After escaping her mob past, Gabriella is making a new life for herself. Her sister, Sylvie is mobbed up and a walking disaster in five-inch heels. She arrives on the eve of Gabriella’s wedding, pissed off that she’s not invited.
Sylvie carries a gun in her Gucci handbag along with her husband’s severed finger. The gun is to protect her from the Borkovic crime family. They have given her one week to return six million in diamonds or else. She blames Vince, Gabriella’s deceased husband, for the old vendetta and murder of Drago Borkovic. She reckons her sister is obliged to help.
No way is Gabriella ever getting mixed up with the mob again. But when a mob-heavy attempts to kidnap them, the bullet ricochets off Gabriella's cast-iron skillet and the mobster drops dead. Now, they're faced with the perennial mob problem; what to do with the body?
To protect her family, Gabriella agrees to a wild ride in a stolen truck through the Australian countryside with her hair-brained sister at the wheel. Can they find the missing diamonds? Will they get through their ordeal alive? Buy it today and see the sisters’ relationship tested to its limits.
After escaping her mob past, Gabriella is making a new life for herself. Her sister, Sylvie is mobbed up and a walking disaster in five-inch heels. She arrives on the eve of Gabriella’s wedding, pissed off that she’s not invited.
Sylvie carries a gun in her Gucci handbag along with her husband’s severed finger. The gun is to protect her from the Borkovic crime family. They have given her one week to return six million in diamonds or else. She blames Vince, Gabriella’s deceased husband, for the old vendetta and murder of Drago Borkovic. She reckons her sister is obliged to help.
No way is Gabriella ever getting mixed up with the mob again. But when a mob-heavy attempts to kidnap them, the bullet ricochets off Gabriella's cast-iron skillet and the mobster drops dead. Now, they're faced with the perennial mob problem; what to do with the body?
To protect her family, Gabriella agrees to a wild ride in a stolen truck through the Australian countryside with her hair-brained sister at the wheel. Can they find the missing diamonds? Will they get through their ordeal alive? Buy it today and see the sisters’ relationship tested to its limits.
THE NIGHT WAS dark and moist; Sylvie thought the moisture was because of the sweat lathering her. She’d put up a good struggle to prevent getting shoved in the van. But the two men proved stronger than a diminutive woman. Even if one was a lumbering hippo and the other a string bean.
She was lying on her hands, tied behind her, fingers numb. Cold concrete beneath her back and a breeze whistling through a broken window, made her think industrial building. The fumes of motor oil hung in the air. She heard shrill drilling and thumping sounds from nearby, suggesting a panel beater or a garage. Plenty of noise so no one would hear her scream. Her throat dry, she had to summon some spit to swallow.
The two goons had stuck a pillowcase over her head. Pointless, since she’d caught both their reflections in the shop window when they’d snatched her. The fat one, Pietro had once been Vince’s driver. Vince Carlucci, her brother-in-law had been slaughtered by a rival family. She had shed no tears. And Silver, short for Silvestre, had been her father’s man Friday. She hadn’t seen them for over fifteen years. Since Sal had rheumatoid arthritis, he’d relied on Silver for the rough stuff, like debt-collection. As far as she knew, neither of them had a reputation for killing anyone. They might not be killers, but she sure didn’t want to get tasered again.
She lay doggo, breathing shallow, hoping to catch what they were saying. Every bone in her body had turned to wax and there was a lump pulsing on the back of her head as big as an emu’s egg.
‘I’ll cut the rope,’ said a voice. ‘You bring her over here.’
She thought it was Silver. Her heart rate ratcheted up a few more notches. She heard footsteps, sensed Pietro looming over her. Overweight, he ran hot, the sweat pouring off him. The stench of his body odour pummelled her through the face covering. He grunted as he bent down to lift her. With a loud groan he hefted her over his shoulder, and it knocked the wind out of her.
‘Ooomph!’ she cried. ‘Aargh!’ To add to her miseries, the brute just bruised her ribs, chucking her around like a sack of potatoes. Her teeth were starting to chatter, but she gritted her jaw, determined not to show it.
‘Good. She’s comin’ around,’ said Pietro.
With adrenaline surging through her blood stream, she readied for battle. Once they tied her up it would be impossible to get away.
