12 Roses for Miss Mississippi

12 Roses for Miss Mississippi

1


There were twelve roses in the bouquet delivered to Miss Mississippi, Yolanda Davidson the following morning of the Miss USA Beauty Pageant. She was the popular choice of the audience, but she lost to Miss Colorado who was crowned as the new Miss USA. Yolanda had the dazzling violet eyes of the legendary Hollywood diva Elizabeth Taylor and the body of the American sex symbol Pamela Anderson, so the paparazzi made so much buzz that Yolanda would definitely make the next list of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Calendar. She was really glad that she would be returning to Mississippi as the first runner up. So when a delivery boy brought the bouquet of rose flowers to the hotel room of Yolanda, she received it wholeheartedly as one of the consolatory gifts of her numerous passionate admirers and fans. Her gifts included other bouquets of rose flowers. She loved roses and would surely take them back home, especially this particular bouquet of 12 stems of the rare Persian rose.

Yolanda was chauffeured to LaGuardia Airport on the Grand Central Parkway where she took the midday flight on Continental Airlines from New York to Jackson Evers International Airport in Jackson, Mississippi, with the bouquet of Persian Rose on her laps and put them in a special china vase as she got home into the comforting arms of her loving middle class family.

“Those are really lovely exotic Persian Rose,” said her father, Jackson Davidson as the family welcomed her.
“Whoever sent them to you must really like you.”
“The roses were delivered without any name or address of the sender,” said Yolanda.
“All right, and it doesn’t matter anyway. Yolly, Mayor Russell Burns sent his greetings and says you are going to be hosted next weekend at the Jackson City Hall,” he enthused.
He always called her “Yolly”; his own whimsical shortened form of her name and everyone had been calling her that as far as she could remember since her kindergarten.

Then that very night a burglar broke into their home and all he wanted was the bouquet of Persian rose. But as he was stealing it, the vase fell and broke at his feet. The sound of the breaking vase woke up Yolanda’s father and he soon saw the burglar as he was getting away with the roses. He lunged at him and pulled him to the floor. He was even bigger than the lanky burglar and could stop him from escaping. But the burglar brought out a pistol and shot him in the chest. The shot was enough to kill even the strongest man in the world. Yolanda’s father screamed as the fatal shot felled him and he was helpless as the burglar escaped with his daughter precious roses. His scream woke up his entire family. They rushed out of their bedrooms to see him lying on the floor and clutching the gunshot wound in his chest, they screamed and did not even see as the burglar escaped in a waiting sports car. They called the nearest ambulance and the police. Mr. Davidson died before the ambulance got to the hospital.

The police were puzzled why the roses were all the burglar stole. The FBI had to take over the case and that was when the piece of evidence was found. One of the stems of the roses was found at the spot where Mr. Davidson had wrestled with the burglar and the forensic dept soon detected traces of cocaine in the stem. That was enough evidence for them to conclude that Yolanda had been used to smuggle cocaine from New York to Mississippi. They used her to avoid being detected at the airport, because they knew that she would most likely board the aircraft without being searched.
But which of the drug rings would dare to use her as a courier?
This made the homicide case more complicated.
“She said they were Persian roses. So, we can start from the florists selling Persian roses in New York. That’s enough lead,” said Detective Inspector Tom Hemmingway of the FBI office in Mississippi. “Even if we have to visit every florist in New York and Mississippi, we are going to do so to get to the bottom of this murder.”
If only roses could talk.

The murder of the father of the first runner up in the Miss USA made headlines on the front pages of all the national dailies, radio and on TV and even on Reuters, Fox and other international cable networks. The grieving family received consolations from every region in the country and even President Manley Romney sent his condolences from the White House and visited Yolanda and her family.
“The evil murderer of Jackson Davidson must be found and brought to justice,” President Romney charged.

Yolanda swore to avenge her father at his funeral and she decided to investigate his murder without the knowledge of the FBI. She did not even confide in her boyfriend Steven Matthews. She said she had to go away to mourn her beloved father and he could not stop her. But unknown to her, the FBI was watching her round the clock for her own safety.
She went back to the suites where she was lodged for the Miss USA Beauty Pageant in New York and asked the attendant who received the roses from the delivery boy if he could still recognize the boy if he saw him.
“May be, but I am not really sure,” said the attendant.
Yolanda put up an advert in three local New York newspapers promising to reward the delivery boy who brought a bouquet of twelve roses to the first runner up in the Miss USA Beauty Pageant. The FBI thought it was not a bad attempt to search for those behind the murder of her father. But they doubted if the gangsters would be stupid to fall for it. In fact the advert might endanger her life and that of the unknown delivery boy who could be totally innocent.
Then she received an urgent message from her grandfather.



