Whacking Jimmy: A Novel

by William Wolf

  “You’re not leaving Daddy for Mendy?”

  Ann laughed. “For Mendy? Mendy’s a wonderful friend, but he’s not interested in a serious relationship.”

  “He’s not interested? Mother!”

  “Don’t be such a snob, Til ie. After al , you’re the one who introduced us.”

  “I’m not a snob, it’s just that he’s so old. And he’s a gangster.”

  gangster.”

  “He doesn’t seem so old to me. And as for him being a gangster, he has ten times more character than the men I know. Your father’s a gentleman, and look what a shit he is.”Til ie giggled. “I can’t believe I’m hearing right. I’ve wanted to say that to you since I was fourteen.”

  “You think I needed you to tel me?”

  “Why now?” asked Til ie. “I mean, if you’ve felt this way for so long?”

  “Why not now? You’re grown up. There’s no reason I shouldn’t get on with things.”

  “Where wil you live?”

  “Right here,” said Ann serenely.

  “Daddy’s going to let you keep the house?”

  “And the place at the lake,” said Til ie. “And our duplex in New York.”

  “We have a duplex in New York? I didn’t know that.”

  “Neither did I, until recently,” said Ann. “I understand it’s just around the corner from Sotheby’s. Feel free to use it anytime, there’s loads of room.”

  “Daddy’s just giving al this to you?”

  Ann nodded.

  “Why? He doesn’t have a generous bone in his body.”

  “No,” Ann agreed. “But this is more a mat er of self-interest on his part. You might even say self-preservation.

  It appears that your father’s been having an a air with Harley Malcolm’s daughter. She’s much younger than he, Harley Malcolm’s daughter. She’s much younger than he, of course, and married, but I must say they make a photogenic couple.”

  “You’ve got pictures?”

  “And a film. It’s quite something.”

  “You put detectives on Daddy? That’s so not you.”

  “Mendy arranged it. Apparently this particular detective owed him a favor.”

  “I bet Daddy freaked,” said Til ie.

  “Yes,” said Ann. “Harley’s the bank’s biggest depositor, it seems. That’s why your father decided to be so generous.”

  “So you get the house and the apartment, and he takes the film?”

  “It seems a fair arrangement,” said Ann. “Of course I’l have an extra copy. For a rainy day.”

  Til ie stared at her. “What have you done with my real mother?”

  Ann laughed and said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Ann Til man is a goldfish. You’ve turned into a shark.”

  “Yes,” said Ann, with a laugh. “It seems that I have. Isn’t it marvelous?”

  Chapter

  Chapter

  Twenty-three

  MENDY WAS ALONE in Vit orio Tucci’s living room, inspecting photos in silver frames, when a wel -built young man with an intense expression walked in. “Hi,” he said, “My name’s Mouse. I work for Catel o.”

  Mendy extended his right hand. “Mendy Pearlstein,” he said.

  Mouse raised his own right, in which he held a Smith & Wesson .38 with a silencer. “Lean up against the wal ,” he said.

  “Hey, buddy, I got permission,” said Mendy. “Vit orio left me his keepsakes.”

  Mouse ran his hands over Mendy’s back and under his arms, looking for a weapon. “I’m taking you for a ride,”

  he said. The sentence, which he had practiced al day, came out smooth and professional.

  “You’re making a mistake,” said Mendy calmly. “Cal Catel o, he’l tel you.”

  “Catel o’s who sent me,” Mouse said. He handcu ed Mendy and prodded him with the pistol, leading him out the back door and into the passenger side of a black Lincoln. Then he drove down to the gatehouse, waved to the guard, and eased into the sweltering Grosse Pointe the guard, and eased into the sweltering Grosse Pointe afternoon.

  “I’m taking you to a place in Waterford,” Mouse said.

  “When we get there, you’re gonna cal Bobby Tucci and tel him to meet you. Once he shows up, you’re o the hook. Simple as that.”

  Mendy said nothing. After a long silence Mouse cleared his throat. “If you got any questions—”

  Mendy remained silent, his expression mild and calm, like a man out for a pleasant Sunday ride. Mouse cleared his throat again and said, “Nobody’s gonna hurt Bobby. I just need to talk to him. Understand?”

