Deadly Game

by R. B. Conroy

  Butch’s brow narrowed. Prone to violence, the hard-bitten gangster had always been faithful to his Maria. “Hell no, I don’t!”

  The playboy, Vito, thought everyone was like him, always looking for a good lay. Ferinni’s response stunned him; he realized he had made a horrible misjudgment.

  “Hey Butch, I was just joking. I know how much you love Maria.”

  Butch knew Vito was blowing smoke, but not wanting a confrontation with his important friend, he accepted the apology and went on. “I can always get an untraceable phone if I need to.

  “Okay, you still on line with the same address?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I’ll e-mail you the number I was talking about. Call me at that number after seven.”

  “Okay, Vito. Good talking to you.”

  Maria squirmed in her seat. “What the hell was that all about?”

  Butch didn’t answer.

  “What does Vito want with you? He never calls you.”

  “Ah, Moretti needs a little work done on his house. He wants me to do it.”

  She popped a blue pill in her mouth and washed it down. She looked directly at her husband, her tired eyes pleading, “Vito’s a weasel; I don’t like him.”

  “Oh hell! Vito’s not that bad. Besides, I ain’t making him any promises—even if it is for Ed Moretti.” He waved at the sentry at the front gate to his mansion and then put the gas to the big SUV. It soon disappeared behind the stone walls that surrounded the large enclave.

  Chapter 31

  “Yes Vito, what is it? I’m at work. I told you to never call me at work.”

  “I’m calling about the board meeting today.”

  The line got quiet. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about it?”

  “You know what about it.”

  “Listen, that’s none of your business. I have customers waiting; I have to get going.”

  “You stabbed me in the back, you two-faced whore.”

  “Listen Vito, you’ve called me three times in the past week. Every time you get worried, you call me. I don’t want you to call again.”

  “You promised me.”

  “I did no such thing. I never told you how I would vote.”

  “You led me to believe you would vote against Crane and you know it.”

  “I did no such thing! That was an embarrassing, humiliating day for me, Vito. People are starting to talk. I just want to forget what happened that day and I just want to forget you!”

  Vito grunted, “You have no idea what you did today. You have no idea of the consequences.”

  “I did the right thing. That’s what I did—the right thing.”

  “The hell you did!”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  The phone went dead on the other end. Dismayed, Vito slumped in his chair and stared blankly across his cluttered desk top.

  Chapter 32

  “Hey Gus! Ya up there, Gus?”

  The broken screen door squeaked as it opened at the top of the rickety stairs. A thin man, wearing a sleeve-less t-shirt with an unshaven face, stuck his head out the door. He blinked and then quickly shaded his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Yeah, Ginny?”

  “Made beans and cornbread for supper. Five o’clock, if you’re interested. Better join us—you could use a little meat on those bones.”

  Gus winced; he didn’t like the reference to his thin frame. He was plenty healthy and ate like a horse. He was very seldom sick and was very strong for his size. “Is Pudge gonna be there?”

  “Yes, I wouldn’t invite you if Pudge wasn’t going to be here.”

  “Okay Ginny, see you then. Thank you.” He stood and watched as his benevolent landlady disappeared under the stairs.

  Gus liked living in Michigan City, Indiana on the shores of beautiful Lake Michigan. He found the people in the old factory town to be generous and friendly. Now nearing retirement, he had arrived in the city eleven years ago, broke and with all of his life’s possessions crammed into the trunk of his small car. He had migrated here from Illinois after he found out his ex was having an affair with the local Chief of Police. Angry and shaken, and anxious to put some distance between himself and his adulterous former wife, he filed for divorce and moved to Indiana. Lonely and alone, and looking for a new beginning, he found his way to the lakeside community, just a thirty minute drive from Chicago.

  Shortly after arriving in town, he took a job as dishwasher at the trendy Matey’s Restaurant that was a few blocks from the lake and very near the new Blue Chip Casino. The Blue Chip was the most exciting thing to happen in Michigan City in over a hundred years. On his days off from Matey’s, he would deal a little blackjack at the five dollar table on the glitzy gambling boat. Well liked by the gamblers for his dry wit and friendly demeanor, Gus soon decided to quit his job at Matey’s and became a full-time dealer at the casino.

