by Joe Corso
Jimmy always dreamed of going to Florida and meeting a rich, beautiful divorcee, but that wasn’t possible because of the life he led. Even if he managed to find a wealthy, good woman, what could he offer the lady? He certainly couldn’t tell her that he was a mob enforcer and it was damn impossible for her to have a future with him because of the work he did. How could he ever get married? What woman would want to marry a guy like him? Yet, he often daydreamed about being married with two kids, normal life like the rest of the world. He could even picture his daughter looking up at him, innocently, with her angelic face asking him, “Daddy, what do you do for a living?”
“Nothing special, sweetheart. I kill people for a living and it’s really boring. No fun at all. I promise you, you wouldn’t like it.”
No, it would never work, so whenever he thought of marriage and kids, it made him sad a bit. Since it wasn’t in his character to be depressed, he just pushed those thoughts into the deepest recesses of his subconscious and refused to allow them to resurface, for at least another year or so. It distracted too much from his business. He had always been a positive guy, always looked at the bright side of things and he wouldn’t allow the thought of marriage and the job get him down. His looks were deceptive. They were deceiving because, like Crazy Joey, he was a dangerous man, loyal to a fault but just as heartless, when necessary, and his boyish charm and affable personality fooled many men who stood before him. This ‘gift’ of his lulled many a man into a false sense of security. That was the moment he was at his deadliest.
It wasn’t by accident that Red wanted Jimmy the Hat to accompany him. He had a feeling that he would need him before this trip was over. There were others he could have taken that were good. He could have taken Frankie or Trenchie, but he needed Frankie to collect his money and Trenchie to look after his business interests, so here he was with Jimmy the Hat headed to Florida. Besides, Jimmy was his chick magnet.
The two men drove over the George Washington Bridge, found I-95 and aimed south. After hours of driving, stopping only for fuel and food, and the occasional pit stop, they exited just North of South of the Border. It was time to stop for the night. The Holiday Inn at Fayetteville would be just fine.
Early the next morning, they enjoyed a continental breakfast and hit the road again for another two hours before stopping for a real breakfast at Denny’s. They continued through South Carolina and through the short part of I-95 that passed through the tip of Georgia. Finally, they crossed the line heading toward Jacksonville. It was when they passed the first palm trees that they felt the charm of the southern Riviera - proof that they really were in the Sunshine State. It was uplifting especially since the trip was a spontaneous one. Here they were, passing the palm trees that lined I-95. Red’s mind began to drift to other exotic locales - Havana, the place that the Hollywood elite often visited, Tahiti, Hawaii. Now that they were in Florida, maybe a short vacation wasn’t so bad. Driving through Florida from the Georgia/Florida border heading to Fort Lauderdale was like driving along a third of the east coast. It was a long drive, but an enjoyable one. The warm Florida sun and the smell of salt water wafting in from the ocean, welcomed them to paradise. They arrived at the Hot Shoppes around ten pm entered the lobby, slightly patted their guns to ensure that they were safely hidden under their jackets and headed for the check-in desk.
Red scanned the lobby, looking for anything out of sync - checking for something, anything, which might appear normal to the average person, but suspicious to a man who was in his line of business - experience that only comes from the streets. Red spotted it - the anomaly. The lobby was practically empty with just a husband and wife with their two small children by the elevators, but as the men walked towards the front desk, Red spotted a lone Latino man, reading a newspaper. Red noticed that the Latino had positioned himself to have a good view of both the elevators and the entrance of the hotel. He seemed out of place. There was no one else but this man sitting in the lobby. Without turning his face, Red nudged Jimmy and told him to take a look at the man reading the papers. “Okay,” Jimmy said, as he casually turned, leaned his back against the front desk, and bent down as if to check his suitcase. As he did, he took a good look at the man, sizing him up without being obvious.
“Got him. Is somethin’ wrong?”
“No, nothin’s wrong. I want you to remember that face, just in case.”
