Chapter 16

As it often happens in this section of Florida, rain was pouring from the sky by late afternoon. Steve spent the day fighting back the tears, not speaking to anyone except Natalia, and to her he occasionally said, “This is my fault, I’m sorry.” Natalia rarely said anything, but by the time Detective McLaren arrived at Steve’s campsite, she was ready to scream, “Will you shut up about it?”

The girls, Anna and Emma, were playing in the warm downpour in their little underpants, splashing in the puddles and showering where the rainwater flowed off the trailer’s awning. Meanwhile, the adults sat under the awning that Steve had erected earlier that morning. As the rain continued, a charcoal gray Ford Explorer pulled up to their campsite and two people got out under the protection of umbrellas. Folding his umbrella under the awning, Bruce McLaren took a cup of coffee that was offered to him and he sipped it. “Lifer juice,” he grumbled.

“What?” asked Jeannie.

“It’s an Army thing, old timers who were in the military for life drank strong coffee, we called it lifer juice,” Bruce explained.

“We said it in the Navy too,” said Lisa, who snapped her umbrella open and closed to release drops of rain before folding it up.

Steve was sitting at the picnic table with Natalia since their horrible meeting twenty hours ago. They’ve become inseparable. To Bruce, they looked like a glum picture of Steve and Maria, both mourning the sudden amputation of the central focus of their lives. “Hey Bruce...” said Natalia, her voice cracking from hours of weeping.

“ ... what do ya got?” said Steve, completing the sentence, his voice hoarse as well.

“You know I hate that,” grumbled Bruce. He was about to read off his notes, but he was interrupted by another clone of Maria, Jeannie Tamaro. Both women were a snapshot of Maria captured in time, Natalia the young Maria, getting ready to step out into the world. Young, sexy, looking for a man. Then Jeannie was a picture of Maria after several years of responsibility were placed on her shoulders: marriage, children, a job. Still heart breaking in her beauty, but with a touch of exhaustion setting in. Her features show knowledge that the young Natalia has yet to learn.

“Hold on for Aunt Fabbi,” said Jeannie. “She just called and said she found the park.”

“Who is Aunt Fabbi?”

Steve shrugged, and Natalia didn’t react, so Jeannie answered Lisa’s question. “She is Maria’s older sister, she’s the matriarch of the family.” She went on to explain how Fabrizia Bellini-Scordato ran the show while Bruce was watching Steve and Natalia.

There was a pack of cigarettes on the table and with trembling hands, Natalia reached for the pack and extracted one smoke, but fumbled with the matches. Steve gently took the book of matches out of her trembling hands and struck the match four times, then gave up and tried a second match, which finally lit on the third try. Cupping the match in his shaking hands, they got the cigarette lit, then they gently swapped the smoke back and forth, each taking a trembling puff. He wasn’t sure about Natalia, but Bruce knew for a fact that Steve quit smoking years ago when his last tour in Afghanistan ended.

Bruce turned so his back was to Steve and motioned Lisa closer. In a soft voice he said, “When I brief them on the shootings keep an eye on Steve and Natalia for me.”

“You suspect them of something?”

“No, as a friend I want to know what is going on between them.” When Lisa looked at him with a scolding glance, Bruce said, “I don’t know if Steve can get through this on his own, maybe Natalia can help and vice versa.”

Just then, a black Mercedes-Benz S Class pulled up and parked across the drive leading to the campsite. The driver got out dressed in suit and tie, then opened an umbrella, opened the back door, and assisted Fabrizia Scordato out. He held the umbrella for Fabbi as she walked up to the campsite; she stood a full head taller than her younger sister, but the resemblance to Maria was unmistakable. Fabbi was slimmer and was wearing an elegant black dress and a single string of pearls. Bruce felt like he was standing in a crowd of clones. Even the young girls Anna and Emma had a resemblance to Maria ... or did they all resemble Aunt Fabbi?

As Jeannie and Derick welcomed Fabbi, the matriarch’s only greeting was, “where is Benny and Sal?” she received blank stares from everyone there. “Benny and Sal were supposed to be there,” she demanded as Derick set out a folding chair for his wife’s aunt.

Finally, Bruce stepped forward and said, “We have eight bodies in the morgue that haven’t been identified yet. You’re welcome to come see if your people are with them.” Fabbi merely glared at Bruce from her folding nylon and aluminum throne. “I’m Detective McLaren and this is my partner Detective Clark.”

Fabrizia Augustina Bellini-Scordato glared at Bruce for a few moments, then said, “Did you know my sister?”

“Yes, I am glad to have counted Maria as one of my friends. If Steve had made their wedding a little more public I would have been his best man.”

“And you would have been dead too. I suppose you are investigating this occurrence?”

Bruce looked at her strangely. Her sister is laying in the morgue and to her it’s an “occurrence?” “Yes, I am the lead investigator.”

Fabbi looked over at Steve and Natalia and they both looked like they were in shock, neither has spoken since she got there, neither has taken part in the obligatory “Greet the Matriarch” event that Giannina, Derick, Anna, and Emma Tomaro all performed. “Do you have any information for us Detective McLaren?”

“I have nothing good. We’re still trying to identify the eight males that were found dead in Maria’s house, it looks like they were tourists, they all had separate flights on Southwest from Orlando back to NYC for tonight, all were dead from gunshot and shotgun wounds. Darlene died of multiple gunshot wounds, and Maria had two gunshot wounds but died of a heart attack we believe brought upon by loss of blood. If it’s any consolation, she wasn’t conscious when she died.”

“When can my brother-in-law and his stepdaughter move home?” asked Fabbi.

“Crime scene will be working for another week, when they are done I would give a good contractor a week maybe two weeks to repair the damage those bastards made.”

“I will handle the repairs,” said Fabbi.

“What about that fat cop,” asked Jeannie, “the one that pulled a gun on Steve.”

“Patrolman Rivelli has lawyered up. Our organized crime unit says he may have been batting cleanup, if the target is missed then he takes a swing at it,” said Det. Lisa Clark. “Steve you need to keep your head down.”