by Joe Corso
“You mean Shorty Davis filmed it while you clobbered the guy?”
“Yep. He sure did. And you know, I was happy to see him again. He’s my only link to you guys in New York and we’ve become close again. You know how sometimes when you have a buddy and you take him for granted without realizing it? Well, that’s what happened with me and Shorty and that’s what I don’t want to happen with me and you.”
Red was touched by Jimmy’s talk of friendship, but his curiosity was aroused. “So let’s get back to this guy you had a problem with. How did he get into the studio and what was he doing there?”
“Lana Thomas, the studio’s top female star gave the guard at the gate his name so he was allowed in. He was blackmailing her. I realized somethin’ was wrong after the first few takes when she couldn’t remember her lines. This girl’s a professional who takes her work seriously. She comes to the studio prepared; she always knows her lines, so I knew something was wrong. It was like she was out of it and when I asked her about it, she started to cry. Then this big lug walks over like he owned her, and well, you can see what happened on the screen.”
“Listen Jimmy, you can’t afford to get in any trouble. From now on if you have any problems, call me and I’ll handle it. Now promise me you’ll do that.”
“Okay boss, you have my word on that.”
Just then Vinnie knocked on the door and walked in. “Red, Rocky Marciano is on the phone. Says he’d like to talk to you.”
“The rock is on the phone and wants to talk to me? Are you sure?”
Red picked up the phone, listened intently and spoke for a while mostly answering with yes’s and no’s. When he hung up, there were several sets of curious eyes waiting for Red to fill them in. When he didn’t offer, Vinnie asked, “So what did he want?”
“Rocky knows Swifty real well. They used to train together when he was champ. Swifty told me how the Rock would climb high into the mountains to train in deep snow. Said it was good for his legs. Rock telephoned Swifty the other day and asked if he was still fighting. Swifty told him he still fought occasionally so Rocky told him that he’d like him to fight for him, but he told Rocky that he owed me money and he’d have to call me to ask me to release him from his obligation. That was what the phone call was about. He asked if I would allow Swifty to fight for him and I had to say no. Swifty owes me a lot of money. It’s about respect. I haven’t gone after him for the money but if he wants to fight, he has to fight for me, not Rocky. I would have loved to say yes to Rocky but Rock’s a street guy and he knew enough not to pursue it.”
Swifty was a talented middleweight fighter who had knockout power in either hand and usually knocked his opponents out swiftly thus his nickname. He could have been the movie star because he was handsome and talented but totally ambitionless. He wasn’t lazy about keeping in shape but he was lazy with most other things. He fought only when he needed money for something. If he needed a new wardrobe, he would fight or he tried to borrow a grand from Red and then he wouldn’t fight again until he needed something else. It was a shame because if he had made just a small effort, he could have been a champion fighter, especially with Red as his manager. There was no limit to what he could have achieved, but when all was said and done, he wasn’t going anywhere all because he had no drive.
Later that morning, Jimmy asked Red if one of the guys could take him to Maximus to buy a few suits, stating he has an image to keep up. Red checked his calendar. He had nothing scheduled for the rest of the day. Vinnie drove and Red took Trenchie as a bodyguard. Somebody had to keep the women off of Jimmy or they’d never get anything done. Right around, twelve-thirty pm, Vinnie parked the car by the curb in front of the men’s store. As Jimmy was about to enter the clothing store, he was immediately recognized by a gaggle of girls. Jimmy smiled and was gracious shaking hands, giving hugs, and just letting the girls touch “the star.” Once inside the store, Red said, “Good show you put on out there Jimmy.”
“You liked it eh?
“Yeah, that’s the way I want you to be. Use your charm, be nice, and remember you owe those people out there. They’re the ones who made you famous. Don’t ever forget that. You remember Joan Crawford, the famous movie star of the forties?”
“Yeah, I remember her. Why?”
