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Precious stones and spoons

Having had a gangster for a father and lived with Louis and Juan, I knew enough to recognize the home of a man in the outlaw. The Mafia didn’t have maids cleaning their gardens or a load of people who owed them their lives.

They didn’t have a scarless body either. Mafia men didn’t have to hide under others to get revenge either. It just didn’t make sense.

Yet it was strange.

I wanted to know; I couldn’t bear not knowing. The faces of the men I saw reminded me of how I felt when I was with my father. They looked ready to take blood.

I didn’t want Carlos putting his hands into business with people like that. What if something happened and he couldn’t do it on his own, would he go back to Louis for help?

Things didn’t seem clear to me at this point. I started to feel the setback of not having a phone or any kind of internet access.

Carlos had books. Maybe I will find a clue.

The room was very wide, most of the room was in sight, and there was no shelf or desk. All I could see was a curta
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