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Eighty-one   

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It was a quiet afternoon at Fortunato’s. The frigid February weather had kept business slow for a couple of weeks. Eddie stood at the bar watching the Timberwolves when he heard the front door open. A tall, middle-aged man in a gray suit stepped in and looked around the empty restaurant.

Cop.

Eddie strutted toward him. “Afternoon. Can I help you?”

“Good afternoon. Lookin’ for Eddie Bracchio.”

“You found him.”

The man held out his business card and Eddie took it.

“Detective Steber, St. Paul PD. Wanna’ ask you a few questions about the murders of Micola Fortunato, Marco De Luca and his son, Lorenzo.”

Eddie’s face turned sorrowful as he shook his head. “Terrible thing. I still can’t believe it, ya’ know?”

The detective nodded.

“And,” Eddie said, “I don’t know if you know this, but I already talked to another one of your guys—a detective too, I think.”

“Yes, I do know that. Detective Lance is helping me out with this case since the murders happened just a day apart from each other. We’re trying to connect all the dots.”

“Sure. We can go to my office. It’s more private.” Eddie led the detective to his office and shut the door. “Have a seat.”

Detective Steber took a seat in front of the desk as Eddie sat in his place behind it.

The detective flipped open a notepad. “Just a few questions, Mr. Bracchio.”

“I thought you guys were all finished with me. I mean the other guy asked a lot-a questions.”

“We have a lot of people to talk to, Mr. Bracchio, and there’s always follow-up. And, as you know, we have three murders and one missing person, and the only common denominator in all this,” he raised his brows as he pointed at Eddie, “is you.” The detective tilted his gray-haired head as he waited for Eddie’s response.

“Listen, Detective Steber,” Eddie said, “I’m a victim here.”

The detective frowned. “How so?”

Eddie stuck out his head and whipped his arms out to either side. “Seriously? I was standin’ right next to Micola when she got shot. I could-a’ been shot, too. I didn’t have nothin’ to do with that. How could I? That’s fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“And the De Lucas?”

Eddie let out a breath and hung his head for a second. “Marco was my friend, okay? Renzo? Great kid. I’d never hurt them, or hurt Kate. You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree here, alright?”

“I’ll move on—for now,” said Detective Steber. “Let’s get back to Mrs. Fortunato, if I may?”

Eddie frowned, but nodded. “Terrible thing. I loved that woman. And to see it happen right in front-a me like that?” He rubbed his forehead and sucked in a deep breath. “I got nightmares about it, ya’ know?”

Detective Steber nodded. “I imagine it was a horrifying experience. I understand you two were very close.”

“Yeah, we were. Very close.”

“I’ve learned some of the details from your manager about your relationship with her—that you two lived together. And in fact, you were the one who helped her open this restaurant, is that right?”

“That’s right,” Eddie replied.

“I understand from Mrs. De Luca, Marco’s widow, that Marco worked for you, is that correct?”

Eddie’s elbows were on the desk, his hands clasped in front of him. “That’s right.”

“I understand he used to work as a mechanic, but quit that job to work fulltime for you, is that right?” 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

The detective continued. “And did Mr. De Luca work here? At the restaurant?”

“No. He was my driver.”

Detective Steber looked at Eddie and paused for a second before nodding. “That’s right. I do recall Detective Lance mentioning he was your driver. Did he have any other duties?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Such as?”

Eddie tipped his head side-to-side. “Well, I suppose you could say he was my bodyguard, and ran personal errands for me and whatnot.”

“Bodyguard? You need a bodyguard Mr. Bracchio?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

Eddie shrugged. “No big deal. It’s just—the neighborhood, ya’ know? It’s rough. I like to have somebody watchin’ my back, know what I mean?”

Detective Steber wrote something in his notepad. “I suppose I do, yeah.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Eddie said chuckling.

Detective Steber looked back up at Eddie, his pale blue eyes darkening. “Can you tell me what types of errands he ran for you?”

Eddie scratched his head to stall. “Mostly, he drove Micola around for her supplies and errands. She liked her ingredients to be top-notch, so he took her around for that kinda’ stuff. And ah’, ya’ know, other usual stuff. Bank runs, stops at the store, or for supplies. Sometimes, personal deliveries for me—shit like that.”

“Do you mind if I ask what types of personal deliveries he made?”

Eddie felt heat rising up his cheeks. “Yeah, actually. I do mind.”

The detective nodded and paused. He set down his pen and notepad and looked directly into Eddie’s eyes. “I understand from various interviews of people in the neighborhood, that you’ve made quite a name for yourself. People speak very highly of you.”

Eddie smiled and tipped his head. “That right? Ain’t that nice?”

“It is. They say you’ve cleaned up the Payne Avenue neighborhood—seemingly single-handedly.”

Eddie shrugged. “It ain’t a hard thing-ta do.”

Detective Steber smiled. “Most would disagree, Mr. Bracchio, the police force included.”

Eddie stared into the detective’s eyes. “I ain’t most people.”

“I see. Care to elaborate?”

“Not really, no.”

“Alright. I’ll move on,” said the detective. “Where were you on Monday, the eighteenth, around seven-thirty p.m., the night Marco and Renzo were murdered?”

Eddie reached into his desk drawer. “Let me get my notes. I knew you guys was gonna’ keep askin’ me that, so I wrote it down. Didn’t wanna’ forget.” Eddie flipped through a notepad. “Got it here, somewhere. Let’s see .... Oh, here it is. On the eighteenth, Marco drove me home. Said he had to take his kid to a friend’s or some shit like that. I don’t pay attention to that sorta’ thing. I was home all night.”

“Can someone verify that?”

“Yeah. Sal Gagliardi.”

“And he’s your cousin, correct? Salvatore Gagliardi?”

“That’s right.”

“He was with you at the time of the murders?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, he was.”

“Okay. I believe Detective Lance will be meeting with him to verify your alibi—and his. Now, I know you gave the officers at the scene a full statement about the morning of Mrs. Fortunato’s murder, so I just have a few follow-up questions, if you don’t mind.”

Eddie shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Great. Thank you. So, ah’, Mrs. Fortunato? How did you know her?”

“She’s got relatives where I’m from,” Eddie said. “They sent me to check on her. Make sure she was okay on a-count-a’ there’s been some problems in the neighborhood. Shootin’s and whatnot.”

“I see.” The detective checked his notes. “I see here that you’re from Brooklyn, New York. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“And on the night of Marco and Renzo’s murders, you say you were with Sal?”

“That’s right.”

“Where were you? You and Sal? ”

Eddie didn’t hesitate. “Micola’s house. He was helpin’ me with funeral arrangements and sittin’ with me while I was grievin’.”

“I see.” Detective Steber made some lengthy notes before looking up at Eddie. “And did you see Dario Tucker, and ah’,” he flipped through his notes, “Tau Vang? Did you see them the day after Micola’s murder? At her house, as well?”

“Yeah. They were there for a while, too.”

“And Marco? Was he at the house at that time, too?”

Eddie paused, pretending to think. “Ah’, yeah. Yeah, I think he was there for a bit, too. Mostly, they came over to give me their condolences. Nothin’ else.”

“Well, I think that’s it for now, Mr. Bracchio,” said the detective, standing. “I’ll find my way out. I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions. Have a nice day.”

Eddie remained seated. “Thanks.”

He stayed in his office for another half-hour going over everything that was just asked of him. The more he’d thought about it, the more concerned he’d become. He needed to talk to Sal.