The Marigold Killer

The news plays on the tv in the background. “The body of 23-year-old college student, Sarah Saunders was discovered yesterday evening by the local bar owner, Daniel Burrows behind a dumpster on 34th Street and McDowell Ave. A golden Marigold flower was placed on the victim, the same as with all the others. No arrests have been made at this time and little details are being released. There has been some speculation of a possible serial killer in our area. Police are advising all-woman between the ages of 18 to 29 to please be aware of your surroundings. This is Stacy Martinez with channel 15 news, stay tuned for more on this story as the details unfold.”

Loving husband of 37 years, dedicated father of 7 children, and loyal member of the Italian Mafia, Stefano Porfini, has a secret and a darker side that he keeps from not only his family, and friends, but also his own members of the Mafia. A secret he has held within for 23 years.

“Hi honey, did you want some breakfast?” Evangeline asked Stefano. He looks up from staring at his coffee. Stefano walks over to his wife and kisses her on her forehead, “no thank you, baby girl, not too hungry this morning.” She smiles at him and asks what time he had gotten home last night. As he was about to come up with an excuse as to why he was out late yet again, the kids loudly ran into the kitchen. Stefano gazes at all his kids with a loving smile. He rushes at the younger ones like a dinosaur about to take a bite out of each of them. They laughingly scream and run around so he can’t catch them. “Don’t eat us, daddy.” The 5-year-old shouts and giggles. Stefano gives each of his children a kiss and a hug goodbye before he leaves for work. He tells the two older kids to come straight home after school. And tells his wife he loves her as he smiles and walks outside to his black Rolls-Royce. He just had it and his black Cadillac Escalade custom made to be bulletproof with darker than normal tinted windows. He needed to be prepared for anything. And he was.

Stefano arrives at his boss's house. Two men in suits approach Stefano as he pulls up. One opens his door as the other greets him. Once inside, they reach tall brown double doors; the suited man knocks and waits for a response. “Come in.” a scratchy voice replies. Stefano walks in, stands in front of the boss's desk, and waits to be told to sit. The boss stares at Stefano then tells him to sit. “Stefano my boy, a little late, aren’t we?” the boss asks in a sly and cocky manner. Stefano looks at his diamond-encrusted Rolex GMT Master II Ice that was gifted to him by Mr. Brambilla, the boss. Stefano responds, “no sir I’m actually 5 minutes early. I drove around the block a few times. I thought I was being followed, turns out I wasn’t sir.” Mr. Brambilla smirks as he cuts the tip off his cigar. They begin to discuss the business at hand. Some local thugs were claiming turf in his neighborhood. “It’s final, you will go down there and tell them what’s what. Let them know exactly who they are messing with. This is our world those little fuckers just happen to live in it, for now. Now go, take care of that, either way is fine with me.” Mr. Brambilla winks with a crooked grin. Stefano already knows what that means, dead or alive, they will know who’s boss. Another day, another dollar, or shall I say $20,000 which is the typical take-home from something this small. This shouldn’t take long at all. Stefano thinks to himself. This will leave him plenty of time to pick up his “trap car” that he has kept in a secret storage unit and can never be traced back to him. A third unknown vehicle was mandatory for his extracurriculars. First things first, work. He finally reaches his destination and sees a group of thugs hanging out. Man, they looked like idiots with their pants hanging down so low. Stefano rolls his eyes and pulls into the alley next to them. As Stefano is preparing to get out of his car, he sees the group approaching him from his rearview mirror. Stefano sighs as he puts his golden 1911 Emissary pistol in his inner suit pocket. He opens his door and was about to get out when one of the thugs stands in the doorway, bends down, and peers in. “Nice ride gramps. Is this for me?” the thug smugly says as he looks over his shoulder for approval. With one foot already out the door, Stefano kicks the thug in his inner knee making it snap sideways. The boy falls over hollering in pain, as the others begin shouting profanities. He is now fully out of his vehicle and grabs one of the other boys by the neck. “I’m here on behalf of Mr. Brambilla.” They all get silent and look at each other. One decides he isn’t scared and steps forward. “I don’t care who sent you pops, you’re gonna be sorry you came to our hood.” Stefano lets out another sigh and grabs his golden 1911 and points it at the punk. “Well then, you fucking idiot, maybe you’ve heard of me, Stefano Porfini, my friends call me, Executioner?” The young punk steps back, hands in the air. Stefano tells them who’s turf this is and for them to stay clear. Nothing like an easy day. Now he has plenty of time for his side project.

