It was nearly a week until the funeral. Rai and the other TV networks, along with the
papers were having a field day with the murder. Camera crews parked their vans, and
raised their antennas and satellite connections. Night and day, young TV reporters with
microphones displaying their station logos took turns standing with their backs to the
church in which Nick had been baptized and related the events of his life, followed by
exclusive interviews. Friends, relatives, and the mayor of the town were in shock at the
tragedy, and clueless as to how it might have come about. Uniformed policemen
described the case with less shock, directing comments to the ongoing war on organized
crime and asking citizens to come forward with leads.
All too often, this village, like all the villages in the south had lost young men to tragedy.
Usually they were the victims of traffic accidents along the coastal highway, which many
refer to as “la strade des mortes ”. The narrow country road is without even the benefit of
a gravel or dirt shoulder alongside to offer a safety cushion. Studded with too many
unmarked massive concrete barriers mere inches from the asphalt roadbed, the road
becomes a dark tunnel at night woefully inadequate for handling the traffic. Driving is
made even more risky by the high speeds that are common as young men who consider
themselves invincible encroach in the oncoming lane, as they demonstrate their courage
and driving skill. On Monday, the papers will rail at the slaughter of Calabria’s young, but
the road, like always remains unimproved, while locals continue to shrug their shoulders
and shake their heads in helplessness as they read of weekend deaths. If not the too
narrow highways, then it is the mishaps climbing or descending slick mountain roads or
those under construction and inadequately marked that take the young and
inexperienced drivers.
The cause almost always was a mixture of alcohol and speed on someone's part. Nick's
death fit a pattern too, not altogether uncommon, but even more spectacular in a macabe
way. Any link to organized crime brings the area into the spotlight, confirming for all
Italians north of Naples, that the South is “out of control” and of course undeserving of the
money that flows down from the north.
The local and state police had interviewed most all of Nick's friends, with precious little to
show for it. No one in the village could shed light on the tragedy. They saw nothing, they
heard nothing and they proffered nothing. It was unlikely that Nick’s murderers would be
punished by the authorities, but for sure someone would eventually pay for the death, and
perhaps in kind.
Joe had been interviewed by Gilberto Gianni, commissario of detectives from the
investigative arm of the regional police. After asking Joe about his affiliation with Nick,
and the standard questions about where Joe lived, about school and what he did for a
living, he moved immediately to the question on everyone’s mind “What can you tell me
about Nick’s activities that might help us catch his killers?
“I’ve known Nick for years, and am surprised to learn of his apparent contact with
organized crime. I can tell you that he has only recently changed from being “just one of
the guys” to distancing himself from us. I suppose that he has only recently been
approached by them or became mixed up in what they do” Joe only parroted what others
were saying.. Nick was such a nice guy, never in trouble before.. how could this have
happened? This polite evasion of a direct answer clearly angered the commissario, but
he was used to hearing this same crap over and over. Only someone with a death wish
would offer any more.
Joe had no desire to attend the funeral, but thinking that his absence might seem
suspicious, talked to Chenzo who he met at the bar for coffee early on that morning about
going.
"Chenzo, are you going?"
"Christ Joe, everybody from all the villages around here will be there. I'll come by your
place and we can go together."
“Will you wear a suit?”
“It is the least I can do to show my respect”
"Si, I guess you're right."
"And then you can tell me how you are mixed up in this."
Sunny walked with the two friends, then took his place with the other dogs of the village
as they reached the piazza near Nick's parents house. The pageantry of the funeral was
just beginning. As the church bells tolled, the local musicians employed for such
occasions could be heard in a distance playing the sorrowful funeral dirge, usually
reserved for the deaths of older more prominent citizens.
In a few minutes the procession emerged from the shadows of the buildings lining a
narrow side street into the bright sunlight of the piazza. It had already made its way some
distance up from Nick’s house which was far below them, perched on the side of the ridge
that the village clung to. Sweat and tears glistened from the faces of the six male cousins
who carried the flower draped coffin atop their shoulders, followed by the immediate family
and relatives, then by friends of the family, the women of the village and last, the
musicians. The old men as usual stayed well back along the periphery to talk between
themselves and observe the goings on.
