Mickey's Wars

by Dave McDonald

  Her look, her words supplanted my fatigue with a tingling warmth spreading throughout my body. But her story had already focused my mind. And I’d heard these words of endearment from her many times. I wasn’t taking the hook yet, I needed more.

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  In the wee-hours of the night, the smoke-filled Columbia motel room had become a confessional. Sara being the confessor and I the priest.

  My yearning for either a pot of coffee or the bed had been cast further and further aside as Sara’s story progressed. I was close to believing her. Perhaps I already did. But I didn’t trust myself.

  Sara sat on the bed, leaning on an elbow. She had an unfocused look in her eyes as if she were lost in thought.

  I remained quiet, just staring at her.

  She sucked on another Pall Mall, stood, and began pacing in the small room, leaving a trail of smoke.

  “You had shipped out to Korea, and I was living with your parents hiding from both the Venturini family and Parsons when he found me. I don’t know what there is about me and cars, but I should have pushed that damned red Packard into the May River.”

  She stopped in front of me, facing me. “Out of the clear blue one day I got the idea to feign pregnancy.”

  “Shit,” I said, pressing my fingers painfully into my temples.

  She paused, uncertainly.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “I, ah,” she glanced at me, and then walked away, “I thought that may fix two of my problems; give you a stronger purpose to stay alive and come home to me, and also to get Parsons off my back.”

  She moved to the window, eased the closed curtain back a tad, and stared out into the night. “But my being pregnant didn’t affect Parsons one iota.”

  Hands gripping the armrest, I bowed my shaking head.

  “We met at Goodman’s several times. He kept insisting I go back and get indicting information on Trafficante, or he’d put my father in jail.” She turned and faced me. “Finally I acquiesced, left your parents, and went back, first to Pittsburgh to see my dad and then to Youngstown.”

  This was the second thing she’d said that I knew to be true. I was on the verge of bursting with frustration. So much of my pain and suffering could have been avoided. I stood. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this when I took you out of Youngstown?”

  She stood there, eyes moistening, leaking, as she chewed on her bottom lip.

  “You’ve had so many opportunities to tell me. Why didn’t you tell me this when we lived in Savannah before I left for Korea, for Christ’s sakes?” My heart twisted inside my chest. “You lied to me. God, you lied to my parents. You endangered my parents.” I plopped down into the chair and slapped my hands on the armrests.

  She stood in front of the window, arms to her sides staring at the floor.

  “I’ll never forget being on bended knee, a ring box in my hand, proposing to a married woman!” I shook my head. “What a fucking fool.”

  Wiping her cheeks, she raised her head and gazed at me. Her expression just like the first time we met at Tybee Island. “You weren’t a fool. You were the only good thing in my life. And I so wanted that ring.” She wiped another wet streak off her cheek with the back of her hand. “But, yes, I fabricated the Sara you thought you knew in Savannah, one lie requiring another, and another. The only truth was my feelings for you. I loved you. Do you think my admitting all my lies, as well as the fact that I was a killer, would have made you stay?”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “We’ll never know.”

  She stiffened as if she had been struck or jolted awake.

  She slowly turned back to the curtains and checked the parking lot. She stared into the blackness for several moments. I would’ve gotten concerned, but her body language told me she saw nothing; nothing but guilt.

  Finally, she turned around and stepped close to me. “And as far as Youngstown goes, your timing was horrible. I was on the verge of getting irrefutable evidence on Trafficante. And my father and I would finally be free from Parsons. But if anything happened, any little miscue, I’d have the entire mob after me. The risks were too high. It would have been too dangerous to involve you. So I lied to you, and as before one untruth led to many. I wanted you to detest my world, so it would be easier for you to walk away, and for me to go back. I had to go back.” With her eyes fixed on me as if she were afraid I’d leave, she stepped back to the bed. “And the tears,” she emptied the ashes she’d been collecting in her hand into the overloaded ashtray, “the tears were real. I had to let you go. I was never going to see you again. Parsons said he was going to put me in something he called a witness protection program, where I’d start a new life. There could be no ties to my old life; none. Not you, not anyone. For my father’s sake, I had to do it. I was in too deep, I had to finish what I’d started.”

