by Lesley Crewe
Miriam reached for the phone. “Hello? Hello?”
“Who’s this? Miriam?”
“Bette?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Oh, praise God!” Miriam smiled at Esther. “It’s Bette.”
Esther shook her hands in prayer.
“Are you all right?” Miriam shouted in her excitement.
“Yes, I’m at the police station.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Is everyone with you?”
“No, only Linda. We’re still waiting to hear about Gemma and Augusta.”
“Oh dear, that’s terrible. But I meant the family.”
“What family?”
“Your family.”
“My family?”
“Yes. Obviously you haven’t hooked up, then.”
Bette rubbed her forehead. “I must be overtired. I don’t understand you.”
“When we heard you were in trouble, the family went to rescue you.”
“Rescue me?”
“Of course. Did you think we’d just leave you there?”
“Who’s we?”
“Everyone. Ida, Izzy…”
“What?”
“All your brothers, Uncle Sid, and your cousins.”
“How did they get here?”
“They drove all night.”
Bette held her hand over the phone. “My entire family is here in New York.”
“I don’t understand,” Linda frowned.
“You don’t understand? Me neither.” She took her hand away. “Miriam, why in the name of God did you let Ida and Izzy loose on the streets of New York?”
“Sorry, Bette, there was no stopping them. They love you. We all do.”
Bette fell into the nearest chair. “I don’t believe this.”
“I’m going to call Mordecai and tell them where you are,” Miriam said. “Give me the address.”
Bette found out what it was and gave it to her, along with the phone number where she could be reached. Miriam then called Mordecai, but the operator kept saying there was no service. “That doesn’t make sense. I know he has that phone on.”
“Maybe they’re not in range,” Esther said.
“Why don’t you see if David’s cellphone works?”
Esther took the phone from Miriam and phoned her husband. He answered.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Whenever the Weinbergs remembered the events of that day, it seemed to all of them as if everything had taken place in slow motion. Only Ida’s wheelchair remained speedy—in fact, she seemed to be everywhere at once. It was as if she had lost control of her powered wheelchair, but it could have been the wonky wheel.
Whatever it was, she covered a lot of ground and was on top of the three Stooges in no time, while everyone else circled around the perimeter.
She whizzed up to them and asked them flat out: “Are you the kidnappers?”
Flea laughed. “Got it in one, lady.”
“You don’t look like kidnappers. You look like losers.”
“I’m starting to get a complex,” Blue shouted. “I’ve never been insulted by so many people in one day.”
“Get used to it. Where’s my daughter?”
“Where’s the money?” Tony asked.
Ida picked up the backpack from her lap. “It’s here, but I’m not handing it over until I see my daughter.”
Flea started to giggle. “You’re a bossy old nag, ain’t ya?”
She glared at him. “Got it in one, loser.”
Flea frowned. “I’m getting tired of you. Hand over the cash and make it snappy.”
“No, not until I see Bette.”
Tony got nervous. “Listen, lady, don’t make this difficult. We’ve got your daughter in the car. Give us the dough and we’ll take you to her.”
“I don’t believe you. Where’s the car?”
“I’ve had enough of this old bitch. Gimme that.” Flea lunged at Ida, obviously forgetting about his bum leg. He went down like a ton of bricks and hit the pavement with a sickening thud. Tony and
Blue couldn’t believe it, so they stood frozen to the spot—along with a small crowd of spectators, a.k.a. Weinbergs. Everyone waited for someone to do something, and they all jumped when Flea reached out and grabbed Ida’s chair.
“Let go of me.” She hit him on the head with the backpack.
He held on with one hand and attempted to wrestle the bag from her with the other. “Gimme that dough, lady.”
“In your dreams.”
Just then David yelled from thirty feet away. “Ma, Bette’s at the police station. Bette’s safe at the police station. Get outta there.”
“Why, you little bastard, trying to steal my money.” Ida put her chair in gear and zoomed away, dragging Flea with her.
Everyone started to run in twenty different directions. There was mass confusion as the Weinbergs shouted and coughed and pursued the speeding wheelchair. But when the gun went off, everyone stopped dead.
“Unless you want me to kill this old bitch right now, everyone back off,” Flea screamed. He trained his gun on Ida’s face from the ground.
“No one come near us, do you hear me?”
Everyone stayed put.
He gradually managed to get into a sitting position. “Throw me that bag, lady.”
“You want I give you the money? Fine. Here’s your money.” She threw it in his face.
He grabbed the bag and then hobbled to his feet. “Tony, Blue, get over here and help me.”
They hesitated.
“Get over here now, or I swear to God I’ll kill you too.”
They hurried over.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a schmuck?” Ida yelled at Flea.
He sneered at her. “If I’m such a schmuck, how come I got your money, eh? Answer me that.”
“Here’s your answer.”
She kicked him right in the nuts. Flea went down with a crash, his gun flying. The bag of money fell and Tony took off. Blue put his hands up. “I was kidnapped too. Don’t hurt me.”
The Weinberg boys ran from every direction and pounced on all three of them, not that Flea put up much of a fight. He writhed on the ground, moaning in pain.
