Nonna woke up after about a minute. By that time they were down the other side and had pulled off into a service lane. From there the trip is flat and uneventful, unless Nonna is going along for the ride. She had to stop to pee every mile or so. The only thing in the whole world that pees more than my grandmother on a road trip is that marble cherub in my front yard. It would help if she didn’t drink a gallon and a half of coffee every morning. And by coffee, I mean coffee. Coffee the way Italian men like it.
Apparently my great grandfather, her dad, had died at age sixty three but continued to walk the Earth another thirty years. His heart kept beating as a result of the caffeine buzz provided by the rocket fuel he brewed every morning in that old silver percolator. Nonna told me she’d started drinking coffee with her papa by the time she was seven or eight years old. I simply cannot imagine a child buzzing around on that stuff. I bet her parents were hitting the whiskey by nine AM.
Anyway, it took Pop almost four hours to get her to Sea Isle. Four hours. To go about sixty miles. The poor man called me and asked me if I would come out and drive them home. He was absolutely certain that if he had to drive her, he would either kill his own mother in cold blood and dump her in the Pine Barrens, or just hang a hard left on top of the Walt Whitman and end the whole affair for both of them. Angie and I drove down the following Sunday in her Escalade. Other than the drive, Nonna had herself a marvelous time down the shore. She was tanned and smiling when we got there, and protested loudly that she didn’t really want to leave. At one point she grabbed my arm plaintively and asked me “Giuseppe, are we gonna have to drive over that-ah big-ah breedge?” It was pathetic. She looked like a little puppy, scared by the traffic and trying to cross the highway. I put my arm around her and said, “No, Nonna. I found a different way to go home. No bridges, okay?” She blew out her breath and sat back in her chaise lounge on the front porch. “Giuseppe,” she said to me, “Look-ah at the Ocean. It’s so beautiful, no?” I think the thought of crossing that bridge had been on her mind all week and she only just now permitted herself to enjoy this view.
Anj and I had cooked up a plan. Now, Nonna is pretty much a prude where vices are concerned. She never touched a cigarette, although she tolerated Giuseppe’s stogies, and she never touched liquor. Well, almost never. The old gal had a weakness for anisette. Break out the ‘bucca after dinner and she’d be dancing one of those whirling Mediterranean dances and singing in Italian in the living room. So Anj and I called Mr. Tripoletti at the drug store on Passyunk Avenue and asked him for a few spare Xanax. Of course he grilled us about this. But as soon as I told him it was for Nonna and she was taking a ride in the car, he said “Come on over.” Mr. Tripoletti could have caught a lot of flak for giving us that stuff without a prescription, but he knew my grandmother.
That Sunday evening, after dinner, we ground up a Xanax and put it in her shot glass and we drank a few rounds of anisette. She was laughing like a school girl in about a half hour, and passed out in the back seat of Angie’s Escalade by 7PM. I had to carry her inside her house. She woke up on her couch at 10:15 and called me up, asking how she got there. She had nothing but fond memories of the trip home. And that is the Sea Isle Affair.
So you can understand why the Old Man won’t drive her down here, and she won’t fly, so I had to come up with a viable solution. It took a little creativity but I got the problem solved. First, I called a friend from the neighborhood, Jimmy DiNardi. Jimmy and his dad owned a limousine service, City-Line Livery, and they had some really nice vehicles. I figured we’d need an Escalade or a Suburban to get three adults and their luggage comfortably to Virginia. Jimmy said that he would love to provide a car and a driver, but it was Christmas and it would be hard to get a driver to commit to making that trip twice during the holidays.
I had asked him about driving them down around the twenty-second of December, and picking them up and taking them back on the twenty-seventh. Jimmy said he’d put the word out to his guys, but that he thought it would be hard. He said he’d call me the next day. So I went about procuring airline tickets for everyone else in the family. Uncle Tony was a lifelong bachelor and had no reason not to come, so he said yes. My cousins, Angie’s cousins, Angie’s mom and dad would come but her brothers and sisters all did Seven Fishes with their in-laws. I understood completely.
