Macabre Madness

You are invited to the memorial service for our beloved. We have lost more than a friend, a son, a brother and a father; we have lost our leader.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

ENRICO VANETTI

September 8^th 2020

2pm - 2am

Duomo di Lecce Cathedral

RSVP BY AUGUST 31^ST - +39 081 459123

‘Rico finally kicked the bucket.’ was my first thought when I saw the gold printed funeral invitation declaring the death of my friend of 30 years. Well, technically we were ‘frenemies’ – it’s complicated. My eyes scanned the funeral invite with dry indifference, but before you jump to conclusions this wasn’t due to a psychopathic inability to feel empathy, rather it’s a dry eye condition I have. It’s annoying, but I get on with it.

“The press will have a field day with this” I muttered, sipping earl grey tea from my emerald tea cup. And sure enough, as expected, I was right. The next morning I was greeted by my late friend’s scowling face on every front page. The infamous Vanetti name made every headline, and honestly, it gave me a bit of a head ache. Vanetti this, Vanetti that. It wasn’t just the papers either, the people were going mad too, with signs and effigies of him, protesting on the streets. You’d think that if a notorious don that ruthlessly tormented your town for forty years died, you’d be grateful, but no, everyone just had to make it all about themselves. They may as well have held up signs saying “Look at me! I love the Vanettis! Please don’t take away my poor people rations!” – but as I said, most of them were doing that already.

After all that palaver died down, the day of the funeral had come round. I know you’ll think it’s superfluous- because I did - but they had two funerals for Rico. One was for the public and let’s just say that with the amount of crying they did, there won’t be any water left for the crocodiles in their tear glands! There was certainly no problem hearing any of the obituary either because they blasted that out of every speaker in town. I personally thought it was very inconsiderate to do all that at 5pm because that’s my personal time I dedicate to my oboe practise. The other funeral was ‘family only’, and of course, that’s the one I was invited to.

They held it in their opulent - well maybe not opulent - 800 year old family chapel, with oil paintings and golden ornaments studded about the place. It’s getting a bit outdated though. I’m not sure if the whole ‘historical value’ thing is really worth it to be honest - it was such a dull place for a funeral.

Most of the Vanetti family were there, standing like black vultures drooping over Rico’s golden casket - I think some relatives were missing though. That might have been due to some family intrigue, rivalry thing they had going on – Rico told me about it once, but I can’t quite remember any of the details. They hung pictures of him everywhere! The Vanetti patriarch was dead, but it certainly didn’t feel like he was with a hundred Ricos staring down at us unapprovingly – as was his signature look for the camera. It made me laugh actually because it was almost like everyone was so scared that if they forgot him, Enrico would rise from the dead and shoot them, or worse, cut off their inheritance or something.

I never know how to act in funerals; whether to weep and grieve or to smile and reminisce. So instead, I kept up a really impressive poker face which I think just about did the trick. The only problem was that everyone had to line up and say something to the family and Rico– yes Rico the corpse, don’t ask, it’s a family thing. I had my line all polished and ready, but then the stupid old crone in front of me only went ahead and stole it! She shuffled up to the altar at about one mile per hour and croaked “Sorry for your loss.” which left me totally unprepared. I couldn’t just repeat what she'd said, I’d sound like a right idiot! So I got really nervous and shouted “Just have to nip to the loo!” and ran out of there with my echoing voice trailing behind me.

I was pacing outside on the chapel grounds, trying to think of a line when I got distracted by an elderly couple having an argument. It was loud enough to be heard by the mourners in the church. You’d think that people would have the decency not to subject me, an unsuspecting stranger, to their domestic issues. So to find a better thinking spot, I decided to walk over to the Vanetti family home which was getting set up for the wake.

When I got there I still couldn’t think properly because of the caterers clattering around, so I sneaked upstairs. I tip-toed past the living room where Rico’s younger brother, Cessair and the family butler, Azazel were talking to some police officers. I’d been in Rico’s house long enough to know my way about, so I thought that I'd sit in his study and think of a good enough line that would put the haggish thief to shame.

However, when I pushed open the grand ebony doors of Rico’s study, I heard a noise which made my heart skip a beat. I heard.. a stumble. I know it sounds unsettling but it gets worse. I leaped into the room through some sheer force of bravery, and also partly because I heard someone coming up the stairs, and flung my fists up, whispering fiercely “Show yourself!”

There was no reply. My mind was racing. For a second I thought that this might have been some sick plot by the hag to steal my money, as if she’d known that I would leave the chapel if she stole my line. It seemed plausible since my net worth is dangerously high. It’s true, I Googled it. But before I could connect all the dots, a ghastly looking Rico jumped out in front of me from behind the solemn oak desk. I choked in surprise and could barely get any words out. He put his finger to his lips and stared at me gravely.

