The Body Mafia (13 page)

“Hurry!”

He pulled me down the hallway and toward the staircase before jerking me behind a large filing cabinet. He put his hand over my mouth, but I slapped it away and tried to quiet my breathing. We had been running, and as the sounds of the men’s voices and footsteps grew near, I took his hand and held it to my mouth again. We could hear them as they walked by.

“Just cut that section of carpet out and we’ll burn it out at the lot,” a man with a deep, gruff voice said.

“We could probably just burn it out back here. None of these local degenerates are gonna say anything,” the other man said.

“No! Sal said we’re not taking any chances. That’s why he wanted Frankie buried out at the construction site.” The man with the gruff voice started to laugh. “Man, if Frankie only knew, he’d shit! I wish Sal would’ve left him alive long enough to tell him he was gonna be buried underneath the Pelican condos full of old people shittin’ in bags and flappin’ their gums!”

The men’s laughter faded as they walked down the hallway toward the office. Joseph pulled his hand
away and led me toward the staircase, putting his finger to his lips to signal me to be quiet. As if I needed to be told. Once inside the safety of our car, Joseph pulled away and shook his head. He looked rattled.

“Unbelievable,” he mumbled to himself.

“What?”

“You know who they were talking about, don’t you? Sal killed Frank Trapini. That’s hard for me to believe. Frank was Sal’s closest captain, and he must have done something outrageous for Sal to whack him.” Joseph slowed the car down and looked at me. “I’ll bet it has something to do with the little stunt you pulled in Florida with Tommy.”

I was stunned at the accusatory nature in his voice. “Little stunt?” Now I was fuming. “Little stunt? The guy tried to decapitate me with a fucking wire. I had to defend myself, and you call it a little stunt? Are you defending the Iacconas now, Joseph? Maybe we should just split up today and cut our losses!”

He stopped the car and put his hand on my arm. “Look, CeeCee, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that, well, Salvatore Iaccona just murdered Frank Trapini. In my eyes, and I know you don’t fully understand, that means things are bad—really bad.” He caressed my cheek with his hand. “I couldn’t bear to see something happen to you. I feel protective of you somehow.”

“You don’t need to be.” I pulled my face away, determined to keep my distance. “I can handle myself just fine, with or without you, Joseph.”

He sighed but remained silent after that while he drove back to the motel. We went into my room to see if the camera and microphones were working. They
were; they had recorded everything the two men had done inside the office, audio and all. After setting the computer on the desk so we could both see, Joseph and I watched as the men, whom he identified as Petey Iaccona and Henry Mastragna, cut out the bloody section of carpet and placed it in a garbage bag. We also heard a useful piece of information. The next meeting to take place in the office would be in two days.

At that moment, I came up with a glorious idea that we hadn’t planned. Joseph was less than enthused.

“You want to what? Are you crazy? We can’t go digging around a construction site in Youngstown looking for Frank’s body!”

“Of course we can. We already know where it is. He said the Pelican Condominiums. This will be one more way to fuck with them. Please, Joseph.”

“How the hell are we going to find it, with all the snow?” He looked incredulous.

“The more snow, the better. The snow will tell us exactly where they buried him.”

Joseph shook his head. “All right, I hope you know what you’re doing. We’ll need to stop and buy some shovels.”

“Let’s go.”

The majority of the Pelican Condominiums were already built and being occupied. There was a small section to the west of it that they were expanding; that was where we needed to start our search. Since it was nearing dark, I instructed Joseph to pick up a couple of flashlights as well. He began to pull the car off the gravel construction driveway and onto the snow-covered paved road.

“No! Don’t!” I yelled.

He slammed on the brakes. “Why not? The construction’s over there. That’s where we’ll need to check.”

“Because the snow on the gravel is gone, but not on the asphalt. We’ll leave tire tracks. We’ll have to walk, and we’re going to put tape on the bottom of our shoes first.”

I had personally worked with several of the Youngstown homicide detectives, and they were no amateurs. With the number of murders the city had, some of their detectives were at the top of their field. I would take no chances leaving shoe tracks in the snow. Always prepared, I grabbed a roll of duct tape from the glove box and ripped several strips off to stick on my shoes before handing it to Joseph. We put on gloves and warm hats, and we were on our way.