  Mendy nodded.

  “Jesus, say something, wil ya? You’re givin’ me the creeps.”

  “I don’t wanna make you nervous,” said Mendy.

  Mouse forced a laugh. “I got the gun, you’re sit in’ here in cuf s, and you don’t wanna make me nervous? What are you, senile?”

  “Aw,” said Mendy “I can tel you ain’t had much experience is al .”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “I’m worried about me,” said Mendy. “Get a new guy jumpy, there’s no tel ing what he’s gonna do.”

  “I’m not jumpy,” said Mouse. “And I’m not new, either.”

  “I’m just goin’ by what I see,” said Mendy in a conciliatory tone. “You want me to give you a ferinstance?”

  ferinstance?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Okay, ferinstance, you didn’t frisk me the right way.

  You forgot to pat down my lower legs. I could have an ankle holster.”

  A look of alarm crossed Mouse’s face. He pul ed up the cu s of Mendy’s trousers, revealing nothing more than thick ankles encased in calf-high black silk socks. “Very funny,” he said.

  “Another ferinstance is the cu s,” said Mendy. “You didn’t lock ’em right. Look.” He twisted his hands, and the right one slipped free.

  “Hey,” said Mouse, tightening his grip on the .38.

  “Relax,” said Mendy. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He slipped his hand back into the cu . “Another giveaway is how you said, ‘I’m takin’ you for a ride,’ back at the house

  —it sounded like a line from a George Raft picture. And mentioning Catel o’s name, that gives me information I don’t already have. Plus I shouldn’t be sit ing in front unless you need me up here to give directions. And—”

  “Okay, I get the point, shut the fuck up,” said Mouse, waving his pistol. “I been with the Tuccis for three years, for your information.”

  “Sure, if you say so.”

  “When Catel o takes over I’m the new consigliere.”

  Mendy shook his head. “You got a be a made man to be consigliere.”

  “What makes you think I’m not?”

  “What makes you think I’m not?”

  Mendy said, “Kid, I been doin’ this al my life. You’re a virgin. It sticks out.”

  “Maybe I’l lose my virginity on you,” said Mouse. Now that he said it, it seemed like a good idea, sort of practice for Ho a. Once Bobby got to the house in Waterford, Catel o wouldn’t give a shit what happened to the old man.

  “Nah,” said Mendy. “Kil ing me won’t count.”

  “What do you mean it won’t count?”

  “To make your bones you got a do somebody on a contract from your don.”

  “I never heard that.”

  “Hey, if al you hadda do is whack somebody, that guy on the tower down in Texas would be a made man. Think about it.”

  “So, I get Catel o to give me the go-ahead before I do you.”

  “Catel o ain’t got the authority. He ain’t the don.”

  “He wil be,” said Mouse.

  Mendy shook his head and said gently, “It’s never gonna happen. Don Vit orio named Rel i. When the Commission nds out Catel o kil ed him, they’re gonna do the Ho a job themselves. That’s why Carmine Pat i’s in town. I seen you two sit in’ together at Vit orio’s funeral.”

  “How do
you know about the Hof a hit?”

  “Do me a favor, put the gun down before you shoot me,” said Mendy. “I can’t concentrate.”

  me,” said Mendy. “I can’t concentrate.”

  “Sorry,” said Mouse distractedly. He laid the pistol on his lap.

  “You got the safety on?”

  Mouse checked the safety and nodded.

  “Good. You’re not careful, you can shoot yourself. It happened to a friend of mine, Wil e the Schmeckler, back during Pro’bition—”

  “How do you know about the Ho a hit?” Mouse repeated.

  Mendy gave him a sincere, brown-eyed look and said,

  “Mouse, you’re a bright fel a, I can tel that about you. But the world you’re livin’ in right now, everybody knows more than you do. Especial y your boss.”

  “Catel o?”

  “He told you to get me to cal Bobby, right? Catel o knows I’d never give up Vit orio Tucci’s grandson. So what do you do? You got a whack me, which sets you up for a murder-one rap. You wanna spend thirty years in the joint for kil in’ a guy my age? What kinda sense does that make?”

  “You’re not gonna cal Bobby?”

  Mendy shook his head. “I’d rather shoot myself. Hand me the gun, I’l do it right here.”