‘Drag the chair across,’ said Pietro.
‘Why? Leave it where it is,’ grumbled Silver.
‘In the movies they always tip the chair back and get away.’
‘Smart,’ said the younger man. ‘So, we shove it against the wall.’
Good to know they were following movie tips. But it wasn’t the dumbest idea she’d ever heard. Sylvie’s heart was banging like a jackhammer, and she hadn’t moved yet. Silently, she coached herself to strike where it counts—the throat, the nose, the eyes. Trouble was her hands were tied and she couldn’t see a thing.
The second he tensed his muscles, about to lower her to the chair, she lashed out with her legs, a frenzy of kicks. Satisfied when she struck something solid, that felt as squidgy as a mountain of fat.
He buckled and cried out. ‘Get over here and give me a hand.’ The other one must have gone for the rope.
She was lucky he didn’t drop her on the concrete. He dumped her in the chair and tried grabbing her legs. She kept up the frenzied assault, curling back in the seat and jabbing out like a fighter.
‘Aaargh…’ he moaned.
She’d struck something spongy and hoped it was his old shrivelled nuts.
His meaty hands released her, and she sprung to her bare feet, ready to run. Different hands clamped onto her arms. Silver thrust her back in the chair and sat on her lap. She banged her head on the brick wall and her eyes welled with tears. He was laughing at her.
‘Bitch!’ panted Pietro. ‘My balls, my balls.’ He was still groaning, and the satisfying sound improved her morale.
‘Get this thing off me,’ hollered Sylvie, gasping for breath. ‘When I get loose I’ll gouge your eyes out,’ she screeched. It wasn’t as easy moving, with a man sitting on her. He’d applied a spicy aftershave liberally, and the stink threatened to choke her. She tried tipping the chair sideways, but it wouldn’t budge. The adrenaline rush was subsiding as pudgy fingers grappled her ankles and tied her up. A lot of grunting and wheezing ensued as he bent over his belly to the task.
‘You really need to work on your fitness fat fart,’ she said.
Silver chuckled and edged off her lap, still holding her upper legs. The odour was almost overpowering as fat-boy tied her upper-body to the back of the chair.
‘She’s not meant to see us,’ said Silver in a sarcastic tone.
She guessed they’d just worked out that they couldn’t get behind her this way. Why did they care if she recognised them, she wondered? It made her more confident that they didn’t plan on killing her.
‘Okay. We’ll shift her.’
They carted her a couple of metres away.
‘I can’t breathe—I’m suffocating,’ she yelled. ‘Get this thing off me. I’ll do whatever you say.’
She couldn’t see who whipped the pillowcase from her head. They were in a dark empty warehouse, the only light coming from a builder’s lamp set up on the floor. It cast eerie shadows around the walls where metal chains and hooks hung from rusted rails. Bare brick walls enclosed them, steel roof and small louvred windows. All she could see was an old desk with what looked like a crowbar lying on top.
‘We’re gonna arx you a few questions,’ said Silver. ‘Behave yourself, or we’ll have to torture you for information.’
‘Where are my frickin’ heels?’ she screeched. ‘They cost me a fortune. I’m not saying nothing until you give them back.’
‘Forget about the shoes, bitch,’ shouted Pietro. ‘Tell us where you’re hiding them. Your father took them out of the vault. He must have brung them home.’
‘My father?’ said Sylvie. ‘He’s been dead for three years you imbecile. He’s buried at Rookwood. Why don’t you go ask him?’
‘I’m only gonna arx you one time. Where are they?’
‘What the hell are you talking about? Ow, ow, ow…’ Sylvie groaned as someone yanked her hair until her scalp stung.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ asked Silver.
‘What’s it look like?’ said his partner.
‘I’m only gonna arx you one more time,’ growled Silver, for the second time. ‘Where are they?’
‘I don’t know what you’re on about. I’d tell you if I knew,’ she sobbed, her scalp burning. ‘I’m not a mind-reader.’
‘Vince had something of ours and we want it back,’ said Pietro.
This was about Vince! ‘Bloody Vince Carlucci! He never gave me nothing but trouble. They sent him to jail seventeen years ago and I never set eyes on him again.’ She heard footsteps as they distanced themselves and discussed how to proceed.
