| General Fiction posted June 21, 2024 | Chapters: |
...31 32 -33- 34... 
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A few others join the hunt for the treasure
A chapter in the book The Unwilling Heir
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 33
by Begin Again
END OF CHAPTER 32
Wanting to take the attention off her, Sandra asked, "Can you read any more of it, Billy?"
"I think he's talking about a friend, but he names a place, not a person. It says - la biblioteca tua amica, meaning the library is your friend." Billy sighed and studied the end of the paper. "There's a funny scribbling drawn at the bottom, and beneath the drawing, it says - Le risposte arrivano dal libro. Answers come from the book."
Still impatient, Benny complained, "Why so cryptic? When someone gave me a job, it was simple. A name and get it done."
Billy nodded at his friend. "I know, but Grandfather didn't know who would find this letter. He had no idea if it would be us."
"What's the scribbling look like, Billy? Is it a map of something? And what book has the answers?" James pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it. "Are we any closer than we were?"
Still staring at the letter, Sandra asked Billy, "What does that drawing look like to you?"
Billy stared at it and then laughed. "I might have drawn that as a kid or something very similar. It's a boot." His eyes met Sandra's, and then he added, "It's Italy. He wants us to find a book about Italy in the library."
*****
Chapter 33
While things were calming down at the mansion and the group prepared to search for the next clue, rumblings among the city's seedier residents were ramping up. Rumors were rampant, dredging up old legends about Judge Parker and the mansion. A few of them had been repeated and shared with underworld crime boss Frankie Saladino and his number one guy, Louie Frisella.
*****
The yellow cab left the city's congested streets behind and maneuvered through the narrow streets of Little Italy. Nearing his passenger's destination, Pauli glanced into his rearview mirror and asked, "Round back, Mr. Frisella?"
"Naw, just drop me off at the curb, Pauli." Louie leaned forward and pushed a Benjamin into the driver's hand, his gaze sweeping the familiar neighborhood. He smiled as he opened the cab door, "Keep the meter running, Pauli. It's going to be a good night."
As he stepped onto the sidewalk, a group of local kids playing marbles paused to watch him, nodding and showing their respect. One of them, a scrappy boy with a missing tooth, called out, "Hey, Mr. Frisella, you gonna win big tonight?"
Louie chuckled, flashing a grin. "You bet, kid. I'm feeling lucky." He reached into his pocket, found a stray twenty, and tossed it into their marbles. "Go have some ice cream on me!" Louie continued his walk, laughing as he heard the boys shrieking with joy.
Louie Frisella, a made-man and right arm of Frankie Saladino, embodied old-world toughness, with a square jawline and piercing eyes. His dark hair, meticulously combed back, revealed a hint of salt-and-pepper at the temples. His tailored suit hugged his frame, paired with polished shoes that clicked with authority against the pavement. A Rolex peeked out from beneath his cuff.
He strolled past the tiny neighborhood shops, Vinny's butcher shop, Mama Sicily's Cafe, and numerous others, nodding to the owners who stood in their doorways, exchanging the daily gossip. One of them waved and called out, "Evening, Louie. Frankie's waiting for ya."
He tipped his hat in acknowledgment, his pace quickening as he approached Luigi's bar. The neon sign flickered against the window, barely visible among the posters and beer signs taped to the dirt-covered glass.
Inside the dimly lit bar, the air was heavy with the scent of aged whiskey and cigar smoke. One couple, lost in their own world, swayed to a slow song on the jukebox.
Faded photographs of bygone gangsters, their stern faces staring at the patrons, decorated the walls. The furniture, worn and leather-clad, had patches of duct tape holding one or two pieces together. The bar was a weathered oak, scarred from years of use and abuse.
A group of forty-something guys huddled over a game of poker, their expressions guarded and their stakes high. A lone figure nursed a drink at the bar, casting quick glances around the room. The other tables buzzed with conversation and clinking glasses.
Louie made his way to the poker table, where the guys were deep into a game. By the looks of the pot, more than one person thought they had the winning hand. Someone was going home a happy man tonight.
"Hey, Louie, pull up a chair!" Tony, a burly man with a thick mustache, grinned as he studied his cards.
"We'll go easy on ya," Marco, a wiry man with a sharp wit, quipped as he tossed in his bet.
Louie laughed, recalling how he'd cleaned house the last time, and they wouldn't play with him for weeks. "I got a meet with the big guy. Besides, I wouldn't want to send you home to the wife with empty pockets." Laughter rounded the table as he headed to the back of the room.
