“You stay here and secure that driver. I’ll go after Scalice,” I say to the plainclothes as I sprint toward the alley down which the gangster has just disappeared.
Halfway down the alley I hope to save myself a long chase as I close with Scalice. “Frank Scalice, give it up. There is nowhere to run. Every cop in New York is looking for you. Come along and we can sort this out.”
Scalice stops and spins toward me, fists at the ready. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that color red before, but definitely not in the face of someone alive.
“You stinking, lousy… You killed CC, you killed Charlie, I’ll rip your lousy cop head off you rotten…”
He doesn’t finish the thought as I close with him and bust him in his chops to put a period to the sentence. Got to give it to Scalice, though. That was my best right cross and it didn’t do much more than turn his head. One thing about these Italians, they grow up tough. Tough families, tough environment, and weakness usually weeded out of the mafia types early on. I can see why Scalice sat in a boss’s seat, even if only for a short while.
His speed surprises me as he lands a solid punch to my gut almost before I realize he is swinging back. I tense my muscles to absorb the blow a split second before it lands, saving me from having the wind knocked out of me and probably saving my life. This fight is going to be serious.
I was on the police boxing team for two years, and I hope that is enough to hold my own against a guy who likely has been street fighting since he was old enough to tie his shoes. Scalice is tough and quick, with a punch like a truck. Speed and patience is the key to this one. I duck and dodge, not giving Scalice the chance to land more than glancing blows. I pick and choose the targets for a steady stream of jabs, looking for an opening to drop an overhand right and end this thing.
There it is!
Frank overcommits to a wild left hook and there, pretty as a picture, sits his jaw framed just perfectly. I let loose with a heavy overhand right connecting just behind the edge of his jaw. Scalice goes down like a ton of bricks.
Tougher than I thought.
Scalice is still moving and moaning on the ground. I move over to put his lights out solid. Quick as lightning, Frank sits up, pops the button on a switchblade and drives it deep into my gut.
“Hah, stupid Mick. Nobody ever teach you an Italian is most dangerous when he’s down? Gotta hand it to you, though, you got a heck of a right hand. I might have to cut it off and hang it on my wall!”
I stagger back a couple of steps as the warm wetness pours from my side. I’m gut-stabbed, and any vet will tell you there is no good kind of gut wound. I fight the dizziness as I know if I pass out I’m dead, but my legs go wobbly and I hit the pavement.
I see Scalice get back to his feet and start toward me, grinning like a demon, the bloody switchblade still in his hand. He seems a little unsteady on his feet. I guess my right hand landed harder than he thought. Still, that won’t buy me more than a few seconds.
Suddenly the sound of a pistol cuts through Scalice’s grinning silence. I see a burst of red erupt from his right shoulder as a voice from somewhere behind me shouts, “Stop! Drop the knife and get your hands in the air.”
“Your lucky day, Mick,” Scalice says as he spins and heads off down the alley away from the shooter.
As darkness closes in on my vision, I see the familiar face of the shoeshine cop standing over me and putting pressure on my wound. I realize I don’t even know his name.
“Go,” I whisper, “get Scalice.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. O’Brien. You are bleeding badly. Your brother will skin me alive if I go chasing Scalice and let you bleed out. I cuffed the driver to the steering wheel, and a car load of uniformed officers is right behind me. They’ll get Scalice, you just focus on not bleeding.”
I smile at the officer and slip out of consciousness.
(Twenty minutes later)
The ambulance arrived at the scene and the medical techs went about their business securing and bandaging Nick’s wound before loading him into the back of the ambulance. ADA Jimmy O’Brien directed the flurry of activity at the scene.
“I should go in the ambulance with Nicky,” he said to the plainclothes officer. “Can you handle things from here Bill?”
“I’ve got it, Mr. O’Brien. Your brother is a tough cookie. He’ll be all right.”
Just then, two uniformed officers came jogging up to the pair, winded from the chase.
“What’s the word, boys?” ADA O’Brien inquired.
