by William Wolf
Mendy shrugged.
Mendy shrugged.
“Why not?”
“Out of town there’s the whole world to get in trouble in. This is home court.”
“It’s Rel i’s home court, too.”
“Yeah, but I been playin’ on it for so long, we might have a lit le advantage.”
Bobby put down his Coke and said, “If this wasn’t so serious it would be funny. My whole life I’ve been trying to avoid the Family, and now—one dinner and I’m in the middle of a hit on Jimmy Hof a.”
Mendy blinked, coughed, and said, “Bobby, that guy Roger? When I smacked him I was wearing these.” He held up a pair of brass knuckles.
“No wonder you knocked his teeth out.”
“In this kind of ghting there’s no rules. Especial y with bosses like Rel i and Catel o. You use what you got.”
“Great,” said Bobby. “What do we have?”
Mendy said, “We got each other.”
“You think that’s going to be enough?”
Mendy shrugged. “Jeez. I dunno. I’ve never been up against guys like them before.”
Chapter
Chapter
Sixteen
IT TOOK THE combined e orts of John Bertoia, Hedda Hopper, and the Mouse for Luigi Catel o to put the pieces together and gure out what was happening right under his nose.
First came Bertoia’s information: Rel i was spending a lot of time at the home of Annet e Tucci. Bertoia, Alberto Rel i’s cousin, was Catel o’s informer in the Rel i regime.
The father of six, he intended to have a job no mat er who won in the Tucci Family’s war of succession.
Next, Hedda Hopper came to town. Hedda’s real name was Chuckie Fina, and he occupied a unique place in the landscape of American crime as the ma a’s uno cial but universal y recognized gossip columnist.
Fina was a handsome, personable young man, the scion of a respected Staten Island family, whose parents were kil ed in a tra c accident on the Triboro Bridge when he was eleven. For the next ten years he bounced around among adoring aunts in Los Angeles, Brooklyn, St. Louis, and Miami. Al Chuckle’s relatives were connected, and soon the peripatetic boy with the long eyelashes, sweet smile, and tragic story became wel known in mafia circles across the country.
across the country.
It was the time of the McClel an hearings; people were nervous about writing let ers or talking on the telephone.
They began asking Chuckie to pass along bits of information—the engagement of an underboss’s daughter, an aging don’s successful hernia operation, a consigliere’s plan to build a new house in the suburbs—to friends and relations in the cities he visited. The information was innocuous, but no one wanted to unwit ingly give the government even the slightest bit of help.
Soon Chuckie, with his keen eye for personal detail, became a much awaited messenger. Not only did he announce engagements, but he gave amusing accounts of the courtship, embel ished medical news with tidbits of bedside gossip, and brought word of new styles of dress, architecture, and home decor in the various Families.
“This kid hops o a plane, tel s me things about my own brother I never even knew, and then he hops back on the plane and disappears,” Don Alphonse Almonte of Portland once remarked, and it gave birth to Chuckle’s nickname: Hedda Hopper.
As he grew into manhood, gossipmongering became Chuckie’s ful -time occupation. Luigi Catel o was one of the rst who saw his intel igence value. Catel o cultivated him with smal con dences and unfailing courtesy and, in return, he often got information more valuable than wedding announcements or fashion tips. This is how he learned that something big was about to happen in Detroit learned that something big was about to happen in Detroit around the end of July. Hedda Hopper didn’t know what it would be, but he had heard that the National Commission was involved.
Catel o’s next step was to get Mouse Campanel a to bug Annet e Tucci’s house.
Mouse was a reluctant electronics wizard. As a boy his 152 IQ had been a source of wonder to his parents, simple people who ran a Tucci Family numbers operation in Pontiac; but for Mouse himself, his brains had been a curse. He did not have a scholarly temperament, and he resented the expectations and demands of his teachers. He also despised the goody-goodies in his advanced classes.
From an early age Mouse Campanel a was determined to find antisocial uses for his intel ectual gifts.
Unlike most guys with his nickname, Mouse didn’t look like one. He was of average height, with a powerful upper body, a dark complexion, and jet-black hair worn in a crew cut. He got the name in high school for performing
“mousectomies”—recreational brain surgery on stolen laboratory mice.
