by Mike Faricy
Mike Faricy
Tutti Frutti
Published by Credit River Publishing 2013
Copyright Mike Faricy 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior and express permission of the copyright owner.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Tutti Frutti
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the following people for their help and support. Thanks to my good friend Dan for his continued help, support, talent and positive attitude. To Pam Stack for her continual help and encouragement. To Kathy LeJeune, Dave Kenney and Charles Ford for their suggestions, feedback, corrections, contacts, friendship and just plain old hard work. Of course Don ‘Skip’ Jobe for some great lines and Krystal & Bill Bailey. I would like to thank family and friends for their encouragement and unqualified support. Special thanks to Maggie, Jed, Schatz, Pat, Av, Pat and Emily for nodding politely and humoring me. Most of all, thanks to Teresa for her patience, belief and support.
To Teresa
It was the simple things; her smile, her hand or just the sound of her voice that offered protection from the world.
Tutti Frutti
Chapter One
She rolled on top of me then whispered, “Dev, wake up.”
“What? God, my head’s killing me.”
We’d met at a concert earlier that night. I smacked my lips then blinked in an attempt to come awake. I couldn’t believe she wanted to go at it again. Oh well, I was game.
“Shush! Did you hear that?” She whispered, then sat up in bed and turned her head toward the bedroom door. She was naked and the moonlight shinning through the window made her white skin glow almost iridescent.
“Hear what?” I said as I tried to recall her name then clearly heard a door close downstairs.
“That. Jesus, I think it may be my husband.”
“Husband?”
“Shush! Quiet.”
I heard a noise that sounded like a floor creaking or worse, the tread on the stairs. She suddenly pushed me out of the king-sized bed with her feet. I went over the side, landed on the rug, and rolled under the bed just a moment before the bedroom door swung open.
“Gary,” she cooed, “what time is it? I didn’t expect you home until tonight.”
“Drove all the way up from Saint Louis. Was outside Madison when I read your text that said you couldn’t wait and I figured well why the hell should we?” The voice was deep and had the slightest hint of a twang maybe Missouri or southern Illinois.
I slithered farther under the bed and cautiously pulled my clothes on top of me just as one of his cowboy boots was kicked off in my general direction. I was still holding my breath when his jeans dropped to the floor and he crawled into the bed where I’d been less than a minute ago.
“You’ve got it all warmed up for me.”
“I’ve been dreaming about you baby. You were about to be a very naughty boy. Let’s see if we can still make that happen.”
“Oh, it’s happening…”
I heard the rhythmic squeak of the box spring and her by-now familiar moaning. Then I laid there for what felt like hours listening to his snoring. Eventually, I got the courage to quietly slink out the bedroom door all the while afraid the pounding from my heart would wake him. I cautiously crept down the stairs and quickly made my way to the back door where I pulled on my jeans then slipped outside. I finished dressing in their driveway when I remembered my car was still parked at Charlie’s, a bar about a mile away. I started walking.
I was almost to my car; in fact I could see the parking lot when it hit me, her name, Bunny. It was close to five by the time I pulled into my driveway. The sky was gray and just beginning to lighten on the horizon as the sun came up. At least it was Sunday and I could sleep in.
Chapter Two
I was on my second cup of coffee and staring out our office window watching co-eds waiting for the bus. I had it down to a system. The working girls would board a bus and head east into downtown. Eight minutes later the co-eds boarded a bus and headed west toward St. Catherine’s College. In between buses I could see who was going into The Spot bar for a liquid breakfast.
I was leering at a particularly breathtaking brunette waiting for the downtown bus when Louie opened the door. Louie Laufen is my attorney, officemate and pal. He is also certifiable and about an hour and a half late. He threw his laptop case on his desk, actually a picnic table, and made his way toward the coffee pot.
“You get tied up in all the trouble after that concert Saturday night? God, the riot is still on the news this morning. They had to call out the damn SWAT Team. All that looting and damage downtown, I don’t get it.”
“You mean the cars set on fire and battling the cops?” I asked then set my binoculars on the window sill.
“Yeah, you didn’t have any trouble did you?”
“Yes and no. I sort of met someone.”
“Spare me the details. Hey, I got a guy coming in around eleven, Joey Cazzo, ring any bells?
“No not really, but I’m guessing you’re going to tell me.”
“How about the Tutti Frutti Club?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. One of the few bars I’ve never been in,” I said. I was back on the binoculars checking out a young mommy pushing a stroller down the street. She was a blonde wearing tight white shorts and a powder blue top with spaghetti straps. I was searching for tan lines.
“Hey, pervert,” Louie said.
“I think she’s someone I know.” I was appraising her rear as she turned the corner.
“Sure she is, not that she’d ever admit knowing you. Anyway, the Tutti Frutti Club, I think the joint is owned by the D’Angelo brothers.”
“Those gangster guys?” I lowered the binoculars and turned to face him.