“I’m sorry, sir, he’s gone.”
“Gone?” echoed Jimmy and Bill together.
“Yeah. We found some blood against a wall, about shoulder height, two blocks away, but past that nothing.”
“I hit Scalice in the shoulder as he was standing over your brother.”
“Well, the ambulance is about to leave, so I have to go. Put a call in and get more officers around here to set up a search of the whole area. If he is bleeding, he is going to need to go to ground somewhere. Also tell everyone to stay on alert at the bus and train stations as well as the airport. Also tell them to alert the hospitals to be on the lookout for anyone coming in with a gunshot wound to the shoulder.”
“You got it, Mr. O’Brien. Now go look after your brother. We’ll take it from here.”
Chapter Twenty-five – Wrapup
(Bellevue Hospital, Mahnattan, NYC)
I wake up in a blindingly white room that smells of ammonia. There is a dull throbbing in my side matching the dull throbbing in my head. Morphine-induced numbness courses through my body and mind as I wrestle to grab hold of something familiar and pull myself fully into consciousness.
Visions of Lupo, Marjorie, Abrams, the Galitz couple, Rosario’s dead and beaten body, and Tommy’s photo swim inside my head.
A woman leaving Rosario’s. A Japanese gun. Russian fences. Missing diamonds. An intercepted thief.
A sudden burst of clarity snaps my mind to alertness. I realize how the pieces of this crazy mess come together. Bursting with desire to tell someone how it all comes together, I can only whisper one word.
“Galitz.”
“Jimmy, he’s awake,” says a sweet, familiar voice.
Marjorie.
“Hey, Nicky, you gave us quite a scare there. We thought we might have lost you.”
More control and clarity floods into my groggy mind. “I’m not sure I’m completely found just yet,” I quip through the sticky feeling coating my mouth. “Jimmy, I see it now. The key is Galitz.” Nobody seems to notice my revelation.
“Same old Nicky, tough as nails,” comes a less sweet feminine voice.
“Hiya, Penny.”
The spunky reporter grins at me, barely masking the concern lurking behind her eyes. “You sure go a long way to ditch giving me the scoop you promised, Nicky. I’m here to make sure you pay up!”
“You’re a tough cookie, kid. Don’t worry, I tried to get in the Pearly Gates, but Saint Peter sent me back. Says he won’t let me in until you get your Pulitzer.”
“Hiya, Ace,” chimes in Liam as he draws close. “I told ‘em you was too tough to fold over a little knife wound.”
“Good grief, Jimmy, did I wake up in the hospital or the middle of my wake? Who else did you invite to gawk at me sleeping?”
“Knock it off, Nicky. Everyone was worried, that’s all. Doc says you are going to be fine, but you need to stay a few days to make sure there is no infection. You should be home by next week, but might have to lay off chasing bad guys for a month or two.”
“And who is paying the bills in the meantime?”
“Don’t worry,” says Penny, “my paper is going to pay you for your story on this, so that ought to tide you over until you are back on your feet.”
“You’re aces, kid.”
“Besides,” adds Jimmy, “you got your double-dip payday from the DA. You won’t be homeless before you are up and about again.”
“Okay, okay, so I’m not quite
skint broke just yet. But what happened with Scalice? Did we get him.”
“No,” Jimmy says shaking his head, “Scalice is in the wind, but if he managed to sneak out of the city, we won’t be hearing from him again anytime soon.”
“Yeah,” Liam laughs, “I fixed him real good. Leaked word he was trying to stir up trouble with the Boston families to square with Luciano here and get his seat back at the table. Frankie is gonna be on the outs for a good, long time.”
Jimmy smiles. “But turns out Scalice wasn’t the big fish in all this anyway.”
“Yeah, I know. I figured it out. The fences, the old Russian couple at Galitz jewelry. Mrs. Galitz has to be the woman leaving Rosario’s, and the one who popped Tommy.”
“We know, Nicky.”
“Huh? I just figured it out. How do you know already?”
