by Wayne Block
The salads came and the men ate in silence. The main course quickly followed and little else was said during the meal. Steven began to feel tired. He ordered a double espresso to give him a jolt.
“May I ask you a question?” Charlie asked, as he sipped his coffee.
“Fire away.”
“Why are you pursuing him?”
“Because I have nothing left and nothing to lose.”
Charlie pondered Steven’s answer. “Isn’t there another way? You’re young, with the rest of your life ahead of you. You will be able to rebuild your life. Trust me, I know.”
Steven swallowed hard, fighting back his emotions. “No, I can’t, and no, I won’t. She was my life.”
Charlie looked down at the table. “Is there anything I can do to dissuade you from this Herculean endeavor?”
“No. Just help me on my way. It shouldn’t weigh on your conscience.”
“What about your mother?” Charlie asked.
“What about my mother?” Steven asked, defensively. “Are you going to tell me you know her, too?”
“I don’t know your mother. Is she still alive?”
“Yes,” Steven replied.
“Do you have sisters or brothers?”
“Yes.”
“Your family and friends don’t need to see you dead. You need to think of others before yourself. That’s what ruined my life. I thought only of myself. I fulfilled my immediate needs and I threw away everything. Go home and be a son, a brother, and a friend even if you can’t be a husband or father.”
Both men sat in silence until the waiter brought the check, which Steven grabbed and insisted on paying.
“Thank you for dinner, Steven, but you were supposed to be my guest.”
“No. Thank you,” Steven said, as he counted out the bills to cover the tip. “Thanks for the advice. I appreciate it. I know it was heartfelt.”
Charlie looked at Steven sadly. “I must confess that I’ve been straddling the fence. I hadn’t decided whether I was going to help you. Most of what I have told you is not going to help. You’re going to have to see Billy Veeksburn, a retired casino manager and part-time investigator living in a trailer park on the outskirts of Vegas. Billy was an errand boy for some of the families. He made a ton of money skimming from the casinos and running drugs, and like me, lost everything. He’s a total screw-up. But he’s important to you because he also worked with the Scorpion. It was a hit on a politician who was trying to make a name for himself by putting pressure on casinos and investigating a few of their managers.”
“And,” Steven said, motioning with his hand to hasten Charlie towards the relevant point.
“Billy delivered $250,000 in cash to a hotel locker, no questions asked,” Charlie continued. “This politician, a self-proclaimed religious family man with three young children, also had a penchant for a certain prostitute at a local brothel. Her name was Stella Blue, after that Grateful Dead song, because she had the most gorgeous ice-blue eyes.” Charlie smiled, a far-away look in his eyes, as if he could reach out and touch the memory. He blinked his eyes and refocused on Steven. “Anyway, the hit was quick and clean. They were found in bed together. Each had been shot once in the head. Some of the victim’s colleagues, including the police chief, thought it best if the real circumstances surrounding the murders weren’t publicized. The chief made arrangements for a local pimp to be arrested. The pimp was eventually tried and acquitted, then simply disappeared. I believe he found a permanent home in one of the many holes dug in the desert. Afterwards, it was business as usual in the casinos.”
“Is this some fish tale passed down about Mr. Veeksburn, or do you know this firsthand?”
“I was there Steven,” Charlie replied. “I was involved in the damage control and I saw the carnage. What I didn’t know was that the killer was the same guy I was going to hire for my first brokered transaction.”
“Tell me about Billy.”
“A few years later, one of the families in Vegas was having problems with a lieutenant in the police department. He was the Vegas version of ‘Serpico’. Billy was anxious to impress the local big shots and facilitated the hiring of the Scorpion. Billy delivered $500,000 in cash and coordinated all of the Scorpion’s arrangements. The only requirement, as always, was that nobody was to see him. Curiosity got the better of Billy. Instead of leaving as instructed after he had made a getaway car available, Billy waited in the shadows for a look at the assassin, which he got.”
Steven was practically on the edge of his seat. “Go on Charlie, what happened?”
Charlie shrugged his shoulders and let out a long sigh. “Sorry Steven, that’s all I know. You’re going to have to ask Billy. I’ll tell him you’re coming. ”
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Steven was awakened by the telephone, momentarily forgetting he was in bed at a hotel. He glanced at his watch. It was three thirty. “Hello,” he said, yawning as he spoke.
“Hello Steven, it’s Charlie. Sorry to wake you.”
“What’s up?”
“There’s something I didn’t tell you about the Scorpion. The Scorpion is a perfectionist, a master of disguise ...”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Steven interrupted, “and I’m crazy to be doing this! I have no chance. It’s suicide. This guy can’t be found, let alone killed!”
“I think you can find him,” Charlie said. “He has a character flaw and an actual weakness.”
Steven’s heart raced. It was the first glimmer of hope in his quest to find this killer.
“His weakness is his loneliness and his need for human discourse.”
“Could you repeat that in English?”
“I had many conversations with him that needn’t have taken place. As we worked together more often, the conversations became longer and he revealed more of himself. He told me that he liked me and thought I was intelligent. I’m no psychiatrist, but I believe he is a deeply conflicted man.”