  “Gussy,” as the customers like to call him, soon found himself dealing to the high rollers at the hundred dollar table, the highest max allowed on the boat. While not getting rich by any means, Gus did well enough, with his tips and a small hourly wage, to pay his three hundred fifty a month rent to Pudge and Ginny, buy a 2004 Honda Civic and make an occasional trip to Des Moines, Iowa to visit his sick daughter, Darcy.

  A few hours later, clean shaven and sporting dark slacks and a nicely pressed white dress shirt, Gus went whistling down the stairs to Pudge and Ginny’s backdoor. He always stood at the door until one of them saw him and invited him in. He felt it too aggressive to knock on the door, even though this event happened at least once a week.

  “Come on in, we won’t bite ya,” an apron-clad Ginny shouted from the steamy kitchen.

  Having received the necessary invitation, Gus carefully pushed the crooked screen door open and stepped inside, just as Ginny’s husband, Pudge, an obese man with a huge protruding belly, came rumbling into the kitchen from the nearby living room. Pudge worked nights at one of the nearby steel mills in Portage and had an appetite nearly as big as his bulbous body.

  “Sit down,” he ordered. “Can’t eat dinner standing up.”

  Ginny slipped off her apron, hurried over and set the beans and cornbread on the table. Soon, they were all seated and after a poor attempt at grace by Pudge, the steamy hot beans and luscious cornbread started moving around the beige, Formica-top table. Pudge’s job at the mills paid very well, but due to three previous marriages and lingering child support payments, the Hoffman’s lived a rather meager lifestyle.

  Pudge’s small, beady eyes shot a hard stare at Gus from beneath his thick brow. “How’s business at the boat?”

  “The action’s been pretty good lately. I think with the slow economy, folks are stickin’ closer to home. The house had a record month last month.”

  Pudge grunted.

  “Thanks for eating early, I appreciate it.” Gus said sincerely. The Hoffman’s normally ate at six o’clock, except when they invited Gus. Gus had to be at the casino at six-thirty, so they ate at five to give him time to eat and then get around for work.

  “You don’t have to say that every time,” Ginny scolded. “We know you appreciate it.”

  Gus smiled warmly.

  Pudge glanced at Gus. “Ya know somethin’ Shorty? We’ve known you eleven years and I still don’t know a darn thing about you. I mean you seem like a nice guy and all, but we know nothing about your past.”

  “My past wasn’t very exciting; it would bore you.” Once again, Gus was irked by the reference to his small stature. There was a time when a man would have felt his rage for such a comment—but not today and not Pudge Hoffman. He had done too many nice things for Gus.

  “You weren’t one of those Italian gangsters or something, were you?” The big man exploded in laughter at his own absurd observation. His big belly hit the table, spilling his coffee all over the white tablecloth.

  Ginny jumped to her feet and glared at her husband, “Apologize to Gus, smart aleck!
He can’t help it he’s small.” Ginny grabbed a dish towel from the nearby counter and quickly soaked up the mess.

  With a mixture of soup beans and cornbread drip-ping from his mouth, Pudge muttered an almost inaudible, “Sorry.”

  Ginny smiled at Gus. “I looked up Clemente on the computer the other day and it means gentle and merciful.”

  “Thanks Ginny and it’s okay. I know Pudge likes me,” Gus winked at the big man.

  Pudge’s eyes softened and a smile slowly appeared at the corner of his mouth and then spread clear across his chubby face. Soon the two men were sharing an impromptu high five across the table, with Pudge’s belly once again bumping the edge, spilling Gus’s coffee this time.

  “I love ya Shorty, I sure do.” Pudge said.

  A beaming Ginny joyously announced, “I baked a cherry pie today. Can you stay for dessert, Gus?”

  “I could never turn down your cherry pie, Ginny.”

  “I really am sorry, Shorty.” a sincere Pudge implored again.