I had all the arrangements made except for the driver and car for my mom and dad and grandmother. Jimmy DiNardo called me just as I was heading out to my garage to order a batting cage for Petey. It was late afternoon and he was home from school and I didn’t want him to hear me talking to the guy at the company who makes them. I ordered him a really nice, professional sized batting cage with pitching machine. Petey was becoming a very good baseball player and this would give him a jump on the pitchers next spring.
I gave the guy my credit card number and wrote down the delivery date and shipping info and was just hanging up when Jimmy DiNardo buzzed in on the call-waiting. “Yo Joey!” he said cheerfully. “Yo Jim,” I returned, “What’s the good word?” Jimmy was apologetic. “Chiedo scusa, paisan. I can’t find a driver to make this run for me being so close to Christmas. I could find you another company, Joey, but I’m afraid you’d run into the same problem no matter where you go.” Jimmy sounded forlorn. “Aaah it’s okay Cuz,” I said, “I understand.” Jimmy asked me why I needed this car for the trip. “It’s my Old Man and my mom. They are fine and they might even be convinced to fly, but they’re going to bring Nonna.” Jimmy laughed, “Sea Isle.” he said. Boy, word gets around in South Philly I thought. “Yeah,” I replied, “Sea Isle. Anyway, I need to have them driven down here without my dad doing the driving. Nonna behaves herself much better when a stranger is around.” Jimmy apologized again and told me that if there was anything else he could do, just ask.
I hung up and thought about it a bit. Then I got a brainstorm: Tommy Felonious!
Tommy had no family left now that his dad had remarried and his stepmother didn’t want him around. He was still a parolee but at a much reduced level and he’d gotten his license back. He’d probably love coming down here for Seven Fishes. I called Tommy right away.
The phone was ringing when I noticed someone coming down the driveway from the house to the garage where I was standing. It was Phil Lowery, carrying my leaf blower that he’d borrowed. He’d been tinkering with his own blower in Hank Milledge’s garage for weeks and the leaves kept piling up in his yard. I sent Petey over there at one point to offer to rake them for him and he said “No thanks, I’ll get that leaf blower working this week for sure.” The following week, when the leaf blower had apparently gotten the best of him, I gave mine to Milledge after a game of pool in my house. I told him, “Just give it to him and tell him you borrowed it. For some reason, Phil doesn’t like coming over here, unless you or Erickson or one of the others are here too. I don’t think Phil cares for me too much.” Milledge tried convincing me otherwise, ‘”Oh no, Joe it’s not like that at all,” He protested, “Phil is just shy, that’s all. I think he likes you just fine.” Shy, Huh? I thought, He’s not too shy to be watching me at 11PM through those metal venetian blinds with a light on in the room behind him.
Anyway, Milledge took my leaf blower to him and he got his yard straightened up. And now here he was, early December, three weeks after the rest of us had already bagged our leaves, finally returning my blower. Oh well, I thought to myself, It gives him an excuse to come over without anyone else holding his hand. Maybe we can finally chat.
Tommy Fallone picked up on the third ring. “Yo! Tommy Felonious! Come stai?” I yelled loudly. Phil was still a long way up the driveway when Tommy answered. Phil walks really slowly, like pages-of-a-calendar slowly. I waved to him to let him know I saw him coming, and to come on in the garage. I continued my conversation with Tommy while Lowery trudged down the driveway.
“Yo Tommy!” I said loudly, “I got a job for you, if you’re interested. It’ll get you off the fish trucks for a few days a
nd you can spend Christmas with my family down here. You game?” I could almost hear Tommy smiling. I guess he was figuring he’d be spending Christmas alone. “Sure” he said, “Tell me what’s going on. I smiled at Phil Lowery, who had just entered the garage. I held up my finger to Phil, signifying “Just give me one minute Phil.” I grabbed him a Dr. Pepper out of the fridge and set it on the workbench. He took a seat on a stool and wiped the bottle feverishly before he took a sip. I continued with Tommy.
“Listen, Tommy, your probation is light enough now that you can drive out of state, right?” I realized that, even though Phil didn’t know Tommy, this was personal. So I slowly meandered to the far side of the garage where I figured Phil couldn’t hear me as well. “Okay Paisan, this Christmas might be my Nonna’s last, you know what I mean? She’s eighty-seven years old. So I’ve been thinking about Seven Fishes. I think I want to do it down here instead of back in Philly. But I need to get them here to do it, Nonna, my Old Man, and my mom. Pop can’t drive her, so I was wondering if you’d do the job for me?”