“In case of what? Red, you’re not gettin’ paranoid on me now, are you?”
“Look Jimmy, Trenchie thinks somebody may be out to get me and although I hate to admit it, he’s usually right about these things. Remembering his face is a precaution, just like our guns are. He seems out of place. Do you remember that scene in the Maltese Falcon when Humphrey Bogart finds a guy in the hotel reading a paper and the guy was following him? Do you remember that scene?”
“Yeah, it was a great scene and Bogart handled it well.”
“Well the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up when I look at that guy. Tell me something. Does that guy sitting there reading the paper at this time of night look natural to you?”
“No, now that you mention it, it doesn’t. He doesn’t.”
“It sure as hell doesn’t look natural to me, that’s for sure.”
Jimmy instinctively nudged the gun under his jacket and asked, “You want me to go and have a talk with him?”
“No, not now. But let’s be on our toes. Somethin’s not right here.”
During check- in Red asked the clerk if the man sitting behind him reading the paper was a customer of the hotel.
The clerk raised his head from his check-in register and looked at the man. “No, I’ve never seen him before. He isn’t one of our customers as far as I know. ”
“Okay, thanks. I’m on a business trip and I was told a new client might meet me here tonight and I thought it might be him.”
When the elevator door closed, the man folded his newspaper, walked to a pay phone near the elevators, and dialed a number.
“They just checked in and went up to their room.”
Chapter Ten
The boys were relaxing in a cabana facing the beach, nursing double espressos. The day was beautiful - not a cloud in the sky. The ocean was a clear cobalt blue and the beach and sand were dotted with multicolored bathing suits sitting and standing near the water’s edge. The collage of colors looked like something you’d see in a Renoir painting. Red and Jimmy watched a biplane, low in the horizon, fly slowly overhead, pulling a long banner of advertising, “Great Meals At Lester’s Diner. Their attention was momentarily interrupted as a beautiful, scantily clad young girl pranced past them, chasing a Frisbee. Her ponderous breasts bounced up and down as though they were leading an orchestra. Red thought by God Creighton was right. There must be about ten girls to every guy at the Fort Lauderdale beach and each one more beautiful than the other. He wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner. Why did it have to take an order from Yip to get him out of town? He laughed at the absurdity of it and made a mental note to visit Florida every year. Somehow the girls here seemed more beautiful than other places. Jimmy attributed it to the bathing suits they didn’t wear - those bikinis. There was no denying that bikinis had certain attention-getting qualities.
This morning Red and Jimmy were content just to relax and let the sun bathe over them. City boys don’t get enough sun. But even though the waters of the sandy white beach were crystal clear, they had no intentions of swimming in it. It wasn’t because they didn’t want to swim - it was because they knew they would be easy targets for anyone wanting to stir up a little mischief. No, getting into the water would not be smart. This morning they had purposely dressed in loose fitting shirts and shorts to hide their guns.
“Red,” Jimmy whispered shaking Red out of his reverie.
“Yeah.”
“Remember that guy from last night?”
“Yeah. What about him?”
“He’s sittin’ six tables behind us readin’ the papers again, on
ly today he’s wearin’ sunglasses, a baseball cap and a different shirt, but it’s the same guy. How do you wanna’ handle it?”
“Let’s take a walk along the beach and see if he follows us. If he does, and I think he will, then we’ll know for sure that he’s tailin’ us, probably waitin’ to get us alone. We can lead him along because we have the advantage of him not knowin’ that we’re on to him.”
They got up from the table, tipped the waiter on their way out and leisurely strolled south. They walked as far as the Elbow Room, a neat little beach bar, and stepped inside for a cold beer. Red looked up at the monitor above the bar. He nudged. “Take a look at the monitor and tell me what you see.” The little black and white camera showed a clear picture of the beach side of the street. There he was, sitting there on the low stone wall that separated the beach property from the sidewalk, staring attentively at the entrance to the Elbow Room. “Hey, Red, that’s our boy out there, for sure. What say we go and have a little talk with him?”