  “Why does Catel o want me to whack you?”

  “Keep me quiet. Plus I just got made a trustee of the Tucci Foundation. I go down, he maybe gets my job.”

  “Shit,” said Mouse. He ran his ngers over his scalp and

  “Shit,” said Mouse. He ran his ngers over his scalp and pounded his hand on the padded steering wheel. They drove for a couple of minutes in silence. Then he said, “I got an IQ of one fifty-two.”

  Mendy whistled. “That’s high, huh?”

  “It’s the same as Al Haig’s,” Mouse said. “Genius is one-sixty.”

  “No kiddin’? See, I knew you were a smart kid.”

  Mouse gave Mendy a sharp look, but the expression on the old guy’s face matched the sincerity in his voice. “I feel pret y stupid right now,” he confessed.

  “Aw,” said Mendy. “Like I told you before, you’re green is al . Take me. I can’t even read and write, I just been around a few years. You get to be my age, you’l prob’ly be the savviest guy in the whole country.”

  Mouse was moved by Mendy’s fatherly tone. His wise humility made Carmine Pat i’s crisp e ciency seem cal ow and Catel o’s cunning, cheap and grasping. “What do I do now?” he asked.

  “You want my advice, you got a change sides,” said Mendy.

  “Dump Catel o?”

  “Kid, there’s a limit to loyalty.”

  “I do that, he’d come after me in a minute.”

  “Not if you go after him first.”

  “Me go after Catel o?”

  “Sure, why not? That’s how you get experience. Besides, you wouldn’t be alone.”

  you wouldn’t be alone.”

  Mouse said, “I dunno. I got a think about this.”

  “There’s a Denny’s right up ahead. Pul in and we can get a cup of cof ee. That’s the think drink.”

  Mouse turned into the Denny’s parking lot, unlocked Mendy’s cu s, and holstered his revolver. “You mind if I give you one more piece of advice?” said Mendy.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I were you, I’d lock the pistol in the trunk. A lot a cops tend to stop o at Denny’s, and they got tough carry laws out here.”

  “No sweat,” said Mouse, tapping the gun under his jacket. “I got a permit.”

  Mendy blinked hard and swal owed but said nothing; Mouse’s ego had taken a bad-enough beating for one day.

  He threw a fatherly arm over the younger man’s shoulder and squeezed. Later he would tel Yank and some of the other old-timers about his new friend the genius who went out on a job carrying a licensed pistol.

  FOR HALF AN hour they drank co ee, picked at an order of fries, and dissected the situation. Then Mendy went to the pay phone, made two cal s, and came back grinning.

  “Your turn,” he said.

  Mouse said, “Just like that? Things are moving so fast.”

  “This kind of works like the army,” said Mendy. “You sit around al the time, and then bang, you got a move.

  sit around al the time, and then bang, you got a move.

  Not that I was in the army, but guys told me.”

  “I was in the navy,” said Mouse. “I got a dishonorable discharge, though.”

  “Go make your cal ,” said Mendy gently. “We’re runnin’

  on a timetable.”

  Chapter

  Chapter

  Twenty-four

  THE PLACE IN Waterford was a boxy white shingle cot age on a smal lake. It was dusty and stank of beer and oregano, domestic cigars and unchanged bedsheets. “Nice spot,” Mendy said approvingly.

  “The guys use it for fishing,” said Mouse.

  “Nobody’s out here now?”

  “Nope. You got a clear it through Catel o.” Mouse felt a pang at the thought that he was stabbing his boss in the back. It lasted approximately two seconds.

  “Okay then,” said Mendy. “We wait. There a deck of cards around?”

  “You don’t want to play cards with me,” said Mouse.

  “You wouldn’t stand a chance. It’s al probabilities, statistics.”

  “Aw,” said Mendy, ducking his head, “ya got a play gin while you wait, that’s how it’s done. What about just a penny a point? That way I won’t get clobbered too bad.”

  Mouse shrugged. “Okay, I warned you. I don’t want hard feelings afterwards.”

  They played gin and drank beer for two hours before they heard the sound of a car pul ing into the driveway.

  Mendy went to the window and said, “Here’s Rudy.

  Mendy went to the window and said, “Here’s Rudy.