“Allegedly,” Louie said. He sat down behind his picnic table desk, put his feet up and sipped his coffee.
“Allegedly? Sounds like you’re representing them. That’s heavy duty, man, you’re really scraping the bottom with those creeps.”
“Alleged creeps. Actually, Cazzo represents them or at least he sort of does. He was disbarred awhile back, so he does the work and just needs someone with a license to file motions and shit. I’ll do it strictly for cash.”
“File motions and shit, is that more of your legal talk? How’d he find you?”
“We were in law school together. I think I’m one of the few people who answered his phone call. Come to think of it. I may have been the only one.”
“And he’s coming in here this morning?” There was no way we were going to get the place looking professional in that short time frame. Maybe we could ditch the dart board and the empty beer case. I couldn’t come up with much else we could do to spruce up the dump.
“How about if you take a hike for an hour? You know, get some fresh air. All in the interest of client confidentiality and that sort of bullshit.”
“More legal talk? Yeah, sure, I suppose I can do that. We wouldn’t want your client to get the wrong impression when he sees your picnic table. When do you want me out of here?”
“How about now?” Louie slurped some coffee.
“Now?”
“Yeah now. Why, are you working on something important?” He ran his eyes up and down, studying me. I was dressed in sandals, shorts, a St. Paul Saint’s T-shirt, Summit Beer baseball cap, and still holding my binoculars.
“I suppose I could take a break from all this. Call me when you’re finished. I’ll be over at The Spot,” I sa
id and placed the binoculars in my open desk drawer.
“I appreciate it, Dev. We shouldn’t be more than an hour or so,” Louie said.
It turned out to be closer to two and a half hours. Jimmy was bartending. I’d read the newspaper, made a couple of phone calls, and was nursing a beer when the bar phone rang.
“The Spot,” Jimmy answered. He glanced over at me while he listened to the caller. “Yeah, he’s sitting on his usual stool. I’ll send him over, it’s bad for business to have him in here for any length of time,” he said then hung up.
“Louie?” I asked.
“Yeah, he said it’s safe for you to go back to your office. Besides, you’re chasing away all our business.”
I looked around the place. It was apparently a light traffic day for The Spot. There were two other guys at the bar sitting three stools apart. Neither one had said a word during the two hours I’d been here. A regular named Rita occupied the far back booth. She was either passed out or asleep, not that there was much difference. Everyone knew that leaving her alone was the lesser of many evils.
“Yeah, I can just imagine the line forming to get in this place as soon as I leave.”
“It could happen,” Jimmy said, sounding hopeful.
Chapter Three
When I entered the office, Louie was seated behind my desk counting out a large stack of twenty dollar bills. He didn’t bother to glance up. He remained focused on his task, moving his lips silently counting each bill he pealed off. When he finished he looked up at me with a big smile.
“You feel like grabbing dinner somewhere tonight? My treat.”
“Can we get out of the car or do we have to order at the drive-up window again?”
“I’m serious, man. I mean it, a restaurant with table cloths, fine wine, and all that shit.”
“Yeah? Why, what do you want?” I asked, immediately suspicious.
“What, I can’t ask a pal, the guy I share an office with, to dinner?”
“No, it’s just that I have this feeling you got something up your sleeve. You know, like you’re going to want some sort of favor.”
“Dev, all I want to do is have a nice dinner with you. If it’s going to be a problem, you don’t have to go. That’s fine. I’ve just come into a little bit of good luck.” He glanced down at the pile of cash he’d just counted now neatly stacked in front of him. “I just thought it might be fun to share a bit of my good luck with you. No problem if you don’t want to go.”
“As long as you put it that way, okay. How ‘bout the Five-Ten?” I asked.
“The joint over on Hennipen Avenue? Umm, I’m not sure they want me back there just yet. Have you ever been to Café Biaggio?”
“Yeah, and not a good idea. That’s the place I took that Terry chick when we broke up. She made a scene, threw her pasta at me, then ran out the door with the wine bottle.”
Louie nodded, remembering my tale. “The Saigon?”
“Probably not I dated one of the daughters. If she’s working she’d probably do something to our food.”
We went back and forth like this for a few minutes. Wherever one suggested the other wasn’t all that welcome. I guess it’s one of the things that happen when you’re an actively-dating individual, some not-so-great memories, and the occasional repercussion. Anyway, we ended up at Shamrock’s because we both like the burgers; know most of the bartenders, and the waitresses are nice.
***
I was on my third or fourth Summit, enjoying the scenery walking around us when Louie finally got around to why he was plying me with beer and burgers.
“So what’s your work schedule like?”
“I’m pretty busy from eight-thirty to about nine-fifteen every morning and maybe four-thirty until close to five-thirty every night watching chicks get on and off the bus. Other than that I could probably fit something in. Why?”
“Remember I mentioned the Tutti Frutti Club?”
I nodded and let my eyes follow a woman walking past our table.