Izzy and Sid rushed over to Ida.
Izzy patted her head. “Are you all right?”
“Of course I’m all right. You didn’t think I’d let a little wiener like him bother me, did you?” She waved him away. “Stop that. I’m not a dog.”
Sid was incredulous. “How did you do that, Ida? I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
She dismissed him with her hand. “Every so often, God give me strength.”
Ames was summoned from his interrogation of Gracie by an important phone call from his partner, telling him that a 911 operator spoke to a woman named Augusta Ramsey, who said she and her friend Gemma Rossi were in a white van and they were being chased through the Bronx by someone they described as a mobster, a mobster with a gun.
His partner picked him up at the hospital and they hit the streets— they didn’t have a moment to lose. They headed for the last known location.
“I hope this has a happy ending,” Ames said.
“Odds don’t look good. Two naive housewives trying to outwit and outrun the Mob? I don’t like it.”
“Well, the other two seemed to keep their wits about them.”
Ames’s partner frowned. “Not really. They never called the police, did they?”
“True.”
A voice crackled over the radio telling them the white van had been located. They looked at each other and stepped on the gas.
When they approached the scene, police cars were everywhere and traffic was being held up. The front of the van was up on the sidewalk, resting against a mailbox, and the passenger door gaped open. There was a shot-out window and the driver-side mirror was in pieces on the ground.
They ducked under the police tape and approached an officer.
“Are they here?” Ames asked.
“No sign of them.”
“Damn.”
“Witnesses say they saw two women being pushed into a black car.”
Ames sighed. “They could be anywhere.”
They were interrupted by a shout. “Detective Ames, over here.”
He hurried over to the van. “Find something?”
“Yeah.” The policeman held the back door open and pointed inside. He peered into the van. There was a huge, dumb-looking guy, tied up, gagged, and looking madder than a wet hen.
Candy and Dumber took the women back to the safe house, nearly yanking their arms off as they escorted them from the car into the apartment. They threw them onto the living room floor. Candy paced around them, crunching on his mouthful of Life Savers.
“Where’s Dumb?”
“I told you,” Gemma said. “He took off.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, he did.”
Candy wiped at the sweat on his face.
“Are you feeling okay?” Gemma asked. “You’re sweating like a pig.”
He pointed a finger in her face. “Shut your mouth.”
“Did you know that’s sometimes the first sign of a heart attack?” Augusta said. “You should get out of this stressful business, or you’ll be dead before you know it.”
“No, you’ll be dead if you don’t shut up.”
“My mother had a heart attack,” Dumber said.
“That’s terrible,” Augusta said. “Did you have a chance to say goodbye?”
“No. One minute she was beating us with a belt and a shoe, the next minute she was on the floor.”
“Well, that explains your personality. You never had a chance.”
Dumber looked at her. “Whaddaya mean?”
“Well, they say that…”
Candy picked up a lamp and smashed it against the wall. “This ain’t Dr. Phil,”
“You know Dr. Phil?” Augusta asked. “How odd.”
“What’s so odd about it?”
“You’re a criminal, for heaven’s sake. Have you considered reading his book Relationship Rescue?”
“Forget that,” Gemma said. “Tell him to read The Ultimate Weight Solution.”
“Like you should talk,” Candy fired back.
“Hey, my husband happens to like my love handles. All the more to grab.”
“Well, he’s a fuckin’ idiot, then.”
Gemma stood up. “What did you say?”
Augusta looked at Candy. “I think you’d better run.”
Candy shook his head in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“You don’t want to see Gemma in a rage.”
“No, you don’t want to see me in a rage.” She tapped her fingers on her forehead. “And I’ve had it up to here with you two.”
Candy and Dumber looked at each other and burst out laughing. That’s when Gemma took a flying leap at Candy and knocked him off his feet. Dumber tried to grab Gemma, but as soon as he turned away from Augusta, she picked up a heavy ashtray and threw it at the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor.
“Grab his gun,” Gemma screamed as she tried to keep Candy under her.
Augusta made several attempts, but Candy squirmed his right arm out and held her off.
“You’re dead,” he growled, still fighting to get Gemma off him.
“Remember what Oprah said, go for the eyes!”
Gemma gave him a jab and he howled. “I’m going to kill you, you bitch.”
She put her hands around his neck. “I’m going to kill you first, for talking about my husband like that.” She banged his head on the floor as she choked him. “You good-for-nothin’ piece of…”
Police officers kicked in the front door and swarmed into the room, Ames leading the charge. They couldn’t believe what they saw. A Mob boss on the floor having the life throttled out of him by an Italian housewife, and a bodyguard knocked out cold beside him, an art teacher sitting on his back.
Despite the police presence, Gemma kept it up. She banged Candy’s head against the hardwood floor. “Don’t you ever say that again about my Angelo! Do you hear me?”
Ames rushed over and grabbed her. “It’s all right. Let go.”
Gemma ignored him and kept it up. “I’m tired.” Bang went his head. “I’m hungry.” Bang. “And if you ever come near any of us again, I’ll cut your balls off.” She threw his head back on the floor and got off him. “He’s all yours.”
