2. The Funeral

SOFIA

“Miss Moretti?”

I looked up slowly, blinking at the detective sitting across from me. He was staring at me in that sombre, touching way that you would look at a fragile piece of glass that was about to explode. His partner actually had to wipe a tear from her eyes as they sat across from me.

Behind us, the police were still walking all around the apartment, taking pictures and talking excitedly. Hearing their voices all around the apartment made me want to throw up. My head was spinning, and I just wanted to lay down for a bit.

“Miss Moretti, anything you can remember will be very useful,” he said. “I understand how difficult this must be for you, but the sooner we get this information out of your head, the better it will be. Details get muddied after some time, and we prefer to get them right after a crime has been committed.”

I blinked at him silently, unable to bring myself to speak. What exactly was I supposed to say? How could I reveal the horror of what I’d witnessed earlier? How could anyone expect me to just sit there and talk about it as if my entire world hadn’t been brought down in one instant?

The tears started to flow once again, and I buried my face in my palms as the pain tore through me like a hot knife. I could still see his face, with those evil eyes full of malice that stared at me in disgust. I could still hear his voice when I closed my eyes, and the satisfaction in his eyes as he said, “I will not tell you to keep your mouth shut about what happened here cops. Let’s see how wise you are.”

I wanted to tell them everything. It was right on the tip of my tongue. But a man like that would surely have influence even in the police force. There was no telling how many people he’d paid off, how many people were working for him. Even now, there could be a few of them in my home. It made me feel naked, like they were seeing right through me.

When the image of dad’s face came swimming back to my mind, I choked back a scream. The vacant expression on his face would haunt me for the rest of my life. When he’d fallen beside me, I’d turned and grabbed him, screaming as the anguish ripped my soul apart. The bullet hole in his skull stood out prominently, and his lips were slightly parted as though he never expected to get shot.

My throat felt raw from the screaming, and I’d screamed myself hoarse by the time Marco and his men walked out of the house. I couldn’t bring myself to even move, and I just sat and clutched my dad’s arms while crying into his shoulder. I stayed liked that until Mrs Changretti, our next-door neighbor,  heard the noise and came to check on me. She’d screamed at the sight of the blood, then she quickly dialed 911.

That was about two hours ago. The cops had arrived shortly afterwards, and they’d gotten our statements. In a few minutes, the apartment was filled with forensics as they went to work trying to figure out what happened. I was still too shaken up to say anything, and my hands were trembling even as I spoke to the detectives. I wondered if they suspected me, or if they realized that I had nothing to do with this. I knew I would be the first suspect. After all, I wasn’t the one who called them. It was our neighbor, who found me in a pool of blood.

“Did you see anyone else in the house when you arrived?” the detective asked. He was a round-faced, broad shouldered man with a goatee and kind eyes. He offered me his handkerchief, which I took slowly.

“There was no one else here,” I replied calmly. “Like I said, my dad called me while I was at a restaurant with my friend. He said he needed me to come home right away, and it was important. I rushed back, and when I came here, I-I found Tony’s corpse by the door. And I… I came in and found him like this.”

“Then why didn’t you call the cops?” he asked. “That should have been the first thing you did.”

I looked up at him, and I tried to keep my voice level as I asked, “Have you ever come home to find your father shot in the head? Have you ever left the house to come back and find two corpses? Would your first instinct really be to grab the phone and call the cops?”

“I…”

“That’s enough, Grey,” his partner said. “She’s been through a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”

I turned away from him, watching the forensics who were dusting the shelves and window for any sign of fingerprints. I closed my eyes and tried not to start crying again.

“Thank you, Miss Moretti,” he said, standing up. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Do you have any family you can stay with?” his partner asked. “I don’t think you should stay here tonight.”

I shook my head, and said, “It was just the two of us.”

And now I was all alone. This was a million times worse than when mom died. I was devastated when she passed, but I still had dad. I wasn’t so alone in the world. But now, I was by myself. I had no one to cry to, no one to help me through this mess.

All because of him.

Marco Giordano.

I wanted to kill him. I wanted to wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze his neck until the lights went out. I wanted to make him suffer for everything he’d done to me. I knew that wouldn’t bring my father back, but it would be enough to give me some level of satisfaction at least.

I followed the detectives out of the house, and I paused in the hallway at the sight of Tony’s corpse being placed in a bodybag. I wanted to throw up, but I forced myself not to. Instead I turned my attention to what Detective Grey was saying, advising me to get somewhere else to stay for tonight.

“You can get a motel or something,” he said. “Or stay with a friend. I don’t think you should be alone at a time like this.”

