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1
RANIERO
Every story needs a hero and a villain. In this story, I’m both.
* * *
The officer screaming at me has a piece of spinach stuck in his teeth. Or perhaps it’s lettuce. I’ve been staring at the same green vegetable wedged between his canine and a crooked incisor for fifteen minutes and I still can’t figure out what it is. His breath is oddly fruity—as if he had a strawberry vinaigrette on the salad that’s clinging to his pearly whites.
“Do you hear me?” He leans in closer and I get a whiff of a nutty aroma to go with the spittle he flings at my cheek. “Are you listening to me, Valenti?”
I bring my finger up to my mouth and indicate toward the teeth I’ve been staring at for the last few minutes. “You’ve got something right there.” I cluck my tongue. “Do you have any floss or anything? It’s bothering me. I can get it for you if you’d like.”
The officer pulls back as though he’s been scalded with hot water. His cheeks turn a fire engine red and the vein in his forehead pops out. “Fuck you, Valenti.”
“I just thought I should tell you. It’s embarrassing to have food stuck in your teeth. I can’t believe your little officer friends out there didn’t tell you.” As I shake my head, I cluck my tongue in disappointment. “You should find new friends, Officer Goodwin. Ones that will tell you when you look like an ass.”
That must be where the invisible line between being a nice guy and being a jerk gets crossed. Officer Goodwin slams his hands down on the metal table between us and starts snarling insults at me.
In between a diatribe aboutpeople like meandpieces of shit like me, I snap my fingers in recognition. “The Pecanberry Salad!” I announce loudly, cutting him off. “That’s what you had for lunch. That’s a good one. When I’m on a health kick and want something a little sweeter, that’s always what I order from—”
“Shut the fuck up, Valenti. Jesus Christ,” he swears. “You’re here to be questioned about a murder, not to become my personal dentist.”
I hold my hand out in front of me and inspect my nails. They haven’t been trimmed or buffed in a while, so they’re looking a little long. I ought to cut these soon before Iactuallycommit the crime I’m being accused of and accidentally get DNA trapped under them. “I told you once and I’ll tell you again, I was at a school fundraiser when this alleged murder took place. You can call Bluemont Elementary school and ask them. Three of my cousin’s kids go there and—”
Officer Goodwin cuts me off again. I know I did it to him once, but now he’s just being rude. “I don’t care how many of your sniveling little cousins go to Bluemont. You did it, Raniero. We know you did it. We have you on camera beating the victim in the head with a baseball bat.”
I look up from examining my fingernails to meet the Officer’s eyes. “Edward, you and I both know that wasn’t me.”
He gets flustered when I call him by his first name. “That’s Officer—”
“—Goodwin,” I finish for him with a roll of my eyes. “We both know that if I was going to dispose of someone, I wouldn’t use a baseball bat. For starters, that’s going to cause too much blood splatter and I’m not really aclean the scenekind of guy. I’d give him a few good licks to the face and then slam his head into the concrete until he stopped breathing.”
Edward Goodwin looks like he’s about to jump up and down in excitement; he probably thinks I’m admitting to a murder Ididdo. But the people I take care of don’t get found by the police. “IfI was going to murder someone, of course,” I tack onto the end. “I’m but a humble businessman, Officer. As Bluemont Elementary might support considering I was issued a tax receipt upon my sizable donation to the school. I gave them my federal EIN and everything.”
If they brought me in here because of a crime I’dactuallycommitted, I’d have my lawyer by my side. But the victim in question is someone I’ve never had a connection to. The paperwork in the file folder on the table contains trumped-up evidence of our many meetings, but I’ve never seen the deceased in my life. They’re framing me. The problem is I don’t know why.
Before Officer Goodwin can lose his cool again, the door to the interrogation room opens and reveals the Chief of Police. I’ve had several encounters with Grant Jackson over the years and I have to admit, he’s in the best shape of his life. When we first met fifteen years ago when he was starting out, he packed on a freshman fifteen like I’d never seen before. He must have a new woman in his life if he’s shedding the pounds and saying no to donuts.
“I’ll finish this up,” Grant says with a nod in Edward’s direction.
The police officer glares at me as if he has more to say. When I give him a stupid, carefree smile, it almost seems like he might jump across this metal table and strangle me. But Edward’s Chief is watching the two of us and he settles for pointing an accusatory finger at me and saying, “You’re going to slip up one day, Valenti, and we’re going to get your ass once and for all.”
I wave goodbye as he exits the room. Poor guy. He’s been here for a decade and wasted all of his best years issuing traffic citations and catching drunk drivers. “Chief Jackson,” I smile as he shuts the door behind his coworker. “It’s good to see you again. I hope you’re here to spring me from the joint. You and I both know I didn’t do this.”
Grant quietly walks over to the table and reaches under the bottom right-hand corner. I hear a small, almost indiscernible click as he flips a switch. “This is off the record,” he says as he takes a seat in front of me.
“Oh, yeah?” I lean forward in excitement. “Are you going to ask me to infiltrate a gang? Commit a few crimes to keep an eye on if your guys are doing their job? Because as long as you clear my record, I’m happy to help you out.”
He steeples his fingers together in front of his face as he stares at me. “All you had to do was take the fall for this. We’d have sent you up the river, you would have done the time, and we’d have left the Valenti crime family alone.”
A mock frown appears on my face. “Up the river? There isn’t even a river nearby, Chief. I think you’re mixing metaphors.”
A smile tugs on the corners of his lips as he shakes his head in frustration. “You can never keep your mouth shut, can you?”
I cluck my tongue and lean away from him, my back coming in contact with the uncomfortable metal chair I’ve been sitting in for over an hour now. “‘Fraid not. But I reckon if I did, you guys would sure pin a hell of a lot more on me than I’m capable of.”
Grant audibly snorts as he rolls his eyes. I must admit that for a man almost turning fifty, he has great command over his body language and facial expressions. He doesn’t give away anything that he doesn’t want me to know about. “I know what you’re capable of, Raniero, believe me. Just because you didn’t kill this guy doesn’t mean someone in your little family isn’t responsible.”
