Clearly Faultless

Don Pastero's organization is decimated. 300 words.

Clearly Faultless

“Whose fault is this?” roared Don Pastero. There was no answer. His soldiers that lined the table had fallen forward into their pasta. None of them moved or answered him.

“Alfredo where are you?” he roared louder. His head bodyguard appeared at his elbow.

“I need to know who did this! Find out.”

Without a word, he slipped away.

The don fumed as he waited for answers. His wife, Angelina came to him.

“Are you ready for dessert?”

“Don’t you see what has happened? They’re all dead. Someone killed them.

“Of course they are mi amor. I arranged it!”

“What? Why?” her husband sputtered.

“They were plotting against you; I heard it all!”

“All of them? Every one of my trusted men and capos?”

“Yes, my heart.”

“How did you do it?”

“I poisoned the meatballs, my love.”

The Don shivered. He preferred sausage to meatballs, always had. His wife was such a great cook, he’d almost asked for meatballs tonight for a change. He heaved a sigh of relief that he hadn’t.

“What do I do now? My organization will descend into chaos! One or more of the other families will take over!”

“Calm yourself! Keep what happened here secret. Start moving others up from the lower ranks. Choose carefully. Tell those you choose what happened here and swear them to secrecy on pain of death. Once they are all in place, you can start taking care of business again as if nothing happened.”

Don Pastero pulled his wife onto his lap.

“You take good care of me,” he whispered.

“Don’t forget that our Guido is almost ready for you to train to take over for you. You should start soon, now that everything is changing.”

The Don froze at her seemingly innocuous words in his ear.