After graduation, Mouse enlisted in the navy, where his IQ got him assigned to radio school and then to a spy ship of the coast of Vietnam. His talent for snooping won him a promotion; his involvement in drug smuggling got him two years in a military prison and a dishonorable discharge.
Mouse returned to Pontiac, where he used his parents’
Mouse returned to Pontiac, where he used his parents’
contacts to gain an appointment with Luigi Catel o. The consigliere was immediately impressed by the young veteran’s technical expertise and larcenous character and o ered him a job. In just three years he worked his way up from entry level to running the communications facilities in the basement of the Tucci mansion. Most young men would have been satis ed, but Mouse was ambitious. He knew that he could rise only so high in the Family as a technician; the senior posts would always be reserved for made men, wel -rounded mobsters with street credentials. This he knew from Catel o himself.
Despite the di erence in their ages and status, Mouse and Catel o became close. They shared a taste for fast food and the slow women who serve it. And they were both avid hunters. Every autumn they spent a long weekend at the Tucci Family’s private preserve in northern Michigan, where they mowed down deer from a jeep equipped with mounted machine guns. As their friendship deepened, Catel o spoke to his protégé with rare frankness about Tucci politics. So when Mouse played the tape of Rel i and Bobby Tucci discussing a hit on Jimmy Ho a, he was unsurprised by Catel o’s reaction: “That rot en prick Rel i.
We had a deal.”
“We going to BOB?” asked Mouse. BOB stood for Brains Over Brawn. It was Catel o’s contingency plan for eliminating Alberto Rel i and instal ing himself as the new don.
don.
Catel o stroked his double chin. “This Ho a thing is a new wrinkle,” he said. “If the Commission gave the contract to the don, and the don gave it to Rel i, that’s bad.”
“How about tipping o Ho a? Let him take care of the Rel i problem.”
Catel o shook his head. “I can’t go up against the Commission. They nd out I dropped a dime, I’m a dead man. We got a take Rel i out in a way that don’t seem like a hit. Then I step in, handle the Ho a contract myself, and everything’s tied up in a neat package.”
“What about Bobby? If he goes along with Rel i, he’s gonna have a claim.”
“I’m more worried about his old lady,” said Catel o.
“Bobby’s just a kid. If Rel i’s talking to him, Annet e’s behind it. That means we got a neutralize her.”
The Mouse laughed. “There’s a lot of guys around who would volunteer to whack her out. I wouldn’t mind myself.”
“You’re not thinking,” Catel o said. “Annet e gets whacked, we got her old man to deal with. No, this thing has to go by the numbers, one step at a time. Step number one, ask Joey Florio to come see me.”
DR. JOEY FLORIO was in the midst of a postcoital afternoon nap in the upstairs in rmary when Mouse cal ed. “I’l stop nap in the upstairs in rmary when Mouse cal ed. “I’l stop by tomorrow morning,” he said grumpily.
“Don’t worry, I’l tel Eileen I’m working late and we can go to Joe Muir’s for dinner,” said Mouse. “Fucking you makes me want to eat a juicy lobster.”
“What?”
“Fucking spook,” Florio said. “Shit. Okay, I’l be down in fifteen minutes.”
“Make it ten,” said Mouse, hanging up.
Florio arrived red-faced with anger. “Bugging my clinic isn’t going to do you a fucking bit of good,” he told Catel o. “You think I care if Eileen knows about me and Felice? Give me the phone, I’l cal her myself and tel her.”
“Come on, Joey, you know I’d never blackmail you,”
said Catel o. “Tel me, how’s the don doing?”
“You got me out of bed for that?”
“It’s important to me, Joey.”
“He’s doing al right,” said Florio, unable to sti e his professional pride. “He’s responding to the protocol.”
“He could live to a hundred,” said Catel o. “Right?”
“Six months at the outside,” said Florio. “But these are six months he wouldn’t have if he wasn’t get ing the right treatment.”
“You told Annet e,” said Catel o.
