A Bullet for Carlos

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  I limped toward him, a grimace with each step, and my hand still gripping the gun. I remembered Manny, a big man with a contagious laugh and a happy face. “Manny? Is it really you?”

  Manny rushed to my side, threw big thick arms around me.

  “Andre’ tutto bene, bambina. Manny’s here now.” He rubbed my back as he whispered in English. “Everything will be all right.”

  My leg gave out and I slumped. Manny caught me.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re bleeding.” He scooped me up in his arms. “We gotta get you to the hospital.”

  “I need to stay until they get here. My partners…”

  “You got more people back there?”

  I shook my head. “No. They’re…God, Manny, they’re dead. Both of them. I need to stay until help gets here.”

  “This is Brooklyn, baby; they might never come.”

  As we exited the alley, me in Manny’s arms, one of his men approached carrying a briefcase and wearing a strange look on his face.

  “Got a truckload of money in here.”

  “Put it in the car with me,” Manny said. “We—”

  I tried to get down. “Manny—”

  “Don’t worry, Connie. It’s all yours. We’re taking it with us.”

  “Wait, Manny. We’ve got to get the drugs. And somebody’s got to stay with Sean and Jerry.”

  Manny looked at me with his eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing you can do for your partners. As to the other, what drugs you talking about?”

  “This was a buy. There should be drugs.”

  “We’ll get them,” Manny said. “What cars did they drive?”

  I pointed out the old Buick and the SUV. “Not the maroon one, the gray.”

  “Ronnie, check those cars. Give it all to Connie.”

  “Hey, boss…” Ronnie looked as if someone had slapped him.

  “Ronnie!”

  Ronnie looked at me, then Manny. “You know she’s the one who busted Little Pete last year. Johnny Hats, too.”

  Manny looked at me. “Shame on you, Concetta,” he said, but then laughed. “It’s all in the game, huh.” He smiled, letting me know everything was okay, then loaded me into the back seat of the Caddy.

  I was dizzy and my leg hurt like hell, but I was safe. Thanks, God. Even as I thought that, I wondered if Manny would expect special treatment for this.

  Ronnie came up to us a moment later. “Nothing. Checked all of it. Trunk, underneath, everywhere.”

  “It’s got to be here,” I said, and turned to Manny. “The drugs are somewhere. They have to be.”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll find it,” Manny said, then, “Ronnie, call the cops and report this for Connie.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Manny placed the money on the seat next to me, then got in the car and tapped on the driver’s shoulder. “Let’s go. Hospital’s only a couple of minutes from here.”

  I felt numb, but at the same time, ecstatic to be alive. “I don’t know how to thank you, Manny. People are gonna talk. The cops will—”

  Two thick fingers pinched my cheek. “Don’t worry about me. And trust me, nobody in this neighborhood is saying anything to the cops.” He smiled again. “Stay alive until I get you to the hospital; otherwise, Dominic will kill me.”

  I rubbed my face where he pinched me, then the bridge of my nose, tracing over the hump that had been there since I was a teenager. The hump that had embarrassed me all through high school. “Maybe I’ll get my nose fixed while I’m in the hospital.”

  Manny’s big fat hand grabbed the side of my face and turned my head toward him, then at a profile. “Don’t do it. It looks great. That little bump adds flavor to your face…you know, sort of like oregano on a sandwich.”

  My partners were dead, my leg hurt like hell, and I was a cop in the backseat of a car with the head of one of the five families. Despite that, I almost laughed. Who else but Manny Rosso would compare a bump in my nose to oregano. But as I laughed, I also worried. What went wrong? And where are the drugs? They have to be there, so where are they?

  Chapter 4

  Hospital

  The driver pulled away as soon as Manny closed the door. “Where to, boss?”

  “The hospital,” Manny said. “And hurry up.”

  The tires didn’t squeal when he rounded the next corner, but they cried a little. “I’m hurrying. Don’t worry.”