Making a quick stop at the end of the bar, he exchanged a few words with Jimmy, the bartender, and then walked down a narrow hallway. Halfway from the back exit door, he stopped near a mirror and checked his hair. He glanced around to ensure no prying eyes were watching. With a practiced hand, he touched the edge of the mirror, opening a secret entrance.
The transition from Luigi's to the 1920 speakeasy was immediate — the smooth jazz, the soft lighting, and the air of luxury and money. Louie spotted Frankie at his private booth and made his way over, sliding across the leather seat.
Out of nowhere, a waitress arrived, placing a Manhattan with a little ice in front of each man. She smiled at Louie. "Nice to see you. It's been a while since you've been in."
Louie glanced at his boss and grinned. Nodding his head toward Frankie, he chuckled. "The boss keeps me busy."
Once she left the table, Frankie sipped his drink and wasted no time questioning Louie, "So, what's been on your mind? You look a little green around the gills, my friend."
"Women!" Louie glanced nervously around the room, which was totally out of character for him. "You can't live with them, and you can't live without them."
"What? Maria giving you what's for again about getting married?"
"Oh, no! Something like that — I tune her out till she's done moaning and groaning." Louie chuckled. "It's best to put on a basketball game, load up with a six-pack, and don't say a thing."
"Well, then, spill it. What's got you walking around, looking like you expect Manuel's crew to break in the place and start shooting it up?"
"Maria's been having these dreams. Premonitions, I think she called it."
Frankie raised his eyebrow, his curiosity aroused. "Premonitions? About what?"
Louie leaned across the table, lowering his voice. "About that old mansion up on the hill. She says something big is gonna happen there. Something bad."
Frankie signaled the waitress for another round as he finished his drink. "Ah, come on, Louie. You're not buying into that psychic mumbo-jumbo, are you? We're not in some fairy tale."
"I know, boss. But Maria's never been wrong about these things. Remember when she warned us about the cops raiding the warehouse last year? She saved our hides, for sure."
Frankie nodded his head from side to side, cracking his neck as he considered what his guy was telling him. "Alright, let's say I humor you. What's supposed to happen at that mansion? Last I heard, the rumor was it was haunted. Are the ghosts throwing a party?"
"Come on, Frankie. I'm telling you we need to take Maria seriously. She's not sure what's going down, but she's got this gut feeling. It makes her restless, and she walks the floor at night, praying and begging me to stay clear of the place."
Frankie shrugged, "Maybe Maria's onto something. We can't afford to ignore potential threats. Keep your ears to the ground and see if anyone else is talking about it."
Marco, another of Frankie's boys, approached the table. "Hey, boss, you got a minute?"
Frankie motioned for Marco to join them and then waved to the waitress to bring more drinks. "What's on your mind, Marco? Did you lose too much money at tonight's poker game?"
Louie reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold money clip. "I can spot you a few hundred if you need it."
"No, no. I did just fine at the poker game." Marco glanced nervously around the room before he continued. "It's just that there's been this guy sitting alone at the bar most of the night."
Louie nodded. "Baseball cap and cowboy boots. Yeah, I noticed him when I came in. He seemed nervous."
"That's the guy. Well, another guy joined him while we were playing our last hand. Since no one was at the bar and Jimmy was busy stocking the liquor, they talked a little loud."
"About what? Did Jimmy hear anything?" Both men stared expectantly at Marco.
"Yeah, he did. That's why I came back here to tell you guys about it."
Frank sighed, "Marco, we've got enough trouble without getting involved in two strangers' beef."
"That's just it, Frankie. It involves us in a way."
Louie smelled trouble, and he narrowed in on Marco. "Spit it out, now. What's the deal?"
"You remember back in the day when Judge Parker pulled the strings on this part of town?"
"Of course, who hasn't heard the stories? He was a clever man and disappeared with a fortune, so they say."
Marco grinned, nodding excitedly. "Exactly! Word on the street was that nobody found his stash. It was worth millions. Gold, cash, art, diamonds, you name it."
"The guy took a bullet to his head for his efforts, if I recall. Someone killed him and his grandson."
Marco had Frankie's attention now. "I know they tried to pin it on us for a while but couldn't find any evidence." He finished his drink and asked, "But what were these guys fighting about?"
"The second guy was trying to get the guy in the baseball cap to join his crew. He said he could get in on the ground floor of a million-dollar heist. Jimmy couldn't hear everything but said it was something about checking out the mansion. The first guy wanted nothing to do with it. Jimmy says the guy kept saying the place was haunted, and he wasn't going anywhere near it."
Louie's eyes widened. "You mean there's a heist worth millions going down, and someone else beat us to it? Is it Manuel's guys?"