“You told Annet e,” said Catel o.
“Like hel I did. I don’t talk to Annet e.”
“You want me to play you the conversation?”
“She’s got a right to know,” said Florio defensively
“She’s his daughter-in-law.”
“Joey, you’re a bright man and I’m not going to insult your intel igence,” said Catel o. “Since you’re taking from Annette, obviously the money you get from me isn’t big enough to buy your loyalty So we’re going to change the nature of our relationship. Let me start with a simple question: How’s the don doing?”
“I just told you, he’s doing okay,” said Florio cautiously.
He was one of the few members of the Tucci Family who knew how the fat consigliere had risen to power.
“I think he’d be bet er of in a coma,” said Catel o.
“What?”
“Maybe ‘coma’ ain’t the right word,” Catel o conceded.
“Laymen talk medicine, it sometimes comes out wrong.
What I want is for you to make him unconscious and keep him unconscious until I tel you to pul the plug. After the funeral you receive a mil ion-dol ar severance package and get lost. That’s clearer, right?”
“I’m a doctor, not some fucking greasebal hit man,”
said Florio. He was shaking; Catel o wasn’t sure if it was from anger or fear.
“If that’s what you tel yourself, that’s ne,” Catel o said mildly. “Mouse!”
Mouse Campanel a came into Catel o’s o ce. He was Mouse Campanel a came into Catel o’s o ce. He was carrying a Smith & Wesson .38 with a silencer. Florio began shaking harder. Now Catel o was sure it was fear.
“The Mouse has been after me to let him make his bones,” Catel o said in a mat er-of-fact way. “So either you do what I tel you or he’s going to shoot you and toss your body in a lime pit. Right, Mouse?”
Mouse nodded; he was ready.
Florio took a deep breath, trying to col ect himself. If he disappeared, there would be questions, but he knew Catel o would have answers. “What about Annet e? What do I tel her?”
Catel o shrugged. “Tel her the truth, that the don’s out.
She wants to see him, that’s okay.”
“What if she brings in another doctor?”
“Use something another doc won’t pick up on,” said Catel o. “You got medicine like that?”
Reluctantly, Florio nodded.
“Good. And don’t worry, I’l see to it there’s no autopsy.”
“How about Seluchi? What if he wants to take the don to a hospital?”
Catel o’s round face broke into a smile. “Seluchi is on his way to that lime pit I just mentioned. You hurry, you can catch up to him. Or you can walk away a mil ionaire.
You’ve got five seconds to choose.”
Florio saw Mouse looking at his watch with a hungry expression. “Okay, okay,” he said.
expression. “Okay, okay,” he said.
“That’s great, Joey,” said Catel o. “You’re too good a man to die over something like this. Mouse, go upstairs, kick the nurse out, and get things ready.”
Mouse ashed the doctor a resentful look and left with his head down.
“Did you know that his IQ is one fty-two?” said Catel o. “He could get into Mensa if he wanted to. You happen to know your IQ?”
Florio shook his head.
“I don’t know mine, either. Hey, look, Mouse is going to lm you in the clinic. Just tel the camera what you’re doing. Give details, the type of medicine and al . Then he’l lm the don once he’s unconscious. That plus the tape of this conversation wil be enough to keep you honest. I don’t mean to insult you, but you did try to fuck me before with Annet e. This time we both know how things stand. Okay?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“I’m afraid of that at itude,” said Catel o. “I want you to be happy, not angry. Because if you’re not happy you’l be dangerous. And if I think you’re dangerous, you’re going to wind up in a place that makes the lime pit seem like fuckin’ Bermuda. So, let me ask you one more time. Are we okay?”
“We’re okay,” said Florio.
“You’re happy?”
“I’m happy.”
“I’m happy.”
“Good,” said Catel o cheerful y. “Now I only got one problem left.”
Florio said, “What’s that?”
“I got a find the Mouse somebody else to kil .”
Chapter
Chapter
Seventeen
ANNETTE LEFT THE don’s mansion with Alberto Rel i. They had seen with their own eyes that the old man was unconscious, heard Dr. Florio say the odds were he wouldn’t be back. “You’ve got to handle the Hof a contract before he kicks,” said Annet e. “Otherwise the whole succession thing gets thrown into an uproar.”
