"The Accidental Godfather"

By J.J. Diamanti

The serenity and majestic beauty of Lake Tahoe, in the early 1980’s, is shaken by the bombing of Harvey’s Casino, severely impacting the tourist driven economy. Pino, chef and owner of Giuseppe’s at the Lake, forms a close friendship with three powerful members of the regional crime family, ‘Mickey-O’ Maledetto, leader of the clan, ‘Bobby Salami’ Buzzoni, his top collector and ‘Bruto’ Furbone, the main enforcer. Captivated by Pino’s culinary magic and shared heritage, they request that he christen their pampered kids.
Although not involved in the antics and misadventures of his three cumpares, he is gradually drawn into their sphere of influence. A series of calamities, culminating in a horrific tragedy to the Maledetto family obliges Pino to assume his sacred duty as godfather. He is compelled to gratify a blood thirst inherited from the culture of vendetta he was born into. In doing so, he descended into the seventh circle of hell, the one that houses the violent against people and property.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.J. Diamanti
• Release date: Dec 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370520626

Book preview

THE ACCIDENTAL GODFATHER

INTRODUCTION

A brilliant blue sky on the eve of the biggest weekend of the year promised a grand finale to the summer season in one of the most beautiful places on Earth. The warm sunshine, however, was of little comfort to the frustrated travelers stuck on a stream of vehicles backed up for miles on the Tahoe Highway. Police and fire emergency crews in downtown Stateline had set up barricades to keep hundreds of anxious onlookers and curiosity seekers at a safe distance. Countless numbers of viewers in their homes, hotels and bars were glued to TV screens eagerly following the dramatic events of the last two days.

The area surrounding the casinos had been cleared of all local traffic. Pedestrians, all guests, workers and gamblers were evacuated from nearby buildings. The only people left in harm’s way were on the second floor of Harvey’s Wagon Wheel Casino. A select team of FBI agents, law enforcement officials, explosives experts and specialists from around the nation had gathered at the lakeside resort in a frantic effort to dismantle a bomb……packed with one-thousand pounds of dynamite.

Despite the team’s best efforts and the vast resources at their disposal, all the discussions and ‘render-safe’ scenarios, in an atmosphere electrified by suspense and anticipation, around four o’clock in the afternoon……the powerful bomb exploded.

It blasted five stories of concrete, metal, and glass from the hotel and sent it flying across the street, enveloping the popular resort in a cloud of smoke and blowing out a massive hole in front of Harvey’s Hotel. The bomb, cleverly disguised as an IBM printer, had been smuggled into the building the previous day in the early morning hours, past the light security and into the hotel’s office. An employee had discovered the bomb and the attached letter demanding a ransom of three-million dollars. It was the brainstorm of a disgruntled gambler who had lost hundreds of thousands at the casino and had the balls to demand compensation for his madness and lack of restraint. Confident of his diabolical creation, the bomb maker warned that any attempt to diffuse it would be futile. His plan was ingenious, meticulously planned and executed, and had it not been for a battery or the lack of…..almost spectacularly succeeded.

The crisis prevention team assembled had exhausted all options in failing to save the building but their decisive actions and safety measures may have saved the lives of hundreds, perhaps thousands. It is the main reason why one of the biggest bombings in American history quickly faded into history…..no one died.

Giuseppe Padrino, fondly known as Pino to close friends and relatives, was chef and owner of ‘Giuseppe’s at the Lake’, a popular eatery among the local ‘Men of Honor’. He was prepping for another busy night at his lakeside restaurant when news of the explosion flashed across the TV screen. He laid down his chef’s knife to turn up the volume and stared in disbelief at the video footage of the blast. Shaking his head at the extent of the damage, he was amazed to hear that no one had been hurt.

The bombing and the months that followed until the arrest of the bomber was making international news. All the attention brought an influx of customers and was a disguised blessing for the lakeside communities. Along with the seasonal crowds, came hordes of curiosity seekers, wanting be in the place where it all happened, blow their hard earned money…..and gamble. The initial shock of the disaster had turned into an unexpected windfall for the local economy, the casinos and Pino Padrino. Not so, however, for his cumpares in the Maledetto family.