“No! I will not shush! What are you doing here?” I whispered.

“I can explain..” Rico thrust his hands up in the air surrendering, his frown lines like deep cracks in bone china.

“You’re supposed to be dead! Did you fake it- no, you couldn’t have, I saw your body in the casket…unless…you’re a- a ghost?!”

Rico’s face morphed from worry to surprise and then twisted into a smile. It was a rather sinister smile, but I assumed it was a dead person thing. “Yes! I’m a ghost! You’re surprisingly clever Nathaniel –”

“- Nicholas”                                                                      

“Yeah, yeah.. Nicholas, Nathanial - same thing” he pointed a cold finger to his silver head. “Corpse brain.” he chuckled.

I chuckled with him, but then frowned. “You look exactly like you did when you were living. But you’ve lost a lot of weight” I said cocking my head to the side.

“Well I’m dead so– ” he began.

“ - You’re not floating or anything either. Hey, can I touch you?” I asked reaching forward to prod him, but he lurched back and glared at me with blazing eyes. 

“No – well I – Stop it! HAVE SOME RESPECT!” he roared, his voice dripping with anger. I tripped backwards then, I think there was a loose nail sticking out of the floorboards or something.

“Sorry” I replied quietly, my face glowing red. The room was on the fourth floor, and you know what they say about heat rising and that. “Okay, well it’s been nice seeing you and everything, but I should probably get back to- you know – erm..your funeral.” I laughed awkwardly, turning to retreat.

“No wait! I haven’t seen you in all this time and you’re leaving?” he cried.

“Well you know, I left the ‘family’ a long time ago. It’s not really my style now, I’m a pacifist. But hey, we still met up in the holidays, didn’t we? You had a good run, Rico.” I smiled cheerfully and pulled the door handle.

“Wait! Couldn't you help an old friend?” he asked mournfully. I paused and turned my head, still clutching the door handle.

“No offence Rico, but you’re dead. What could I possibly help you with?” I asked.

“I need your finger-”

“No way! Sorry, but I’m not into possession or weird sacrificial nonsense, and I like having eight fingers and two thumbs! Taking one away would just mess up the balance you know?” I said holding my hands behind my back so as not to entice my late friend’s newfound, strange desire.

“No! I need your fingerprint, you idiot! For the vault. You’re one of the few people who were in my inner circle, so your print is still registered on the scanner. Everyone thinks my death was a murder, and poor Azazel is getting the blame!”

I nodded knowingly since it’s true Azazel has a dodgy face and air about him, making him perfectly susceptible to the accusation of murder.

“Who killed you then? There was a stab wound in your chest, remember-” I abruptly stopped in case he went ballistic again.

“No one, I killed my self. I got soft in my old age and couldn’t handle the responsibilities of a Lecce don anymore, so I stabbed myself.” He spat the last part out in venomous disdain. “Anyway, I need to get into the vault because my suicide note is in there. My finger print obviously doesn’t work anymore, so that’s why I need you. When I get the note, Azazel will be freed from the allegations; it is my last wish.”

“Why’s the note in there? “ I asked blankly.

“Because I left it in there that’s why-“

“-But if it was a suicide note then you should have left it near you whe-"

“Yes, yes alright! I wrote the note beforehand and contemplated suicide for a long time afterwards. When it happened, it was a spur of the moment thing.” He said quickly, pulling a hardback off the bookshelf, revealing a scanner inside.

I nodded, moving towards the bookshelf when I saw an old scar engraved on his left cheek.

“Hey, where did you get that scar from? You never had that befo-“

“Battle with the Grim Reaper.” He said bluntly, pointing aggressively to the vault scanner.

I raised my eyebrows, feeling thoroughly impressed at Rico’s adventures in the underworld, but decided to ask him about it afterwards since he looked rather impatient. I pressed my index finger onto the cold glass of the scanner and watched the red light above it turn green. We heard a dull hissing sound as the bookshelf slowly jerked open, revealing a small room filled with stacks of papers and photos and files.

“It’s somewhere in here, you look over there!” he said pointing to the farthest end of the room.

I sighed. “Couldn’t you have at least remembered where you put it?” I muttered, walking into the tightly packed room. “I’m missing your funeral for this..” I moaned, turning around to see his reaction, but he mustn’t have heard me because he didn’t laugh. As I was turning back around however, I saw him drop an envelope on the floor before dashing to the other side of the room. Being the thoughtful man that I am, I picked it up and gave it to him.

“I think you dropped this.” I said cheerily, handing him the envelope.

“No I didn’t.” he stared at me blankly.

I laughed awkwardly and tried putting it in his hand, but he pulled away. “I just saw it fall from your hands.” I chuckled.