Joe and Chenzo, approached and joined the crowd gathered to observe, rather than join
the procession itself. Joe was uncomfortable about not showing more respect and being
more involved, but was even more concerned about being perceived as one of those
closest to Nick, given the scrutiny of the press and police.
Lucia and Francesca were standing just ahead of them. Joe went up to Lucia and
touched her lightly on the shoulder. Lucia turned, looked at Joe and with tears in her
eyes said “Joe! Thank God you are alright!” as she embraced him.
“What do you mean Lucia, of course I am”
Speaking in a whisper she continued. “Chenzo told me Joe.. about you not taking the bus
from campus, and later seeing you get on it when it passed the Autogrille after the
explosion.”
“Oh, he did? Well, I’ll tell you all about it, but not just now. But believe me Lucia. I swear
that I’m not involved in anything, ok?”
“Va bene Joe”.. we’ll discuss it later.
Joe turned and looked directly into Chenzo’s eyes, squinting and mouthing the word
perche? as if to ask, “Why Chenzo, Why?”
Chenzo, only raised his shoulders, grimaced, and put his cupped hands together moving
them up and down, the tips of his fingers touching and tilted up to the sky, as if to say..
“but I had to Joe..”
Joe, Chenzo, Lucia and Francesco crammed themselves into the back of the crowded
church and stood side by side. A few times when Lucia seemed to be moved by the
sadness of it all, she had looked up at him and clutched his hand tightly. At one point, as
she let go of his hand to wipe away a tear, he reached behind and placed his hand on her
shoulder at the back of her neck, patting lightly to console her. Joe hadn’t ever been this
close to Lucia for any length of time, and was ashamed that now when he should be
focusing on Nick, his thoughts were of her, the smell of her perfume and them being there
together as a couple.
As the service concluded, the priest placed his hands on the casket and bent his head
low saying a prayer for the dead, then stood erect and signaled the end of the mass with
the sign of the cross, offering his blessing to everyone in attendance. The congregation
stood as the pall bearers moved forward and again lifted the casket to their shoulders. As
they did, the priest donned his gold pointed hat, and surrounded by the servers, one of
whom carried a tall wooden cross and another swinging the smoking incense burner, led
the procession out of the church and down the large steps that cascaded down to the
street below, where the pall bearers lowered Nick’s casket from their shoulders placing it
into the back of a sliver hearse draped in more funeral flowers. The crowd fell in behind
and the musicians resumed the mournful dirge as the procession slowly made its way out
of the village and up to the cemetery.
As they exited the church Joe scanned the crowd that had gathered to observe the
funeral, rather than participate in it and immediately saw commissioner Gianni who had
questioned him the day before, then stopped in his tracks and backed up into Lucia when
he recognized the man standing just behind the detective. Joe was sure that it was the
guy who he had seen closing the trunk and walking away from the BMW!
“If Lucia knows I was with Nick, then how many others do?” Joes mind was racing. His
heart started pounding and he considered breaking away, fearing that he might be the
next target for a hired killer, but to protect Lucia he forced himself to regain his
composure, deciding to keep his attention on her and walk out of the church as
inconspicuously as he could.
It was the following day that Joe received the call that he had been dreading. It was a
deep voice belonging to what Joe assumed to be a large man, a very serious large man
thought Joe. The man spoke slowly to let the words sink in. “Joe, we have a small job that
we would like you to do.” then there was a long silence..
“What happened to Nick, was unfortunate, but we are taking care of that situation Joe,
and we will pay you well for your effort.”
Joe was paralyzed with fear. He had rehearsed what he would say a hundred times if they
called.. but now found himself nearly incapable of speech. His mouth was dry and at first
nothing came out. He forced himself to swallow.
“Listen, I’m not sure why Nick gave you my name, but he shouldn’t have. I didn’t know
what he was doing and don’t want to know. Let’s leave it at that, please” Joe’s voice was
pleading for an understanding that Nick had made a mistake.
“Joe, you think it over. We will talk again and discuss specifics.” The phone went dead.
Days passed without another call.
Ciao!
