Page 3 of Stormy Knight

As he walked the tour, he stopped and looked at life size cardboard cutouts of famed mobsters. The museum’s setting was full of intrigue, suspense, and mystery. He watched as a young family read information in front of one display. Then they hit a button, and the story came to life with the voices of ‘gangsters.’ Reeves chuckled hearing the voices and walked to the next display.

One display caught his attention right away. Leaning in, he stared at the men in the background in the array of photos. He recognized two young men sitting at a table in the background of one photo. It was his dad and his uncle. The look on his old man’s face said he knew the deal. But what deal? Reeves would love to know. The other men in the photo display were the members of the Seville crime family. The original Dallas Mafia.

He also recognized the men in the photos from seeing some of the same photos in the restaurant. Hitting the information button, he listened to the explanation. A deep, heavily accented male voice came across the speaker.

According to the museum, Carlos Siranio began the Dallas faction of the American Mafia in 1921 with his brother Anthony Siranio as his underboss. Carlos was described as the “originalhead of the Mafia in Texas.” Anthony assumed control in 1956, when Angelo Siranio died at age 78. Seville attended the infamous meeting of all the Mafia leaders in 1957, a time when he controlled narcotics, gambling, prostitution, and nightclubs in most of Texas. After the meeting, the FBI began keeping closer tabs on Seville.

It wasn’t all correct, but at least fifty percent was. He could give them the actual story if they wanted it. The Seville family had become the Siranio family, then became the Serrano family. It wasn’t a stretch from the Siranio to Serrano to see how the original Dallas family had easily changed hands.

The sound of Mario Serrano’s chuckle behind him revealed their strategy: leak information to the FBI to eliminate the Sevilles and seize control of Dallas.

Cocking a look over at Mario, he smiled. “Is that a veiled threat?”

Mario played with the toothpick in his mouth. “Not at all. Just stating the facts.”

Turning to face Mario fully, Reeves’ smile faded. “Didn’t the last boss of the Seville family die in nineteen seventy-three?” Reeves knew his history, especially pertaining to the mafia families of Texas. He also knew there was more to the takeover than just the Serrano family feeding the FBI info on the Seville family.

“Yes. That was Gianni DeCarlo.” Mario’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes flicked briefly over the crowd, scanning the room with the practiced ease of someone who’d been on the other side of too many deals, too many eyes in the shadows.

Reeves adjusted his jacket, his fingers brushing over the cool fabric as he kept his posture casual, but his instincts were on edge. Watching visitors rush by, Reeves put his hand in his pocket.

He wasn’t sure if it was the suits or the presence of something more dangerous hanging in the air. The museum being a public place. It was neutral ground, but in a world like theirs, nothing was neutral. “That had to be a big spot to fill after Seville and Marcello hired the hitmen to assassinate JFK.”

“They proved that was just a rumor,” Mario said as he turned to continue towards the back of the museum.

“One day I’d love to know which family killed JFK,” Reeves commented, noticing the group that had just passed were still staring back at them. He glanced at the groups passing by, admiring the interactive scenes, but their eyes lingered just a little too long, just a little too focused. Two women in particular, wearing oversized sunglasses, seemed to talk in hushed tones as they glanced over at them.

Across the room, a pair of men stood near a large display, their hands in their pockets, but their heads turned at a sharp angle toward Mario and Reeves. He wanted to laugh at their curious stares.

Mario stopped and waited for Reeves to step up next to him. “None killed him. That doesn’t mean none of them hired the shooter.”

Reeves glanced around, “I think we’re being watched.”

“Ah, they probably think we’re part of the interactive part of the museum. Let’s go straight to the bar. You can educate yourself on your way out.” Mario said leading the way towards the speakeasy.

Reeves needed no more explanation. He knew exactly what Mario meant. It wasn’t uncommon for people to stare at him, especially in places like this. He knew firsthand anyone could be a threat - an innocent-looking visitor, a tourist snapping photos,anyone with a grudge and a gun could get to him in a place like this.

“If I was in a playful mood, I’d say let’s give them a reason to stare,” Reeves said, his gaze briefly flicking over to the group of people who were still eyeing them like they were prey. “But, since I’m not…” He started walking towards one of the galleries, aiming to keep moving to stay off the radar.

Reeves nodded to Mario to lead the way. Something about this felt off. He didn’t like the way the crowd seemed to shift around them, or the way people had gotten quiet when they’d entered the room. He couldn’t shake the feeling they were being herded, even if they hadn’t crossed the line into danger just yet.

Reeves gave the small group a hard stare as he walked past them. He heard comments about they knew he was mafia. If they only knew the truth, they’d have run far away. Fast.

As they moved deeper into the museum, the soft echo of their footsteps was the only sound between them. Reeves stayed alert, his eyes catching every flicker of movement around him, every slight shift in posture from the people passing by. He felt like a chess piece being maneuvered on a board he couldn’t quite see.

They reached the back hallway, a quieter part of the museum, and Mario paused. His head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “Here we are.” Mario smiled.

Reeves glanced over his shoulder one last time before walking through the door Mario had opened for him. As they entered the private space, the air felt thicker -like the walls themselves were holding secrets. Then it opened into a lounge.

The bar was a throwback to a time long past. The dark wood, fireplace, rows of books, and cocktails named after mafia families and bosses created a warm, cozy atmosphere where time seemed to stop.

Taking a seat at the ‘family table’, set up on a raised platform in the back corner, Reeves gave Mario Serrano a disappointed stare. “Really, Mario.”

“What? It’s fun.” Mario chuckled as he looked around. “I don’t get many opportunities to have fun.”

Reeves wasn’t there to have fun. He was there to hopefully settle an issue before more serious problems arouse between the Salvador and the Serrano families. “So, you want us to have a serious conversation while you’re having a bit of fun?”

“Actually, this is a safe place for us to speak.”

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