Augusta got up too. “Oh, thank you…how did you find us?”
“Your man in the van gave them up.” Ames grabbed Candy’s gun, turned him over, and cuffed him.
“He did?”
“He said it was last time he’d ever sit in the back of that van. He was pretty banged up.”
Gemma and Augusta stepped over Dumber and gave each other a big hug.
“We did it, kiddo,” Gemma said.
“We sure did. I’d never have made it without you, Gem.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
Augusta quickly turned to the detectives. “Please tell us our friends are okay, and Gracie and the baby.”
“They’re all safe. Linda and Bette are at the police station, and Gracie and the baby are in the hospital. She’s a tough little cookie, but she was pretty distraught about you two.”
“That poor child,” Gemma said. “She’s only a baby herself. Can you take us to her?”
“Later,” Ames said. “We have to get you two back to the station. We’ll need your statements.”
“Anything. As long as it locks up these two bastards for the rest of their lives.”
Linda and Bette, Stuart, and the reluctant Ryan sat around the table in the lunchroom not knowing what to do. Linda told Stuart he should go.
“I’d like to see this through. You did ask me for help, if you recall.”
“A fat lot of good you were, letting those freaks carry us off.”
He leaned across the table. “You were the one who insisted on meeting those freaks, if you remember.”
“He came to my rescue,” Ryan gloated. “He rushed back for me, not you.”
“And he’s very welcome to you. But don’t forget. Any man who’ll cheat on his wife will sure as hell cheat on his girlfriend.”
“Will you both stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here?”
Linda couldn’t sit still any longer. She got up to look out the window. “Where the hell are they? Why hasn’t anyone come back to tell us anything?”
“My stomach’s in knots,” Bette said. “How long do we have to sit here?”
There was a quick knock on the door and Detective Ames came in.
Bette stood up. “Is there any news? We’ve been worried sick.”
“I have something for you.” He stepped aside and revealed Gemma and Augusta. The four friends ran to each other. There were lots of hugs and kisses and tears.
Ryan rolled her eyes and filed her nails. “You’d think they just came back from darkest Africa.”
At that point another officer came in and addressed Detective Ames. “We’ve got a situation downstairs. Something to do with your case. It’s the mob from Washington Square Park, demanding to speak to Bette Weinberg.”
Bette turned at her name. “It must be Ida and Izzy.”
Gemma did a double take. “Ida and Izzy?”
“They’re here?” Augusta said. “I can’t believe it.”
“You know those two. They never leave me alone.”
The commotion downstairs rose in volume, so everyone hurried out of the lunchroom and rushed down the staircase. There were the Weinbergs, milling around the lobby, talking and gesturing while Ida shouted at the desk sergeant that she’d lodge an official complaint if her daughter wasn’t produced forthwith.
“Ma.”
Ida turned at the sound of her voice.
“Bette!” Ida pushed herself out of her chair and wobbled across the lobby toward her. “You scared me half to death! What kind of a daughter scares her mother half
to death?”
She grabbed Bette by the shoulders and shook her. “What did I tell you about getting lost? Didn’t I tell you you’d get lost? Why don’t you ever listen to me?” She hugged Bette for dear life and kissed her several times on both cheeks.
“Ma, stop it, I can’t breathe.”
Ida slapped her hands together and appealed to the ceiling. “What did I do so wrong that my daughter runs away from home and gets lost? Why do I put up with such disrespectful behaviour?”
Bette shook her. “Ma, you walked! You walked!”
Ida’s eyes widened. She looked around and saw everyone with their mouths open, staring at her in disbelief. She shrugged. “What? You’ve never seen a miracle before?”
The Weinbergs rushed towards Ida, but she held them off. “Wait a minute, I want a word with Linda Keaton. Where is she?”
Linda raised her hand cautiously. “I’m here, Mrs. Weinberg.”
Ida came after her in slow motion, teetering on her clunky black shoes. “You’re going to pay for this, you terrible woman. Who do you think you are, dragging my daughter to sin city only to have her kidnapped?” She advanced on Linda with her arms in the air.
“Stop it, you crazy woman,” Bette shouted.
Linda kept backing up the stairs. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weinberg. I had no idea any of this was going to happen.”
Everyone tried to intervene, but it was the sergeant at the desk who finally got their attention.
“Enough. If you do not cease and desist this instant, you will all be carted off to jail. Is that understood?”
Everyone but Ida nodded. She appealed to the ceiling. “Why oh why does this always happen to me? That God should hate me so much I have to come to New York and get yelled at by a bigmouth.”
The sergeant pointed at Detective Ames. “Put that woman in a holding cell.”
The family all started shouting at once. It wasn’t until Mordecai gave a sharp whistle that things quieted down. He appealed to the sergeant. “My mother has suffered great emotional trauma and she’s not quite herself. If we promise to remove her quickly, and never darken your door again, can you see your way to letting her go?”
The sergeant gave Ida a look. “Get her out of here now. You’ve got thirty seconds.”
Ida’s sons grabbed their protesting mother and put her in her wheelchair. As they wheeled her out the door she shouted, “What have I ever done to deserve such disrespect?”
