Do you know Mr. Rossi's favorite word? Plausible deniability. Something that proved to be the thing that kept him away from prison for quite awhile. The feds want him bad. They're desperate and he knew it well. Legally, Rossi was untouchable. He has the best lawyer in the world, Erik Gunn, on his payroll. He owns a company, Rossi Construction, that rakes in millions a year. It's a legal business, he pays all the taxes and permits on time. The cops got nothing on him. Lars Rossi is a legitimate businessman.
Let's not forget the charity. Mr. Rossi frequently makes appearances on charity drives across the city, giving thousands away like the good millionaire he is. You won't see Mayor Coleson do anything like this. He feeds children, gives warmth to the homeless, and treats the addicted… Ironically enough. When you pick up the newspaper, you'd see the boss smiling, handing more money to the needy next to his hot wife and wonderful daughter. Lars Rossi is a generous person.
In reality, he knew deep down it's all bullshit. He was a 48 year old bitter Italian immigrant with a graying crop of full, slick hair. He had a handsome stubble, also full of gray. The rest of his face was weathered, with wrinkles and scars littering his gaze. He was surprisingly built for his age, being taller than most, about 6'5" or so. Lars never leaves home about the slickest, richest suit you could find. The business was a money laundering scheme. He cared little about the construction bit, so he hired a manager who had more fun with that. What he wanted was more drug money. He was the head of the Rossi family, one of many groups that scrapped for power. Rossi was able to merge some families together, but sometimes you had to do things more… Drastic.
So maybe sometimes a dead body would wash up in a river. Or gunned down on the street. Or some fingers would appear in gift boxes. You do anything to make money in this city. And Lars knew that 20 years ago when he took over from his father. He loved his papa, but Paul Rossi was a kind man, and that was his problem. Sure some people respected him, but Lars knew that fear is what controls a kingdom, and when his papa died, he was waging war on all who didn't want to take his "generous" offer.
His mother? What about her? She stayed behind in Italy. She hated crime, and she quickly separated upon finding out. When Lars was just a baby, Paul was able to use his influences to gain complete custody of his boy, and they left for America soon after. Lars had no opinion of his mother, because he literally never met her. He doesn't even know if she's alive. Paul never even told him her first name.
November 1st had clear skies, the first time in awhile, but it was chilly as ever. Lars had his office on the top floor of one of the newer buildings, Titan Towers, in Midtown Manhattan. It overlooked the rest of the city, maybe beyond if he looked far enough. The floor was massive. There were two elevators that reached that floor. One led to the office part, where all the drones did the legitimate logistics of construction. It was as soulless as any other corporate office. Gray and white, with the occasional fun of a green from the fake plants. The lights were a perfect, almost uncanny shade of white, leading to the employees feeling docile. Rossi's men, the mob thugs, guarded this floor under the guise of hired security.
The other elevator led straight to Rossi's office, a large, fancy, and warm place. The carpet was blood red, soft and comfortable. The walls were warm wood, mahogany to be specific, lined with some gold accents. The desk he did his work on was smooth and worked perfectly. Behind the desk were the windows, a wall of them to overlook the city. He was there that day, typing some email, smoking a cigar, when his assistant came in, a woman named Ryan. She had short cropped ginger hair, and dressed modestly. She had an envelope in her hands. She cleared her throat. Rossi looked over. "Yes?"
"Sir," Ryan said. "I have some updates for you."
Rossi shut his computer down. "Great. Talk to me."
"Your wife wanted to talk to you about Katie's grades."
Rossi sighed, taking out the cigar. Joane, his stunning wife, had issues with wrangling their teenage daughter, Katie. "God. You think a woman can take care of a fucking 16 year old on her own. Fine. Tell her I'll call after work."
"Yes sir."
He began to rant. "You know what I do for her, Ryan? I give her a house on the hills, a beautiful daughter. She always whines to me. 'You spoil her rotten!' Give me a fucking break." Rossi stood up, walking towards the windows, looking down at the peasants below. Literal ants made for stomping. "I love Katie. She is my heir. She's smart, capable. Ruthless, like me." He said with pride. "Joane can't understand that she needs to be like that."
Ryan nodded, attempting to change subjects. "... Another thing, sir. We got some reports that the deal last night went bad."
"What, Ace and Limp got fucked? I knew those three jokers couldn't be trusted."
"That's the thing," Ryan said. She walked up to the desk and set the envelope down. "It wasn't the guys. They died too."
Rossi sat back down, grabbed the envelope, and opened it looking at the pictures. They were shots of the events last night. Dead bodies, shot. And one… With their head missing. He flipped through more, seeing Ace, Limp, and that head he didn't see earlier. They were brutalized. A sick fuck did this. "The fuck…?"
"Exactly," Ryan replied. "We have no idea who did this. They destroyed the product too, so this was no robbery."
Rossi put the pictures down, frowning. "To be honest, Ace and Limp were fucking idiots. I told those two fuckheads to NOT go to that part of town. No cameras, no protection. Nothing!"
"Are you going to do something, sir?"
"They ain't rob me." Rossi leaned back in his chair. "Probably some meth head having a good time with a knife. I don't have time anyway. If it wasn't Frank or fucking Vinny, I don't care."
"Is that all sir?"
Rossi nodded. "Yeah. Dismissed."
Ryan turned on a heel and left promptly.
The work phone chimed on the left side of his desk. Rossi picked it up. "Hello?"
"Hey daddy!" Exclaimed Katie. She was one of the few who had access to his work phone for emergencies only.
"Katie, this doesn't sound like an emergency. Where's your mother?"
Katie groaned. "This IS an emergency! Like, mom is being such a bitch–"
"Language."
"Sorry, B word."
Rossi sighed. "Well that's your mother, you gotta listen to her."
"But she won't listen," Katie whined. "Like I want this cute purse cause all my friends have it and she won't let me have it! Like, does she want me to look like a lame-o in school?!"
"How much is the purse, hun?"
"Like… $300?"
He scoffed at that kind of money. "When I get home I'll give you the purse, ok? And get your grades up, too."
Katie screamed over the phone in joy. "Eee! Thank you, thank you! Love you daddy!"
"Love you too. Now, I'll call you later."
Upon hanging up, he leaned back in his chair again, his eyes wandering to his desk, seeing the corpses of his men. He didn't care too much, but he had to wonder.
Who killed them?