Johnny Porno

by Charlie Stella

  Kelly didn’t get it. “Yids and dagos,” he said. “Going back to forever, they had that turf, Canarsie.”

  Brice checked his rearview mirror and saw the van was still there. The few minutes they were supposed to wait for Levin turned to twenty while Kelly read the newspaper. Brice finally mentioned the time and Kelly got out of the car to use the pay phone. It was noon already.

  A few minutes later Kelly returned to the car thumbing toward the street.

  “What is it?” Brice said.

  “He’s out sick again, the lazy fuck. But I need you to drop me off somewheres.”

  “Where?”

  Kelly got in the car. “Queens,” he said.

  “What’s there?”

  “Me, when you get me there. You’re going to Levin’s place to see if he’s really out sick or just jerking my chain. I had it with that guy.”

  “What? I’m not spying.”

  Kelly motioned toward the street for Brice to start driving. “It’s an order,” he said. “Now, let’s go.”

  * * * *

  The pain in his nose had shifted to his mouth and then his teeth. Then it turned into a headache and he couldn’t blink it hurt so much. Nick was on Quaaludes and codeine and had taken half a dozen aspirin as soon as he got home, but now that he was awake again, his head felt as if it would explode. He took a bunch of his wife’s diet pills to help him shake the grogginess.

  He had made Angela take him to a guy he knew sold guns. It was right after they left the hospital when he was still numb enough not to feel the pain. The guy had showed him three pieces, all used, which meant they had all been stolen, found or pawned, not the best weapons in the world to use because of their prior history, but Nick was obsessed with getting John Albano and didn’t care. He paid seventy-five dollars for a semiautomatic handgun that looked and even felt a little shaky when he pulled the trigger on an empty clip.

  “Is ing onna all a-art en ah oo it?” he’d asked the seller.

  “What?” the seller said.

  Angela helped translate. “The way it looks, he said,” she said after Nick mumbled something unintelligible. “He thinks if he shoots you from across the room it’ll fall apart in his hands.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” the seller had said to Nick. “Go stand over there and I’ll shoot you with it. It falls apart, I’ll give you your money back.”

  Now that he couldn’t sleep anymore he was anxious to shower and get a start on searching for John Albano. All he could think about was the beating he’d taken outside the bar and how he’d have to face everybody a second time, except this time it was even worse, his nose had been broken, the discoloration would be with him for weeks, not to mention his nose would be crooked.

  And then there was Eddie Vento. How was he supposed to deal with that cranky fuck after this?

  Nick was half out of the bed and about to give up and go back to sleep when the phone rang. He couldn’t move fast enough. His wife said hello into the receiver and told the caller to hold on before passing it to Nick.

  “Aloe?” he said.

  “It’s me,” Eddie Vento said.

  “Air,” Nick said.

  “What?”

  “Air.”

  “The fuck you saying?”

  “I ant alk,” Nick said.

  “You can’t talk?”

  “O.”

  “Okay, then listen,” Vento said. “I got a call before from a mutual friend said he kicked your ass again, broke your nose or some shit. Maybe that’s why you sound like a retard. All I know is I want some answers about what the fuck he told me, some of which I already confirmed, which you didn’t tell me the other day when I asked you.”

  “Ott?”

  “Never mind what,” Vento said. “Just get your busted ass down the bar and wait for me there so’s I can see for myself the number this guy did on you again.”

  “E umped me.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “E id.”

  “Yeah? Okay, uck ooo.”

  Nick tried to clench his teeth in anger. Biting down sent a jolt of pain up through his jaw to his head.

  “Uck ee!” he said, then it hurt all over again.

  * * * *

  Stebenow had called the old lady Bridget Malone looked after in the building where she lived with Eddie Vento. He left a message for Bridget to call her uncle at his office. The number Stebenow gave was a pay phone at a diner around the corner from Fast Eddie’s where he was having breakfast. He ate a western omelet, toast, a corn muffin and drank five cups of coffee before he gave up waiting and went to the apartment.

  He used the pay phone to leave Detective Levin an emergency message. Then Stebenow called Bridget’s home phone number. Nobody answered.

  The bar had already been open for business a few hours when Stebenow parked off the near corner. He walked past the front window without looking inside. He walked a dozen or so yards past the bar, then turned and approached the front door alongside the bar entrance.

  There were two floors above the bar, each with two apartments; one at each end of the hallways. Stebenow stood close to the front door while he picked the lock. He walked up the first flight of stairs to the landing and listened before going further. Vento’s apartment faced the street. The door was at the far end of the narrow hallway. Stebenow had no idea whether the wiseguy had spent the night there or not. He removed the Sig-Sauer as he made his way to the apartment Bridget shared with Eddie Vento.

  He knocked on the door and listened for a response.

  Nothing.

  He knocked again, this time a little louder. He waited, heard nothing again, then glanced down the hallway as he slid the handgun into the waist of his pants. He picked the lock, then carefully opened the door. Using the door as a shield, he looked down the apartment hallway. The bathroom door was open at the far end of the hall, but the light was off. He quietly closed the apartment door, took another glance around the apartment from where he stood, but noticed nothing out of order. He raised the gun and stepped into the living room. He scanned the room from one end to the other. Again, nothing seemed out of place.