“I already thought of that,” said Rel i. “I got a meet with Lit le Jimmy al set up.”
“Don’t forget Bobby.”
“Hey, I promised,” Rel i said. “Tomorrow me and Bertoia are gonna walk through the hit. Tel Bobby to meet me at noon at the Sav-on Drugs at Maple and Telegraph. He can tag along.”
“He’l be there,” said Annet e. She pressed her lips to Rel i’s ear and whispered, “Don Alberto.”
Rel i put his hand on Annet e’s behind, but she moved away. “Somebody wil see us,” she said. “Come by my place after you do Ho a, and we’l real y have a party.
Johnny Baldini’s got this new sh that costs four hundred dol ars a pound. I’l have him cook it up for us while we’re making love, and we can eat it for dessert.”
“What the hel do we need Baldini for?”
“What the hel do we need Baldini for?”
“He’s the don’s chef, right? So he’s gonna belong to you.
You might as wel get used to him. Don’t worry, he won’t bother us.”
“Whatever you say, babe,” said Rel i. He was too happy to argue. He had everything a man could look forward to.
In just a few days he would pul o the hit of the century, become head of the Tucci Family, and then celebrate his good fortune with a four-hundred-buck sh and a mil ion-dol ar blow job.
WHEN MENDY OPENED the door to his apartment Bobby said,
“Are you al alone?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
“With you I never know who I’l nd,” said Bobby. “A niece, a showgirl, a nun, Til ie’s mother—”
“Hey, I never been with a nun in my life,” said Mendy.
Bobby’s expression grew serious. “I’m supposed to meet Rel i tomorrow in a strip mal in West Bloom eld. There’s some restaurant out there where Rel i’s planning to meet Hof a.”
“The hit’s tomorrow?”
Bobby shook his head. “Tomorrow’s just the dress rehearsal. Jesus, I can’t believ
e I’m actual y sit ing here talking about this. It’s so fucking weird.”
“What did you tel your mom? About going with Rel i?”
“I told her sure, I’d meet him.”
“I told her sure, I’d meet him.”
“Good. Go along for the ride, see what’s what. Then we can figure out our next move. I hope.”
“Me, too,” said Bobby. He took a deep breath and said,
“You know something? I’m scared, I admit it.”
“Jeez,” said Mendy.
“But I guess it’s only natural. I mean, anybody would be scared in this situation. Right?”
Mendy shrugged. “I bet Rel i ain’t scared,” he said.
MOUSE WAS IN the basement of the mansion working the New York Times crossword when Catel o came in and said, “I just heard from Bertoia. Tomorrow’s your big day.”
“Kind of short notice,” said Mouse.
“Forget it, then, somebody else can do it. Some other ambitious young comer.” When Mouse ushed with anger, Catel o said, “Don’t get your bowels in an uproar, I’m just kidding.”
“I don’t see the humor,” said Mouse.
“Relax, I got everything al worked out. Tomorrow after the walk-through, Rel i and Bertoia are gonna drop Bobby o and head out to Pine Lake. Dean Martin’s there, and Rel i’s invited for drinks before the show. On the way they’re gonna stop at the Family warehouse in Pontiac, so that Rel i can pick up a new sound system for his Cadil ac.
There won’t be anybody there but you. They arrive, There won’t be anybody there but you. They arrive, Bertoia shoots Rel i in the head, stu s him in the trunk, drives him up to the farm in Washtenaw County, and buries him in the cornfield. Simple as it gets.”
“Where do I come in?”
“On the way out to the farm get Bertoia to brief you on the details of the Ho a job—where, when, what. When you get to the farm, he’s gonna dig a grave. Give him a hand, then shoot him in the back of the head and dump him along with Rel i. Afterwards dispose of Rel i’s car. I’l leave that one up to you.” Catel o paused; he was beaming at Mouse with fond condescension. “A guy with your IQ, you got a do at least a lit le independent thinking to make your bones.”