“That driver you winged, Vinny DeLuca, sang like a bird for a reduced sentence. He even agreed to testify against Scalice, so Marjorie is off the hook for that. Arella Galitz is the real devil in all this.”
“How was the driver involved?”
“Vinny DeLuca, the driver you shot, was doing a bit of double-dipping on his own. He worked for Scalice, but was also Galitz’s eyes and ears inside Scalice’s organization. Tommy was using the Galitzs to fence the stones from the Boston heist. She took the initiative and took him out.”
“And Lupo?”
“When we executed the search warrant on Galitz’s shop, we not only turned up the missing diamonds, but found Lupo with a giant hole in his chest, all bagged up for the dumping.”
“So Galitz didn’t show up until after Gabriella was murdered. Who killed Tommy’s ex-girlfriend?”
“According to DeLuca, Scalice ordered the hit and the skinny mobster you shot in the neck, Charlie Ferrano, did the hit. I’m sure DeLuca was more than just a witness to hearing the hit ordered, but with Ferrano dead and Scalice in the wind, there is nobody contradicting his story. The DA had to take DeLuca’s word for that part of his plea bargain in exchange for his testimony. Turns out that strange gun that we found on Gabriella belonged to old man Galitz. Lupo busted him up pretty good, but he says he just looked for his gun to shoot Lupo and it was missing. He claims he had no idea it was used to off Tommy and then planted on Gabriella.”
“Let me guess, Arella is putting it all on him with a he-said, she-said play?”
“Strangely enough, no. She must really love the old guy, because she is backing his story. Says she took the gun and he knew nothing about any of it.”
Neat as a pin, huh?
“Well, listen, Jimmy, I’d love to talk things over in more detail, and Penny, I promise as soon as I have all my wits about me I’ll pay up what I owe. For now, though, if you all would excuse me, I’m not sure how long I can fight the morphine. I want to talk to Marjorie while I still know what I am saying.”
Penny frowns and drops her eyes. She’s a great kid and I hate to keep dashing her hopes. However, a woman like Marjorie comes along maybe once in a guy’s lifetime, and I gotta grab for that brass ring while I can.
“No problem, Nicky.” Jimmy sweeps his arms toward the door. “Everyone out. Show’s over. You can all come pester Nick again later.”
The visitors file out. Marjorie, wearing a dark blue number that I think looks way too old for her, approaches the bed.
“Hiya, doll.”
“Hello, Nick. Does it hurt badly?”
“Nah, they’ve got enough happy juice swimming around in me I can barely feel it at all. I’ll be fine.”
“I was so scared, Nick. I wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to you. I’m sorry I dragged you into all this. I hope you know I never meant for you to get hurt.”
“It’s part of the job, Marjorie. Stop worrying your head. Jimmy says you are clean on this one with DeLuca’s confession, so it is all sorted. But…”
Where do I go from here?
“But what, Nick?”
Just out with it, O’Brien. No pulling punches anymore.
“But you gotta walk away from that life, Marjorie. You got lucky this time, but if you are willing, if you really care for me, we can start a new life, together.”
She turns her face away from me, staring out the window at the blue sky and white clouds rolling by.
“I’d dearly love that, Nick. But I didn’t think after all this you would still want me.”
I reach for her hand and pull her around to look at me again.
“Of course I do, Marjorie. I’ve never felt before the way I feel about you. I can’t offer you much, but I can promise you won’t find anyone in this world who will love you as much as I do. Together we can make it.”
“And what about my past, Nick? Every time you look at me you won’t see Marjorie Dillon, the sweet, helpless girl you feel for. You will see a professional jewel thief that almost got you killed.”
“Marjorie, everybody’s got a past. I promise you, if you can leave your past behind you, so can I. Like the Bible says, forgotten as far as east is from the west. What do you say, kiddo?” She stands and pats my hand.
I’m not sure I like that signal.
“You rest, Nick. I need some time, okay? There is a lot to think about.”