  Stebenow took careful steps toward the back of the apartment. Halfway between the kitchen and bathroom was a door he assumed led to the bedroom. He looked down and noticed scuff marks on the floor. He raised the Sig-Sauer to chest level with his right hand as he opened the door with his left. The door stopped after no more than a foot. Stebenow called Bridget’s name, but there was no answer.

  He pushed on the door with both hands until it opened enough so he could pass through. He stepped into the bedroom with the gun leveled out ahead as he scanned the room. One of two windows leading to the fire escape was open. Stebenow looked down and saw the tip of a pair of shoes sticking out one end of a rolled-up rug, what had been blocking the door.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he said. “Oh, fuck.”

  Chapter 49

  Holly had returned a few seconds before Louis pulled away.

  “The hell’d you go?” he’d asked her.

  “The bathroom. To check myself. That a problem, Louis?”

  “Get in.”

  He had tried to explain himself, but Holly wouldn’t hear it. She claimed her brother had once had crabs and that he too had had to shave his testicles and that she recognized the cream as well because it looked exactly like the one her brother had used. She hated him, she told him later, for letting her go to bed with him, and when he asked her why the hell had she insisted they do it, especially if she was so damn sure he had crabs and not just some rash, Holly had said because she was leaving it up to him to be honorable and not lie to her again.

  Louis had told her she was certifiable.

  “And what’re you?” she’d said.

  “I’m just a guy trying to make a living,” he’d told her.

  “You’re a thief is what you are,” she’d said.

  They were close to the city when she decided she wanted to chat or break his balls, he still wa
sn’t sure which. She had turned on the seat so her back was flush against the door. He imagined the door opening and her falling out.

  “So, you were fucking Nancy and me at the same time, but neither of us have crabs so who’d you get them from?” she asked.

  “Neither of you,” Louis said.

  “Obviously. So, who?”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “I’d like to know.”

  “Some broad in the park.”

  “What park?”

  “Washington Square.”

  Holly’s face turned red. “Near the dorm?”

  “Yeah, the night you dumped me for Professor pervert.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Get over yourself, honey.”

  “I can’t believe it. You fucked some slut at the park and got crabs and then gave them to me?”

  “From the park, not at the park. And you’re the one insisted we fuck. I tried not to. You get crabs, although I doubt you will, they’re probably all dead already, but if you do, it’s your own fault.”

  “I can’t believe you, Louis. You’re insane.”

  “For taking you along, yeah, I must be.”

  “I guess the money isn’t going to a woman’s organization.”

  “Not unless you have a gun.”

  “You are a thief. You really are.”

  “Oh, stop it. You enjoyed what we did. You said so yourself.”

  “Because I thought it was for a cause.”

  “And now that you know it wasn’t, that makes it less exciting? I believe that’s the word you used.”

  “It’s wrong. Stealing is wrong.”

  “Even though we’re driving around with thirteen different copies of Deep Throat? Thirteen copies that’ll never be played again, I might add. What about that?”

  “You’re full of it, Louis. You’ll probably sell those to somebody else. You’re a thief and that’s what thieves do with stolen property, they sell it.”

  “You can still help me with the car,” he said. “I’ll pay you for that. Up front if you want.”

  “No thanks.”

  “I said up front. Two hundred.”

  “You have close to fourteen thousand dollars in that bag and you want to pay me two hundred? How much will you make off the car, another ten thousand?”

  “I wish.”

  “I hope you get robbed for a change.”

  “Is that nice?”

  “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit.”

  Louis sighed.

  “So, what happens now?” she asked. “You have to get back to Nancy and make sure she doesn’t tell on you, right?”

  “Don’t strain yourself, kiddo.”

  “I better not have crabs, Louis.”

  This time he laughed.

  “I mean it,” Holly said.

  “I’m sure you do,” Louis said.

  * * * *

  Eddie Vento had been rushed after the call from Eugene this morning. After learning Kelly had found where John Albano’s mother lived and that Albano’s kid was with her, Vento discovered a tape recorder under the couch and had to deal with that. He’d called Tommy Burns to see if the kid was available to dispose of the body, but the young Irishman hadn’t answered. Vento was forced to delegate the removal of Bridget’s body to his own people later in the day. He spent the rest of the morning preparing it.

  It was early afternoon when Vento drove himself to the address Kelly had provided. To avoid being spotted, he left his Cadillac parked in front of the bar and used his wife’s Buick Riviera. Instead of his usual neat attire, Vento wore cutoff shorts, a black T-shirt, and a navy blue Yankees baseball cap.

  The address was in the middle of the block. Vento drove two blocks past it before making a U-turn, then drove back toward the house, turned right at the near adjacent corner and parked. He turned his sun visor down and took note of the cars already on the street. Vento paid particular attention to a UPS van parked at the curb on the next block.