  I leaned my head against Manny’s shoulder. It seemed odd to do that, considering who he was, but I couldn’t help it. Right now I needed comfort. “You saved my life.”

  His meaty paw rubbed my hair. “Now we’re even. Except maybe you owe me for what it’s gonna cost to clean this seat.”

  I lifted my head up. Stared at him with raised eyebrows. “What do you mean, we’re even?” What was he going to want for this?

  “Dominic saved my life. Risked his own good reputation to help me when I was in trouble.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good reputation? Are we talking about the same man?” I grimaced as I moved, grabbing my leg. The shirt sleeve I used to bandage it was covered in blood.

  Manny pulled me closer, patting my back. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

  Three more turns had us a block away from the hospital. “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “Pull up at the emergency door. I’ll run her in. You take the bag.”

  The driver pulled up, jumped out and opened Manny’s door. They helped me out then Manny carried me inside, hollering as soon as he got through the sliding doors. “Got a wounded cop here.” His booming voice got everyone’s attention. A nurse ran from behind the counter, barking instructions, and several orderlies came running with a gurney. Manny held me up until they had the gurney situated, then set me down. The driver handed me the bag.

  “Manny, I…”

  He turned back, leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Take care, baby. I gotta go. Don’t want to be here when your friends come.”

  I smiled as they wheeled me toward the operating room. I guess God does listen to peasants like me.

  A strong, unpleasant aroma stirred me awake. I recognized the chemically-clean smell—hospital. It all came back to me, Sean and Jerry dead, my leg…I reached for it and felt the pain. The pain, more than anything, forced my eyes open. Groggy and with blurred vision, I stared up at three or four people in the room. Memories returned—the shootout, Manny bringing me to the hospital. I wiped my eyes on the hospital gown, clearing them enough to see three people, one of them close to me.

  “Lieutenant, that you?”

  Lieutenant Dennis Chambers stared back at me with a fake smile on his freckled face. He was a square block of a man, short and thick, as if someone carved him straight out of a quarry.

  I struggled to sit. “I must look terrible.”

  One of Chambers’ few genuine smiles appeared, accompanied by an even rarer chuckle. “You look fine, Detective. How do you feel?”

  “Hurts like hell.” I nodded to the two men with him. They looked like cops but I didn’t recognize them. “Who did you bring?”

  “Green and Randall.” Chambers leaned in close and whispered. “IA.”

  Internal Affairs. It was my turn to manufacture a false smile. “Come back tomorrow, guys. I’m not up to talking tonight.”

  Randall stepped toward the bed. “This is tomorrow, Gianelli. You’ve been out all night and all morning.”

  I tried sitting up again. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s true,” Chambers said.

  I shrugged, looked at my leg. “They get the bullet out?”

  A nurse, the other person in the room, answered. “They got it out clean.”

  I stared hard at her. She didn’t look like a nurse. Most nurses had that caring look. This one had cold eyes. “Thanks,” I said, then turned to Randall and Green. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

  Green stepped forward and set a tape recorder on the table. “I’m going to record this.”

  Lie
utenant Chambers grabbed his arm. “Like hell you are; she’s barely awake and still drugged up.” The lieutenant turned to me. “Don’t answer anything. They can talk to you when you get out.”

  “There will be questions, Lieutenant.” Green didn’t back off. “We need answers now. I don’t—”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What? You think I had something to do with this?”

  Randall raised his eyebrows. “Maybe so, Gianelli.”

  I looked to the table, reaching for something to throw. “You’re lucky I can’t get out of this bed.”

  Randall and Green stared at each other, but said nothing.

  I smoothed out the blanket, folded my hands on my lap. “My record speaks for itself. Ask anything you want.”

  “Not now, Connie,” Chambers said, and shoved them toward the door. “Get out.”

  After the door closed, Chambers returned and stood beside the bed. “Sorry about that. I—”

  I lay my head against the pillows. “Thanks, Lieu. I appreciate what you did.”

  He rested his hand on my arm. “Anything I can get you?”

