fresh grave sites and stealing jewelry and other valuables from corpses. It is estimated that his crew stole over $100,000 worth of items from the recently departed. Bernini has a long history of criminal activity within the surrounding counties. He was arrested in 2008 for car theft and again last year for drug and prostitution related charges. Prosecutors claim that Bernini evades serious jail time because of his ties to New Jersey mobster Nicolo Patchelli. Patchelli assumed control of his family’s business when his father died in 2008, expanding the criminal empire as far west as Nevada.
We sat back in our chairs absorbing the article.
“It doesn’t make sense to me. If Nicolo is buddies with Marcus, why did he hire us to kill him?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe they had a disagreement or something. What’s the date of the newspaper article? That might help.”
“It’s got yesterday’s date on it.”
“Wow. So, the same day Marcus is released, Nicolo posts a Craigslist ad for exterminators and hires us to kill him?” Ulyssa asked, taking a sip of her steaming coffee.
“Maybe that’s why Nicolo flew out here from New Jersey. But why is he mad at Marcus? Did he try to cut him out of the profits or something? I can’t imagine that grave robbing is big business in the mobster world. Eventually the revenue stream would dry up.” Ulyssa watched loads of crime-based TV shows and I can always tell when she’s speaking legalese.
“I don’t know. But one thing is for sure . . . we have gotten ourselves in a heap of trouble. This Marcus guy seems like bad business and now we’re stuck in the middle of whatever is going on between him and Nicolo.”
“If we go to the cops, we’re dead. If we don’t do anything, we’re dead. If we try to kill Marcus, we could end up dead. Plus, we can’t ask anyone for help or advice cause they’ll end up hurt or killed.” Voicing the hopelessness of the situation only made it worse. “And we only have two weeks to do whatever it is that we need to do . . . .”
Uninspired by our caffeine highs, we were speeding along the dirt road heading home when the car bottomed out on a pot hole. The pellet size crack in the car window spread like a grand daddy long leg spider.
“Damnit!” Ulyssa exclaimed, as we hit another unexpected pothole, exploding the cracks across the entire windshield. She slowed down to avoid any more bumps that might cause it to crash in on us. “We’re gonna have to stop by Cornnut’s, so he can have a look at the windshield before it falls in.”
Cornnut was our local mechanic and car dealer who did business out of his house on the edge of town. Used cars with prices marked on the windshield were arranged around his front yard in three rows. Small, foreign cars in the front, midsized sedans in the middle and SUVs in the back. He had a special discounted car selection in the backyard. Most folks from Nitro steered clear of the questionable backyard lot and only shopped for front yard cars. His two car garage was set up as an efficient workshop with hydraulic lifts. Ulyssa pulled the car into the driveway near the garage door. We walked past the pink flamingos to the front door and pressed the doorbell.
A male chauvinist door chime echo’d through the house. “Woman, git the damned door. Woman, git the damned door.”
We were still laughing at the door chime, when a mean looking woman swung the door open and glared at us. “What do you’ns want?”
“Good evening, ma’am. We need to see Cornnut about fixing my windshield,” Ulyssa said, gesturing toward the leering car with the fractured glass.
“Him and his idiot friends are down by the lake, catching tourists. Just follow the road for a little ways, then turn left at the giant oak tree. Shouldn’t be too far ‘n you’ll see ‘em sitting next to the lake,” she said, slamming the door before we could thank her.
We decided to walk to the lake since
We sat back in our chairs absorbing the article.
“It doesn’t make sense to me. If Nicolo is buddies with Marcus, why did he hire us to kill him?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe they had a disagreement or something. What’s the date of the newspaper article? That might help.”
“It’s got yesterday’s date on it.”
“Wow. So, the same day Marcus is released, Nicolo posts a Craigslist ad for exterminators and hires us to kill him?” Ulyssa asked, taking a sip of her steaming coffee.
“Maybe that’s why Nicolo flew out here from New Jersey. But why is he mad at Marcus? Did he try to cut him out of the profits or something? I can’t imagine that grave robbing is big business in the mobster world. Eventually the revenue stream would dry up.” Ulyssa watched loads of crime-based TV shows and I can always tell when she’s speaking legalese.
“I don’t know. But one thing is for sure . . . we have gotten ourselves in a heap of trouble. This Marcus guy seems like bad business and now we’re stuck in the middle of whatever is going on between him and Nicolo.”
“If we go to the cops, we’re dead. If we don’t do anything, we’re dead. If we try to kill Marcus, we could end up dead. Plus, we can’t ask anyone for help or advice cause they’ll end up hurt or killed.” Voicing the hopelessness of the situation only made it worse. “And we only have two weeks to do whatever it is that we need to do . . . .”
Uninspired by our caffeine highs, we were speeding along the dirt road heading home when the car bottomed out on a pot hole. The pellet size crack in the car window spread like a grand daddy long leg spider.
“Damnit!” Ulyssa exclaimed, as we hit another unexpected pothole, exploding the cracks across the entire windshield. She slowed down to avoid any more bumps that might cause it to crash in on us. “We’re gonna have to stop by Cornnut’s, so he can have a look at the windshield before it falls in.”
Cornnut was our local mechanic and car dealer who did business out of his house on the edge of town. Used cars with prices marked on the windshield were arranged around his front yard in three rows. Small, foreign cars in the front, midsized sedans in the middle and SUVs in the back. He had a special discounted car selection in the backyard. Most folks from Nitro steered clear of the questionable backyard lot and only shopped for front yard cars. His two car garage was set up as an efficient workshop with hydraulic lifts. Ulyssa pulled the car into the driveway near the garage door. We walked past the pink flamingos to the front door and pressed the doorbell.
A male chauvinist door chime echo’d through the house. “Woman, git the damned door. Woman, git the damned door.”
We were still laughing at the door chime, when a mean looking woman swung the door open and glared at us. “What do you’ns want?”
“Good evening, ma’am. We need to see Cornnut about fixing my windshield,” Ulyssa said, gesturing toward the leering car with the fractured glass.
“Him and his idiot friends are down by the lake, catching tourists. Just follow the road for a little ways, then turn left at the giant oak tree. Shouldn’t be too far ‘n you’ll see ‘em sitting next to the lake,” she said, slamming the door before we could thank her.
We decided to walk to the lake since
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