  He smoked some of his cigar and was about to relight it when the UPS van pulled away. Vento checked the time. He was expecting Kelly within the hour. If Albano didn’t show shortly thereafter, he would send a few of his men to watch the house. Once Albano’s mother saw what was going on, chances were she’d offer to pay the money her son was responsible for losing, whether he was guilty of stealing it or not.

  Vento was still wondering about Albano and whether or not he was stupid enough to rob mob money when a white car passed the Riviera and pulled into a driveway about mid-block. A few seconds later John Albano got out of the car along with a blonde. Vento sat up straight.

  * * * *

  “He thinks I’m following you,” said Brice when he got inside the van. “He wants to make sure you’re really sick this time.”

  Levin had stopped to pick up Brice alongside a fire hydrant on McGinnis Boulevard after Brice had dropped Kelly off at a gas station three lights further up the street. Brice had circled the block to park the Mustang where Levin could spot it.

  “How’d he act?” Levin asked.

  “Like his usual charming self. What’s going on?”

  Levin pointed up ahead where Kelly was pulling out of the gas station in a brown Chevrolet Impala. He kept a safe distance behind Kelly, then moved up when the Impala turned off the exit for the Long Island Expressway.

  “He heading back?” Brice asked.

  “Definitely,” Levin said.

  It was all that was said for the next twenty minutes while they followed the Impala onto Woodhaven Boulevard heading south. Confident he knew where Kelly was heading, Levin let the Impala gain some distance.

  “Something’s going down, right?” Brice said. “You could at least give me the option I want to be here or not.”

  “What time is it?” Levin said.

  “Two-ten,” Brice said.

  “Shit. I need to make a call.”

  The Impala turned right onto North Conduit Boulevard. Levin fed the engine gas to catch up.

  “Now what?” Brice said.

  “This is about Albano.”

  “Johnny Porno? What about him?”

  Levin followed the Impala a few blocks before it turned right at 84th Street. Kelly parked in the first open space.

  “I have to make that call,” Levin said. “I passed a phone booth about a block back the other way.”

  Kelly was out of the Impala and walking. Levin drove passed 84th Street and turned.

  “I’m gonna pull over,” he said. “You wait here.”

  * * * *

  Melinda poured the coffee at Marie Albano’s kitchen table while mother and son continued to argue about the money John insisted he wouldn’t let his mother pay.

  “I didn’t steal it, I’m not paying it,” he told his mother. “Neither are you. Or her.”

  Marie Albano looked up at Melinda.

  “She offered, too,” John said, “and I told her the same thing. I know the guy stole it. He can pay it. I’m not letting either one of you get robbed because of him.”

  Melinda had finished pouring the coffee. She sat across from John. His mother was at one end of the table. Little Jack was in her room watching television.

  “I appreciate what you offered to do for him,” Marie told Melinda. “But this is a family matter. I’ll pay.”

  “What am I, a mirage?” John said.

  “No, but you’re thick,” Marie said. She looked at Melinda then motioned at John with a hand. “Stubborn like his father.”

  “I’m getting the stubborn part,” Melinda said.

  John ran his right hand through his hair. “Look, neither of you understand how these guys operate,” he said. “They sense weakness and they go for the jugular. Pay them once and they’ll come back for more. They know they have a soft touch, they won’t forget it. And, if we pay them, the guy robbed it gets away with it, which is not gonna happen.”

  “And what else are we supposed to do, wait for you to get jumped
again?” Marie said. “What, you didn’t think I noticed that on your head? I won’t bother asking how it happened.”

  “Weren’t you supposed to take off with Jack?” John said.

  “Yes, and we were until all this happened. I was going to Pennsylvania. Then there were the calls and that cop showed up and now I’d just rather pay them and get it over with.”

  John looked to Melinda.

  “You can’t even go home,” Marie said, then turned on her chair when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” John said.

  “Who is it?” his mother yelled.

  John was already up from the table to answer it.

  * * * *

  Billy spotted the white Valiant parked in the driveway and pulled to the curb. He checked his rearview and side mirrors and saw there was a van parked off the far corner with two men sitting up front. He wondered if they were surveillance.

  He could wait for Albano to come back out or go and knock on the door. Billy wouldn’t kill Albano’s mother or his son, but the girlfriend was another story; somebody had to make up for Kathleen.

  He was about to get out of the car when he saw two men approach Albano’s mother’s front door. Billy slid the Walther out from under the front seat and set it on the passenger seat. He covered it with a two-day-old Daily News.

  * * * *

  “Yeah?” said John to the two men standing on the stoop outside his mother’s front door.

  “You John?” the taller of the two asked.

  “Who’re you?” John said. He was guessing Eddie Vento had sent them and didn’t see the point in being polite.

  “Eddie sent us,” the shorter man said.

  “Come out and talk a minute?” the tall one said.

  “No,” John said.

  “You want us to take you out?”

  “Won’t look good in front of whoever else’s in there,” the short one said. “Why don’t you come out, take a walk with us.”

  “Who is it?” Marie Albano asked. “I’ll call the cops.”