2

He drove his old Wrangler jeep to the Old Italian in California where he introduced his grand daughter to Giorgio Luciano, the owner and his childhood friend since their parents migrated from Naples to New York in the early 1930s. Luciano was an octogenarian who was still hale and hearty even though he walked with a slight stoop. He hugged her grandfather, patting his back with his right hand and she could see the same tattoo of doubled edged dagger on his wrist as she had seen on the right hand of her grandfather.
“Roccioso, scotch on the rocks?” he asked with a husky voice like someone with a mild cough.
Her grandfather nodded and Luciano snapped his right fingers and then clapped his hands aloud. A middle-aged waiter walked briskly to attend to him. He spoke in Italian to him and the waiter walked hurriedly to the bar and returned with the drink in two glasses.
“Apologies Yolanda, we don’t serve alcohol to our daughters,” Luciano said to her with a chuckle.
She nodded.
The two old men drank quietly.
“How is the family doing?” Luciano asked.
“They’re trying. They have no other father now, except me.”
“They have me too. I was your father’s godfather at his christening,” Luciano said to Yolanda. “Your father was a good son. But he had more of his mother in him. More of an American than an Italian. We Italians, Neapolitans and Sicilians are the same Italians. One Italy, one family, Uno Italia, uno familia. The days of Morano are gone forever. We are no longer toasting, "Long life and prosperity to all Neapolitans, death and destruction to all Sicilians!"

When they were done drinking, he led the way into a particular room with leather sofas and mahogany furniture and modern electronics.
“Please, sit down,” he said.
They sat down and he went to a cabinet from which he brought out a VCD.
“I will show you this video. You will see me and my first son Torino, may his soul rest in peace,” he said raising up the tape. Then he slotted it into the video cassette player on top of the TV set in front of them. He pressed a button and walked to sit in a rocking arm chair very close to the TV.
‘Just watch. Very small picture, but very big message. A message for a lifetime.”
They watched silently.

It was Luciano looking about 30 years younger and talking to his son Torino who must be in his late teens.
Torino. The world is the biggest casino and all the players must know the rules of the game. And in every game, there will be winners and there will be losers. The problem is some people want to win all the time and some people are bad losers and others are the spoilers. The secret of winning in life is not cheating, fighting or stealing. But knowing how to play the games and learning how to be a good winner and how to be a good loser too. Swallow your bruised egos and bear no grudges. Just move on to the next game and you will live longer. There are only two kinds of people I feel sorry for. Those who were born poor and those who were born ugly, because, it is not their fault. Finally, trust nobody. Not even yourself. But trust only God. He is the real boss of all bosses and He never loses. You know why? He owns the world where we leave behind whatever we have whenever our last game is over. Ti comprendere Torino?

Luciano’s sea blue eyes were filled with tears at the end of the video. He brought out a white handkerchief from the right pocket of his trousers and wiped away his tears.
“Torino was a good son. But he too like your son, was more American than Italian. That was why he died,” he said plaintively to Yolanda’s grandfather.
“My daughter,” he said turning to Yolanda and hugged her warmly.
“When they brought me the news of your father’s death, I wept all night like I wept for Torino. But no matter how much or how long I wept, tears cannot bring back the dead. We are not Jesus Christ. I have already talked to your grandfather and we have agreed that you should let your father rest in peace.”
Then Luciano went to the cabinet and brought out the bouquet of the stolen Persian Rose and handed them over to Yolanda.
“Here is your beautiful Persian rose. But I will give you more.”
He left them and soon returned with another bouquet of rose flowers.
“Italian roses are better than Persian roses,” Luciano said as he handed the bouquet to Yolanda kissing her left cheek.
And as he kissed her, he whispered in Italian Sangue per sangue. A teardrop from her left eye fell on his nose.
“Your grandfather will tell you more,” he said as he escorted them out of the room.
The killer made a terrible mistake. He had no orders to kill anyone and an innocent member of the family too. Luciano would have ordered for his execution, but the family needed such ruthless coldblooded soldiers. So, they sent him off to Argentina even before the FBI knew what was really going on between New York and Mississippi.

When the FBI found out that Yolanda was no longer looking for the killers of her father, they thought she was scared that they might come after her.
“She must have been advised to leave the investigation to the professionals otherwise she would be risking her life,” said Tom Hemmingway to his colleagues.

The FBI knew the Five Families were involved and their investigation would a dangerous task.
“We are going to play hardball on this case. And it’s not going to be pretty going after the New York Mafiosi. We are going to pretend to cool our heels and keep a low profile. No one should talk to the press. Please, don’t discuss this with anyone outside these walls. Because as we know once the mafia is involved then this is like the Matrix. And lest you forget, I don’t want this to be my last case since I am not due for retirement and the mafia will not retire me,” he said with a stiff upper lip.
This is definitely a bloody case. I am going to use the shock tactics first. Send the cops after all the Italian florists in New York while we will go round the casinos. Soon cocaine roses will be making the front-pages of the dailies and tabloids from New York to New Mexico. Am I ready for this?
He opened a bottle of whisky and half-filled his drinking glass. He sat back as he drank slowly whilst many things about the dreadful Cosa Nostra filled his mind.



~ By Ekenyerengozi Michael Chima, April 2012, Lagos, Nigeria.
© All rights reserved. No part of this short fiction may be reproduced in any format of media without the authorized permission of the author. Any unauthorized reproduction of any part of the text is a violation of the universal copyright laws and subject to litigation.


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