“No, not yet. There’s too much traffic out there, I wanna’ get him somewhere quiet. Let’s just continue as usual, watch him, and wait ‘til it darkens if we have to.”
The boys acted as if they hadn’t a care in the world, chatting up the women, buying them drinks and just enjoying themselves, all the time aware of their stalker outside the Elbow Room. Nightfall came and Red decided that it was time to make a move. When he and Jimmy were about to leave, Red asked two of the girls, sitting with them, if they were interested in making an easy hundred each just to walk down Las Olas Boulevard with them, toward their hotel. At first the girls were offended, thinking that Jimmy and Red wanted to pay for services. Prostitutes they were not!
“Nothing like that girls,” Red said. “No funny stuff here. I just want you girls to walk with us a few blocks. I have my reasons. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, feel free to leave. Here’s a hundred bucks each for your trouble.”
The girls had no idea what was going on. As they stepped out of the bar, they looked around and could see that there were plenty of people on the street. They didn’t feel threatened by these men and a hundred bucks was a hundred bucks. They accepted the cash and began to walk. “I’m Iris and my girlfriend’s Tiffany.” Red put his arm around Iris’s waist. He turned. From a distance, it appeared that he was talking to Jimmy, but he was actually sneaking looks over Jimmy’s shoulder, tracking the guy who was tailing them. They took their time walking along the crowded boulevard, stopping at times to look at hawkers selling their wares. When they finally arrived at the hotel, Red asked the girls if they would like to have a drink in the bar before hitting the road. Iris was a bit suspicious.
“I don’t know about that. The bar - that’s it, right? Nowhere else.”
“Yes, just the bar and like I said, you’re free to leave anytime you want.”
“Look, you guys seem like nice guys so what’s up? What’s the game you’re playing? Why did you want need us to walk with you to your hotel? I mean, come on - two hundred bucks is a lot of money just to walk down the street with somebody.” Jimmy just smiled his boyish smile, a little amused by the mystery of it all. Hey, this would be a great way to get women in the future. Now that he thought about it, what a neat trick. Give ‘em a hundred bucks to walk down the street with ya, thank them with a quick drink, and take it from there. Red decided that the girls deserved some answers.
“There’s a guy been following us for two days now and I didn’t wanna’ let on that we were on to him, so that’s why I wanted you girls to walk with us, you know . . . to make it seem as if we had no idea we were being followed because we were having too good a time with you girls.”
“Whew - that’s a mouthful. Ok, but if you had told us, you wouldn’t have had to pay us anything,” Iris said. “I hate stalkers. I hope you get him.”
“Oh, we’ll get him alright. We just wanna know who put him up to it and why.”
They each took a seat at the hotel’s bar. Red raised his arms a bit, fanning his slight sunburn. Instantly, Iris noticed the gun nestled in the waistband of his swimsuit.
“You shouldn’t let that thing show,” she said.
Red looked down and realized his mistake. The gun was a part of him, as natural as a sock. He wore a sock, he wore a gun. Having been on the beach, he momentarily forgot about it. He was used to packing under a jacket not a beach shirt.
“We didn’t know what might happen so we came prepared.”
There was something about dangerous men that attracted some women like moths to a flame. It was intoxicating in a twisted way - the aura of a mischievous man. The girls were now intrigued and a bit on fire.
“Do you guys each have your own room?”
“We sure do, gorgeous,” answered Jimmy.
“Well then, why don’t we go to your rooms and finish our drinks up there?”