“Take all the time you need, doll. You know where to find me.”
“Thank you, Nick. You are without a doubt the dearest man I have ever met. Once I get things all settled in my mind, we can talk about the future, okay?”
“Whatever you say, Marjorie.”
She turns to leave. She glances over her shoulder before walking out the door and flashes me that smile. I don’t see anything in her eyes to say she isn’t being straight, but that doesn’t reassure me. All she said was she needs time. What happens after that, I suppose I will find out when she’s ready to tell me.
(Several hours later, on a train leaving New York)
“Tickets, have your tickets ready for inspection please,” the conductor called as he made his way through the train.
“Ticket, Miss?” he asked the beautiful, raven-haired woman in a navy blue dress reading the newspaper.
“Oh,” she answered, recovering from her distraction and handing her ticket to the conductor. “I’m sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”
“Not a problem Miss,” he replied, punching her ticket and returning it to her. “San Francisco, huh? Looks like you are going to be with us for quite a while. My name is Philip, and I am in charge of this car and the sleeper car where you are assigned. If you need anything, please let me know.”
“Thank you Philip. That is quite comforting.”
“So, Miss, if you don’t mind my asking, what brings a pretty lady like you to travel all the way across country? What I mean is, you heading for San Francisco for business or pleasure?”
“A bit of both, Philip. Let us just say there are some old friends I have been wanting to see again for a long time, and they are coming to San Francisco.”
“Wow, Miss. Traveling across the country to meet old friends. Their friendship must be very valuable to you.”
“Priceless.”
The woman smiled as the conductor moved on. She spread the newspaper across her lap as she stared at New York City retreating in the distance. The headline read:
“INDIAN PRIZE RUBIES EXHIBIT TO VISIT THE GOLDEN GATE”
Glossary – Slang of the 1930’s
The 1930’s in America, the atmospheric backdrop for most of the noir novels featuring Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade and Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe, had a language all its own. Modern viewers of classics like The Maltese Falcon, starring Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade, will doubtless be befuddled as they try to decode phrases like “cracking foxy” and “gunsel”.
The noir novel is an amazing piece of history that is enthralling and timeless, but in order to fully appreciate the immersive environment of 1930’s noir, modern readers must prepare themselves for a world of adventure, intrigue, and a communication style that is truly unique. It is my
hope, by including this glossary, to help ease those new to the noir genre, or to the 1930’s vernacular, into this fascinating environment and introduce to them the full spectrum of wonder to be found there. The overwhelming majority of the words and phrases here are actually taken from media sources of the 1930s, with just a few of my own colorful but appropriately period phrases thrown in.
A steal – a bargain
Aces – very good, a compliment generally praising someone as extremely trustworthy or helpful, alternately could be used to describe a situation or set of circumstances where the outcome is extremely beneficial
All the rage – very popular, highly sought after, usually regarding a fashion or social trend
Beat feet – run away, flee
Big Apple – New York City
Bill of goods – a lie, a false story or alibi. Used generally with the idea of someone “trying to sell” a bill of goods, or someone “buying” a bill of goods (i.e. believing the lie)
Blackjack all around – a win-win scenario, a no-lose situation. It is an analogy to all the players at a blackjack table hitting blackjack and beating the house
Blower – telephone, also “horn”
Bootleg – any illegal merchandise, during prohibition almost always referred to illegally made alcohol
Bootlegger – a criminal focusing on the making and sale of illegal alcohol during the period of prohibition
Broad – a woman, female, generally slightly derogatory connoting a woman of loose morals
Brodie – a mistake, particularly a bad judgment resulting in erroneous action
Brook – to tolerate or agree with
Bruno – a hired thug or enforcer for the mafia
Button-man - hired killer, assassin, also “hatchet-man” or “trigger-man”
Buzz – news, word on the street
Buzzer – a badge or official identification showing the bearer to be an officer of the court, a police officer, or a licensed private detective
The Woman In Blue (Nick O'Brien Case Files) Page 17
