Italian Mystery Novels の小説・ストーリー

Lucas explained, I sat up on the hospital bed “Branded him with what?” I asked “I don't know but him being branded is sort of a Mafia thing. Who ever killed him rans a Cartel and was sending a message” Lucas explained, I covered my palms remembering how heavily guarded Vincent was, who would manage to kill him?. “And am guessing it's not Lord and his gang” I said “No it isn't. I don't even know if Lord is aware of this” Lucas said with a sign, he sat next to me looking as dejected as I felt.

“The real truth is he was probably followed into the woods, beaten to semiconsciousness then tossed over the edge of the cliff.” “Yes.” Her dark eyes are full of sympathy. “So, John was killed, most likely by—” I swallow. Nolan’s name bounces around my skull, on the tip of my tongue. I can’t do it. “Someone from the Morfil family. My father was most likely killed through some kind of Mafia connection.” Dai Qing closes the file and stares at me for a moment. “He learned Italian after your brother was murdered, right?” I give a curt nod. “The De Luca family speaks primarily Italian for their business purposes.”

I was just looking, the way you do in a quiet moment in someone else's space, taking notes. One book was slightly out of alignment with the rest. It was pulled out and pushed back at a slight angle, the way books look when they've been taken down and replaced repeatedly without quite being slotted back into the correct position. I don't know why I crossed the room. Maybe it was curiosity to know what type of book it was. I pulled it out. It was a novel written in Italian, the spine had worn soft with use. I turned it over in my hands and then opened the front cover, and there it was.

I spat as I rose from my seat and headed out of the door in search of my father’s henchmen. “Nicoli! Giancarlo!” I yelled out looking for my father’s most trusted men. “Buona Sera Bambi!” Nicoli smiled as he walked out of one of the rooms shutting the door behind him. “Nicoli, What does Arcano have you doing?” I questioned in distrust. “Master Arcano hasn’t given out any orders.” Nicoli smiled as he pulled me into a hug. “I know when you are lying to me, Nicoli.” I sighed in annoyance as I pulled away from him and quickly walked into the room Nicoli just walked out of.

The crusty old men notwithstanding. Is Lucian an Italian name? I saved that question in my memory. It’ll be the first thing I go to search for when I get back to my room. If he is in the mafia, I’m going to find out because I can’t and won’t be blindsided. I’m not one of those book or movie girls that will be clueless. Then they'll be shocked when they find out their partner is not who they say they are. My curious mind wouldn’t let me rest, until I find the answer to the question it thinks is there.

Every Italian guard senses something has shifted. I fold my arms. “So everything you know is from rumors?" “No,” Matteo reaches for another document. No one reaches for a weapon. He slides several photographs toward me. Dead men, different countries, different years, different organizations—Russian, Italian, Serbian, Greek. One thing connects every file: each investigation ends with nothing—no arrests, no witnesses, no Belladonna. "He starts wars; he doesn't fight them." I flip through the pages. "This family destroyed each other.”

His name tag read “Inspector Marco Bellini.” He poured me a glass of water and pushed it toward me. “You need to drink. You’re shaking.” I hadn’t realized it until he said so. My fingers trembled as I lifted the glass, water sloshing against the rim. I took a sip and exhaled shakily. “Chiara,” he began carefully, sitting across from me. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. A few weeks ago, a body washed up near the Tyrrhenian coast. It was identified as yours.”

More thoroughly. And then I found something. A small black notebook hidden beneath the files. My heart began pounding immediately. It looked old. Worn. Important. Very important. I opened the first page. And froze. Every page contained notes. Dates. Names. Transactions. Meetings. And one name appeared repeatedly. Luca Russo. My mouth went dry. The further I read, the worse it became. Illegal shipments. Money laundering. Bribery. Threats. People disappearing. My hands began shaking.