  “Yeah, some mezzaluna. Maybe some tiramisu for dessert.”

  “Go to hell, Gianelli. Eat the hospital food like everyone else.”

  “I’ll just starve, I guess.” I squeezed his hand, then thought of Sean and Jerry. I felt genuinely bad about Sean, but not as much for Jerry, and that bothered me. He was a cop, for God’s sake, and he was my part of my team. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Lieutenant, we have to find out what happened.”

  Chambers straightened up, looking more like a block of granite than ever. He did that when he set his mind to something. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll get to the bottom of this. If I don’t the captain will have my job.”

  “What about IA?”

  “You’re going to have to deal with them, but that won’t stop me from checking this out on my own.”

  “Thanks, Lieu. You’re top shit.”

  “Somebody’s got to protect the good cops.” He looked around the room, seemed to notice the nurse for the first time. “I didn’t know a nurse came with every room.”

  The nurse didn’t smile, and those cold eyes never left the lieutenant. “This room does,” she said. “Special orders.”

  “Special orders? Whose?” Chambers started toward her.

  Special orders. I knew she wasn’t a nurse. “Let it go. I think I know.”

  As Chambers digested my words, the realization must have hit him. Everyone had heard the rumors about Dominic and my connection to him. “This won’t look good if the press gets hold of it. Even worse if IA does…”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll get it taken care of.” Goddamnit, Uncle Dominic.

  For the next few minutes I recounted the events of the previous night, starting with the dealers pulling up, then moving on to the attack. Before I finished, the door opened and an older man entered with an armful of flowers, a cashmere coat draped over his other arm. He removed his cap when he stepped through the door, revealing a bald head with some gray at the sides.

  Chambers stood and faced the man, his hand near his gun. “She’s not supposed to have visitors.”

  “It’s all right, Lieu. That’s my uncle.” I pushed the button to raise the bed. I knew why the lieutenant reacted the way he did. Dominic Mangini drew that kind of response from people.

  “Ah, shit,” Chambers said.

  Excitement raced through me. I hadn’t seen Uncle Dominic since we had the big fight. He looked the same—still wearing his starched shirts tucked into fine wool pants atop expensive Italian shoes. “Zio Domenico.” I almost shouted the greeting.

  He set the flowers on a table then leaned over and hugged me, careful not to put pressure on the leg. “Concetta, mia bambina. What have they done to you?”

  Tears streamed down my face. I looked to Chambers. “Lieutenant, can we…”

  He nodded, turned to the nurse and tilted his head toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Connie. Take care.”

  The nurse, or whoever she was, left with Chambers. Dominic waited for the door to close, pulled up a chair and sat next to me. “You are all right?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks to you.” Mist built in my eyes. “Is Uncle Zeppe here?”

  “He had to be somewhere else, but he sent his love. I’m sure the whole family will be here tomorrow.” He wiped my tears with a handkerchief. Uncle Dominic always had a handkerchief. “And while you are thanking people, don’t forget Manny.”

  I smiled. “Yes, wonderful Manny.”

  “You see what favors do for you. I did him a favor once and now…he has repaid me more than anyone could ask. He saved my bambina.”

  “Stop it. You’re going to make me cry.”

  Dominic sat back. “That won’t do, so we’ll change the subject.” He sat for a long while in silence, then took my hand and squeezed gently. His short fingers brushed the hair back from my forehead. “Such beautiful hair you have. Almost black, like my mother’s.”

  I blushed. “You always say that. It’s plain old hair. And it’s brown.”

  “Beautiful.”

  “How is Zeppe doing? I haven’t seen him in…”

  “In almost two years.” A bit of anger rode on those words.

  “Yes. Since I was last at your house. That was Mom’s birthday.”

  I wondered again why Dominic still celebrated that. But I had to stop because if I let myself wonder that, I would also wonder why he took us in, why he cared for Mom, and how, in God’s name, he kept it a secret.

  Dominic nodded, placed his other hand over mine and patted it. “Who did this to you?” When he whispered like that, combined with his eyes looking at me, it was like a truth serum.