Phil coughed suddenly. “Hang on Tommy...” I said into my phone. “Phil...You okay? Dr. Pepper go down the wrong pipe?” Lowery looked at me wide eyed. He nodded his head and set his bottle on the bench and cleared his throat a few times. I went back to Tommy. “You know how Nonna is, Tommy. She still pushes the Old Man around and she has to stop every fifteen minutes if he’s driving. But she behaves when she’s around strangers.” Tommy chuckled on his end. “What do you want me to do, Joe?” he said. “Here’s the plan,” I said. “I’m going to rent an Escalade, or a Suburban...black, so it looks like a limo. She hasn’t seen you since you went away to Holmesburg, so she won’t recognize you. We’re not telling her where they’re going, just that me and Anj and the kids will be there. She’ll figure you for a professional driver. You get them here, we do Feast of Seven Fishes, you stay with us for a few days after Christmas and head on home. Bip Bop Boop…the job is done!” Tommy laughed, “Just like that? You really think she’ll go for it?” “Oh yeah,” I told him. “Like I said, she hasn’t seen you in ten years Tommy, she’ll never suspect anything. If she asks any questions, just make up a name or something.” We both laughed at that.
“What do you say, Tommy” Will you do the job? I’ll talk to Skip and get him to loan you to me for a week so he doesn’t think I’m muscling in. He’ll be okay with it.” Tommy agreed. “It would be nice to be around family for Christmas, the first one since I got back and all. Yeah sure.” He said. “Excellent!” I yelled in excitement. Hey tomorrow when you see Skip tell him to call me. I need to make arrangements and have a shipment delivered down here by the twenty-third.” Tommy said he’d do it first thing in the morning. “Thanks Joe,” he said. “It’s going to be great to see you all. Let me know when you arrange the car for the trip. Tell Anj I said hey.” I hung up with a smile on my face. I turned back towards Phil, but he was gone. I glanced up the driveway and there he went, almost running.
“That’s odd.” I thought. “That old bird doesn’t run for anybody. I hope he’s alright.”
I made a list of the fish I was going to order from Skip O’Brien in the morning, turned out the garage lights and walked back to the house. As I walked in the side door, I saw Phil in his living room, silhouetted by a light from his kitchen, pacing back and forth and talking on the phone, very animated.
11
I
Knew It
All Along
“Milledge!” I yelled into my phone, “Milledge get over here right now!” I was so upset I barely remember Hank’s number when I dialed it. It took me three tries. He whined about me calling him at “this hour.” “For God’s sake, Hank it’s seven forty-five, and you’re watching Deadliest Catch reruns until ten. Now get over here!” Milledge still didn’t want to leave his recliner. “Come on Phil,” he said, “Can’t this wait?” “No!” I barked. It cannot wait. It’s life and death!” “Okay...” he said, “I’m on my way.”
Milledge knocked on my front door about ten minutes later. I opened it carefully, grabbed him by the arm and yanked him inside. Once he was in the living room, I locked the door, threw the deadbolt and fastened the security chain. “What in the name of...?” Milledge sputtered, “What is going on, Phil?” “I told you! I told you!” It’s all I could spit out. I was so angry, so upset, and to be honest, a little scared. “I told you he was a murderer!”
Milledge sat down on the couch. “Who, Phil? Who the heck are you talking about?”
“Mezilli!” I yelled, “You’re dear pool-playing buddy Joe Mezilli. He’s a cold blooded, ruthless killer!” “What?” Hank said incredulously. “Spit it out, Phil.” “I was just over there. I was in his garage and he was arranging a hit!” Hank laughed, “C’mon, Phil,” he said. “Your imagination is working overtime again.”