Marco shrugged. "I don't know. The guy in the cowboy boots and cap paid his tab, and they left."
Louie looked across the table, trying to read his boss's mind. "What do you think? Maybe Maria's not the only one with a bad feeling about that place."
Frankie thought for a moment, then leaned forward. "Alright, let's find out who these guys are and what they're planning. If there's a treasure in that mansion, we can't afford to let anyone else get their hands on it."
Louie nodded at his boss and then gave Marco instructions. "Get a crew together, and we'll go up there and scope out the place. We'll use the limos and meet in the cemetery. We can make it look like a funeral."
"Got it!" Marco stood and grinned at Frankie. "Consider that treasure already in your hands, boss." He turned to Louie. "See ya in the morning. Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
Frankie watched Marco walk away before turning back to Louie. "He's too cocky. Keep an eye on him because if something better comes along, he's liable to take it."
Frankie signaled the waitress for another round of drinks, a determined look on his face. "Time to get to work. If a fortune is hidden in that mansion, it will be ours."
Louie lifted his glass and drank, but his mind was mulling over Frankie's remark about Marco. Frank had a good feel for people and if he thought Marco might jump the fence, he knew he had better keep a close eye on the guy. He looked across the table at his boss and said, "To tomorrow!"
END OF CHAPTER 32
Wanting to take the attention off her, Sandra asked, "Can you read any more of it, Billy?"
"I think he's talking about a friend, but he names a place, not a person. It says - la biblioteca tua amica, meaning the library is your friend." Billy sighed and studied the end of the paper. "There's a funny scribbling drawn at the bottom, and beneath the drawing, it says - Le risposte arrivano dal libro. Answers come from the book."
Still impatient, Benny complained, "Why so cryptic? When someone gave me a job, it was simple. A name and get it done."
Billy nodded at his friend. "I know, but Grandfather didn't know who would find this letter. He had no idea if it would be us."
"What's the scribbling look like, Billy? Is it a map of something? And what book has the answers?" James pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it. "Are we any closer than we were?"
Still staring at the letter, Sandra asked Billy, "What does that drawing look like to you?"
Billy stared at it and then laughed. "I might have drawn that as a kid or something very similar. It's a boot." His eyes met Sandra's, and then he added, "It's Italy. He wants us to find a book about Italy in the library."
Wanting to take the attention off her, Sandra asked, "Can you read any more of it, Billy?"
"I think he's talking about a friend, but he names a place, not a person. It says - la biblioteca tua amica, meaning the library is your friend." Billy sighed and studied the end of the paper. "There's a funny scribbling drawn at the bottom, and beneath the drawing, it says - Le risposte arrivano dal libro. Answers come from the book."
Still impatient, Benny complained, "Why so cryptic? When someone gave me a job, it was simple. A name and get it done."
Billy nodded at his friend. "I know, but Grandfather didn't know who would find this letter. He had no idea if it would be us."
"What's the scribbling look like, Billy? Is it a map of something? And what book has the answers?" James pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it. "Are we any closer than we were?"
Still staring at the letter, Sandra asked Billy, "What does that drawing look like to you?"
Billy stared at it and then laughed. "I might have drawn that as a kid or something very similar. It's a boot." His eyes met Sandra's, and then he added, "It's Italy. He wants us to find a book about Italy in the library."
*****
Chapter 33
While things were calming down at the mansion and the group prepared to search for the next clue, rumblings among the city's seedier residents were ramping up. Rumors were rampant, dredging up old legends about Judge Parker and the mansion. A few of them had been repeated and shared with underworld crime boss Frankie Saladino and his number one guy, Louie Frisella.
*****
The yellow cab left the city's congested streets behind and maneuvered through the narrow streets of Little Italy. Nearing his passenger's destination, Pauli glanced into his rearview mirror and asked, "Round back, Mr. Frisella?"
"Naw, just drop me off at the curb, Pauli." Louie leaned forward and pushed a Benjamin into the driver's hand, his gaze sweeping the familiar neighborhood. He smiled as he opened the cab door, "Keep the meter running, Pauli. It's going to be a good night."
As he stepped onto the sidewalk, a group of local kids playing marbles paused to watch him, nodding and showing their respect. One of them, a scrappy boy with a missing tooth, called out, "Hey, Mr. Frisella, you gonna win big tonight?"
Louie chuckled, flashing a grin. "You bet, kid. I'm feeling lucky." He reached into his pocket, found a stray twenty, and tossed it into their marbles. "Go have some ice cream on me!" Louie continued his walk, laughing as he heard the boys shrieking with joy.
