Accardi Chapter 12

Matteo walked toward the dilapidated building where he and his men held *private* meetings. Two men held the door open for him. He walked through the dust-laden dining area and to the back of the house. The men seated around shot to their feet at his entrance but he ignored them, focused instead on the walk-in freezer. He knocked three times. The door opened and Frankie sauntered out. He handed Matteo a file. 

Matteo walked in and glanced at the man sitting before him. He hardly resembled the man from the photo he’d once seen. His light hair was matted and stained with blood. His left eye was swollen shut and blood dripped down to the floor from a wound Matteo couldn’t see. His blue eyes were blood shot and widened at the sight of Matteo. The heart monitor attached to his arm spiked and hammered away. 

The man was tied to an old school electric chair: a purchase made by his father. The idea of using an electric chair as a torture device always rubbed Matteo the wrong way, but once he took over he immediately understood. The straps were tight and unbreakable, the chair uncomfortable but sturdy not to mention the notion of being tied to one held a certain ominous fear that made those tied to it easier to break.

“What’s with the duct-tape?” Matteo asked. 

Frankie snorted behind him. “Wouldn’t shut the hell up. Kept going on and on about how his girlfriend is in labor.”

Matteo pulled the other chair in the room toward the solitary table and sat. “Go find Giovanni. Leave me alone with him.”

“Right-o.”

The door behind them squealed on its hinges as it was shut. Leo stepped to the corner of the room, took the bat he held in his hand and stood on his toes to flip the camera up toward the ceiling. Matteo calmly moved several scalpels and screwdrivers out of the way to set the folder down on the metal table. He opened it up and started reading. 

“Brian Alexander Woodall, 34, native to Boston but recently moved to New York.” Matteo whistled. “Quite the rap sheet here, Brian. Three arrests for assault, two for stalking and three different women accused you of physical abuse all of which were expunged by the judge who just so happens to be your daddy. Expunged. Meaning none of the women who get sucked into your orbit can look it up and see it for themselves.” Matteo clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You know what I hate about my profession, Leo?” Matteo asked.

“What’s that, Boss?”

“Men like me are hunted and surveilled all in the hopes of putting us behind bars. My reputation is broadcasted for all to know and see while fuckers like this get to hide and keep doing what they’re doing. Have you ever hit a woman?” Matteo asked Leo.

“Not once.”

“Me either. Somehow even a calculative murderer can understand there is a code,” Matteo said, shaking his head. 

The man in front of him shook while the heart monitor continued to ping faster and faster. The scent of urine filled the room and Matteo fought the urge to gag. He sighed and sat back in the chair. 

“Do you know who I am?” Matteo asked. The man nodded slowly once and then faster. “Good. So when I tell you that after I remove the tape I will break a finger for every word you speak without my permission, you are smart enough to know I mean it?” 

Again the man nodded furiously as tears raced down his blood-streaked cheeks. Matteo gave a nod to Leo who stepped forward and ripped the tape from Brian’s mouth with enough force to pull some skin from his cheeks. The man cried out and slumped forward slightly. 

“Do you know why I asked my men to bring you here?” Matteo pondered. Brian stared at him and his eyes flicked to Leo in fear. “I’m sorry, you may speak.”

“I-I swear I don’t know, Mr. Accardi. I s-swear I’ve never been to one of your clubs. I don’t gamble, I don’t owe any money, I swear I…”

Matteo held up his hand. He looked casually back down at the folder. “I believe you, Mr. Woodall. I see here we’ve never had the pleasure of taking money from you. I’d say you were a smart man for that and yet here you sit. Any guesses why?” 

Brian shook his head violently. “Please, Sir, my girlfriend is…”

Leo brought the bat down on Brian’s right knee cap with a gut-curling crack. Brian’s scream echoed along the walls of the chamber, his leg now sitting at a weird angle.

“Come now, Leo, I threatened his fingers, not his kneecaps.”

“Apologies.”