  Gus took a deep breath, “I know you are Pudge, but do me a favor, will ya?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “Don’t call me Shorty.”

  “Oh…okay. Sorry again.”

  “No problem.”

  “How’s your daughter feeling these days, Gus?” the repentant steelworker asked.

  “She’s tired a lot—not much energy.”

  “Why doesn’t she get that heart taken care of?” Ginny offered.

  “She has a rare heart disease. It requires a very delicate operation and will cost about two hundred thousand dollars. She works at a convenience store and they don’t provide insurance.

  “Oh my, that’s a fortune.”

  Tears welled in Gus’s eyes. “Yeah, I know. I wish I could pay for it. I’ve been saving, but I’ve only got about twelve thousand in the bank so far—not near enough.”

  “You poor thing!” Ginny rose from her chair and threw her arms around Gus, hugging him tightly. “I’ve been praying for Darcy every day.”

  “Thank you, Ginny,” Gus said softly.

  “I wish I had two hundred thousand laying around here somewhere. I’d sure give it to you,” Pudge offered.

  Not wanting the conversation about his daughter to dampen the evening, Gus lightened the mood. “Maybe I’ll win the lotto or something.”

  “I buy a Powerball ticket every week. If I win, the money’s yours,” Pudge said quietly.

  “What if it’s ten million?” Gus shot back.

  The room shook from Pudge’s laughter. “Yeah… yeah, it could be ten million, you’re right. Then you get two hundred thousand and I keep the rest!”

  “Fair enough!” They all laughed together. Gus was deeply touched by the generosity and heartfelt concern shown him by his quirky landlords.

  Pleasant conversation filled the room for the remain-der of the evening, with Ginny making five more trips to refill the bean bowl—much to Pudge’s delight. Gus ate three pieces of Ginny’s wonderful pie so as not to make Pudge feel self-conscious about his multiple helpings. Ginny smiled and batted her eyes each time Gus requested another piece of her pie. At six o’clock sharp, Gus excused himself, ran upstairs to put on his red plaid dealer’s vest and got ready to go to work.

  Chapter 33

  Gus loved the atmosphere in the casino. He found the bright lights and noisy slots intoxicating. As he made his way to his blackjack table in the VIP room, located near the back of the boat, he spoke to many of his co-workers along the way. All of them seemed happy to see the immensely likeable Gus. He stopped outside the VIP room at the money cage.

  “Howdy, stranger.”

  “Oh, hi Gus.” A tiny lady in a blue business suit smiled warmly. She had dark hair, blue eyes and a pretty face.

  “How are you, Trudy?’

  “Good, thanks.”

  “Is everything okay? Haven’t seen you for awhile.”

  “I’ve been at my mom’s. She broke her hip and I had to help take care of her for awhile. My sister is taking over now, so I was able to come home.” She shoved a pile of chips across the counter.

  “Thank you,” she said to the customer.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going home? I’ve missed you.”

  Her eyes turned shiny, “You hadn’t called me for some time, so I didn’t think you cared.”

  Gus moved closer to the counter and laid his hand gently on her forearm. “I’m so sorry, Trudy. I went to visit Darcy, I should have told you.”

  Trudy’s lip started to quiver.

  Gus spoke quickly, “How about dinner tomorrow night at the Spa?” he asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

  “Oh…uh I love the Spa.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, she managed a weak smile.

  Gus leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll pick you up at six o’clock sharp.”

  She nodded, fighting back more tears. “Thank you, Gus.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I was worried about Darcy. It won’t happen again.”

  “Same here.” Trudy managed a full smile as a customer approached the cage. “Better go now,” she murmured.

  Gus squeezed her arm and then made the short journey to his cushy gaming room for the night. He spoke briefly to the departing dealer and then carefully lifted two new dealing trays from beneath the table. He pushed the cards tight and started the first deal.

  Gus glanced out of the corner of his eye at a rather thick man who had moved into an open slot at the end of the table.

  “Pay twenty-one!” Gus barked to the dismay of the unhappy gamblers. He carefully drug in the lost bets from the across the broad table.