©copyright 2010 Property of MJSturino,LLC
Any reproduction with-out the owners express written consent is strictly prohibited
papers were having a field day with the murder. Camera crews parked their vans, and
raised their antennas and satellite connections. Night and day, young TV reporters with
microphones displaying their station logos took turns standing with their backs to the
church in which Nick had been baptized and related the events of his life, followed by
exclusive interviews. Friends, relatives, and the mayor of the town were in shock at the
tragedy, and clueless as to how it might have come about. Uniformed policemen
described the case with less shock, directing comments to the ongoing war on organized
crime and asking citizens to come forward with leads.
All too often, this village, like all the villages in the south had lost young men to tragedy.
Usually they were the victims of traffic accidents along the coastal highway, which many
refer to as “la strade des mortes ”. The narrow country road is without even the benefit of
a gravel or dirt shoulder alongside to offer a safety cushion. Studded with too many
unmarked massive concrete barriers mere inches from the asphalt roadbed, the road
becomes a dark tunnel at night woefully inadequate for handling the traffic. Driving is
made even more risky by the high speeds that are common as young men who consider
themselves invincible encroach in the oncoming lane, as they demonstrate their courage
and driving skill. On Monday, the papers will rail at the slaughter of Calabria’s young, but
the road, like always remains unimproved, while locals continue to shrug their shoulders
and shake their heads in helplessness as they read of weekend deaths. If not the too
narrow highways, then it is the mishaps climbing or descending slick mountain roads or
those under construction and inadequately marked that take the young and
inexperienced drivers.
The cause almost always was a mixture of alcohol and speed on someone's part. Nick's
death fit a pattern too, not altogether uncommon, but even more spectacular in a macabe
way. Any link to organized crime brings the area into the spotlight, confirming for all
Italians north of Naples, that the South is “out of control” and of course undeserving of the
money that flows down from the north.
The local and state police had interviewed most all of Nick's friends, with precious little to
show for it. No one in the village could shed light on the tragedy. They saw nothing, they
heard nothing and they proffered nothing. It was unlikely that Nick’s murderers would be
punished by the authorities, but for sure someone would eventually pay for the death, and
perhaps in kind.
Joe had been interviewed by Gilberto Gianni, commissario of detectives from the
investigative arm of the regional police. After asking Joe about his affiliation with Nick,
and the standard questions about where Joe lived, about school and what he did for a
living, he moved immediately to the question on everyone’s mind “What can you tell me
about Nick’s activities that might help us catch his killers?
“I’ve known Nick for years, and am surprised to learn of his apparent contact with
organized crime. I can tell you that he has only recently changed from being “just one of
the guys” to distancing himself from us. I suppose that he has only recently been
approached by them or became mixed up in what they do” Joe only parroted what others
were saying.. Nick was such a nice guy, never in trouble before.. how could this have
happened? This polite evasion of a direct answer clearly angered the commissario, but
he was used to hearing this same crap over and over. Only someone with a death wish
would offer any more.
Joe had no desire to attend the funeral, but thinking that his absence might seem
suspicious, talked to Chenzo who he met at the bar for coffee early on that morning about
going.
"Chenzo, are you going?"
"Christ Joe, everybody from all the villages around here will be there. I'll come by your
place and we can go together."
“Will you wear a suit?”
“It is the least I can do to show my respect”
"Si, I guess you're right."
"And then you can tell me how you are mixed up in this."
Sunny walked with the two friends, then took his place with the other dogs of the village
as they reached the piazza near Nick's parents house. The pageantry of the funeral was
just beginning. As the church bells tolled, the local musicians employed for such
occasions could be heard in a distance playing the sorrowful funeral dirge, usually
reserved for the deaths of older more prominent citizens.
In a few minutes the procession emerged from the shadows of the buildings lining a
narrow side street into the bright sunlight of the piazza. It had already made its way some
distance up from Nick’s house which was far below them, perched on the side of the ridge
that the village clung to. Sweat and tears glistened from the faces of the six male cousins
who carried the flower draped coffin atop their shoulders, followed by the immediate family
and relatives, then by friends of the family, the women of the village and last, the
musicians. The old men as usual stayed well back along the periphery to talk between
themselves and observe the goings on.
Joe and Chenzo, approached and joined the crowd gathered to observe, rather than join
the procession itself. Joe was uncomfortable about not showing more respect and being
more involved, but was even more concerned about being perceived as one of those
closest to Nick, given the scrutiny of the press and police.
