“Maria and her sister, Isabella, immigrated to the United States after their parents passed away. Both became naturalized citizens. After Isabella was raped and murdered, Maria went to work for Cosmo. She has been with him for twenty years, cleaning, cooking and taking care of the old guy. Hence, the generous inheritance.”
“That’s terrible about Isabella. Must have been tough on Maria.”
“It was. Maria vowed it would never happen to her. Did I tell you how we first met?”
Kevin shook his head.
“Maggie and I were in Cosmo’s office. I heard somebody say, ‘Who are you and what are you doing?’ It was Maria and she had the drop on us with a .32. I think the lady can take care of herself.”
“Did they ever catch the guy who assaulted her sister?”
“Nope. Never did.”
An hour later, we were munching on our sandwiches when Kevin pointed. “Isn’t that a flashlight in the back yard?”
“Sure looks like it,” I replied, wrapping up the last half of my sandwich. “Someone must have come from the next block. Let’s go!”
We were just crossing the street when we heard glass break. A moment later, there was a single shot.
“Crap! We’re too late,” I muttered.
We sprinted into the back yard hoping to cut off the assailant before he made his escape. We had just reached the back step when the porch light came on. “Not another step, assholes!” It was Maria, and her .32.
We both raised our hands. “Maria! Don’t shoot! It’s me, Walt!”
She squinted into the darkness. “Mr. Williams! What are you doing here, and who’s with you?”
“This is my partner, Kevin. I was worried about you, so we’ve been watching your house from across the street. We saw the flashlight and came running.”
“Well, you’re too late,” she said, stepping aside. “Come on in.”
We followed her into the kitchen and found a body bleeding out on the tile floor. The man was wearing a ski mask, and a 9mm was next to the body.
“Nice work!” Kevin said. “Looks like you were expecting trouble.”
She nodded. “The minute I heard Angelo ask what would happen to my money if something happened to me, I figured I’d better be ready. Looks like I was right. Let’s get a look at this creep’s face.”
“No!” I replied. “Don’t touch a thing. I’ll call 911. The cops need to see the scene exactly as it is now. An armed intruder wearing a ski mask. An obvious case of self-defense.”
I called, and fifteen minutes later, a detective I knew from my days on the force arrived, along with the medical examiner and the CSI team.
“Well, well,” he replied, seeing the two of us, “the Bobbsey Twins. Which one of you whacked this guy?”
“It was me,” Maria said. “He broke in and I shot him dead.”
The detective was confused. “Then what are you two doing here?”
“Long story,” I replied.
After hearing my account of the meeting at Lou Gallo’s office, the detective thought for a moment. “So you think one of the grandkids sent this schmuck to kill Maria before she received her share?”
“If not,” I replied, “it’s quite a coincidence that someone would break in just hours after that meeting, and I really don’t believe in coincidence.”
After the CSI guy shot photos, the detective reached down and removed the ski mask. “Do any of you recognize him?”
We all shook our heads.
“Too bad. We’ll certainly explore your theory, but since the perp is dead, we may not be able to connect him to one of Sabatini’s grandkids.”
I knew he was probably right, but I was 99% sure one of them had sent the guy. Knowing they were capable of murder, it was going to make my job as successor trustee even more difficult.
CHAPTER 6
The first thing on my agenda the next day was to go to the bank, cash in Cosmo’s CD’s, and draw a cashier’s check to Maria for fifty thousand.
Once she had the money in hand, there would be no reason to kill her, except maybe for spite.
Armed with the stack of CD’s, I headed to the bank. I had just turned onto the Southwest Trafficway when I noticed a heavy-duty pick-up truck right on my rear bumper. The thing was so big, all I could see in my rear-view mirror was the massive bumper and grill.
For about a mile, the Trafficway is suspended over the Union Station railyard about a hundred feet in the air. I was about a quarter of a mile into it when the pick-up accelerated, came along side, and swerved into my driver’s side door.
The impact drove me into the concrete barriers that lined the Trafficway to keep motorists from plunging into the tracks below. I felt the passenger side of my car crash against the barriers, and heard the crumpling of metal. One more push by the pick-up would most likely send me through the barrier.
I slammed on my brakes just as the truck swerved again. This time, due to my sudden stop, the truck just grazed my front end. My front bumper caught on the concrete and spun the car 180 degrees. The car came to a stop, and I found myself pointed the wrong way and staring at the oncoming traffic.
To my horror, I saw a big semi approaching in my lane. I closed my eyes and waited for the impact. I heard tires squeal on asphalt as the driver locked his brakes. The big rig came to a stop maybe ten feet from my mangled car.
I let out a big sigh of relief and checked the crotch of my pants. If I hadn’t made a potty stop just before I left, I have no doubt there would have been a dark stain.
With shaking hands, I dialed 911, and then Kevin.
A half hour later, we watched as my car was loaded onto the back of a tow truck. It was a total loss. I decided I wasn’t even going to report the accident to my insurance company. I was going to buy a replacement from Cosmo’s bank account. I had no doubt that one of his heirs had sent someone to take me out before I could pay Maria. The joke was on them. The cost of the car would come out of the money that would be coming to them.