Roberto Buzzoni and Franco Furbone had witnessed the explosion from the safety of a bar down the street. The festive atmosphere inside soon dampened on seeing the devastation caused by the explosion. The two men were in town to conduct their usual business transactions, supplying ready cash to gambling junkies desperate to keep feeding their habit. Casino managers knew the boys well and made no effort to discourage their ‘services’, it kept the suckers in the house and pumping dollars into the slot machines. It was a major source of income for the Maledetto family and the shutting down of a big casino for any period of time was bad for business and their capo, ‘Mickey O’. All the activity of the last two days had interrupted their ability to perform their duties, resulting in an inevitable loss of revenue. Forced to remain in the bar, the two men resumed drinking and continued following the breaking news on TV. Traffic outside was at a standstill and they were in no hurry to give their boss the bad news.

The newly renovated hotel reopened in the spring of the following year. The boys were present at the ribbon cutting ceremonies, toasted the owner and wished him good fortune. The months between the bombing and the reopening of the new casino had been costly for Mickey and the boys. They were anxious to resume their services and recover the family’s losses as soon as possible. The three men spent the rest of the afternoon celebrating the return of good times and doing what they did best…..drinking, gambling and charming any female that strayed into their field of vision.

The heavy consumption of booze and elbow bending had made them ravenous and the conversation turned to talk about their favorite food, Shrimp Fra’Diavolo at Giuseppe’s. Mickey called Pino’s wife, Lisa and made dinner reservations for the boys and their three wives.

Making their usual grand entrance, the boys and wives, decked out in the latest Italian fashions, showed up around seven in a festive mood. They feasted on Pino’s cooking, were given special attention and served by Lisa herself. After finishing their meals, the three men made their way to Pino’s kitchen. They shook hands and pecked both of his cheeks as was customary. The boys offered their compliments and thanked him for another fine meal. Mickey updated him on their latest escapades and invited the couple to be the guests of honor at the celebration of their son’s first birthday.

Pino was your typical ‘Old School’ Italian, a product from generations of hardy Sicilian stock, raised and steeped in its ways and culture. He immigrated to America with his parents in the 1950’s, part of an exodus of millions who abandoned their ancestral roots for a better life in what they called ‘La Merica’. He grew up in one of the numerous villages that hug the Sicilian hillsides and had a normal, happy childhood. He was free to explore the world his inquisitive mind once knew before manhood would take it away his innocence. His father, following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather before him, toiled in the wheat fields belonging to the local barons. His mother, as was her duty, faithfully tended to her chores around the house and raised the children.

Hanging on Pino’s kitchen wall was an old, faded photograph of the house he was born in. It pictured a peasant couple and their donkey in front of a small stone and mortar home, surrounded by fields of golden wheat. It recalled fond memories of riding on the giant combines that his dad operated at harvest time. He would sit for hours, mesmerized by the rotating blades as they devoured the rows of wheat and spat out the precious seeds.

The intoxicating smells and flavors of his mother’s kitchen, still vivid in his memory, most likely sparked his passion for gourmet cuisine. With the few meager ingredients available, she was able to create meals that would grace a rich man’s table. Dinner was the highlight of the day and something that Pino looked forward to. It was almost a sacred ritual, one that bonded the family together and gave it meaning. The family scraped out a modest existence, but considered themselves fortunate. His father worked dawn to dusk, often seven days a week, to provide for his family’s basic needs. His mother did her share by tending to her garden, caring for the goats and chickens and all the household chores necessary in raising their kids. She instilled in them the basic rules of family behavior, a way of life that emphasized respect, reciprocity, restraint and a delicate palate, of course. Pino’s Sicilian experience, though brief, established in him a sound foundation and a code of morals that would guide his actions for the rest of his life.

After a period of several years, their long awaited visa to immigrate to America was finalized. The family pulled up roots and sailed from Palermo to long, tearful farewells from lifetime friends and relatives. They boarded an aging Italian liner for the thirteen day passage across the ocean…..it was to be her final voyage and the last time his parents would see their native land.