Lucia and Francesca were standing just ahead of them. Joe went up to Lucia and
touched her lightly on the shoulder. Lucia turned, looked at Joe and with tears in her
eyes said “Joe! Thank God you are alright!” as she embraced him.
“What do you mean Lucia, of course I am”
Speaking in a whisper she continued. “Chenzo told me Joe.. about you not taking the bus
from campus, and later seeing you get on it when it passed the Autogrille after the
explosion.”
“Oh, he did? Well, I’ll tell you all about it, but not just now. But believe me Lucia. I swear
that I’m not involved in anything, ok?”
“Va bene Joe”.. we’ll discuss it later.
Joe turned and looked directly into Chenzo’s eyes, squinting and mouthing the word
perche? as if to ask, “Why Chenzo, Why?”
Chenzo, only raised his shoulders, grimaced, and put his cupped hands together moving
them up and down, the tips of his fingers touching and tilted up to the sky, as if to say..
“but I had to Joe..”
Joe, Chenzo, Lucia and Francesco crammed themselves into the back of the crowded
church and stood side by side. A few times when Lucia seemed to be moved by the
sadness of it all, she had looked up at him and clutched his hand tightly. At one point, as
she let go of his hand to wipe away a tear, he reached behind and placed his hand on her
shoulder at the back of her neck, patting lightly to console her. Joe hadn’t ever been this
close to Lucia for any length of time, and was ashamed that now when he should be
focusing on Nick, his thoughts were of her, the smell of her perfume and them being there
together as a couple.
As the service concluded, the priest placed his hands on the casket and bent his head
low saying a prayer for the dead, then stood erect and signaled the end of the mass with
the sign of the cross, offering his blessing to everyone in attendance. The congregation
stood as the pall bearers moved forward and again lifted the casket to their shoulders. As
they did, the priest donned his gold pointed hat, and surrounded by the servers, one of
whom carried a tall wooden cross and another swinging the smoking incense burner, led
the procession out of the church and down the large steps that cascaded down to the
street below, where the pall bearers lowered Nick’s casket from their shoulders placing it
into the back of a sliver hearse draped in more funeral flowers. The crowd fell in behind
and the musicians resumed the mournful dirge as the procession slowly made its way out
of the village and up to the cemetery.
As they exited the church Joe scanned the crowd that had gathered to observe the
funeral, rather than participate in it and immediately saw commissioner Gianni who had
questioned him the day before, then stopped in his tracks and backed up into Lucia when
he recognized the man standing just behind the detective. Joe was sure that it was the
guy who he had seen closing the trunk and walking away from the BMW!
“If Lucia knows I was with Nick, then how many others do?” Joes mind was racing. His
heart started pounding and he considered breaking away, fearing that he might be the
next target for a hired killer, but to protect Lucia he forced himself to regain his
composure, deciding to keep his attention on her and walk out of the church as
inconspicuously as he could.
It was the following day that Joe received the call that he had been dreading. It was a
deep voice belonging to what Joe assumed to be a large man, a very serious large man
thought Joe. The man spoke slowly to let the words sink in. “Joe, we have a small job that
we would like you to do.” then there was a long silence..
“What happened to Nick, was unfortunate, but we are taking care of that situation Joe,
and we will pay you well for your effort.”
Joe was paralyzed with fear. He had rehearsed what he would say a hundred times if they
called.. but now found himself nearly incapable of speech. His mouth was dry and at first
nothing came out. He forced himself to swallow.
“Listen, I’m not sure why Nick gave you my name, but he shouldn’t have. I didn’t know
what he was doing and don’t want to know. Let’s leave it at that, please” Joe’s voice was
pleading for an understanding that Nick had made a mistake.
“Joe, you think it over. We will talk again and discuss specifics.” The phone went dead.
Days passed without another call.
Ciao!
©copyright 2010 Property of MJSturino,LLC
Any reproduction with-out the owners express written consent is strictly prohibited
Calabrian Justice
Chapter Two The Funeral
by Marty Sturino
Chapter Two The Funeral
by Marty Sturino
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Calabrian Life Fiction
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