  “We’ll take care of it,” I said.

  “I want to know who—”

  “No. I’m a cop. We will find them.” I wasn’t about to get into another argument with him.

  Dominic stood. Paced. “Your cops will find nothing. They will pretend to work on the case, then they’ll accuse you of being dirty. If that doesn’t work they’ll kill you.”

  He was already pissing me off and it hadn’t been twenty minutes. “How can you say that? You don’t know.”

  When Dominic spoke again, his voice carried a warning. “They won’t quit because you got away.”

  I took a deep breath. “I know you mean well, Zio Domenico, but this is something I have to do with the help of the department, not your help.”

  Dominic’s face turned to stone. “Then I will handle it myself.”

  “Stay out of this. I mean it.” I felt my face reddening.

  “I will save you even if you don’t want me to.”

  I raised the bed as high as I could. “Stay out of it, or it will be thirty years before I see you again.”

  Dominic’s face hardened. His eyes remained firm. “At least you will be alive in thirty years.” He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway and looked back. “Dear sweet Connie. You don’t understand the world yet. Even though you are a cop, you don’t know what these men are like. They will stop at nothing to protect their little drug kingdom.”

  “I know all about evil men and ‘little kingdoms,’ Zio.”

  Dominic’s eyes turned to ice. He stared for what seemed like an hour. “Don’t hate me for too long, Concetta. Hate is a big hill to climb.” He left without another word.

  Now I knew why people were so scared of Dominic. Those eyes…

  As the door shut behind him, I gathered my thoughts. I hated Dominic for who he was, and what he did, but most of all for the suspicion it cast on my reputation as a cop, and for the whispers that chased me down the hall when I left a room at the station. It was like having “dirty cop” painted on the back of my uniform.

  Those thoughts made it easy to cast blame, and that anger got aimed at him. I lowered the bed, and tried not to think about it. If I thought about too much I’d go nuts.

  *** />
  The nurse stood across the hall, leaning against a wall with sparkling white tiles. Dominic approached her. “She needs sleep, but stay with her. Don’t leave that room for one second.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Mangini, I’ll take care of it.”

  “Do you need help?”

  She pulled a small towel from the pocket of her uniform, letting the outline of a gun show. “I can handle myself, sir.”

  “Good,” Dominic said, “and remember, don’t trust anyone—especially if they are wearing a uniform.” He put his cashmere coat on and pulled a cap tight on his head as he walked toward the elevators.

  Chapter 5

  Interrogation

  I woke the next morning to the familiar hospital smell, and wishing I had taken a bullet in the head instead of the leg. It wasn’t the pain, it was everything else—Uncle Dominic was pissed; IA would be here any minute with their thousand questions; and sooner or later the Chief of Detectives would make an appearance toting a bag of questions.

  Somewhere between worrying over Sean’s death and the missing drugs, I decided to heed Manny’s advice and leave my nose alone. What was a little bump anyway? Besides, I liked oregano.

  I stretched to get the water from the table. The nurse hurried over and handed it to me. Suspicion built as I studied her. Tough, wiry body and tobacco-stained teeth—one chipped—combined with eyes that darted to the hall every time footsteps sounded. “Dominic hire you?”

  The woman never flinched. “Mr. Mangini asked me to watch you, yes.”

  “How do you know Mr. Mangini?”

  She tucked the pillow under my head and pressed the button to raise the bed more. Her smile, when it appeared, seemed practiced. “I used to be a waitress at a bar. I had a bad marriage and a husband who beat me.” She fluffed up another pillow, set it beside me. “Mr. Mangini paid for me to go to nursing school so I could support myself.”

  “How did he know you? He doesn’t go to bars.”

  “My brother knows a…friend of Mr. Mangini’s.”

  Ah, there’s the connection. I knew the routine. Her brother was likely a small-time earner for Dominic, so the brother tells his crew boss and it moves up the ladder. “And your husband? Does he still beat you?”