He gave me the best poker face I’d ever seen – even better than the one I did. I looked at the writing on the front. It was penned in a messier fashion than how Rico used to write. It was addressed ‘Dear, Family’.

“Hey, this might be it actually!” I cried, tearing open the envelope, unfolding the paper inside. It was scrawled in the same untamed font as the envelope was. It said:

Dear Family,

I cannot bear to live this life of tyranny any longer. The Vanetti family deserves a better leader than me. I hereby kill myself and pass the family responsibilities and wealth on to my brother Keiran, who I hope will lead the family to the greatness it deserves.

Yours, Enrico

“Yes! This is it! You must have picked it up without knowing, idiot.” I laughed, but gulped down my ridicule when I caught his soulless glare. I laughed awkwardly, taking steps backwards with my thumbs up. “Now, I can finally get back to..your funeral.. and put you to uh.. rest.” I smiled, almost at the vault entrance, but before I could leave I heard him scream.

“No! That - that wasn’t what I was looking for!” he yelled hysterically, chucking the papers and files into the air, making it snow dust. He ransacked the whole vault like a monster spreading carnage in a paper city. I started to feel a bit uncomfortable watching his mental breakdown so I began shuffling backwards a little faster.

Just as I was about to leave I heard the parchment massacre cease. He came out of the vault clutching a black file with gold writing in a white knuckled grip, laughing maniacally. Now with my suspicions of Rico having completely lost his marbles confirmed, I ran to the door, but tripped - which I know was because of the bloody rug!

“Now this! This is what I was looking for!” Rico snarled, standing over the fire place before lighting it with a match.

“What you got there buddy?” I asked laughing nervously, leaning on my elbows.

He snapped his head to look at me, paralysing my limbs, which I am sure was due to his supernatural, deathly powers. Then without breaking eye contact, he chucked the papers from the file into the gnashing, white hot jaws of the fireplace. He threw the black file at me - which thankfully, narrowly missed my head. Its gold lettering read ‘WILL’. I nodded slowly at Rico, trying to react calmly like you do when you’re confronted with a wild animal. As he started to walk towards me I swear I caught a murderous glint in his eyes.

“Now, one last favour for a friend” his face folded into a wicked smile before speaking unnecessarily slowly. “You will sneak into the chapel without anyone in the house seeing you and show everyone my suicide note, telling them that I mailed it you. I’ll wait in here and then you will come to me and tell me when you’ve shown everyone, okay?”

I think some of the dust had gotten stuck in my throat because I couldn’t find my voice. Instead I nodded and scrambled to my knees, leaving the room.

***

“And that’s all I can remember I’m afraid.” Nicholas shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip from the paper cup of water on the table in front of him. The detective inspector sitting opposite him sighed.

“Please tell us the whole truth, Nicholas.” she said looking drained from listening to his monologue.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Fine. Someone pushed me down the stairs. The next thing I know I’m here.”

“No one pushed you, Nicholas.”

“Okay, okay! I tripped.” The man mumbled, avoiding eye contact with her.

“Okay, right. Now you have told us your part of the story, we can inform you of our findings. There were police officers at the house today, questioning the family members on their whereabouts at the time of Mr Vanetti’s death. Thanks to your accident on the stairs, the officers investigated and were able to find the impostor. You do realise that the man in the room wasn’t Enrico, yes?”

Nicholas’ eyebrows furrowed together in deep concentration. He said nothing but nodded knowingly.

The inspector cleared her throat and shuffled the papers in front of her. “The impostor is suspected to be Mr Vanetti’s murderer. The primary reason he wanted to get into the vault was to find Mr Vanetti’s will.”

She paused, glancing at Nicholas who looked completely lost. She gave a tired look to the guard at the door before continuing.

“The paper that he burnt was one of two copies of late Mr Vanetti’s will which dedicated half of his inheritance to his inner circle which includes you. As you know the Vanetti family have had intrigue issues in recent years.” She sighed and raised her eyebrows as she spoke next. “So it appears that Enrico thought that since you were retired from gang culture, you were a safer pair of hands for his fortune. The supposed ‘suicide’ note we found was meant to be planted at the funeral after he burnt the will, and from your story also sounds like how he tricked you to open the vault.”

“Well I wouldn’t say tricked exactl-”

“ -The note would have gifted all of his wealth to his brother, Kieran – who, incidentally was left out of Mr Vanetti’s official will. Looking through the Vanetti records, we have found that Keiran Vanetti was Enrico's twin who has been out of the picture for years. Nicholas, now do you know who the man in the room was? Actually, did you understand anything of what I just said at all?” she asked, staring at the man opposite her.

Nicholas’ eyes widened in astonishment as he nodded slowly. “Yes of course. But.. are you sure that a freakish old lady had no part in the crime?”