“With the heavy snow, it’s easy to assume no construction workers have been out here in the last twenty-four hours,” I explained to Joseph. “So any tire tracks, footprints, or drag marks can easily be associated with the Iacconas. Start looking, and remember where you’ve walked.”

Finding the tires tracks wasn’t hard. I found a set coming out of the woods within ten minutes. They had driven off the road through the woods coming up on the rear of the construction site. Common sense told me they had one hell of an SUV to be able to maneuver through the thick snow and mud. The tire tracks had stopped near the last set of condos when I found the footprints.

A halfhearted attempt had been made to cover them up. They led me to the basement of the second-to-last condo on the street, one that hadn’t had the cement poured yet. The footprints stopped at the
cement sidewalk, but since only the basement had been dug, it was safe to assume Frank Trapini’s final resting place was in there.

What they had done was walk around the entire basement floor, kicking up snow and spreading it around in an attempt to make it look like someone had been there working or kids had been playing. The back corner, where the snow was uneven, was a good place to start. I whistled to Joseph and waited for him to walk over. We needed to help each other down the wooden temporary stairs.

“I’m surprised they didn’t break their necks carrying a body down these steps,” I said.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

We went over to the corner and I started walking around. Only when I felt the ground sink ever so slightly did I convince myself we had found Frank’s burial site.

“Here.” I pointed. “They probably dug a significantly deep hole. But even if they tried to pack the dirt in, it’s still going to be a little soft, unlike the rest of the dirt. It’s winter, so most of it should be frozen.”

Joseph took a deep breath as he jammed the shovel into the ground. I didn’t dare ask how many times he’d done this—another detail of his life I didn’t want to know. The snow and the dirt were heavy. After a while, my back was screaming.

“You guys make this look so easy in the movies,” I said.

Joseph, clearly unamused, kept digging. Two hours later and three to four feet deeper, I felt my shovel hit something hard.

“Shine your flashlight down there and hold it.” I
got on my knees and leaned into the hole, brushing away the dirt and exposing a black garbage bag.

Tearing a small portion of the bag away revealed Frank Trapini’s elbow. Feeling my way down his arm to his hand, I tore apart that portion of the garbage bag and pulled Frank’s hand out, letting it stick straight up into the air.

“What the hell are you doing?” Joseph was out of breath and leaning on his shovel.

“Just making it easier for the cops is all. We’re done here. We only need to find a pay phone.”

I found a long piece of wood with a bright orange piece of tape around it and stuck it upright in the snow to the left of Frank’s body. Joseph was already at the top of the steps, reaching his hand out to help me. He had been quiet most of the time. Ever since his semiadmission of his feelings for me in the car, he hadn’t said much.

About two miles from our motel, Joseph pulled up next to a pay phone at a gas station. Looking through the phone book hanging by the silver wire, I found the nonemergency number for the Youngstown Police Department. It would take longer for them to trace the number than if I called 911. The dispatcher answered on the second ring. Lowering my voice to the level of a prepubescent boy, I gave the dispatcher the information.

“In the Pelican Condominium construction site, the second to the last condo on the west side of the street, there is a body buried in the basement. The grave is exposed and marked with a wooden stake and an orange ribbon. The body is Frank Trapini, and Henry Mastragna is responsible for his murder.”

I hung up the phone and instructed Joseph to drive away. When he pulled into the parking lot of our motel, he finally spoke, looking confused.

“Why did you tell them it was Henry? I figured you would want to give up Sal first?”

“I’m just getting Henry out of the way. I want Salvatore Iaccona to myself.” I was driven by pure rage.

Joseph whispered a solemn good night to me as he went into his room and I went into mine. After taking my suitcase and throwing it on the bed, I pulled the inside flap down and grabbed the thick cache of files and the yellow envelope containing the tape. My arms full, I went over to Joseph’s room and used my foot to knock on the door. His face told me he was surprised to see me.

