Mafia's Desire

37

"Hello," I greeted the officers when they walked into the bookstore. There was a woman and a man, both wearing black business casual outfits. "Anything I can help you with today?" I asked.

"Yes, we are looking for Ansley Lombardi. Does she work here?"

I nodded and stepped to the side of the counter. "Yes, I'm Ansley." That was the first time anyone had called me by my new name since I married Ermanno.

"Hello, Ansley. We are detectives with the Brosden police department. Do you happen to know a Michael Coopper?" The female detective asked.

Word of Michael's disappearance had traveled from Connecticut - where Michael lived - to Brosden, the town where I now lived in Virginia.

I nodded. "Yes, he is my ex-husband. Why do you ask?"

I knew why they were asking of course, but that information would stay between only a close-knit group of an organized crime family.

"He hasn't shown up to his job in almost two weeks. Several of his coworkers were worried and called in for a wellness check."

I plastered a faux look of concern and confusion on my face. In my time with Micahel, I had become rather skilled in faking my emotions.

"A wellness check?" I repeated though I made sure to not exude too much concern. After all, why would a woman who ran from an abusive husband be overly concerned about his well-being?

"Yes. He wasn't there when officers checked on him. It looked like he hadn't been there in some time. We were wondering if you'd come to talk with us at some point this week so we can work out where he might be and determine if he might be in any danger," The male detective said.

I gulped for dramatic effect and looked at them with anxiousness. "Well, I'm not sure I can be much help. I left him several months ago. He was not a good husband to me," I explained. "But, I can tell you anything I know that may help."

The man reached out and handed me a card. "This is the number you can call to set up a time to come in. The address is listed at the bottom. Thank you for your time."

With that, they left the store, and I couldn't keep the large shit-eating grin off my face. Good riddance Micahel.

****

I sat in the small room, waiting for the detectives to enter. I knew the room was equipped with cameras and audio recording devices, so I simply sat there in silence. I didn't appear overly anxious, concerned, or guilty. I was simply calm.

Internally, I felt full of power and confidence, knowing that for once, I was able to control the situation, not Michael. A man who had disappeared seemingly out of thin air and no one had seen him in quite some time.

However, with the information I was about to give these detectives, this would not be seen as a tragedy and he would not be missed. Why would anyone grieve a mentally, physically, and sexually abusive man who had attacked his ex-wife in a parking lot, left evidence of mental decline in the form of delusional journaling in his house, and eventually committed suicide due to his unstable condition?

After Ermanno had formulated this plan, and after speaking with him and the lawyer who worked with him and Arsenio, I knew exactly what to say and how to act.

The door opened and I looked up. "Hello, Ansley, how are you today?" The female asked.

I knew she knew about the journal she had found in the house. The one that Ermanno had planted there after forcing Michael to write several entries, each one more unhinged than the previous. I assumed she would do most of the talking. She knew of the abuses I suffered and was trying to show me that I could trust her, a woman, a woman who looked after other women.