“I’m telling you I heard him. I heard him making the arrangements.” “Arrangements?” Hank asked, “What kind of Arrangements, Phil?” “I tried to explain it the best way I could, but it was a lot of information and I worried that Hank might not grasp it all. “He called it the ‘Feet’s and Seven Fishes.’ And my guess is it’s something worse than old Tataglia done to Luca Brazi. Milledge cocked his head like a dog. “Who?” “Luca Brazi!” I barked, “Remember in The Godfather when they sent that Sicilian Message and there was a fish inside Luca’s flak jacket? It meant he was going to sleep with the fishes. It means they killed him, Hank. Killed him dead and dumped his body in the ocean.” Milledge scratched his head under his ballcap. “Phil are you certain? I mean The Godfather was a great movie, but it was a movie. How do you know for sure that means what you say it means?” I was so mad I was quivering. “Because Hank,” I started, “They done the same thing in The Sopranos! Big Pussy!” Milledge jumped up off the couch, “Phil I really don’t appreciate you calling me names like that just because I don’t understand what you’re getting at. I mean…maybe I ain’t as wise about the mafia as you are, but you ain’t gotta call me…call me…” I was dumbstruck. “Milledge!” I yelled, “I ain’t calling you no Big Pussy I’m talking about the big fella on The Sopranos. His name was Big Pussy and they shot him up on a boat and then wrapped him in a bodybag and dumped him overboard.” Milledge sat down slowly. “So…so you weren’t calling me a…you know a big…” “Oh for God’s sake NO, Hank! I was telling you about another fella who slept with the fishes. Just like your pal Joe Barzini across the street is going to do. Apparently he’s planning on killin’ seven of them at once. That’s why he called it ‘Feets and Seven Fishes’ I reckon it means seven poor bastards are gonna have cement shoes on their feet and then sleep with the fishes!” Milledge let out a long, low whistle. “And you know what?” I continued, “You know who one of his victims is going to be? His own grandmother!”
Hank snapped to attention. “Phil I’ve never seen you this worked up. Are you sure you heard this? His own grandmother?” “Am I sure? Am I sure?” I was almost biting my tongue off. “I’m so sure, that I’m calling the sheriff in the morning. I got him! I got that phony waste managing mafia sombitch! I got him!” Hank stood up and walked over to me. “Slow down, Phil, tell me what you heard.” I took a breath. “I was returning the leaf blower, and he was on the phone with some guy named Tommy. Tommy who apparently had been in jail! Yeah, he did a stretch in Holmesburg!” Hank was silent, I continued. “I heard him say he was going to have seven of them sleep with the fishes! Seven! That heartless, no good rotten bastard! One of them was his grandmother and two more were his own mother and father! And to make it worse, he’s going to do the job on Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve! What kind of cruel, cold hearted sombitch could kill his own parents and his grandmother, on Christmas Eve to boot? I’m tellin’ ya Hank, he’s a mafia and I know it! His parents are too dang old to make the journey down here and his grandmother doesn’t like driving at all. He even told this Tommy fella to drug her if he needed to. He mentioned about how they done it to her years ago. He even laughed about it! Anyway
he was gonna rent a Suburban so his grandmother thinks it’s a real limosine company coming to driver her down here. Then when he gets her here, she’s gonna sleep, feet-first, with the fishes. Along with his momma and daddy and four other folks. I’m thinking the other four must be locals. This ain’t good Milledge…this ain’t good!”
“You sure about this?” Milledge asked, “This is a big accusation Phil.” I laughed at him for even doubting me. “I’m as sure as I’m standing here. This is it. I have him now! The game, as Inspector Cluseau said, is on foot!”
Buying off the Cops
Phil Lowery is no stranger to my office. We used to get calls from him about once a week when he first moved out there to the Meadows. He’d call us complaining about a neighbor parking two feet into his property. He’d call about kids launching fireworks on Fourth of July. He’d call about strange lights in the sky. But he’s never actually come down to my office to personally file a complaint. This was a first. Stevens is my name. Stan Stevens. I’m the Bedford County Sherriff. To be truthful, I’m also Phil Lowery’s wife’s cousin. Gladys and me was real close growin’ up. Our whole family was. Phil was not one of the people we all ran with back then. He came from up in Lynchburg and his daddy was a coker at the foundry and they didn’t have a lot of money. Neither did we, but they were really poor. We accepted him anyway because Gladys fell in love with him, and our family has never been the kind to split over things like that. But Phil came closer than anyone ever had to testing that rule. He was definitely different from the rest of us.
The Legend of Joey Trucks: The Accidental Mobster Page 18