After filling out an accident report with the cops, I got in Kevin’s car and we headed to the bank.
On the way, he noticed my hands shaking. “Hey, partner, are you okay? We can do this another time.”
“No, I want to get the money to Maria before something else happens to one of us. I guess I’m not quite over the close call. When I saw that semi coming, I thought I was a goner.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet that made your hiney pucker.”
Kevin can be such a comfort.
After cashing in the CD’s, depositing the money in Cosmo’s account, and drawing the check, I called Maria and we headed to her house.
She just sat there, stunned, looking at the check. A tear ran down her cheek. “Mr. Sabatini was a good man. I will miss him so much.”
“Do you have any immediate plans?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Not really. I’ll try to find another job. This money will get me by for a while, but it won’t last forever.”
“I have a proposition for you,” I said. “Maggie and I have to go through the entire house. We’ll have to decide what things we can sell and what things will be donated to charity. Then, we’ll either have an estate sale or an auction. When everything is gone, the house will have to be thoroughly cleaned before Maggie lists it for sale.
“You know the house and what’s in it better than anyone. I’d like to hire you to help us with all of that. If you’re interested, would fifteen dollars an hour be acceptable to you?”
Her eyes grew wide. “Yes! I would love to help you. When do we start?”
“How about tomorrow? That will give you today to get that check in the bank.”
“You sly dog,” Kevin said as we were driving home. “Fifteen dollars an hour to Maria coming out of the grandkid’s portion of the proceeds. That ought to piss them off royally.”
“Gee,” I replied, grinning. “I never thought of that.”
After arriving at home, my first call was to Angelo Sabatini. I had received a
call from the detective who had gotten the call to Maria’s house. He told me that the unfortunate perp who had fallen victim to Maria’s .32 was a loser by the name of Lorenzo Mancuso. He had a long rap sheet and had spent most of his life in and out of prison. I wanted to make Angelo sweat a bit.
“Angelo. Walt Williams here.”
“Yeah, whadda you want?”
“I was just calling to see if you’ve found a job yet.”
“Jesus! Give me a break. It’s only been one day. I’m looking.”
“I’ll bet you are. The other reason I’m calling, is to tell you that I had a little fender-bender this morning, but I still made it to the bank to get a check for Maria. She was thrilled.”
“I’m happy for her.”
“Also, I wanted you to know that Lorenzo Mancuso tried to break into Maria’s house last night. She shot him dead.”
A long pause. “Why should I care about that?”
“I thought Lorenzo might have been a friend of yours.”
“Oh really? Because he has an Italian name? Isn’t that racial profiling?”
“Probably. Was he a friend of yours?”
“Never heard of him,” he said, and the line went dead.
CHAPTER 7
The next day, Maggie, Maria, and I met at the Victorian mansion on Benton Boulevard.
After talking it over, we decided to go through all of Cosmo’s personal belongings first. We would decide which items we could sell, and which would be donated to charity. Once the personal items were removed, we would deal with the large items of furniture.
I had sent my maintenance man, Willie, to the local supermarket to pick up empty boxes.
We started with Cosmo’s closet. While all of his things were in excellent condition, they were twenty years out of style. It reminded me of my own closet.
I have to admit, I’ve never paid any attention to current trends in clothing. As long as the garment still fit and wasn’t full of holes, it was perfectly wearable. Now I realize that I should also keep the ones with holes and I’d be right in style.
I also have articles of clothing that I keep because they remind me of special times in my life. I actually have a bright red sport coat that I wore to a school dance sixty years ago. Maggie would never let me wear it, but somehow, I just can’t let it go.
Looking at Cosmo’s closet, it was obvious we had a lot in common.
As we pulled the items off hangers, folded them, and placed them in one of the cardboard boxes, I was saddened by the thought that these garments which meant so much to Cosmo, would soon be hanging on a sale rack at the Salvation Army store for fifty cents or a dollar. Some stranger would soon be wearing them without a clue how much they had meant in an old man’s life.
On the closet floor, I found a pair of black and white wingtip shoes.
I have a pair just like them that I wear when Maggie and I go dancing. Cosmo’s wife, Catherine, had been dead for ten years. I’d be willing to bet Cosmo hadn’t worn the shoes since then, but just couldn’t let them go. Too many memories.
When we got to the socks and underwear, I let the girls take over while I started going through one of the dressers.
I pulled out the bottom drawer and when I saw what was there, I choked back a tear. It was Cosmo’s memento drawer. The whole thing was full of --- stuff. Stuff that would mean nothing to anyone but Cosmo. I have a drawer just like it.
I picked through it and pulled out a few items.
There were a few foreign coins and a letter opener from Mexico, probably items saved from vacations. There was an Eagle Scout badge. I wondered if Cosmo himself had earned it, or did it belong to his son. There was an old knob that people used to mount on their steering wheels. It could have been one that Cosmo used on his first car. Nobody uses them now because they’re dangerous.