Now inside of his black BMW X6, he’s ready for some fun. Stefano drives to the house of his latest victim, he’s had his eyes on her for a while now. With golden marigolds at hand, he was ready. Stefano parks across the street with his headlights off and watches. She’s home alone, it’s only 9:15 pm and she hasn’t left for work. It’s a perfect time. All seems quiet, no one outside. It’s time. He gets out of his car and quickly strides to her house straight to the backyard. No security system, the lights are off, and the back door is unlocked, she is making this way too easy. Once inside, Stefano looks around the kitchen for a knife. He never uses his own tools, too risky. He grabs the butcher knife he found in the drawer and walks toward her hallway. She is singing as she gets ready for work. Stefano smiles as he gets closer to her bedroom. Without a sound, he lunges at her from behind and puts one hand over her mouth, and wraps his other arm around her waist. “Don’t fucking make a sound or I’ll slit your throat. Do you understand?” He aggressively asks her. She nods as she continues to cry. He lets her go and pushes her down onto the bed. He tells her not to move. She looks up as she trembles with fear and her eyes get big as she notices the golden marigold flower sticking out of his jacket pocket. “You’re him.” She says as her voice shakes. “You’re the marigold killer. Why me? Why are you doing this?” He looks into her big green eyes, “why not you Miss Stacy Martinez? You like to talk about me so much. You like to make my own family afraid to leave the house. I’m not a monster, I just do what feels right. And to me that’s this, being here with you.” He tells her to get up and to walk to the front door. “We’re going for a little ride. Remember make a sound and you die and if anyone happens to see, they die too.” Once outside he keeps a tight grip on her arm as he guides her to his car. Still not a soul out. He throws her inside the backseat with the child locks on so she can’t get out. He gets in and takes another look around, nothing, perfect. He drives away with her in the backseat crying. He tells her to shut up and just sit there. He feels himself get enraged as she doesn’t stop crying. He finally reaches the spot he needed to get to. It’s dark, silent, no traffic, and not a single living soul, what more could he ask for. He pulls her out of the car, as she struggles to break free, he punches her in her stomach. She falls to the ground and gasps for air. “Isn’t it beautiful here? The moonlight hits the water ever so lightly, so romantic.” He tells her as he grabs her by her hair. A feeling of peace comes over him as he gently sticks the butcher knife into her chest. He looks into her green eyes one last time before slicing her throat. He wipes down the knife and tosses it into the water. Before he leaves, he places the golden marigold on her chest, smiles, and walks away. His phone rings as he was pulling away. “Shit! I forgot to turn off my phone!” he shouts as he punches the steering wheel. It’s his wife. He angrily answers. “Hi, honey. Where are you? The kids have been asking for you nonstop.” Evangeline asks lovingly. Stefanos' anger dissipates, and he smiles as he takes a deep breath in. “I’ll be home real soon had to finish something up for Mr. Brambilla.” He hangs up and heads straight home. Once home he feels relaxed even if he has all his kids hanging all over him. After he has tucked in all his little ones in bed, he heads to his bedroom with his wife. She waits for him in bed while using her laptop. “Have been hearing about this killer that’s on the loose honey? It’s scary knowing he’s out there.” He looks at her as he touches his chest. Her words felt like a dagger through his heart. He never wanted his wife to be afraid of anything. Especially him, but he could never tell her. She wouldn’t understand, no one would. He’d lose everything. And that wasn’t on the table for him. He climbs into bed, grabs a hold of her, and reassures her that she has nothing to fear. As they drift off to sleep a sound comes from downstairs. It awakens them. His oldest son runs into their room and says he heard something outside. Stefano tells them to stay in the bedroom and lock the door. He grabs his gun and runs down the stairs. Bright lights are coming from the front and a banging on the door. He rushes over to open it, and there are cops everywhere. “Mr. Porfini, you’re under arrest for the murder of Sarah Saunders, Emilia Reyes, Louisa Evans, and Stephanie Darrin.” He is placed in cuffs as his wife and kids run down the stairs. “What is this? What’s going on?” she demands. They tell her to step away or they’d arrest her too. “Ma’am can you come downtown with us so we can ask you a few questions?” the detective asks her. She is so confused but complies.

Evangeline is appalled by what she is hearing. She doesn’t believe it, not Stefano, not her husband. As she sits there listening to everything, they are telling her, she realizes the unfamiliar car in the driveway, the golden marigold flowers he’d always bring her, the unexplained late hours, how he never answered his phone after 7 pm. It all made sense now. He was the marigold killer. She couldn’t believe that her husband and father of her kids was a serial killer of 54 women within a 23-year span. She knew of his regular work, but this was dark, too dark for her.