Free Wiseguys In Love by C. Clark Criscuolo Page A

twisted around and stared at a second man, standing in the darkened living room. He was smaller than the big man. He was normal-sized.
    She turned back to Mrs. Morelli and cleared her throat.
    â€œI’m responsible for this, I know,” Lisa began, feeling stupid. “If only I’d have gone in there. If only I wasn’t so scared of him. I hate myself for what happened.”
    â€œWho’d have known the bastard would…” Mrs. Morelli’s voice trailed off.
    â€œYou want me to get you something to eat, Aunt Rosa?” Tony asked, leaning down over her.
    He almost made her seem pale and delicate.
    â€œNo, Tony. I don’t want nothing. I ain’t hungry. I ain’t hungry. I ain’t ever gonna be hungry again!” she said, her voice rising as she got up. “He sentenced me to a life of poverty! My last years, my golden years, spent in shame, trying to feed myself. I wanna die! I wanna die! He stole my money—that SONOFABEECH.”
    It was the damnedest thing: Lisa’s fillings hurt.
    Guilt overwhelmed her. Even if she offended Mrs. Morelli, she had to try to offer her some money.
    â€œIt’s all my fault. Oh God. Listen, whatever I can do, just tell me. I could help you do your resume or help out around the house.” She swallowed. “Look, I don’t want to offend you, but do you need money?”
    Mrs. Morelli looked at her oddly. “Whatta you talking about?”
    Lisa brightened a bit.
    â€œWell, I was thinking, you probably need some money to tide you over, and I have five hundred dollars in my savings account.” She watched Mrs. Morelli’s eyes dart to her nephew. She said something in Italian to him, and the other man came up behind her.
    â€œI don’t want your money! I want the bastard dead!” she snapped.
    â€œBelieve me, I know. People like that don’t deserve to live. If you knew how many times I wished he’d … he’d get run over or something, just die, so I don’t have to listen to him.… I mean, why does he have the right to do things like this, huh? Why? Because he’s wealthy? I’ll tell you something, if he was dying on a street corner, I don’t think I’d bend over to help him. I’d let him just bleed to death in the gutter. Some days, I think … I think about sending him a really nasty letter.… I—” Lisa stopped as she caught sight of the smaller man trying desperately to stifle a smirk. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.
    â€œNothing,” Michael said quietly.
    His accent was softer than the others’.
    â€œWell, I’m angry,” she snapped.
    â€œI know you are.”
    Lisa turned back to Mrs. Morelli, embarrassed. She’d flown off the handle. The tension of the last couple of days seemed to well up inside her and burst. She exhaled and sat down.
    â€œAnything I can do to help, please, please, tell me.”
    Mrs. Morelli shot a glance up at Tony.
    â€œAnything? You’d do anything to help me?”
    â€œJust name it. Just you name it,” she said, leaning forward in her chair.
    â€œYou know where he’ll be tonight?”
    â€œWell … not offhand.”
    â€œCould you find out for me?”
    Lisa stared at her. “Are you going to go talk to him?”
    â€œMy godson Tony and his cousin Michael gonna talk to him,” she said calmly. “Now, you tell us where he’ll be at.”
    â€œWell, I’d have to look in his appointment book. What are you going to say to him?” she asked, looking at Tony.
    â€œI’m gonna tell him to give my Aunt Rosa back her full pension,” Tony said, blinking down at her.
    There was an odd look to his eyes. They almost looked crossed, or as if they didn’t really focus on anything.
    â€œYou don’t know Henry Foster Morgan. He’s a pretty nasty man. What if, you know,” she said, lowering her voice, “he