“Thank you,” I replied. It was empty words, and even though I knew they meant well, it still pissed me off. Everyone was acting so calm and sympathetic. Why couldn’t they be as furious as I was? Why couldn’t they realize that the devil himself was the one responsible for this?

As they walked away, I grabbed my phone and called Val. I wondered if she’d heard what happened. After all, news like this would travel like wildfire. And sooner or later, everybody would know what happened.

“Hello?” she said as soon as she answered. “Sofia, are you okay? I just heard what happened from my dad! Jesus Christ! I’m heading to your place right now. I’m so sorry!”

“Thanks,” I said. “But I need a place to stay for a little bit.”

Half an hour later, Val and I were heading to her apartment, with my hastily packed clothes in a duffel bag in the backseat. I pulled the hoodie I’d thrown on over my head, and leaned my head against the window, wondering how my life had fallen apart in only a few hours.

“Sofia, are you alright?” Val asked.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m just tired.”

I closed my eyes as I said that, and I drifted off to sleep a few minutes later.

In my dreams, I was the one holding the gun to my dad’s head.

—————————

Dad’s funeral was held on a Thursday afternoon, and there were only a handful people there. The detectives came as well, and I sat in the front pew as Father Issac spoke of how kindhearted and generous dad was. He spoke about his donations to the church, his charity work that most people didn’t even know of, and how much he had done for the church. As I sat there and listened to him, while Val held my hand and stared unblinkingly at him, I felt hollow inside.

I wondered if Father Isaac knew that the money dad used to donate to the church was gotten from his work with the mafia. I wondered if he knew that he had been working with an international criminal. And I wondered just how many things in my life were tainted by Marco Giordano. I felt dirty even thinking about him, as he’d haunted my nightmares for several days after the incident.

I couldn’t go back to the house, even after the forensics were done and I was given permission to go back. I continued to stay with Valentina and her family, and I mostly just stayed in my room and cried. I thought about how my life would never be the same again. I thought about all those little moments I’d shared with dad, never realizing how short our time together was going to be. I felt cheated, like someone had stolen from me so suddenly. And even though I knew exactly what they’d taken and who was responsible, I couldn’t do anything about it.

When I was invited to say a few words, I stood beside the coffin and stared at dad’s picture above it. On my request, the casket was kept closed. I didn’t want to look at him again, and feel the hot, bubbling sensation of sorrow rising from the bottom of my throat.

“My father was a strange man,” I said quietly, fighting back my tears. “He was always holed up in his study, reading books I could never understand or even bother to look at. I used to wonder if he was an alien when I was a little girl. But then I grew up, and I saw him as the flawed, normal and genuine person he was. After my mom died, I thought I would never be able to smile again. But dad always put a smile on my face. He was always there for me, like a rock that never sways in the face of a storm. I loved him more than anyone else in the world. He was everything a father should be, and much more. And yet it hurts to accept that he’s gone. I’m angry at him for leaving, and I feel like I’ve been abandoned. I never wanted this. I-I never even thought…”

The tears started to flow, and I had to wipe them away and take several deep breaths before I could regain my composure.

“I miss him so much,” I said through the tears. “He was taken from me so suddenly, and I never got to say goodbye. I never got the chance to tell him how much I loved him, how much he meant to me, and how grateful I am for everything he’s ever done. I just hope he knows that, wherever he is now. I hope he’s looking down at me with pride in his eyes, the same way he’d looked at me during my graduation when he’d hugged me for the last time and told me how proud of me he was. Dad, I love you and I miss you. And I pray the man who did this to you will pay for his crimes.”

I realized what I’d said the moment Detective Grey leaned forward in his seat. I quickly shook my head, wiped my tears and headed back to my seat. I knew he was going to ambush me after the funeral, but I couldn’t let that happen. As soon as the funeral ended, I fled to Valentina’s car and rolled the windows up.

“Miss Moretti!”

I braced myself for the detective’s questions, but it was a skinny old man who made his way towards me, wearing a black suit that was a bit too large for him.

“Hello,” he said with a half-smile. “I’m Franco Martell, and I’m your dad’s attorney. Well, I guess I should say I was. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” I replied, checking over his shoulder for any sign of detective Grey.”

“Your father left something in my possession before his passing,” he said. “If you could swing by my office tomorrow, I will be glad to hand it over to you. We also need to discuss the matter of your father’s estate. We can do that tomorrow.”

“No problem,” I said as I spotted Val heading towards the car. “I’ll be in touch.”

As he walked away, I knew I wasn’t going to call him. I wasn’t going to call anyone.

I just wanted to be left alone to my misery. I wanted to be free to cry as much as I wanted.

And pray for Marco Giordano’s death with every fibre of my being.