Page 24 of Mafia’s Final Play

He hadn’t responded yet. He didn’t know how to respond, because as every day passed, as memories bombarded his dreams and his waking moments, he became more convinced that it was Celeste that had ordered that contract. Anton had people working on it but as of yet, the author of that contract had not been identified. Normally, it wouldn’t take long, which was something else that told him this was Celeste. The woman knew how to cover her tracks, or she wouldn’t still be the head of the family.

It didn’t take a lot of skills to know that Marie was worried. She’d spoken about her worries before, but earlier this morning she’d tried to deflect from those worries, to blame the reason for her tremors on something else. He couldn’t blame her for that and knew she did it only to keep him from worrying, but she should know by now that he was always worried for her. There was a real possibility that she could have Parkinson’s disease.

That disease would ruin her life in many ways, it would even take her life eventually. The fact that she was so young and already showing signs was exceedingly worrisome. He’d done research many, many times. He’d looked for treatment options, even experimental ones, but had found nothing that would actually stop the disease.

If she got it, she could take medicines, have treatments that might slow down the course of the illness, but nothing would stop it entirely. He scrubbed at his jaw, the scrape of his beard told him he needed to shave before dinner later, but he decided to leave it for now. They were out in the woods, and what better place to do something he’d always wanted to do? Grow a beard.

Celeste wouldn’t allow him to, not even a mustache, because it looked common, she’d told him more than once. He’d shaved twice a day since he was 15, at her direction, and for the first time in his life, decided to leave it. Not because he was depressed and didn’t care if he looked scruffy, far from it. He felt more alive each day he spent with Marie, and being with her so often during the day now had really boosted him up. He wanted to be a little bohemian, maybe even buy a pair of carpenter’s pants to go with his new coat. That had been a little bit of defiance as well, that coat.

Every time he put it on he felt that he was making a statement: I am a new man, my own man, and fuck what old women with grudges thought.

Marie liked the way his hair was cut though, so he’d leave that. He didn’t know how long they’d be here, but he’d find someone down in town to do it for him. It wasn’t that difficult, although the woman that usually cut it made a huge production out of what should be a ten minute trim. They had to make you feel like you got your money’s worth, he supposed.

He scanned along the perimeter, knowing that Anton would still keep an eye out in the kitchen. They would hear any vehicles that tried to make their way up to the house, but someone on foot could sneak up. Matteo doubted anyone would be out in this cold, not unless they wore Arctic clothing of some kind to keep from getting frostbite, and that had the added benefit of keeping the wearer warm for hours.

Maybe they should go to Alaska until this was over, he thought. He wanted to take Marie to Europe next summer, so hopefully, this would all be over by then. But maybe, for now, Alaska might be more remote, safer for Marie. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure if she could handle more flights.

She didn’t seem to realize it, but he knew when she was tired; she got this pinched looked at the corner of her eyes, her lips went flat, and she rarely spoke. She’d been easily tired lately, and even now, he knew that she was probably having a nap on the couch after their epic snowball fight.

She’d be up in the night, wandering around, looking for signs that the bear had broken through the fence again, as she said when he asked. But he knew she wasn’t able to get comfortable, that something was bothering her when she was in bed. She’d thrash around and make sudden movements, even when she was deeply asleep.

He went back to his computer and decided to look for other reasons she might be experiencing these problems. The first thing he found was stress. Everything was blamed on stress nowadays, something he found to be dismissive. He kept reading and found a new term - essential tremor. The site told him that essential tremors happened with movement, while tremors with Parkinson’s were usually present at rest.

Well, that didn’t help. He’d noticed it when she was relaxed and sitting down, and when she was reaching for something. It could be something like that, though, and while it did need to be evaluated, he wondered if perhaps she was correct and this was more of a nerve damage problem. She didn’t have that pill-rolling motion that was described as a Parkinson’s tremor. Maybe this wasn’t such bad news.

It wasn’t a discussion for today, he decided, and went back to staring at his computer. There were a lot of emails from Trina, but he’d ignored them all. He’d sent her a voice message when they left, because she hadn’t answered her phone, saying that they were leaving to keep Marie safe and that he’d contact her when they could. He decided it was safe with the VPN and emailed his cousin.

She replied promptly, full of relief and wanting to join them. She knew she couldn’t but wished she could. Matteo would never tell her where they were anyway. He trusted Trina, but not anyone that might be snooping in her files.

He sent another email, telling his cousin to be patient and not say anything to anyone, not even their family. He’d spread it around that he’d taken his wife to South America, but had told others that they were going to China for a trip he’d always wanted to take. Yet others heard that they’d gone to Russia.

He wasn’t an expert at this hiding out thing, but he knew that if he told everyone something different that nobody would know, for sure, where to look. He couldn’t stay in the office anymore after the last email and went out to join his wife, but as he suspected, she was asleep. He went into the kitchen instead and found Anton cutting up vegetables. He had beef simmering in a pot, and the smell was heavenly.

“Smells good,” he told the other man and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“It’ll take a few hours, but it will be worth it.” Anton looked up at him with a smile, before his gaze went back to the knife cutting at vegetables expertly.

“Cool.” Matteo wasn’t used to being still for so long and wanted to go outside but the snow had started back up, yet again. “I’m going stir-crazy, are you?”

“A little, but I’m more used to being still for long periods of time than you are.” Anton moved the carrots off the cutting board, rinsed it off, then started to chop peeled potatoes. “How is she doing?”

The question was asked in a polite tone, but Matteo knew it was momentous for the man to even ask. So, he went with honesty. “She’s alright, but she’s having some kind of tremor and trouble sleeping.”

“Hardly surprising after the last year of her life, well, her entire life from what you’ve said,” Anton spoke quietly. He didn’t want to be overheard, not because he was judging her but because he was respecting her privacy. He didn’t want her to think he was gossiping.

“I’ve considered that, whether it’s all just stress, maybe some PTSD even, but she’s worried because of her mother’s history.”

“I can’t blame her,” Anton said as he moved the potatoes away and started to cut up celery and then tomatoes. “That doesn’t sound like a pleasant illness at all.”

“No, and we’re still keeping her a prisoner, aren’t we? She can go outside now, she’s not locked up in a tower, but she’s still locked away here.”

“Do you want to go home? Or somewhere else, maybe?” Anton began to add vegetables to the pot and stirred each new addition in slowly.

“No, I think we’re fine here.” Matteo scrubbed at his face again and sighed heavily. “I think I’ll have to take her to a doctor in town when it stops snowing though.”

“Just to ease her mind?” Anton asked after he put the lid back on the pot.

“Yes, and mine. And to an extent, yours even. We’re all worried about her.”