“Well some people in Hollywood always said she was a bitch, but every Christmas she bought all the cameramen, the grips, and the guys that handled the lights and the rest of the crew gifts, and she would hang around with them between takes and ask ‘em their opinions on things like various shots and angles and things like that. Now why do you suppose she did that?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“She did it because she knew that those people were the ones that made her look good. She never forgot that. That’s why she asked about their kids and their families and if ever any one of ‘em had a problem, she would help ’em with money or in some other way. That’s why she gave ‘em gifts and hung out with ‘em. They kept her looking good year after year, long after most actresses were finished in films. You remember that. Don’t ever forget it and always remember to keep on the good side of ‘em. Word gets around. It usually does, and they’ll continue to make you look good and they’ll be your friend.” Red continued. “Ever hear of Lawrence Tierney?”
“No. Who’s he?”
“He burst onto the scene in 1945 in a low budget picture that caught fire and became a sensation. It was called Dillinger. It was about the bank robber and gangster of the thirties. It made him an overnight star, just like you with your picture. He could have been the greatest screen tough guy ever and he almost was, but he began to believe his press releases and got into drunken brawls, causing him to be arrested numerous times. He became so troublesome that no studio would take a chance on him anymore. So over the next forty years, he was given small parts and today he’s a ‘forgettable could-have-been’ in film history. I don’t want that to be you. I want you to behave yourself and take your career seriously. And remember this, no matter how famous you get, you still work for me, and since I’m your boss, I can tell you to behave yourself in your new career. Do you understand what I’m tellin’ ya? Now, if you have any problems, let me handle it for you. Make a phone call and let me know what the problem is and I’ll make it go away. If you called me today, by tomorrow your problem is history. It’s that easy. Do you understand what I’m tellin’ ya?”
Jimmy looked a little crestfallen. “Yeah. I understand.”
Then in a more conciliatory tone Red said, “Jimmy, I’m tellin’ you all this because I care and I’m proud of you. You took this opportunity and made the most of it. You’re one of the lucky ones. You’re makin’ somethin’ of yourself. How many people can say that?” Red continued, “Look Jimmy, when you were watching my back, I never worried about anybody or anything. I knew I could depend on you. Of all the guys I have on the payroll, there are only a handful I can always count on. I have Frankie, Trenchie, Vinnie, Moose and a few other guys at the Starlight Club that, come hell or high water, that’ll never let me down. And you especially. You never question my decisions, you follow orders, and you always did the job I gave you and you did it extremely well. Still do. Now you’re in Hollywood making pictures. I want you to think of it as a job I’ve given you, sorta’ like a hit only now you’re a hit of a different kind. I want this new job done professionally, capiche?”
“I got it boss. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.”
“Look Jimmy,” Red’s eyes moistened a bit as he spoke, “I don’t have any family not since Yip died and I don’t have any kids. I always wanted a son but it never happened. You’re the son I never had. That’s how I think of you and that’s why I’m tellin’ you all this. You done good Jimmy, so don’t go and spoil it.”
Word spread quickly while Jimmy was inside. As he exited, resplendent in camel hair topcoat and his new suit, he smiled as the girls gathered closer, asking for autographs. Jimmy obligingly wrote on pads, blouses, caps, br
aziers, wherever else his signature was requested. Red had never seen Jimmy so patient and pleasant. Amazing how charming he could be and yet turn on a dime and become a deadly assassin. Here, he was a totally different man - a movie star, a king - granting an audience to his loving fans. He did it well. Red was impressed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Saturday night rolled around fast and when Trenchie walked into The Starlight Club with Mary on his arm, Karen and Marco were there waiting for them. The club was packed with the usual customers and some new ones and even though there was normally a festive mood present, it was especially so this evening. It could have been the love that radiated between Trenchie and Mary that was obvious to everyone. Whatever it was, there was an enchanting atmosphere at The Starlight Club. Red skirted among the crowd to an alcove near the wall, escorting the two couples to a table with the best view of the dance floor. For a moment, Trenchie compared the difference between the Corona Gentlemen’s Club depressing atmosphere and lack of warmth to The Starlight Club’s charming, almost magical ambiance, which either by design or by accident, created the illusion that you were in an enchanted mystical place, making you want to hang around longer than you probably should. It really was a special place he thought, as he brought over a bottle of Du Mesnil. Mary had no knowledge of champagne and neither did Trenchie. Where she grew up, it was bubbly of a different kind - beer. As the waiter poured their glasses, Mary looked at it, not really knowing what to say. Marco beat her to the punch and explained, “Cos Du Mesnil 1938 is one of the most expensive bottles of champagne you can buy. It’s a preparation from the famous champagne house, Krug.” He continued, “Johann Joseph first established the champagne house in 1843. Cos Du Mesnil is one of the most elegant champagnes. It costs no less than seven hundred fifty dollars. Am I right, Red?”