  I walked over and leaned against an interior wall, rubbing my forehead.

  I looked at her, standing by the bed stabbing another cigarette into the repulsive ashtray. Our eyes met.

  I wanted to believe her. “So what happened? Why are you in trouble?”

  “I went back and supplied Parsons with everything I could get my hands on about the Trafficante operation. He built a case and was prepared to act. Then,” she blew out a long breath and shook her head, “then, he missed our last scheduled meeting. He never missed a meeting. Never.”

  “Okay. What do you think happened?”

  “I think he got too close. I think they snatched him, and,” her cold blue eyes met mine, “and he talked.” She looked away, flipping a hand. “He’s probably gator food now somewhere in the Okefenokee Swamp.”

  “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  “On occasion, Ben and I would meet at his house. He liked to change the meeting sites frequently. I met his wife. So I called her a few days after Ben missed our meeting. Ben had been missing for seven days. She had the entire Bureau looking for him. She told me she had told the Feds about Trafficante, but not about me. Ben had made her promise never to tell anyone about me.” Sara grabbed her purse off the bed and retrieved her pack of smokes. She tapped another butt out and then, changing her mind, dropped the pack on the bed.

  “And why do I think Ben talked? Recently, Johnny started acting strange, withdrawn; totally out of character for no obvious reason. Then three days ago Trafficante called me and invited me to a boss meeting in Miami. They have boss meetings periodically, once maybe twice a year. I’m never invited. Johnny’s dad goes.” She stopped, turned, and looked at me.

  “So you think they were luring you there to kill you? What if they just saw you as the new leader of the Youngstown Mob?” I shrugged.

  “Please. When it walks like a duck . . . that’s when I left and came to Parris Island.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the FBI?”

  “Ben never told anyone in the FBI about me, remember? He was paranoid. Plus, he wanted all the credit. I would be starting from scratch to find someone in the Bureau to trust and making myself a target in the process.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know what Ben did with his tax information he had on my dad. But it doesn’t matter. I failed. I can’t help my father; I’m on the run. I ruined my life for nothing. I ruined us for nothing.”

  I believed her, every word.

  My mind raced through various options. “Why didn’t you go to Ben’s wife and ask her to help you?”

  Sara put her head in her hands for a few minutes, then raised her head. She had the look I’d seen in the Korea on the faces of hopeless refugees. “She was killed by a hit-and-run driver the day before Trafficante called me.”

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  The more I believed Sara’s story, the more concerned I became. Sara’s bombshell about both Ben Parsons’ and his wife’s probable murders slammed me with a reality awakening. The mob was killing everyone in contact with her who might know something.

  As I had so often done in the past, I found myself studying her
features in the poor Columbia motel room’s lighting. Tonight her pale and yet still pretty face was made starker by her dark hair and exhaustion. A bizarre thought struck me; if asked, I would call her terminally beautiful. I would’ve laughed at my own joke in any other circumstances, except knowing her was probably going to get me killed and possibly my parents as well.

  I glanced at my watch, it was after three in the morning, and I was fighting exhaustion.

  There was a mob contract on Sara. her days, or maybe hours even, had to be numbered. The thought of losing her now after finally knowing the truth and believing she had always loved me, made me want to stay and fight for her and even die for her. But without a plan, we probably would die. I didn’t know what to do.

  Based on her story, there was nobody left to help her but me. I was her only hope. And beyond helping her trade cars, my sleep deprived brain didn’t know what else to do.

  How could I help her and not get Sara, me, and my family killed?