There was a salt shaker filled with pennies. Why would someone put pennies in a salt shaker? Only Cosmo would know for sure.
Nothing in the drawer had any value except for the pennies and a two-dollar bill, but all of it was important enough for Cosmo to keep it tucked away in his memento drawer for decades.
Now, it would be dumped in a box and some stranger would buy it for a few bucks, never knowing the precious memories they represented.
After the girls removed the last piece of clothing from the closet, I noticed a small suitcase tucked away in the back corner.
I carefully opened it and to my surprise, found it full of baseball cards bound with rubber bands and stacked neatly according to teams.
Like Yogi Berra said, it was déjà vu all over again.
When I was a kid, I had a fantastic baseball card collection. As soon as I was old enough to push a lawn mower, I made a few bucks by mowing neighbor’s lawns. As soon as the money hit my hand, I was off to Mrs. Flood’s candy store to buy packs of Topps Baseball cards. Five cards and a wad of gum for a dime.
I had all of the old-timers, Stan Musial, Yogi Berra, and Micky Mantle. During the 50’s, the Kansas City A’s were still in town. Rodeo hot dogs put a baseball card in every pack of weenies. My parents ate dozens of hot dogs so I could get cards on Gus Zernial, Vic Power and Bobby Schantz. A highlight of my young life was getting a duplicate of a star player to trade for someone I didn’t have.
I have few regrets in life, but one of them involves my baseball cards. When I graduated from high school in 1961, and prepared to go off to college, I figured I was too old and too cool to mess with baseball cards, so I gave the whole collection to the kid who lived next door.
Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! I wish I had those cards today. They’d be worth a small fortune.
I thumbed through Cosmo’s cards and discovered his collection was much like my old one.
He had Stan Musial and Micky Mantle.
Then, to my delight, I discovered he had some of the old Rodeo cards. Enos Slaughter and my personal hero, Gus Zernial, who hit 30 homers one year.
After sifting through the cards, I realized there was a small fortune in that old suitcase. Maggie had brought her laptop. I fired it up and looked up what similar cards were selling for on the Internet. Stan Musial was going for $175.00 and Micky was listed for $200.00. I figured the whole collection should be worth several thousand. I couldn’t wait to take the collection to a sports memorabilia store to be appraised.
While the girls were still busy emptying the several upstairs closets, I ventured into the basement.
Once again, it was like returning to my own childhood.
In one corner, there was an old Schwinn bike. My first bike was a Schwinn.
In another corner was a Radio Flyer wagon. As a kid I pulled all kinds of stuff around in my wagon, including a dead owl I found along the road. My mother was understandably horrified.
Standing against a wall was an old Flexible Flyer sled. It reminded me of many snowy days when my friends and I slid down the hill next to our school.
Realizing the age of these vintage items, I looked them up on the Internet. The bike, a 1959 model, was worth over $400.00. The sled, from the 1940’s, $300.00, and the wagon, $150.00. Almost a thousand bucks in just those three items from Cosmo’s past.
In a far corner of the basement, I spotted a stack of boxes. That was no big surprise given the fact that Cosmo was an accountant.
The surprise came when I opened one of the boxes and discovered that it was filled with the tax returns of Carmine Marchetti.
I remembered Carmine telling me that Cosmo was his bookkeeper for fifteen years, but retired when he turned eighty. That was ten years ago. Looking through the boxes, I found five years of Carmine’s returns from 2005 through 2009.
For each year, there were two sets of books. One set contained the information that was sent to the IRS. The other set contained the actual income and expenses from all of Carmine’s illegal ventures. One set for income tax, one set to let the Don know the profitability of his empire.
After realizing what I had just found, I sat there for a moment, stunned. Th
e police had been after Carmine for years without success. Contained in those dusty cardboard boxes in the dark corner of the basement was the evidence that could put Carmine Marchetti in prison for the rest of his life.
It would be much like what happened to Al Capone. The cops could never nail the Chicago mobster for the many despicable things he had done, but he was finally sent to prison for income tax evasion.
I had no doubt that Carmine was unaware of the existence of this damning evidence. He was too careful to let something like this fall into the wrong hands.
I suspected that old Cosmo had kept the returns as an insurance policy. One can never be too careful when working for the mafia.
I sat there for the longest time, trying to decide what to do with what I had just found. After thinking it through, I realized that I had three choices.
The first choice would be to simply destroy everything. Take it to the city dump and pretend it never existed.
The second choice was to turn everything over to the Organized Crime Task Force. That would be the death knell for Carmine, and very possibly for me and the ones I love when Carmine found out. I had seen Carmine dispose of his own brother for betraying him.
The third choice was to give the boxes to Carmine. Let him know what I had found, what they could do to him, and that I chose to give them to him. The Don would owe me, big time.
It was like the cartoon where a guy has an angel on his shoulder whispering in one ear, and a devil on the other shoulder whispering in the other ear.
Five years ago, when I was working exclusively for the Lady Justice in the white flowing robe, there would have been a clear choice --- turn the evidence over to the cops and take my chances.
[Lady Justice 37] - Lady Justice and the Living Trust Page 3
