Nonna Maria and the Case of the Missing Bride by Lorenzo Carcaterra

Author:Lorenzo Carcaterra [Carcaterra, Lorenzo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2022-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

29.

GIOVANNI BUONOPANA SAT on the cold wet sand of the tiny beach in Ischia Ponte, the glow of the lights of the Castello Aragonese at his back. It was deep into the middle of the night, the locals asleep behind shuttered windows and locked doors. The waves rippled in and out and cooled his bare feet. He was wearing a pair of knockoff blue jeans, a white polo shirt, and had a blue sweater draped across his shoulders, the arms twisted in a knot around his neck. Even though the night had cooled from the blistering heat of the day, Buonopana’s arms and neck were coated in a cold sweat.

Two men stood above him, both smoking unfiltered cigarettes, one smiling, the other glaring down at him. “You need to get back to work,” the one with the smile said. “The pipeline’s beginning to go dry, and you are only halfway to paying us what you owe.”

Buonopana looked at both men and shook his head. “The carabinieri are still investigating Pasquale’s death and because of that have yet to release the boat,” he said. His voice was shaky, a tremble to each word. “I can’t be of any help to you without the boat.”

“You have friends in the port,” the second man said. “Go see if one of them will let you use their boat until the other matter is cleared up. The sooner you get back to work, the sooner you can put all this behind you.”

The two men worked the black market, moving drugs, contraband cigarettes, and stolen cases of mineral water and wine from Naples to Ischia. They plied their trade under the cover of night, moving their shipments from one boat to another, the goods wrapped in waterproof containers and tied to the sides of a boat, unseen by prying eyes.

It was a practice that had been in play since the early years of World War II, and the profits helped sustain the underground economy of Naples and keep it both profitable and shielded from the eyes of the law. As with many illegal occupations in Southern Italy, especially in the more impoverished areas of the towns and cities, participation in the dark economy was often handed down from generation to generation.

“At last count, you owe close to six hundred euros,” Luigi Beppo, still holding on to his smile, said. “And the longer you go without helping us move our goods, the higher your interest rate goes. You go another week or two without work, that number will be closer to eight hundred.”

“You’re acting as if all this is my fault,” Buonopana said. “If you had let me deal with Pasquale, none of us would be in this situation. I would have explained the position I found myself in to him. He would have been angry with me, but he would have understood and helped me out. Instead…well, instead…he’s dead. All because of you.”

“And if you weren’t an addicted gambler, you wouldn’t owe us money and we wouldn’t be here talking to you,” the second man, Angelo Narini, said.

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