  Not counting tonight, Sara by her own admission was responsible for at least four deaths, maybe more. Ben Parsons had promised her absolution. But based on what Sara knew, he hadn’t communicated that to anyone except his wife. And she was dead. And if there was a record of it, where was it? Parsons was also most likely dead.

  Sara was not only a Mafia target, she was the head of the Youngstown syndicate, so she had to be on the FBI’s wanted list as well.

  And although Sara and I had a relationship founded on a slag pile’s growing heap of her lies, if I dug under the rubble deep enough I would find I loved her. For hiding beneath all of her subterfuge, the Savannah Sara had divulged to me a lovely woman with a heart and soul brimming with kindness. And I knew that woman still existed and loved me.

  However, if I went with her I’d be AWOL. We’d be running from the law for the rest of our lives either until we were arrested or the Mafia killed us. And my parents and little brother would either have to come with us or hide.

  Was there really any place to hide? And how long would Sara’s money keep five of us hidden?

  Life with Sara would be hell. But something inside of me wanted nothing else but to be with her.

  Every minute I stayed with her put me and my parents at greater risk. But I couldn’t leave her without knowing she’d be safe.

  Just a few days ago, I’d started my life over. There was another woman, a woman I liked, a woman who abided by the rules, who didn’t lie, who was more than interested in me. But I didn’t love Kate, I loved Sara.

  Sara stretched. “I’m exhausted. And you must be as well. Let’s go to bed.” She pulled her blouse out of her skirt. “Maybe a good night’s rest will bring some fresh ideas to get me out of this mess I’ve gotten myself into. Then you can go back to your life and I,” she bit her lowered lip and then grabbed her purse, “I get first dibs on the bathroom.” She turned and walked into the bathroom.

  She was right. I was too tired to even walk across the street right now. I checked the door lock and kicked off my shoes.

  Minutes, maybe a half-hour, when Sara came out of the bathroom, the only light on was in the shower. My clothes had been hung, and I was under the covers in my boxers, fighting sleep.

  Sara had on a white slip. The light casting through the almost closed bathroom door silhouetted her curvaceous body.

  Vivid memories sprang to life reviving long lost tingling sensations and herding them south.

  “Mick, you do believe me, don’t you?” Her coarse and yet silky tone rekindled memories of many other nights we’d spent together. Her wit, her take charge sex, and her intellectual banter afterwards.

  Tonight I’d demanded the truth from her, and now I had to return it. “Yes, I do.”

  In the dim light, a smile dimpled her cheeks followed by a sigh.

  “I didn’t come looking for you to drag you back into my ugly world, Mick. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you in the first place. But I’m glad I did.” A hint of the smile returned. “I came to you because I owed you the truth. I wanted you to know my feelings for you were genuine and from my heart. I regret how horribly our evening started, but I want it to end hopefully on a happy note. Then tomorrow, I want you to leave without any obligations or guilt; just knowing I love you.”

  “I-”

  “Shh,” she said past a finger bridging her lips. “Let this be our moment.”

  Dropping her arms to her sides, she stood perfectly still for a long moment.

  And I savored every second, consuming her with my eyes.

  It was like waiting for the crescendo to an old song that both of us loved and knew the ending to.

  I rose on an elbow and pulled the covers off her side of the bed.

  Slowly she raised her arms and hooked the straps of her slip with her thumbs, lifting them off her shoulders. The slip slid to the floor.

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  I awoke the same way I’d gone to sleep the night before. I was wrapped in the arms of the woman I loved in a warm, soft bed, with the world and all its problems locked outside the door. Savannah reborn.

  Unfortunately, it only took a second for reality to smash my fantasy. Last night I had made love to my Sara, my soul mate. However, in the early light of day, though her naked body felt so good against mine, the facts squawked in my head like a nagging old woman. Sara was a married mob boss on the run with two large mob families and most probably the FBI hunting her.

  Sara definitely needed help. Her parachute, her safety net, Ben Parsons was missing, probably dead.