“Why in God’s name is this important?”
“He’s a loner by profession, but doesn’t like solitude. He seeks intelligent conversation. He looks for people who will listen to him, maybe even understand him. While he painstakingly endeavors to protect his physical identity, he is equally careless in his conversations. He lets down his guard while speaking. This is a serious flaw which may lead you to him.”
“I’m confused.”
“He can be identified, Steven. Maybe not by his physical appearance, but by his voice and the words he uses. Your eyes may deceive you, but you can rely on your ears to find him.”
Steven breathed deeply into the telephone. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Steven, his voice has never changed. It’s a distinctively deep baritone. He’s articulate, with an impressive vocabulary. You need to listen to people’s voices. You need to rely on your hearing.”
Steven digested the information for a few seconds. “Thank you, Charlie, but that’s very general. It’s not going to help.”
“He uses phrases that are total anachronisms like “jolly old fellow,” “let bygones be bygones,” “days of yore”–nobody talks like that anymore. Not even the Brits. Just listen and pay attention to what’s going on around you.”
“Thanks, Charlie, I appreciate the advice.”
“One more thing, Steven. He’s a man with a great intelligence network. He makes it his business to know everything that is going on around him. I wish you luck.”
“Charlie, why are you telling me this? Aren’t you afraid of him?”
“Yes, Steven, I’m petrified of him.”
Steven hung up the phone frightened, but not of death, for he would gladly accept death’s embrace if he could take the Scorpion with him. He feared failure. He thought about his wife and children and imagined his reunion with them. He closed his eyes and dreamed of an unidentifiable face swirling in the mist. Each time he got close enough to reach out and touch it, it changed into a featureless image. Finally, it disappeared.
> CHAPTER EIGHT
Nick Manzione was in a foul mood as he battled commuters on the Belt Parkway. He weaved through traffic, trying to make up for lost time on his way to Kennedy Airport. Nick hated airports, especially Kennedy. It was too congested, flights were always late, and there were entirely too many cops. To make matters worse, he had to meet an international flight from Italy, so he might encounter a customs agent. Nick was a celebrity in the United States Customs database.
Nick leaned on the horn as he verbally assaulted a cabbie who had cut him off exiting the parkway. The driver quickly saluted him with his middle finger, further fueling Nick’s rage. He would have tailed the taxi and chased him through a few neighborhoods, but Alberto had admonished him to be punctual for his special visitor.
Nick got lucky and found a parking space near the terminal. He jockeyed through the crowds and made it to the Alitalia counter only ten minutes late. A young lady smiled at him from behind the counter.
“May I help you, sir?”
“You certainly may,” he replied, smiling back at her. “I’m checking on the status of flight 4717 from Milan.”
The young woman typed on her keyboard. “Hmmm, I see it was delayed out of London, but it’s in the air and scheduled to arrive in an hour.”
Nick nodded in appreciation and made his way toward the Admiral’s Club. Who the heck is this prima donna from San Remo who simply had to make her first pilgrimage to New York, now, at the worst possible time? He knew nothing about her except that she was a distant relative of someone in the family, and he had the good fortune of being her personal tour guide for the duration of her stay. Thanks to this bitch, he was missing an incredible weekend with his buddies at the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City. They were going to be joined by some very special ladies flying in from Costa Rica. Yes, Nick Manzione was indeed in a foul mood.
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Detective Johnston sat at his desk polishing off the last of two hot dogs piled high with mustard and sauerkraut. He licked the spicy brown mustard from the fingertips on his left hand while rummaging through papers with his right. He had been unsuccessfully trying to reach Steven for the last twenty-four hours and decided to check the airports. Sure enough, he found Steven’s flight to Chicago. Steven had used his own name. He reached for his Rolodex for the phone number of his oldest friend, Marty Watts, a lieutenant from the south side of Chicago. He dialed the number.
A deep voice gruffly answered, “Watts here.”
“What’s here? I give up, but while we’re at it, who’s on first?” Detective Johnston joked.
“Ah, geez, Mike, you really need new material. How the hell are you?”
“I’m good. How are Dolores and the boys?”
“Can’t complain. The boys are eating me out of house and home and all they want is to borrow the car and cruise for girls. I tell you Mike, these girls have got my boys’ heads all screwed up! Right now, I’m just hoping they make it through their senior year.”
“Don’t sweat it Marty. They’re great kids. Let them enjoy their last year. You remember how it was for us? We had the same problem!”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. So what’s up? I know you didn’t call just to say hello!”
The detective smiled to himself. He loved the brutal honesty shared among his fellow officers. No hurt feelings and no bruised egos. No need to beg forgiveness when you haven’t called in ages. Just get to the point.
“I need a favor Marty. Did you read about the multiple homicides in the Hamptons?”
“It was all over the national news!”
“Steven Capresi, the guy whose wife and kids were killed, skipped town and took a flight to the Windy City. I was wondering if you could see where he’s staying.”
“Is he a suspect?”