They were back, hovering behind her. ‘Listen. You’re only making this hard on yourself,’ said Silver in a kinder tone. ‘You’re forcing us to hurt you. All we want to know is where the Di-things are?’
‘One minute you’re blaming Sal and now Vince. What the hell do you want?’ shouted Sylvie, frustration simmering.
‘They didn’t just disappear. Somebody must know something. What about your sister?’ Pietro’s voice vibrated as though he was reaching the end of his patience.
‘Why ask me?’ Sylvie shrugged as the familiar pain pierced her heart. ‘I haven’t seen her since they locked Vince away. She could be dead for all I know.’
‘Just tell us where Maria is and we’ll let you go,’ said Silver.
‘If Vince couldn’t find her for all those years, I doubt you two morons will.’
Without warning someone smacked her across the side of her head. She spluttered for air, her teeth vibrating. ‘Just you wait,’ she threatened. ‘My husband’s gonna come after you and you’ll be sorry you were born.’
‘That’s not what I hear,’ scoffed Pietro.
So, the news was out already. She didn’t know why the knowledge gouged a hole inside. ‘Look, I’m telling you, I don’t know where Maria is. That’s the God’s honest-truth.’
Another slap across the head. Other side this time. It left her seeing stars. Black spots floated in her vision. She hung her head, feeling dizzy. She would have used all the swear words she knew except fear and the shortness of breath stole her voice.
‘See that crowbar on the table?’ grated Silver. Someone tugged on her hair again, forcing her head up. ‘You see that crowbar?’ he repeated.
‘Yeah,’ she whispered, starting to tremble.
‘You’re not gonna look so hot when we smash that through your skull,’ said Pietro.
‘Or we could break a couple of legs,’ offered Silver. ‘You won’t need them shoes again.’
‘Whatever you do to me,’ she said, hopelessness swamping her, ‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know. My father and Vince never told me their business. And I don’t know where Maria is. I’d tell you if I did. She’s nothing to me—left without a word to me or Mama. I’d call that betrayal, wouldn’t you?’
She heard some muttering behind her, then fat-boy put his clammy fingers across her eyes.
A resounding crack came from the table and she jumped. Silver returned and placed the cold steel against her cheek. He slid it over her arms and poked her upper legs. ‘Think what this could do to your bones,’ he said. ‘I could cave in that lovely face.’
She couldn’t help it; she began to whimper.
‘This is your last chance,’ bellowed Pietro. ‘Tell us what we want to know.’
The sound of the crowbar rapping against the struts of the chair made her wince.
‘I don’t know, I don’t know.’ Tears flowed down her cheeks. ‘Help me, Holy Mary, Mother of our Lord Jesus,’ she whimpered, ducking her head, preparing for the blow. The only consolation was that the pain she was currently experiencing throughout her body would pass once he cracked her head. Either she’d be out with concussion, or brain damage, or she’d be dead. Waves of ice and heat alternated over her damp skin. Her gut churned as she tensed, waiting to be struck.
She heard the crowbar clang to the floor behind her. Imagined him taking out his gun to dispatch her. All she could hear was the mewling sounds coming from her own throat. Then silence. In the background, the steady thumping, banging, and pounding continued like jarring music. Outside she heard an engine turn over and the squeal of tyres, fading into the night.
When she stopped whimpering, she knew they’d gone. Her whole body sagged with relief. They’d taken the light and the space was black as charcoal. Gradually it dawned on her that she was still tied to a chair. Her wrists throbbed and her shoulders ached. ‘Rotten turds.’ If she had any money, she’d pay a thug to bash them. ‘It would serve them right.’ She heaved a long sigh. Anyway, she was glad she wasn’t dead; her pig wouldn’t survive without her.
She used her feet and calf muscles to manoeuvre the chair and turn it in the opposite direction. They’d left the door sagging open and weak light streamed in through the crack. With patience, determination and a lot of anger fuelling her, she shuffled, hopped and jolted her way towards the doorway. She stopped at intervals for a breather, muttering what she’d like to do to the pair. The distance half-covered, her chair cracked beneath the strain. Its joints came apart. The kindling poked and jabbed her as she wriggled until she freed herself. She was left with rope across her torso and her hands tied behind her back.
