Crooked Letter I -- Chapter One

Note: This is a rough draft of a new mystery, romance, suspense novel. I'd like feedback as to whether or not you would want to read more after the first chapter. If so, I will continue to post. I am nearly half-way through, and I am excited. I believe it is even better than The Cry of the Cuckoos.

Biloxi, Mississippi

Carlos Caretti lounged in his crimson-colored recliner inside the luxurious suite on the The Rebel Belle, one of several floating casinos in the Back Bay of Biloxi. Three of his top lieutenants sat on a sofa as Caretti questioned his underlings.
The Rebel Belle was one of the most lucrative businesses he owned, although he joked in federal court when he was accused of being “The Godfather of the Gulf Coast,” that he was merely a “tomato salesman” working for $1,600 a year, and he had interest in real estate. Gambling was a legal business now in the state of Mississippi and Louisiana. The Rebel Belle was one of the Gulf Coast’s best casinos and most “profitable.” And, it was legal. He didn’t know if he was better off now or when he ran illegal slot machines, bingo or ran a bootlegging operation at a younger age. Of course, his family was better off now, he thought. He was mostly legal in everything he did business-wise. That was – almost everything.
Some people referred to Biloxi as a “Poor Man’s Riviera,” but there was nothing poor in Caretti’s life. He was the one of the richest men in the South. No one knew exactly how much the Sicilian from Italy had stashed away in foreign banks. He didn’t know exactly. He only knew he was rich. He left finances to his consigliore.
“How’s de business?” Caretti asked the three men gathered in the room. He smiled and the wrinkles spread across his tanned, rugged face. He was 72-years-old, bald but had lived a robust life. With his wife of over 50 years dead, he had women at his beckon call anytime he wanted.
“Going great, boss.” His son, whom everyone called “Little Joe,” was the first to speak up.
“How’s de business doin’ in Colombia?”
“Still flowing, thanks to our Colombian friends,” Joe told him.
“How about de girls?”
“We’ve got the girls working hard,” Juan Escobar told him.
“That’s good. Real good,” Caretti said, blowing a curly ring of smoke from his black Cuban cigar.
“How’s de casino business?” he turned to look at Manuel Torres, who sipped on a martini.
“Our gaming operation is solid, boss,” said Torres.
Caretti stood up and walked around his lieutenants, touching each on the face with a gentle smack. “Then all is well in our little spot in de world?” It was more a definitive statement than a question.
All three men nodded affirmative.
“I’m a little, how you say it, concerned about the girls,” he continued. “Joseph, have you spoken to our little girl lately? Is she doing as I asked?”
“Boss, she’s doing great. She’s out spreading the word about our new enterprise. You’ve taught her well. One day soon we will be able to offer hope to millions of men who need love and affection. This religion thing was a great idea. Only you could pull something like this off and get away with it.”
Caretti burst out with laughter at his loyal son’s suggestion.
“Where’s she now?”
“She’s in Birmingham setting up the big convention. You know…making the rounds with the press, radio and TV talk show hosts. She’ll have the city leaders in the palm of her hand before this is over. The city will make a few bucks, but we’ll be the cash cow.”
“Des will be just the start of great things,” Caretti said, leaning over his son’s right shoulder and kissing him on the ear. “Dese men in Birmin’ham won’t know what got a hold of dem until we’re done and gone with millions of dollars handed over to our sweet, innocent young ladies. All in the name of God. None of de men will squeal because it will incriminate dem to their friends, families and Church communities. We’ve taken care of the cops, right? And, de boys on de council? It’s amazing what money will do in a lawman’s hands and especially their esteemed police chief. You took care of dem, son?”
“Yes, boss. No one will get in our path. I have to give it to you, Papa,” Little Joe said. “You’re God when it comes to raking in the dough.”
“You’s not seen anything like what I’ve cooked up for the state of Alabamy,” Caretti laughed. “We’ve got to get dem politicians in Montgomery to legalize gambling. We’ve got to extend our business to Lower Alabamy.”