“He’s either the most tragic figure I’ve ever met or he’s a cold-blooded killer and Oscar-eligible liar.”
“Sounds like a very talented guy,” Marty joked.
Detective Johnston laughed. “Yeah, I know I sound like an idiot. I haven’t got a handle on him. I like the guy, but I’ve also got a weird feeling.”
“You think he killed his own family?”
“I’m certain he didn’t pull the trigger. I’m more concerned whether he set it up.”
“You think he’s a total psycho?”
“I don’t think so. He seems normal.”
“So did Ted Bundy!” Marty retorted.
“I think he might do something stupid. He’s a typical hot-headed Italian. You know the type.”
“Not like us level-headed Irishmen,” Marty joked.
“I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt. If he wasn’t involved, I suspect he’s looking for whoever actually was. That’s why I want to dog him.”
“Fair enough. I’ll check into it and call you back.”
Detective Johnston hung up satisfied. By evening he’d have a bead on Capresi, and then he would chew Steven’s ass for not checking in.
-------------------
Nick watched the planes taxi to and from the gates, bored senseless. Nick had just finished his second margarita when he heard the announcement for the arrival of “the princess’s” flight. He glanced at his watch. Damn, he thought, ninety minutes late!
Nick paid the bill and hurried across the terminal to the customs waiting area. It was crammed with people awaiting arriving flights. Nick scanned the crowd, making sure there wasn’t anyone around he needed to avoid. He smirked as he perused the sea of limousine drivers in shabby black suits and caps. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and removed a plain white paper, which he slowly unfolded. In large capital letters, handwritten in black magic marker was the name “Giovanna.” As passengers made their way into the terminal, Nick rolled his eyes and grudgingly held up the sign as far away from his body as possible, casually looking in the opposite direction.
One by one, the limousine drivers disappeared with their passengers. Nick looked around at the handful of people still waiting and glanced at his watch. The crowd was rapidly thinning. He had the unpleasant feeling he often got when waiting for his luggage as the carousel became empty. He approached a young man walking past.
“Hey buddy,” Nick said. “Were you on the flight from Milan?”
“Yes,” he replied, not slowing his pace toward the exit.
Nick yelled after him. “Were you the last one on the plane?”
The man awkwardly turned around as he continued back-peddling. “There might be a few stragglers. I was in the back.”
Nick frowned. What if she didn’t make the flight? I screw up my whole weekend and she misses the flight!
He sat down and reached for his cell phone, bracing for an earful from Alberto. How the hell could you lose her? He wasn’t in the mood to be lectured. Nick took a final peak down the hallway and something caught his eye. He noticed a solitary figure making her way toward him. It was a young woman who seemed disoriented. She was looking in every direction, which made it difficult to see her face. As she approached, she turned toward Nick. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and he felt his pulse quicken. She was standing a few feet in front of him. She glanced at the sign he had placed on the chair and then at Nick.
“Are you Nicholas?”
Nick sprang off his chair and stood at attention. He extended his hand to the stunningly beautiful woman. “Yes, but I would prefer if you called me Nick,” he said, as charmingly as possible.
She returned the smile, which made him melt. “And I am Giovanna, but please call me Gia.”
They both smiled at each other as their eyes met and held.
“I’m very sorry for my lateness. I must have walked right past you, but I had to use the ladies room.” She smiled again. “Our flight was delayed. I hope you weren’t waiting long. ”
Nick’s heart skipped a beat. “I called ahead. In fact, I just got here fifteen minutes ago.” He studied her perfect face. She had peaches and cream skin, with just the right amount of oliv
e coloring in her complexion. Killer green eyes, he thought, and the body is awesome! She was both magnificent and well-mannered, not the type of woman Nick was accustomed to. He impulsively glanced at her ring finger and then quickly averted his eyes without being too obvious.
Gia grinned. “I’m not married.”
Nick blushed. Smart too, he thought. Caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. Good thing I wasn’t staring at her tits! He changed the subject and averted his eyes, which were unconsciously focusing on her breasts.
“You speak English very well.”
“I’ve studied for many years.”
Nick loved how her Italian accent made English seem like a sexy new language. “Do you have any other bags?” he asked.
She pointed to a bag on the floor.
Nick took her bag in his right hand and retrieved her other luggage. He walked back to her, extending the crook of his left elbow and motioning for her to put her arm through his arm.
She smiled and slipped her arm through his. “Grazie.”
“Just think of this as the full service package.”
They walked slowly toward the escalator. “I’m certainly looking forward to seeing what you mean by that,” she said playfully.
Nick laughed as he caught her momentarily staring at him. He was no longer thinking about Costa Rican hookers in Atlantic City.
CHAPTER NINE
Charlie, after collecting his winnings at his weekly poker game on the sixth floor of his building, called it a night. As he waited for the elevator to his fourteenth floor apartment, he wondered whether Steven would meet with Billy Veeksburn. He never learned whether Billy had actually gotten a good look at the Scorpion. All he knew was that after that night, Billy had a lot less of his right ear. Billy maintained his ear had gotten mangled in a car crash, but nobody believed that story.
