glass, realized it was empty, and took a deep breath before continuing. “Michael, I know you can’t get in the middle of all this now, but I have no one else to turn to. George certainly can’t handle this. Alex always said his son just had no touch for the business. Plus, he’s only twenty-three, for Christ’s sake.”
“And you think I do?” asked Michael, almost laughing but at the same time feeling a deep sense of doom approaching.
“I know this is ridiculous but, yes, I do. Who else can I possibly turn to? Also, there’s more. Skinny Lester just cornered me at the cemetery—he’s so nervous he couldn’t wait until the dirt even settled on the damned casket. Alex owes one of the bettors seven hundred thousand dollars!”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Michael began to sink deeper into his seat.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds, Michael.” Donna began to lay out the pressing issues confronting Alex’s business. “Alex has people who owe him money. From what Lester told me, he has about half a million out there that is owed to him right now. Some of these people will pay Lester out of loyalty to Alex. Some won’t pay anything until they see someone with some presence who makes them understand that the debt still has to be paid, Alex or no Alex.”
“Well, that at least closes some of the financial gap,” Michael said, partially relieved since he suspected that Donna was going to ask him to help pay the seven hundred thousand dollars in order to keep everyone safe from harm. At least the gap now appeared to be only two hundred thousand dollars. But Donna’s expression about the need for “someone with some presence” was giving Michael an instant migraine. His throat was tightening and a familiar pain deep down in his stomach began to assert itself.
“Michael, relax. It gets better.”
Michael couldn’t read Donna well enough to know whether that was a joke or whether there really was good news to follow. He suspected the former.
“Alex had, but now
we
have plenty of money. I think there are millions stashed away.”
“You think? Or you know?”
“I know,” Donna answered quietly.
“Well, that’s a relief. At least we—or you—don’t have to worry about money,” said Michael, almost able to exhale.
Donna repeated her point. “I know there’s plenty of money. I just don’t know where it is.”
“Oh, Christ. Then who does?” Michael said.
“Only Alex, I think.” Donna smiled and took a healthy sip from another vodka, which Maria had replenished.
Michael looked around at the restaurant, partly to relieve the pressure from the intensity of their conversation. As he did, he realized that many of the men were eyeing Donna with a look of lust that certain women inspire, if not command. She had a presence and the rare ability to look sultry and sensual in mourning. Her short black dress and dark stockings barely concealed the tan legs that Michael knew were carefully nurtured recently under the Miami sun. She showed just enough cleavage to ensure attention—too much, perhaps, for such a recent widow. Michael’s mind, he realized, had wandered too far.
“You must have some idea, Donna. How about the Lesters or George?”
“No way. Alex was always afraid someone would beat it out of them. He loved both Lesters, but he knew neither of them could stand up to too much pressure. He certainly loved George, but he wanted to be sure his mother never got her hands on any more of his money than she got out of the divorce.”
“Where do we start?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Michael wished he could take them back. He realized he’d said “we” instead of “you.” He also knew it was too late. The life that he so carefully insulated from Alex’s was about to be merged.
“I’d like both of us to talk with your old friend Russell,” Donna answered. Russell Munson was an old friend, originally of Michael’s, since grade school. As was typical, Michael moved on and had almost no contact with Russell, while Alex and Russell became close friends. Russell was smart, a graduate of the exclusive Brooklyn Tech High School and City College. Like Alex, he wasn’t interested in the traditional white-collar world, and he became a very talented carpenter and mason.
“How would Russell know?” asked Michael, trying to figure out the possible connections and implications.
“Alex would always have Russell do work in the house. I don’t know for sure, but I remember years ago Alex told me that, before I knew him, he would hide money in the woodwork and drop-down ceiling of his apartment with Greta. Russell seemed to be doing a lot of work in our house, especially when I happened to be down in Florida and Alex was home alone.”
“Do you need me to speak with Russell?” asked Michael, beginning to look for what was known in his world as an exit strategy.
“Michael, Russell trusts you. Someone has to deal with Fat and Skinny Lester too. Not to mention the rest of his crew, probably twenty more guys. They’re devastated and they don’t know what the hell to do. And I need you now—just for a short time to unravel this whole thing … and to keep the family safe. That includes keeping you and your family safe too.”
Michael knew that her words had made their intended impact. His head jolted back ever so slightly. He felt like he’d lost his focus momentarily as the realization of real danger to him and his own family sunk in. He could see Donna looking right into his eyes as though she was trying to look behind them, to see how much havoc she’d caused. He knew he needed to recover.
“Donna, everyone around Alex knows I’ve never been involved in his business.”
“Some know. Some don’t. Some don’t care. In their world, Michael, you’re family so you’d have to know. Whether you are or you aren’t, they’re going to assume you are. So whoever had your brother killed probably did it over money or something having to do with his business. These guys are going to figure you’re brothers, you’re tight, and you’re involved.”
She stopped, reached over, and gently placed her hand on top of his. It was a loving gesture from a hardened woman, making it so much more effective. “He loved you, Michael. He was hurt by your absence. Your mother and father would have wanted you to do this for him. They believed you did whatever was necessary for your family.”
She knew how to manipulate men, Michael thought. After all, she’d had years of practice. A decade of dealing with Alex had made her capable of turning the less volatile, more even-tempered Michael into putty in her hands. He could feel her pulling him into her world.
“Just help me find Alex’s money, let’s pay off his debts, and then help Fat and Skinny Lester collect the money that people owed him. That’s all I ask. Then you go back to Connecticut.”
Donna makes it sound so simple,
he thought.