Midway into their voyage while crossing the Atlantic Ocean, their dream of the New World unexpectedly turned into a nightmare. Their ship was hit by a powerful winter storm that pounded her decks and battered her sides with a barrage of massive waves. Anticipating the worst, the captain ordered everyone on board to wear their lifejackets and instructed his men to prepare the lifeboats. Huddled in their tiny cabin, the family spent a terrifying, restless night with his mother and sister violently seasick. Pino was kept awake by the horrible sounds and stench of vomit all around him. He could hear the crashing dishes coming from the boat’s kitchen, the cries of fear and moaning of fellow passengers, some cursing their fate, others resorting to prayer. The old vessel had been severely tested one last time and nearly sank that night, but she survived the sea’s brutal assault and limped into New York harbor on a frigid winter morning with over 1700 grateful passengers and crew…..among them, Pino and his family.

Accustomed to the harsh conditions of the Sicilian peasants, his parents quickly adjusted to their new surroundings and soon blended into the sea of humanity that is the New York Metro area. Pino’s father, though a proud man, was not above doing menial labor or accepting any work that provided for his wife and kids. Being a resourceful man, he soon tired of laboring for others and eventually went into business for himself. Five years after landing in America, he opened his first place. It was a small pizza joint in one of the congested, wall-to-wall cities of Central Jersey. The hours were long and the rewards were few, but it sustained the family for those early years and launched Pino on his culinary journey.

CHAPTER ONE

Roberto ‘Bobby Salami’ Buzzoni, was Mickey O’s best friend, close advisor and his most dependable collector. Bobby would be called when it was absolutely necessary that a debt owed to the family be recovered. He was the last chance for a deadbeat to make good on his obligation before ‘Bruto’ would be summoned to perform his services. Weighing in at 375 pounds, plus two pounds of jet black hair, it was obvious that Bobby had a healthy appetite and indulged in what he referred to as ‘power drinking’. He had a passion for salami, especially imported Italian sopressato….it was how he got his nickname. He carried his beloved salami on his person, tucked in the side pocket of his jacket. The other items of his trade, an old-fashioned straight razor and a silver flask of red wine resided in another pocket. They were the only tools he needed to get the desired results….. A promise to pay-in-full or be forced to sign their life away to Mickey.

Bobby had a style that could only be described as unique, a model for aspiring extortionists and interrogators. He made a grand production of the collection process, pure theater for anyone lucky enough to witness it. In order to maximize the fear factor, he was always accompanied by the meanest or biggest soldier in the crew. Soldiers were also responsible for finding the bums and bringing them in for Bobby’s enhanced treatment. Although sometimes conducted at the borrower’s residence, the ‘warehouse’ was where Bobby performed his most memorable works, masterpieces of intimidation techniques. The warehouse consisted of several rooms that were used for interrogations, torture and executions or whatever was necessary to breakdown and punish the poor bastards that were dragged through there.

Bobby carried out his interviews in one of these rooms. It had no windows, a low ceiling and four grey walls with graphic photographs of his past handiwork. The only furnishings were his Lazy-boy recliner, a plain wooden table and a cheap, metal folding chair for his guests. A dim light fixture hung over the table and the bare concrete floor was stained by the faded blood of past victims.

The deadbeat would be dragged in, manhandled by one of Bobby’s goons and slammed down into the metal chair. A full roll of duct tape was used to restrain him in place. Once the soldier finished prepping the man, Bobby would make his appearance. Calmly walking in and plopping down on the padded chair, he took his sweet time adjusting his huge bulk into a comfortable position. Heaving a sigh of relief, he stared at the man in silence for quite a while, then politely greeted him and introduced himself. Pretending to give a shit, Bobby would inquire about the man’s health and that of his immediate family. Ignoring any reply, he sneered back and started his tedious preparation ritual. Some of the lowlifes processed were repeat offenders, but usually, one visit to Bobby’s room discouraged an encore appearance.