  I didn’t have a clue as to what she, let alone we, should do.

  I gazed at her face. Her features were soft, void of tension, at peace; her sleep mask; a beautiful mask. But inside, she had to be on edge, ready to spring into action confronting death. I knew how that felt. I’d lived in a constant state of fear for month after month in Korea.

  Her eyes opened as if she had heard my thoughts, and I could feel the tension stiffen her body as she glanced around the room.

  “What a nice way to wake up, seeing your face and feeling you against me,” she said, giving me a squeeze.

  Her body sagged into me as her tension subsided, and she gave me a soft kiss.

  She broke the kiss and with her lips brushing mine said, “Can we stay here, just like this forever?”

  Her words, almost as soft as her kiss, made me want more. But I knew if we were going to get something done today, I needed to break her hug and get out of bed.

  “I’d love to stay in bed with you all day, but we need to move.” I eased out of her arms and sat up. “Let’s see if we can find a car dealer who will buy the Packard. Then I’ll take some of that money and buy you another cheaper car at a different dealer. That will make it harder to trace you. Hopefully you’ll have enough cash to take you away from here and support you until we can get help.”

  She shook her head. “I can only run so long. I know too much. They won’t stop ‘til . . . ‘til they find me.”

  “Let’s call the FBI and tell them your story. What do we have to lose?”

  “How about our freedom?”

  “What good is freedom if you’re dead? Someone at the Bureau had to be aware that Parsons had obtained information on the Venturini and Trafficante families. Just tell the feds what you told Ben.”

  She looked away. “How can I trust anyone there? The mob has control of many people throughout the justice system. That could be why Ben got taken. Who would I go to? I don’t know anyone there? Remember, I didn’t find Ben, he found me.”

  A thought jolted me to my feet. I grabbed my underwear off the chair. “I think I know just the man who can help us, a good man.”

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  It was mid-day when Sara pulled in behind me in front of a car dealership in Columbia. I’d parked on the street, not wanting to be seen by the dealer. The less anyone knew about us, the better off she and I would be.

  The long drive had chewed on my nerves. The red Packard stood out
in my rear-view mirror all the way here like it was the Hindenburg blimp. I couldn’t wait for her to ditch that damned goon-magnet.

  I walked back to her and leaned into her opened car window just as she finished refreshing her lipstick. “You go into this dealership and find the manager and see what you can negotiate for your car in cash. And don’t act as if you’re in a rush or needy. Negotiate, but settle. If anyone can charm them, you can. You look great.”

  She smiled. “Believe it or not, I do want to sell this car.”

  “If this dealer isn’t deaf, dumb, and blind, you’ll sell it. I’m going to the gas station we passed a block ago and use their pay phone. When you’re done, you’ll find me either here or there. It’s a short walk.”

  She touched the back of my hand braced on her door. “Thank you, Mick.” Her eyes moistened. “Once again, you’ve gone above and beyond the call-”

  My lips on hers cut off her sentence. She put her hand on the back of my head and deepened the kiss.

  “Think we’ll ever be able to go back to Barbee’s Pavilion?” she asked, her lips close to mine.

  “I hope so.”

  “Be safe.” She patted my hand as she checked her lips in the mirror. “Keep your eyes open. I know I sound paranoid, but they have ties all over the country.”

  I nodded. “You’re the one who needs to stay vigilant.” I swiped the back of my hand across my lips, wiping her lipstick off.

  The phone booth was hot and smelled like stale cigarette smoke and old gym shoes. I left the door open.

  This call could save Sara.

  I swiped sweat from my forehead and inserted a dime. My fingers were unsteady as I dialed the posted number for information.

  An operator answered. I gave her a person’s name and location. She asked me to deposit three more dimes for three minutes. Another operator answered and transferred me. Immediately thereafter, I was put on hold, costing me more dimes and more anxiety, then I was disconnected and had to start all over again.