“Alright, I’m here. Mafia true crime wall.” Sarah flips the video and walks closer.
“Down. To the right,” I urge, then I see Massimo’s face. “No, oh, god, no. It’s him!”
“What are you talking about?” Sarah asks, flipping the image again as she turns around.
“The guy I met on the boat!” I point at the screen, aiming over her shoulder at the Dirty Vegas Mafia. “It’s the guy on the wall behind you! Massimo Morandi!”
“What?” Sarah’s face pales. “Are you sure? He’s like a Mafia prince, next in line to run the Morandi Crime Family if my wall is still accurate.”
“I’m sure!” I answer. “He’s older than in that picture, and he’s got a beard now, but that’s him! I swear it is!”
The video shakes and Sarah scurries toward her desk. She puts the phone down and I’m staring at her ceiling.
“What are you doing?” I ask, tilting my head like it would somehow give me a better view.
“I’m checking the message boards. Just a second,” Sarah mutters, then I hear her typing.
My legs wobble and I stagger over to the couch, barely making it before I collapse. This is a nightmare. Definitely not what my grandmother had in mind when she said I should let the island guide me.
“Anything?” I ask, the knot in my stomach nearly doubling me over.
“Okay. Morandi Crime Family… Dirty Vegas Mafia…” Sarah’s fingers tap on the keyboard. “I haven’t done a lot of research on them, but they run Las Vegas, obviously. Oh, god! Lea!”
“What?” I ask, feeling a surge of panic—as if I’m not already panicking enough.
Sarah grabs the phone and turns it so I can see the startled expression on her face. “He murdered his wife!”
“No!” I shake my head. “He… He murdered her?”
I start hyperventilating and gasping for air. That doesn’t make sense. Massimo—the outline on his finger. The pain I saw in his eyes. That didn’t look like the face of a man who killed the woman he supposedly loved. That pain looked real.
“Wait, maybe he didn’t,” Sarah continues. “This happened like five years ago. The police responded to a call about a domestic dispute. They found her on the floor, and she had been shot multiple times. He was holding her and covered in blood. They never recovered the gun… But it looks like he was the only suspect.”
“Why did they think he killed her?” I question.
“It’s always the husband, Lea,” Sarah sighs. “It doesn’t look like he was ever charged, but he refused a polygraph. Refused to give a statement without his lawyer present. Then… that’s it. Nothing else. It’s a cold case now.”
“Were there any theories?” I ask, unsure why I care. I should be planning my escape from Isola Selvaggia. “You have theories about everyone on your wall!”
“Yeah, the true crime cases I follow,” she says, glancing over at her wall. “Delphi—they finally got that guy. Asha Degree. Laci Peterson. Ask me anything about serial killers and I can talk your ear off with theories. It’s a little harder with Mafia guys. There’s not a lot of information available about those cases unless they’re really old and everyone is dead.”
“Yeah, but you’re obsessed with them!” I rattle, trying to get my breathing under control. “Your podcast about the Mafia Prince Murders got over a million hits!”
“That was a huge case, Lea,” she says. “The Dirty Vegas Mafia is good at keeping things secret. I’m searching all the major true crime podcasts. I can’t find any about the Morandi Crime Family, except for a few after his wife was murdered. There’s not much here.”
“Sarah, I’m supposed to have dinner with this guy in less than two hours!” I tense up and squeeze my eyes shut. “What the hell do I do? I can’t get off this island until later tonight! He’ll know I stood him up!”
“Hold on, relax,” Sarah says, biting the inside of her lip like she does when she’s contemplating something. “He’s not a serial killer and he may not have murdered his wife. Mafia guys never talk to the cops, and they generally don’t kill women unless there’s a damn good reason.”
“I-I don’t want to give him one!” I stammer.
“Then go to dinner with him and play it cool.” Sarah leans forward. “After it’s over, just tell him you’re not feeling a connection or whatever. There’s no reason to ruin your entire vacation over this. I’m sure he’s not going to waste his time with someone who isn’t interested. He’s on vacation too, right?”
I consider Sarah’s words and feel some of the tension easing. That’s probably the best option, even if I don’t like it. If I stand him up, that’ll give him a reason to come looking for me, even if he just wants to make sure I’m okay.
“I-I guess so,” I sigh apprehensively. “Okay, I’ll go to dinner. I was seasick earlier, so I’ll put in an appearance, tell him my stomach is still bothering me, and get out of there as fast as possible. He can’t fault me for that. It’s not like I came to Isola Selvaggia looking for some kind of fling.”
“Virgins rarely do,” Sarah retorts, a slight grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Except for your grandmother.”