Keeping his gaze focused on the terrified man in front of him, he reached into one of the pockets in his jacket. He pulled out a seven-inch long salami and laid it on the table in front of him. Casting menacing glances at the squirming man across the way, he slowly retrieved the wine flask from his other pocket and carefully placed it next to the sopressato, as if composing a still life. He also drew a straight razor from his jacket and gently set it next to the salami. All this was done over an exhausting period of time, in order to discomfort the victim physically and mentally. Upon finishing the tiring routine, he began drilling the man about his personal life, asking about his wife or girlfriend and any children. Bobby would demean, mock and verbally abuse the man, reminding him that they held the lease on his life and …..The option to terminate.

Most of Bobby’s guests were too intimidated to engage in actual conversation, uncertain of his intentions or the purpose of the three objects on the table; what they saw as a lethal blade, a tube of dried meat resembling a phallus and a metal flask containing who knows what. Fearing the unknown and obvious threat to their life, they would readily consent to any arrangement that satisfied Mickey. Many of his victims went on to say that they preferred receiving a vicious beating than experience Bobby’s torment. However, some of the more unfortunate visitors to his room required further extreme measures. It was the part of his job that Bobby’s sadistic side enjoyed most.

This second phase began with Bobby leering at his subject for an uncomfortable period of time. He made a show of extracting the sharp blade from the handle and wiping it with his handkerchief. Turning his salami sideways, he began slicing razor-thin pieces, in mind-numbing slow motion. Staring grimly at the visibly concerned man, he popped a slice into his mouth and leisurely chewed it, savored it and wiped his lips. He unscrewed the wine flask, sniffed it, lifted it and said ‘Salute’. He took a healthy sip, burped, excused himself and again wiped his lips.

Bobby repeated the excruciating procedure, slicing and eating one salami slice after another until the man seemed on the brink of madness. This only aroused his cruel nature and with a nod of his head, the soldier seized the chair and slammed the man’s chest against the table, trapping and severely discomforting him. Bobby sliced another piece of salami, left it on the edge of the razor blade and offered it to his guest. Warning him that it would be an insult to refuse, he gently placed the blade holding the slice of salami on the man’s trembling lower lip. Finding himself compromised and terrified of their twisted intentions, the loser soon broke down and promised anything. If Bobby was not satisfied with the response, he would slash the man’s lip with a flick of his wrist. Screaming, bleeding profusely and panic stricken, it usually resulted in the man urinating or defecating in his pants. The sadistic techniques employed were very effective in getting the bums to pay Mickey in full. Bobby would inform them that the next visit to his room would require the man to decide which part of his face he would like donated to science, his nose or his ears. Bobby had a high success rate; the only failures were due to the nonpayer’s natural or accidental death.

One time, Bobby and Pino were relaxing in a casino lounge, drinking and chatting when the discussion turned to Bobby’s account of an amusing collection assignment. He was called in to retrieve a few grand from a low-life punk rocker whose fame and talent had crashed, thanks to a decadent lifestyle and the usual ills associated with it. When he first met the loser, he couldn’t make out the man’s facial features as they were hidden by a grid of piercings of various shapes, sizes and metal content. Bobby surmised that this wouldn’t be one of his normal sessions…..it called for a different approach. As usual, it began with his normal routine and casual questioning about the guy’s career and music. He asked the degenerate what would he do if, god forbid, something happened to his tongue or fingers. What if he couldn’t sing or play a guitar again and wouldn’t be able to honor his obligation to Mickey.

It was when Bobby asked about the number of piercings he had that afforded a way for the loser to pay off his debt. The sick fuck responded that he had lost count, but guessed he had hundreds of them covering his entire body. He said the majority of his piercings were done when he had been on the charts and successful. He told Bobby some were made of gold and platinum, but said most of them contained silver or other precious metals.

Bobby ordered the punk to strip down completely and remove every single one of his piercings, a nauseating ordeal that taxed the imagination and took several hours. Bobby made the best of it and occupied himself by snacking on his salami, sipping the wine and watching silently, occasionally grimacing. When he had finished removing all of his piercings, the miscreant resembled a human spaghetti strainer, it was as if his body had been peppered by buckshot. Bobby was so repulsed by it all that he swore his tombstone would say