Page 249 of Marcello

For guard duty, I chose responsible guys who wouldn’t sneak off to get drunk. We had to be prepared if the cops showed up, as unlikely as that might be.

The mansion was on a giant plot of land, and the nearest neighbors were half a mile away. If nobody had called the police yet, they were unlikely to do so.

For cleanup duty, I chose complete morons and kept them as far away from the hidden passage as possible.

I couldn’t do anything about the drunk whores and Camorra thugs banging in every room, but as long as there were beds and sofas available, I didn’t foresee them fucking each other against the wood paneling in the hallway. For instance, there was a chapel down at the far end of the first floor, and all but a few sacrilegious assholes stayed out of that.

Another blessing was that while I was supervising everything, I was able to forage for things Giulietta would need.

I found a small flashlight and extra batteries in a kitchen drawer. I also grabbed supplies – apples, bananas, oranges, a jar of nuts, a loaf of bread, and bottled water – and carried them around with me in a grocery bag. When someone asked why, I said I was saving it for after the shift.

And it was a long goddamn shift.

The number one priority was to move all the dead bodies out of the house before they started to stink – but they had to be hidden well enough that a helicopter passing overhead wouldn’t spot them. Which meant we had to hide all the men killed outside the house, as well.

I found a handy solution in the courtyard at the center of the mansion. Amidst all the plants and flowers stood a circular well made of stones, three feet tall, with a hinged metal cover on top.

I remembered my time as a tour guide at Sotto Napoli – which felt like a thousand years ago – and wondered if the well was part of the massive underground tunnel system dug by the Greeks and Romans.

Whether it was or not, it would make a perfect hiding place for the corpses.

I lifted the lid and dropped a stone into the darkness. A second later, I heard a soft splash.

Perfect.

To make sure I didn’t run afoul of Cesare again, I tracked him down in the mansion. He was halfway through a bottle of scotch and making out with a skank covered in gang tattoos.

“There’s a well out back in the garden courtyard,” I told him. “I think it’s just ornamental, because it doesn’t seem to feed into the house’s water supply. Do you want me to drop the bodies in the well? I don’t think they’ll ever be found if we do – ”

“Stop fucking bothering me about bullshit and just do it!” Cesare screamed.

So I did it.

I had the cleanup crew carry the dead Cosa Nostra foot soldiers. One man would grab the corpse’s wrists, the other would grab the ankles, and they would drag the body out to the courtyard and throw it down the well.

The first couple landed with a small splash. By the third, it was just thuds as the bodies piled up. Apparently there wasn’t much water down there.

The guys on the cleanup crew looted the bodies before throwing them in. They pulled rings off fingers, wallets out of pockets, guns from holsters, and anything else of value they could scavenge.

I watched in disgust as they crowed over their trophies, but I didn’t say anything. It kept them from complaining that they couldn’t party with the others.

When it came to disposing of Don Amato, his wife, and Luciano, I stood there in the bedroom with a heavy heart.

What the fuck am I going to tell Giulietta?

I had no idea.

All I knew was I had to get her out.

When the crew carried the Amatos’ bodies down to the courtyard, they were careless. They dragged the corpses’ heads on the brick walkways and banged them on the ground.

One of my guys even tried to take a selfie of himself next to Don Amato.

“Stop it!” I snarled. “Have some fucking respect!”

The asshole looked at me like What the fuck’s YOUR problem? –

But then he and his buddy pitched the bodies down the well with all the others.