  Lemme go out, show him where to park out of sight.”

  “Okay, but we keep playing when you get back,” said Mouse. He was down $215.

  “The longer we play, the more you’re gonna lose,” said Mendy. “I’m cheating.”

  “Cheating?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna col ect. I just like to keep in practice.”

  Mendy was gone for a minute or so. When he returned he was accompanied by a tal black man made even tal er by four-inch platform shoes and a wide-brimmed Borsalino.

  “Meet Rudy,” Mendy said to Mouse. “Boss of the New Breed Purples of Oakland Avenue.”

  “At your service,” said Rudy, touching the brim.

  “Thanks for comin’ out on such short notice,” said Mendy. “It’l be a while before Catel o gets here.”

  “I see you gentlemen are playing at cards,” said Rudy.

  “Gin rummy,” said Mouse.

  “How about a lit le tonk?”

  “What’s that?”

  “A game of chance from the ghet o. Give me those cards and I’l teach it to you right quick.”

  Mouse concentrated as Rudy explained the game, which was a variant of gin rummy. After the third trial hand he said, “Okay, I got it.”

  “Penny a point?” asked Rudy.

  “Penny a point?” asked Rudy.

  “No problemo,” said Mouse, giving Mendy a wink.

  “I’l sit out awhile,” Mendy said. He went into the kitchen and rummaged around until he found a box of Ritz crackers and a half-empty jar of Skippy peanut but er.

  He spread the Skippy with his pocketknife, placed the hors d’oeuvres on a plate, and brought them into the living room. Then he took a seat near the window where he could keep an eye out for Catel o while he watched Rudy swindle Mouse at tonk.

  They were in the middle of a hand when Mendy saw Catel o’s Cadil ac pul up. There was no one with him.

  “Mouse, put the cu s back on me,” he said. “Rudy, you bet er wait in the bedroom til I give you the high sign.”

  When Catel o walked in, he nodded and said, “Hel o, Mendy.”

  Mendy nodded back and said,
“Luigi. How about let in’

  my hands loose here?”

  “Where’s Bobby?” Catel o asked Mouse.

  “Mendy won’t make the cal .”

  “Cal Bobby and you can go,” said Catel o.

  “Aw, I can’t do that,” said Mendy.

  “We’re not going to hurt the kid,” said Catel o. “I just need some information.”

  “He’s a col ege boy,” said Mendy. “Al he knows is the names of rock-and-rol bands.”

  “Bul shit,” said Mouse. “He knows the details of the Hof a hit.”

  Hof a hit.”

  Catel o’s head snapped in Mouse’s direction. “Shut the fuck up,” he said.

  “That’s what this is al about?” said Mendy. “You shoulda said so back at the don’s house, I woulda saved everybody the trouble.”

  “You know about the Hof a job?”

  “Bobby told me about it when he came back from the warehouse in Pontiac. He was pret y shook up about Rel i.”

  “Yeah, wel , accidents happen,” said Catel o. “Besides, Bobby had no business being there in the first place.”

  “That’s what I told him,” said Mendy. “Certain things kids got a learn for themselves. I was the same way. I remember this one time, I musta been maybe nineteen, around in there—”

  Catel o held up his hand and said, “You know the details of the job?”

  “It’s so simple it’s ridiculous,” said Mendy. “Rel i meets Jimmy in the parking lot of the Red Fox on Thursday at four-thirty. Jimmy fol ows Rel i, to see some piece of property in the sticks. They get there, Rel i shoots him, dumps the body, and that’s that.”

  “Hof a know where this property is?”

  “Out Inkster Road’s al I know.”

  “That’s good enough,” said Catel o. “I pul up in the Red Fox lot and I go, ‘Hey, Jimmy, howya doin’? Rel i’s stil in Sicily, he asked me to show you the property, fol ow me.’

  Sicily, he asked me to show you the property, fol ow me.’

  We pick some nice quiet place, and when we pul in, Mouse, you’re waitin’. We take Ho a, you dump the car and lose the body, and that’s that.”

  “What makes you think Ho a’s gonna fol ow you?”

  asked Mendy.

  Catel o picked up a Ritz cracker and munched thoughtful y. Final y he said, “Me and Jimmy have history.