Grateful for her Pilates classes, she sat down, rolled back raising her legs, and squeezed her backside and legs between her arms. The exertion left her covered in perspiration, but at least she was upright. Hands tied in front of her, she padded out barefoot. ‘How am I supposed to get home from here?’ she said, heading towards the noise blasting from the garage.
Outside was a huge bitumen parking area, dotted with smashed cars. The light became brighter as the noise level increased. She aimed for the light streaming out of an industrial shed. Taking a deep breath, she approached the raised roller door. The place was filled with cars, mechanics, and spray painters in overalls. There was so much noise that no one noticed her.
‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ Sylvie asked herself. They could only kill her. She stepped over to the closest bloke, a bearded chap in overalls and nudged him.
He almost had a heart attack. ‘Where the hell did you come from?’ he said, removing his eye goggles and ear protectors.
She held out her arms. ‘Could you give me a hand with these?’ As exhaustion struck, she sagged against his machine, needing the support.
The guy fiddled with her bindings, with no luck, as she told him two men had kidnapped her. He whipped a Stanley knife from his tool belt and cut her loose.
‘Thanks,’ she said, offering him the hint of a smile. ‘One more thing, could you call me a taxi.’
He nodded, grabbing his mobile.
Light-headed, she slid to the floor, resting her back against the blocks propping up the car. Her wrists were grazed and sore, oozing blood. She couldn’t help the bitterness boiling up like bile. It wasn’t the first time that Maria had brought trouble on her head. She’d cut her off, like a rotten piece of cheese, even changed her name to Gabriella. She wanted no connection to her or the family. They’d once been so close, friends as well as sisters.
But Maria had betrayed the bond between them. And for that, Sylvie would never forgive her.
They say diamonds are a girl's best friend. However, I'd venture to say that Sylvie would disagree with that statement. As a matter of fact diamonds, six million dollars worth to be exact, have been anything but friendly. They've gotten her threatened, punched, kidnapped, and eventually shot. Most definitely not on friendly terms.
Death and Diamonds by Victoria Kosky centers on the unconventional lives of Sylvie and her sister Gabriella. They both share a mob past. And that very past is what is causing very real problems in the present and possibly future.
Sylvie is married to Steve Tosetti, although he hasn't been around in a while (three months to be exact). She's also having a little bit of trouble with her children. Her daughter Elena is first hospitalized and then sent to a long term treatment center for rehabilitation from cocaine addiction; her son is in jail; and her sister is getting married (but didn't invite her). Don't forget to add on top of everything else her $37,000 in credit card debt. Let's just say that Sylvie isn't a happy camper.
Gabriella is about to get married to a nice doctor. Her first husband was slaughtered by an old family mob rival. Everything is coming up roses until her sister, (better know as a "walking disaster in 5 inch heels,") shows up saying that she has only one week to return six million in diamonds. Of course Gabriella must help because her dead husband is somehow involved. The next thing Gabriella knows she and Sylvie are driving around the Australian countryside, with Harriet the Pig riding shotgun and a stolen truck.
I really liked reading Death and Diamonds by Victoria Kosky. The author makes us look at ordinary things from a different and unusual perspective. For instance instead of telling us that Sylvie is drinking coffee, we read about Sylvie "sipping her morning shot of caffeine." I enjoyed the author's evocative descriptions of characters and situations. Sylvie is described as a woman who sports a gun in of all things a Gucci purse. From now on I will be checking the Gucci bags of other women to see if it looks like they have a gun hidden in there. I even spent several minutes speculating about a bump the size of an emu's egg. FYI, they are 13cm by 9cm or 5.1 in by 3.5 in. And they're a delightful shade of green.
I give Death and Diamonds by Victoria Kosky 5 out of 5 stars for lifting the Cozy Mystery genre to new heights with her subtle tongue-in-cheek humour even amidst the growing body count. Warning there is explicit language.
Don't forget to check out Sylvie and Gabriella in their next adventure Killer in the Vineyard. Sylvie and her sister once again "put the fun back in dysfunctional."
Victoria Kosky's goal is writing 30 novels. I'd say she's off to a great start.