  “How ya doing, Doc?”

  The greeting stunned the surprised dealer; he hadn’t heard the name Doc for over ten years. He pushed the cards tight in the tray and glanced at the new arrival. “Butch, I can’t believe it’s you.”

  “How are you, Doc?”

  “Fine, Butch. Good to see you.”

  “Vito told me you were dealin’ down here at the Blue Chip—said he ran into you awhile back.”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “You look good!”

  “Thanks, Butch.”

  One of the players cleared his throat. “How about a card, dealer!”

  Butch glared at the man.

  “It’s okay Butch, I better get to work. I get off at midnight.”

  “How about we have a drink then?” Butch suggested.

  Gus hesitated, “Okay, I’ll meet you in the lounge up front at midnight.”

  “See you then.”

  Still angry, a red-faced Butch glared at the gambler as he backed away from the table and entered the main room. Butch found an open craps table and settled in for a few hours of gambling.

  Chapter 34

  Butch waved a swizzle stick at his old friend, signaling him to come join him at a rather isolated table in the corner of the smoky lounge. Gus smiled and hurried across the room to Butch’s table. He shared a vigorous handshake with the aging mobster and fell into the cushy leather chair across from him.

  “Still drinking Scotch?”

  A smiling Gus nodded.

  “A glass of your finest Scotch for my friend here and I’ll have another martini,” Butch said to the just arriving waiter.

  “Yes sir.” The young waiter hustled back to the bar.

  There was a brief, uncomfortable silence as each man sat looking at the other. Gus was wondering why his old friend had shown up so suddenly and seemed so intent upon talking to him. Ferinni broke the silence.

  “How do you like the boat?” Butch’s dark eyes peered toward the outside gaming area.

  “I like it fine, thanks.”

  “Do you live here in Michigan City?”

  “Yeah, I got an apartment in town that’s not too far from here. Sometimes I even walk to work. How about you, Butch? How are you and Maria?”

  “Oh, fine. I’m doing okay and she does a lot of shopping and so for
th. The girl thing, you know.”

  Gus’s smile faded quickly as the waiter arrived with their drinks.

  Butch, sensing the uneasiness of his old friend, leaned back in his chair, drink in hand. “I’ve been worried about you, Gus. You just kind of disappeared.”

  “Well, it was Roxy and that Chief in Elmwood Park, ya know.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that. Bet you felt like blowing him away,” Butch grinned nervously, not sure if Gus would appreciate the blowing him away reference.

  Gus’s face went blank. He stared menacingly at Butch, looking away at the last minute to break the tension. “I was very hurt by Roxy. I just wanted to get away from her and that town, so I packed up and hopped on the first train to Indiana. The train made a stop here. I saw the lake from the depot and decided to get off—been here ever since.”

  “Well…uh, looks like everything is working out okay.”

  “Yeah, I’m happy here.”

  Tired of the small talk, Butch got to the point. “I came here today because our friend, Ed Moretti, is in trouble.”

  Gus had also grown up with Moretti in Elmwood Park and was very proud of him. “Sorry to hear that.”

  Butch leaned forward and laid his forearms on the table. “There are some people trying to bring the President down. They’ve hatched an elaborate scheme to discredit him and his administration. If their plan goes down, his bid for reelection will be finished. And, no one wants that to happen.”

  Gus knew what was coming; he felt dismayed and angry. He stirred his drink hastily. “Hell Butch, why’d you come lookin’ for me? I left that all behind me. Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

  Butch leaned even closer, almost whispering, “You’re the best, Doc. You know that. That’s why I’m here.”

  Memories of his years as a brutal hit man in the Chicago mob came rushing back to him. Known for his vicious, take no prisoners style, Gus, in his heyday, had been sought after by many of the mob bosses on the tough West Side. He was nicknamed “Doc”, because of his resemblance to the slender frontier killer, Doc Holiday. Gus was fearless and a deadly shot, but with mob violence on the wane, and his departure from the Chicago scene some ten years earlier, Gus was certain that his days as a “hit man” were over. That was—until today.