“Very good, Marco. Not many people know that. I wasn’t about to say that, but now that you did, yes, it is quite a special bottle of champagne.”
Mary was embarrassed and asked, “Why bring out such an expensive bottle of champagne? What’s the occasion?”
Red looked at Trenchie. Karen and Pat maintained a neutral expression and just smiled. Red looked a little like the cat who ate the mouse as he explained, “Tonight's a special night. What, you think I brought this out just to impress you?” he laughed. “Nah, let’s just say that tonight is a good night.”
“What’s so special about tonight, Red?” Mary insisted.
“You’ll know in a minute,” he said and then with the wave of his arm, three violinists appeared before them, positioning themselves around the tables, but settling right around Trenchie and Mary. The violinists glanced at each other for a moment and began to play a beautiful Italian love song. Red stepped aside clearing the path for the musicians and raised his arm a second time to signal the head waiter. As the song ended, Jimmy stepped out from behind a curtain, dressed like the movie star he was, and strolled into the room delighting the surprised customers seated at the tables. Murmurs filled the room as the patrons recognized the famous man. Every eye followed him, mesmerized, as he sauntered confidently across the room towards Red, carrying a tray with a small, elegantly wrapped blue box. Mary had never met James Roman but she knew that he was the country’s most sought after star and she knew that at this moment in time, he was walking toward their table, looking directly at her, and she didn’t know what to make of it.
Jimmy stopped in front of Trenchie and said, “I believe this is yours,” and handed him the small box. Trenchie, normally uncomfortable speaking in front of strangers, took the box, turned to Mary and nervously managed to utter, “This is for you.” It was all he said, all he could muster.
Mary opened the box, stared at the ring for a moment, and then burst into tears. Water began to coat the shiny stone, like raindrops. She tried to grasp the ring, but her hands were quivering so much that she decided it best to let it stay safely where it was. Trenchie, still nervous and somewhat at a loss for words, said, “I’m not very good at this so I’m just gonna say it plain and simple. Will you marry me?” There they were, Jimmy standing alongside Red, the waiters in the corner, the violinists looking, and everyone in the place knowing what Trenchie had said, yet without hearing a word.
Mary was trying to process it all, feeling a bit overwhelmed with the speed at which everything had happened. It wasn’t long ago that she fretted over paying her rent. She could barely afford food. But most frightening of all, she worried that her ex-husband would find her. He did find her and it was unnerving. Thank God for Trenchie - he had saved her from that horrible man and on top of that, tonight, he had asked her to marry him. She loved him dearly. He was gentle and kind and he was dependable. He would take care of her, she knew that, and she wouldn’t have to worry any longer about anything, anything at all. By marrying Trenchie, she would have the security she longed for. He was a businessman with a successful restaurant, and tonight, he had given her a beautiful engagement ring. He told her he loved her, and she knew he did. Could she put aside the doubts that resulted from her ordeal with Julius? Was she really ready to marry again? Thoughts whirled in her head and she wondered if she could do it. She had read about storybook marriages and she had prayed that someday she might find that type of romance. Trenchie was nothing like Julius. There wasn’t a selfish bone in his body. It was time to speak. All eyes were on her. Trenchie was waiting. Mary had to do it. She turned to Trenchie and without intending to, words slipped out of her mouth as she said in front of everyone, “Trenchie, I love you and I’d be honored to be your wife.”