Chapter Eleven
The following morning, as Iris was getting dressed, she heard a soft rap on the hotel room door. She opened it and Tiffany slipped quietly into the room, not wanting to disturb anyone. Room service had delivered coffee and assorted doughnuts and rolls earlier in the morning, along with a large pot of coffee. Iris poured each of them a cup. The two women chatted while artfully applying their makeup and styling their hair, wanting look their best for the boys before they left. They said their goodbyes and as they were about to leave, Red thanked them again for helping these two strangers with their little problem last night and handed them an additional hundred dollars each. Red liked Iris and explained to her that he hoped to call her soon after he tended to some business. Jimmy, who was listening, seconded it. The men wanted to spend some quality time with these gals - dinner, dancing, theater, a little gambling at a place that Meyer Lansky owned on Griffin and 441, the Track, but as much as they wanted to enjoy themselves, everything was on hold until they discovered the reason they were being followed. Today, Red was determined to get some answers.
Iris viewed the hundred dollars Red handed her and frowned.
“You know, Red, we’re not prostitutes. You don’t have to pay us for our company.”
Red, true to his name became a little “red” faced and realized that he may have unintentionally insulted the ladies.
“Look Iris. I didn’t mean it that way. I really didn’t mean to imply anything other than that. I apologize if it came off that way.” He smiled and begrudgingly, she smiled back. She knew what he meant.
“I’m not mad. I just want to make sure that we understood each other. I hope I see you again.”
“I wanna to see you again too.”
The girls left and the men walked into the hotel’s restaurant. Red ordered bacon and three eggs over easy, with instructions to the waitress that if an egg was broken he wanted it replaced, emphasizing that he didn’t like it when any of his eggs were broken. Jimmy ordered French toast, almost mushy, with butter and powdered sugar, and bacon on the side. As Red dipped his toast into an egg, he asked Jimmy.
“Do you see him?”
“No. Maybe he’s waitin’ for us outside.”
“Maybe. We’ll know in a few minutes. I hope he is. I don’t like the cat and mouse game. If he dogs us again, we’re gonna put a stop to this bullshit today.”
Red generously overtipped his waitress like he always did when he liked the service. The men exited the restaurant but sidestepped into the adjoining lounge area. There they found the perfect table by the window - one that had a view of anyone coming in or going out. Their waitress from the restaurant had apparently followed them. She spotted the men through the glass partition that separated the restaurant from the lounge.
“This one’s on me fellas for the generous tip you left me,” she said as she carefully balanced a tray of sweet Cuban coffee. What a nice surprise. Café con leche was a favorite of both men.
“Fegget about it. You’ve been real nice to us. We appreciate it. What’s your name hon? ” Jimmy asked.
“Suzy.”
“Thanks f
or the coffee, Suzy. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow then. Have a great day guys.”
“That broad’s okay. I like her.” Jimmy was about to say something else but he stopped mid sentence.
“Red, he’s back.”
“Where?”
“He just walked in - took a table on the other end of the room in the back with a clear shot of us.”
“It’s time to pay him a visit. Watch his hands,” Red warned Jimmy. “Put your silencer on your gun and if you see him reachin’, shoot him, and if he already has a weapon in his hands, duck. I don’t want you gettin’ shot. Capiche?”
“Yeah, yeah, I understand. Ya know, you’re gettin’ to be like a Mama, always worrying about me. You’d think I never went through anything like this before.” Red chuckled. The boys approached the stranger’s table, helped themselves to two chairs, and sat down.
“What’s your name?” Red asked.
The stalker showed no emotion. He was silent and dead faced. After a few uncomfortable moments, he said, “Why are you sitting at my table, bothering me?”
“Look, just cut the shit. You’ve been followin’ us ever since we got here. I wanna know why and I wanna know who you’re working for.” Red reached into the waist of his swimsuit and raised the gun underneath the table, tapping it to let the guy know there was deadly iron close by. The stranger recognized that sound - metal against wood. Unconvincingly, he replied, “I’m calling security.”
“That’ll be the worst mistake you ever made in your life. You’ll be dead before they get here. Now, let’s start again. Who are you?”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Get up. Now!”
“What?”
“Jimmy, help him up. It seems he’s a little hard of hearing.”