“CeeCee? What’s all that?” He nodded at the pile of folders in my arms.

Not waiting for an invitation, I brushed past him and walked into his room, letting the files spill all over the bed.

“These are the files on your family, and the files on the Iacconas. Here’s the tape.” I held the small envelope out to him.

He was stunned. “I thought you were going to turn those over
after
we were done. Are we done?”

“You are. I’m not.” I sat down and ran my fingers through my hair. “I don’t want to put you in any more danger, Joseph. I care about you—please believe that—and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

His face softened into concern as he sat down next to me. Now that he had the files, he could walk away easily. He certainly didn’t have to stay and help me. Joseph gently pulled my face toward his and kissed
me. Instantly, I pulled away. To say I cared about him was true, but as a close friend, and nothing more.

“Joseph…,” I began quietly as I looked at the floor.

“You don’t need to say it, CeeCee. I know, and I’m sorry.” He stood up and walked to the window. “I know you don’t feel for me the way I do you.” He turned around. “Never in my life have I met someone like you, someone I admire and respect.”

“You are a good person, Joseph, I know that. It’s just that…” I felt tears brimming. “I can’t begin to explain how much I loved my husband or how much I miss him. I don’t know that I’ll ever get over it.”

He walked over and knelt before me. “I do understand, and I’m not trying to make this harder than it is. What you’re doing right now to find his killer tells me how much you loved him.” He paused. “I met him once, you know.”

“You met Michael?”

He nodded. “I followed Niccolo, right before he died, to see what he was into. I was the one that discovered his allegiance with the FBI. Niccolo and Michael met in the Metroparks once. After Niccolo left, I confronted him.”

I stood up. “You confronted Michael? Why?”

“It was no big deal, really. I just told him he was putting my brother’s life in danger by bringing him in. He looked at it differently. He said he was probably saving my brother’s life. I guess he was wrong, huh?”

“I guess so.” I paused, looking at the spread-out files. “There you are. They’re all yours, the only copies, ” I lied, though I had every intention of destroying
the other copies on the Filaci family. “So I guess you’ll be leaving now?” I asked, my voice almost inaudible.

“Of course not.”

His answer staggered me. “I just figured now that you have the files and tape, you’d leave.”

“And miss the impending fall of Salvatore Iaccona? You’re kidding, right? Not to mention, I have a vested interest in all of this—you. My new closest friend, who I have to watch over, and make sure stays safe and sound.” He grinned at me and winked.

“Thank you, Joseph.” I hugged him tightly before kissing his cheek. “You sure? You don’t have to do this.”

“Sure as I’m gonna get. Now go get some sleep.”

Walking back into my own room, I felt elated. Joseph was sticking with me. I had been trying to prepare myself for his imminent departure after he got the files, but he’d certainly surprised me. He’d surprised me by uncovering my own desire to have him around. It had been a long time since I’d been in daily contact with a close friend, and I missed it.

The day before the scheduled meeting at the warehouse was a long one. Frank Trapini’s body had been discovered, and the story was all over the news. I couldn’t wait to hear what Singin’ Sal had to say about it.

“
Alan, it’s Agent Nicholas. Frank Trapini is dead.”

“Jesus, don’t tell me she killed him, too!” Alan Keane felt light-headed.

“No, we think she called it in, but we can’t say for sure right now. We’re assuming Sal knocked him off for letting Tommy get killed. He had him buried under this new
condo construction site, and an anonymous phone call was made. Someone had dug him up and left a little landmark showing the cops where to go. It had to be her.”

“I can’t believe he’d kill Trapini,” Alan thought aloud. “Things must be getting worse. Anything on Richland Metro’s last homicide?”

“Nope, but we know that Cross guy is connected to LifeTech Industries. We found a shitload of its stock he had invested in, but I don’t think Richland Metro knows yet.”

“Keep on it. Where is she?”

“We don’t know, sir.”

“Dear God, what ever you do, find her before Sal does.”

According to Joseph, the meeting in Sal’s office was a who’s who of the Iaccona clan, and Sal wasn’t happy, to say the least. We watched the scene unfold on my laptop.