Louie Frisella, a made-man and right arm of Frankie Saladino, embodied old-world toughness, with a square jawline and piercing eyes. His dark hair, meticulously combed back, revealed a hint of salt-and-pepper at the temples. His tailored suit hugged his frame, paired with polished shoes that clicked with authority against the pavement. A Rolex peeked out from beneath his cuff.
He strolled past the tiny neighborhood shops, Vinny's butcher shop, Mama Sicily's Cafe, and numerous others, nodding to the owners who stood in their doorways, exchanging the daily gossip. One of them waved and called out, "Evening, Louie. Frankie's waiting for ya."
He tipped his hat in acknowledgment, his pace quickening as he approached Luigi's bar. The neon sign flickered against the window, barely visible among the posters and beer signs taped to the dirt-covered glass.
Inside the dimly lit bar, the air was heavy with the scent of aged whiskey and cigar smoke. One couple, lost in their own world, swayed to a slow song on the jukebox.
Faded photographs of bygone gangsters, their stern faces staring at the patrons, decorated the walls. The furniture, worn and leather-clad, had patches of duct tape holding one or two pieces together. The bar was a weathered oak, scarred from years of use and abuse.
A group of forty-something guys huddled over a game of poker, their expressions guarded and their stakes high. A lone figure nursed a drink at the bar, casting quick glances around the room. The other tables buzzed with conversation and clinking glasses.
Louie made his way to the poker table, where the guys were deep into a game. By the looks of the pot, more than one person thought they had the winning hand. Someone was going home a happy man tonight.
"Hey, Louie, pull up a chair!" Tony, a burly man with a thick mustache, grinned as he studied his cards.
"We'll go easy on ya," Marco, a wiry man with a sharp wit, quipped as he tossed in his bet.
Louie laughed, recalling how he'd cleaned house the last time, and they wouldn't play with him for weeks. "I got a meet with the big guy. Besides, I wouldn't want to send you home to the wife with empty pockets." Laughter rounded the table as he headed to the back of the room.
Making a quick stop at the end of the bar, he exchanged a few words with Jimmy, the bartender, and then walked down a narrow hallway. Halfway from the back exit door, he stopped near a mirror and checked his hair. He glanced around to ensure no prying eyes were watching. With a practiced hand, he touched the edge of the mirror, opening a secret entrance.
The transition from Luigi's to the 1920 speakeasy was immediate — the smooth jazz, the soft lighting, and the air of luxury and money. Louie spotted Frankie at his private booth and made his way over, sliding across the leather seat.
Out of nowhere, a waitress arrived, placing a Manhattan with a little ice in front of each man. She smiled at Louie. "Nice to see you. It's been a while since you've been in."
Louie glanced at his boss and grinned. Nodding his head toward Frankie, he chuckled. "The boss keeps me busy."
Once she left the table, Frankie sipped his drink and wasted no time questioning Louie, "So, what's been on your mind? You look a little green around the gills, my friend."
"Women!" Louie glanced nervously around the room, which was totally out of character for him. "You can't live with them, and you can't live without them."
"What? Maria giving you what's for again about getting married?"
"Oh, no! Something like that — I tune her out till she's done moaning and groaning." Louie chuckled. "It's best to put on a basketball game, load up with a six-pack, and don't say a thing."
"Well, then, spill it. What's got you walking around, looking like you expect Manuel's crew to break in the place and start shooting it up?"
"Maria's been having these dreams. Premonitions, I think she called it."
Frankie raised his eyebrow, his curiosity aroused. "Premonitions? About what?"
Louie leaned across the table, lowering his voice. "About that old mansion up on the hill. She says something big is gonna happen there. Something bad."
Frankie signaled the waitress for another round as he finished his drink. "Ah, come on, Louie. You're not buying into that psychic mumbo-jumbo, are you? We're not in some fairy tale."
"I know, boss. But Maria's never been wrong about these things. Remember when she warned us about the cops raiding the warehouse last year? She saved our hides, for sure."
Frankie nodded his head from side to side, cracking his neck as he considered what his guy was telling him. "Alright, let's say I humor you. What's supposed to happen at that mansion? Last I heard, the rumor was it was haunted. Are the ghosts throwing a party?"
"Come on, Frankie. I'm telling you we need to take Maria seriously. She's not sure what's going down, but she's got this gut feeling. It makes her restless, and she walks the floor at night, praying and begging me to stay clear of the place."
Frankie shrugged, "Maybe Maria's onto something. We can't afford to ignore potential threats. Keep your ears to the ground and see if anyone else is talking about it."
Marco, another of Frankie's boys, approached the table. "Hey, boss, you got a minute?"