The room erupted into thunderous applause. That was the cue, the signal for the band to play to begin playing “You Are My One Love.” Trenchie gently reached for Mary’s hand and Mary, feeling as though she was living a fairytale and still tearing from emotions, joined him as they danced to the slow tantalizing rhythm of the meaningful foxtrot. Marco and Karen soon joined them and before long, the floor was teeming with dancing patrons, all sharing in the feeling of love that filled the air. The lovers danced and danced, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. Dance after dance, the band played as the celebration continued until dancing feet could dance no more. The newly engaged couple took their seats, followed in short order by another couple, then another, until the floor had almost but cleared. Sensing that the timing was right, Red picked up a mike and asked for quiet.
“Folks, we are honored tonight to have with us a local boy who made good. He’s the hottest new star in movies. His new film Mob Enforcer is playing to packed houses and in two weeks, he starts shooting the sequel Mob Hit Man, so don’t forget to go and see it when it’s released. I’ve asked him to stop by each table to say hello and being the good guy that he is, he has agreed to do it. So for your pleasure, James Roman will spend a few moments at each table. Putting his hand to his ear with an exaggerated gesture, he asked, “WOULD YOU LIKE THAT?” The crowd went wild yelling, “YES WE LIKE THAT!”
Jimmy began to approach each and every table, charming everyone, and like Clark Gable, he had the type of personality that even guys liked. It was a joyous evening with unsuspecting dinner patrons sharing in someone else’s happiness which in turn, filtered throughout the club, rejuvenating, even for a moment, memories of youth and love and hope. Most of the paying clientele left, leaving Karen and Marco, Trenchie and Mary, Red and Jimmy the Hat, at a table sipping champagne.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Red preferred killing a man with a gun. It was impersonal and unfeeling. You didn’t have to lay a hand on the victim. You killed him from a distance and it sent a message to those close to the victim that this was a hit. Only a trained marksman could hit a target from a distance. Red knew anything as obvious as killing him with a gun would start another gang war and that he didn’t want. Knives were another story. They, on the other hand, were quite personal. You had to plunge a knife deep into your victim, then slice, twist and pull the knife until you felt arteries and major organs being severed. In effect, you were
gutting him. You felt him squirm, twisting his body trying to escape from the knife even as he was dying, and you could feel your victim’s life slipping away as you watched him bleed out. Some assassins claimed they could see the spirit leave the body at the moment of death. Red hated knives, he always did but he knew knives could start a war also. He really wanted to use a gun for this job but he knew that to avoid a war he’d have to resort to a more devious method. His death had to look natural. It made him feel like a coward, in a way, but if it worked he would do it. He wrecked his brain trying to think of some other way, but couldn’t. He’d go with his original plan.
Red opened his safe, took out ten thousand dollars in cash, and dialed a telephone number he hadn’t called in years. He had called it once for Yip, but he never called it for any of his own jobs . . . until now.
Ed Lauter was known as the grim reaper. If you were unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of the grim reaper’s rare and almost completely undetectable poisonings, nothing could save you. It was a most unusual method of killing and while it required more planning than the conventional hit jobs, the results left law enforcement baffled.
The phone rang. “Ed here.”
“Ed, Big Red. How are you?”
“Doing good Red. What can I do for you? I know you didn’t call me after all these years just to ask how I was doing, so how can I help you?”
“Are you still mixin’ those fancy cocktails of yours?”
“Sure am. But I think it’s better if we discuss it in person, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I agree. Are you still at the same address?”
“No, the phone number’s the same, but the address is different. Grab a pen and I’ll give I to you.”
“When and where?”
Red wrote down Lauter’s new address, which wasn’t far from where he used to live, and placed it in his wallet. The appointment was set for the following day at noon. Ed was a night person and a late sleeper and he didn’t see anyone before noon, his starting time, and that’s precisely the time Red rang his doorbell. Lauter, still in his bathrobe, answered the door. He led Red into his living room and offered him a strong cup of coffee. This was the grim reaper’s business salon - the place where the plan for many a snuffed out life had its origins.
