Chapter 9

Carlita braced herself for what was inside 8807 Morton Street. She took a tentative step across the threshold. Despite her son's warning, she wasn't prepared for what was waiting for them on the other side.

"Good gravy." Mercedes let out a low whistle. "You weren't kidding when you said it was a hot mess."

"More like a firebombed mess." Carlita's sharp eye took in the charred ruins. Blackened walls. Gaping holes. What appeared to be insulation hung in shreds from the sagging ceiling panels. Exposed pipes, covered in black streaks from some sort of soot, ran from the front of the building to the other end.

Tony nudged a singed cardboard box with the tip of his shoe. "This looks like a mob hit."

"A mob hit?" Mercedes echoed. "You mean like…drive by, toss a firebomb in the door and the place goes up in flames?"

"Vinnie must've replaced the door, especially if the original was blown to smithereens." Carlita's stomach churned. Is this what would happen to her beloved Ravello's restaurant if she didn't agree to Danny Lombardo's terms? Or even more horrifying, the apartments where Mercedes, Tony, her granddaughter Violet, her pregnant daughter-in-law Shelby lived?

And then there were her tenants who were like family. Luigi, Cool Bones, Sam, Autumn. Carlita would never forgive herself if something happened to any of them and she could have prevented it.

"Now I know why the property taxes went down. In fact, after looking at this place, I think the taxes are too high and I'm gonna dispute them."

"It's not worth much in its current condition," Tony said.

"Not in my book." She voiced her greatest fear. "If the mob would do this to your father's junky old building, what will they do to our place?"

Tony pressed a light hand on the back of his neck and spun in a slow circle. "I think Vinnie needs to see this."

Carlita pulled her cell phone from her pocket and snapped a picture. She forwarded it to her oldest son and asked him to call her.

Her phone rang seconds later. "Hey, Ma."

"Hey, Son. You got my picture?"

"I did. Is this the property Pops owned?"

"It is," Tony answered. "Ma has you on speaker. Mercedes is here too. It looks like the place got firebombed a long time ago. We want your expert opinion."

"About the damage?" Vinnie asked. "I hate to say it, but this looks like the work of the family."

"So maybe Danny Lombardo firebombed the building," Carlita theorized.

"Why? It makes little sense. Maybe it was someone who had it in for him. I wonder when it happened."

"I don't know, but I intend to find out," Carlita said. "Anything on Lombardo yet?"

"Maybe. I got a lead and am waiting for confirmation," Vinnie said. "I'm coming down."

"Down here?" Mercedes asked.

"Yeah. If this is who I think it is, we might have some even bigger issues on the horizon."

Carlita blinked rapidly, trying to process what her eldest son had said. "Bigger issues involving the family?"

"Correct."

"Who…who is it?" she asked.

"I don't wanna scare you, Ma. They're definitely from the family, but not from around here. Not even close, at least not until recently. By the time I get there this evening, I'll have a pretty good idea what we're up against." Vinnie told them he'd already booked his flight and would be arriving at seven thirty.

"I'll come pick you up at the airport," Tony offered.

"Thanks. If the goons call back, don't talk to them."

"We won't," Carlita promised.

"Before I forget, do you have any idea where the tax bill is going?"

"No, but I'll find out as soon as I get home."

"And who the property is titled to," he added.

"Is it safe to be here?" Mercedes asked. "I mean, seeing how this is a mob target and all."

"If my sources are correct, these guys aren't after real estate. They're after money. How many people know about the you-know-what?" Vinnie asked.

Carlita took the phone off speaker. "The Marshland Isles Diamond?" she whispered.

"Yeah."

"Pete, Tori, all three of you and maybe Paulie. I'm not sure if I told him and Gina about it."

"Anyone else?"

"Louise Delmario." Carlita studied the ceiling. "Maybe Lombardo's henchman aren't here to make me live up to Vinnie's ironclad passing-it-onto-the-heirs agreement. Maybe someone heard about the diamond we found and linked it to our name."

"It's possible. The timing makes me think there's a reason Lombardo waited until now to have his men show up on your doorstep," Vinnie said. "I'm still trying to put a few of the pieces together."

"You sure you want to come down here?"

"I do." Vinnie's voice grew muffled. "I gotta get going. See you later."

Carlita didn't have time to thank him. He was already gone. "If Vinnie is coming down, I'm pretty sure we have a major problem on our hands."

"Bigger than a burned-out shell of a building we're going to pay six hundred grand and counting for," Tony grimaced.

"Maybe."

Back at Mercedes' apartment, Carlita promptly pulled up the appraiser's website. She typed in the property address and accessed the records. "The property is titled to…oh my gosh. You're not going to believe this."

"What's the name?" Mercedes asked.

"Marshland Investment Group. Your father named it Marshland Investment Group." Carlita dropped her head in her hands. "What was he thinking?"

"Not very clearly," Tony said. "What I keep going back to is…why now? Why wait all this time?"

"Maybe Lombardo only recently bought the debt, or has been here watching, waiting for the moment he thought he could get the most money out of us and then bam!" Mercedes slapped her palms together. "He decides to swoop in and try to take it all."

"It's better than hanging onto a burned-out wreck in a rough side of town," Carlita said. "But why firebomb the place?"

"Maybe he didn't do it and someone else did," Tony said. "Where's the tax bill going?"

"Good question." Carlita's fingers flew over the keys. She pulled up the second page of the tax bill and then the third. Oddly, it didn't list the address.

"I'm hitting a dead end."

"Ask Annie," Mercedes suggested. "Maybe she knows how to find it."

Carlita grabbed her phone and sent a text, asking Annie if she knew how to find it. She received a prompt reply.

It can be tricky. Do you want me to look it up?

If you don't mind.

Not at all. Standby.

A minute passed, and then two. Finally, Annie forwarded an address. Carlita nearly fell out of the chair when she found out where the Morton Street tax bill was being sent.