“I’m well aware of your fiance’s condition,” Matteo said, standing. He started to slowly roll the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. Once he was done he stepped up closer to Brian. He placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder and leaned forward so they were eye to eye. “Rest assured, I’ll have you to the hospital in no time.” Brian let out a breath of relief that sounded more like a sob. Matteo turned away. “What condition you’ll be found in, is up to you. Now, I ask again, why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” Brian repeated.

“I’ll give you one hint. Only one. You hurt someone I care for. A woman. What’s her name?”

“I-I-I have never hurt Mallory, I promise I… AH!!” Leo’s bat cracked against Brian’s left hand.

“Uh oh, looks like that broke the entire hand, Leo.”

“Shall I get the hammer?”

“It would be more precise, I believe.”

“P-please…”

“Right, my apologies, back to the matter at hand. No, no, it wasn’t dear Mallory. Who else?”

“I… D-Diana?”

“Diana?” Matteo asked, exchanging a glance with Leo. Matteo shook his head and Leo shrugged before bringing the hammer he’d selected down on a finger on Brian’s right hand. 

Brian screamed and pulled against his restraints, begging for them to stop. “Becky! It was Becky wasn’t it? Tammy? Penelope?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Leo said, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Think real hard, Brian,” Matteo said, his rage simmering just below the surface. “You were at a wedding.”

Understanding crested over Brian’s face and his jaw hung open. “Gen. I didn’t. I just grabbed her arm I didn’t…”

Matteo threw the first punch, knocking Brian square in the jaw. “Did you hear that, Leo? He only grabbed her. He only put his filthy fucking hands on what’s mine. He only left his fucking finger prints indented in her skin.” 

Matteo punched him once, twice, five more times before he was able to rein in his anger. Brian spat blood up on the floor. Matteo stepped forward with a mallet in hand and clasped Brian’s shoulder again, this time with a grip that would break his collarbone if it were applied in the right pressure point. 

“Lucky for you, what you did sent her running to my bed.” Brian looked up, the first hint of jealous ire flashing in his eyes. “That’s right, I’ve had her. I’ve tasted *every* inch of that ivory skin of hers and had her seeing double before the morning arrived. Due to your chivalry, I’m going to give you a choice.” Matteo stepped back and tapped Brian’s left knee with the mallet followed by the right. “Left or right.”

Brian looked down as best he could with both eyes now swollen. “What?”

“It’s a simple question. Left or right? Chose or I’ll take them both,” Matteo explained. 

Brian stared into Matteo’s eyes for a long time. Matteo wasn’t sure what he was looking for. A sliver of pity or doubt? He certainly wouldn’t find either there. A moment of silence broken only by the heart monitor and the drip of blood on cement, stretched on. Finally Brian’s head fell back and his adams apple bobbed in his throat. 

“Right,” Brian finally answered.

“Wise choice,” Matteo said, stepping back to look at the table of instruments. 

Brian’s heart rate climbed as Matteo picked up a rusty saw. “I… I thought…”

“What? That I would break your knee cap? Is that why you chose the right? Because you thought it was already broken and I’d let you off that easy?” Matteo stepped forward and placed the rusty saw blade against Brian’s wrist. “*No one* touches what’s mine, Mr. Woodall. I see you anywhere near Genevieve Sinclair again, I’ll not be as charitable as I am being today. Now,” he said, a smile forming on his lips as the saw cut slightly into the skin. “I hope you’re up to date on your tetanus. Hold still.”

Fifteen minutes later, Matteo and Leo emerged from the walk-in cooler. Matteo wiped his hands with a rag handed to him by a guard. Brian had long since passed out. He ordered two of his men to drop him off at the back entrance to whatever hospital his fiance was giving birth at with instructions to make sure she had family or someone to help her with the newborn now that the father was out of commission. As he washed the blood from his hands, Marco appeared in the mirror’s reflection. 

“Called the accounting firm in Boston,” Marco said. “They’ll take us on. They'll have the investigation wrapped in a week."