Frankie motioned for Marco to join them and then waved to the waitress to bring more drinks. "What's on your mind, Marco? Did you lose too much money at tonight's poker game?"
Louie reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold money clip. "I can spot you a few hundred if you need it."
"No, no. I did just fine at the poker game." Marco glanced nervously around the room before he continued. "It's just that there's been this guy sitting alone at the bar most of the night."
Louie nodded. "Baseball cap and cowboy boots. Yeah, I noticed him when I came in. He seemed nervous."
"That's the guy. Well, another guy joined him while we were playing our last hand. Since no one was at the bar and Jimmy was busy stocking the liquor, they talked a little loud."
"About what? Did Jimmy hear anything?" Both men stared expectantly at Marco.
"Yeah, he did. That's why I came back here to tell you guys about it."
Frank sighed, "Marco, we've got enough trouble without getting involved in two strangers' beef."
"That's just it, Frankie. It involves us in a way."
Louie smelled trouble, and he narrowed in on Marco. "Spit it out, now. What's the deal?"
"You remember back in the day when Judge Parker pulled the strings on this part of town?"
"Of course, who hasn't heard the stories? He was a clever man and disappeared with a fortune, so they say."
Marco grinned, nodding excitedly. "Exactly! Word on the street was that nobody found his stash. It was worth millions. Gold, cash, art, diamonds, you name it."
"The guy took a bullet to his head for his efforts, if I recall. Someone killed him and his grandson."
Marco had Frankie's attention now. "I know they tried to pin it on us for a while but couldn't find any evidence." He finished his drink and asked, "But what were these guys fighting about?"
"The second guy was trying to get the guy in the baseball cap to join his crew. He said he could get in on the ground floor of a million-dollar heist. Jimmy couldn't hear everything but said it was something about checking out the mansion. The first guy wanted nothing to do with it. Jimmy says the guy kept saying the place was haunted, and he wasn't going anywhere near it."
Louie's eyes widened. "You mean there's a heist worth millions going down, and someone else beat us to it? Is it Manuel's guys?"
Marco shrugged. "I don't know. The guy in the cowboy boots and cap paid his tab, and they left."
Louie looked across the table, trying to read his boss's mind. "What do you think? Maybe Maria's not the only one with a bad feeling about that place."
Frankie thought for a moment, then leaned forward. "Alright, let's find out who these guys are and what they're planning. If there's a treasure in that mansion, we can't afford to let anyone else get their hands on it."
Louie nodded at his boss and then gave Marco instructions. "Get a crew together, and we'll go up there and scope out the place. We'll use the limos and meet in the cemetery. We can make it look like a funeral."
"Got it!" Marco stood and grinned at Frankie. "Consider that treasure already in your hands, boss." He turned to Louie. "See ya in the morning. Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
Frankie watched Marco walk away before turning back to Louie. "He's too cocky. Keep an eye on him because if something better comes along, he's liable to take it."
Frankie signaled the waitress for another round of drinks, a determined look on his face. "Time to get to work. If a fortune is hidden in that mansion, it will be ours."
Louie lifted his glass and drank, but his mind was mulling over Frankie's remark about Marco. Frank had a good feel for people and if he thought Marco might jump the fence, he knew he had better keep a close eye on the guy. He looked across the table at his boss and said, "To tomorrow!"
Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Detective Ryan Hamilton - a ghost
Judge William Parker - the grandfather and ghost
Will Parker - the father and ghost
Judge William Parker (Billy) - the grandson and ghost
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman - a ghost
Lorrie - the housekeeper - a ghost
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house - a ghost
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
Tim - Sandra's father and a ghost
Victoria - the ghostly FORMER mistress in the 1800s
Esther - a female ghost from the 1800s, hoping to reclaim what's rightfully hers
Sebastian - once a lover and friend of Victoria's but now a celestial being
Frankie Saladino - mobster boss
Louie Frisella - Frankie's #1 man
Marco - a wanna-be fighting his way up the ranks
Maurice - head of a rival crew
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Detective Ryan Hamilton - a ghost
Judge William Parker - the grandfather and ghost
Will Parker - the father and ghost
Judge William Parker (Billy) - the grandson and ghost
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman - a ghost
Lorrie - the housekeeper - a ghost
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house - a ghost
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
Tim - Sandra's father and a ghost
Victoria - the ghostly FORMER mistress in the 1800s
Esther - a female ghost from the 1800s, hoping to reclaim what's rightfully hers
Sebastian - once a lover and friend of Victoria's but now a celestial being
Frankie Saladino - mobster boss
Louie Frisella - Frankie's #1 man
Marco - a wanna-be fighting his way up the ranks
Maurice - head of a rival crew
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