“I might need you to do a little bit of checking for me on the D’Angelo brothers.”
“Define checking,” I said, returning my gaze to Louie.
“I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. I told you Joey Cazzo was in this morning. There’s just something fishy whenever he’s involved. I have to file some motions with the court for him. Everything looks okay, but I just want to be sure. I dodged that disbarment a while back and I just don’t need the state board folks taking a closer look at me, that’s all.”
“So, I’m still not clear what you want me to do. What am I supposed to look for?”
“Just get the feel for the place is all, the clientele, any sense of the gambling deal they’re always rumored to be running.”
“You mean if I see a room with a sign that says, ‘Illegal Gambling Here.’ I’ll know something’s up? Look, if they’re involved they’ve been somewhat subtle about the operation for a while, years now that I think of it. It’s always been rumored, but they’ve never been charged, have they?”
Louie shook his head no.
“Besides, isn’t one of those guys locked up? I thought he got sent away a couple of years ago.”
“Yeah, that’s Tommy, or is it Gino? I always get them mixed up. Anyway the one who’s not quite right, he’s out on an appeal right now.”
“Not quite right?”
“The guy played football as a high school kid. I think he forgot to wear his helmet. Did some boxing, I’m guessing as a middleweight. He was wounded in the service. Had a stroke a few years back that left him with some short term memory loss.”
“He sounds like a medical case. He got sent to prison?”
“That’s part of what Cazzo wanted to talk about. I’m gonna file an appeal on medical grounds.”
“I don’t know, seems like those guys have gotten away with murder, literally, for years.”
“Maybe, but we’re supposed to have a little tougher burden of proof than “seems like” in our system.”
“When it works,” I said.
“Anyway, they got this appeal going to court.”
“So what’s the worry?”
“Just a feeling I’ve got. If Joey Cazzo’s involved, there’s a good chance it ain’t quite right. And then of course there’s his clients, the D’Angelos.”
“Okay, so why take the work in the first place?”
“Thirty-five hundred cash up front,” Louie said and patted the wallet in his pocket.
“Something ain’t right,” I said.
“Most likely. I just want to find out what it is before it hits me over the head, that’s all.”
Our waitress was suddenly there with our order. “Bourbon bacon chicken sandwich?”
I nodded and she placed the basket in front of me.
“And the Nook burger with a double order of fries,” she said, sliding a larger basket in front of Louie. “Anything else, gentlemen?”
“We better have two more beers,” Louie said.
Chapter Four
I didn’t think Linh would take my phone call but decided to try her anyway. That turned out to be a waste of time. Macey’s phone transferred the call to an official recording that informed me my number had been blocked. I phoned Heidi. She was still talking to me.
“Heidi, Dev.”
“Long time no talk. No offense Dev honey, but I meant what I said before; if you need bail money, I’m not in the mood to help out.”
“Gee, sorry to disappoint, but I was just calling to ask you out for a fun-filled evening.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Come on, Miss Cynical, why does there have to be a catch? I just heard of a club I wanted to go to and you were the first name that popped into my head,” I lied. “Thought it might be a fun date, you don’t want to go that’s okay. I can just…”
“I was just kidding about the catch,” she said. “What’s the name of this club?”
“The Tutti Frutti Club, it’s …”
“Thursday night?”
“Tomorrow? Great, that gives me time to get a new outfit. Okay, let me make a call and rearrange something, this will be a lot more fun. Pick me up at eight-thirty, you mind if I call and reserve a table?”
“Reserve a table?”
“Of course that figures, clueless. Okay, I’ll set it up, don’t worry. See you tomorrow at eight-thirty.”
I hung up the phone and began to worry.
***
I arrived at Heidi’s stylishly late. She tore open the front door just before I rang the doorbell.
“You were supposed to be here twenty-five minutes ago. God, I’ll have to call them from your car and make sure they hold the table. Come on,” she said and rushed passed me.
I stood on the steps and stared for a moment then regained my composure. “What the hell are you wearing, and what in God’s name did you do to your hair?”
“Like it? It’s just a wig I got this morning,” she said, standing at the curb waiting for me to open the car door.
The wig was fire-engine-red with a purple stripe running down the center of her skull. She looked like some sort of freaked-out skunk. She had on a revealing top, at least I think it was on. It had two large swirls of black sequins illuminating her chest. She had squeezed into a tight, black skirt about the width of my belt. A garter belt extended three inches below what served as a hem and was clipped to black stockings. The stockings had a seam that ran up the back of her leg. She had some sort of silver-studded thing wrapped three or four times around her waist.
“Is that the new outfit you were going to get? You look like Betty Page on an acid trip. Planning to pole dance in that?”
“Shut up.”
“What’s with the costume? Is that nose ring real?”
“No stupid, just open the door okay. God, we’re late. By the way, what happened to the side of your car? It looks like someone sprayed graffiti on it. ”
