“How you doing?” Larry said with a big smile. “We work here at the garage. We have to get cars out of the mud all the time.”
“Why don’t you just pave the lot?” Loretta asked. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”
The brothers looked at each other, dumbfounded by the entire concept.
“Gee, I dunno,” Jerry eventually said.
Larry just shrugged.
A couple of brain surgeons, these two, Loretta thought.
“Can you really get me out?” she asked.
“Sure,” Larry said eagerly.
“Okay, you push,” she said, “and I’ll—”
The brothers were both shaking their heads.
“Don’t have to push,” Jerry said.
“We can drive it out. It’s easy. You just have to know how.” “All right. Tell me what to do.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll show you,” Larry said as he ran around to the driver’s side. Jerry hopped into the passenger seat and shut the door.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Loretta objected.
But Larry was already opening the driver’s-side door. “You just shove over, lady,” he said. “I’ll show you how to do it.”
“No, wait—”
But Larry was already getting in, nudging her over with his big butt. He slammed the door shut, and suddenly the three of them were packed in tight, love handle to love handle. Loretta was sitting on the parking brake, her shoulders getting crunched, but she’d be damned if she was going to put her arms over the seat backs to give herself more room. She didn’t want to give these two idiots the wrong idea. Not that they couldn’t get the wrong idea on their own.
“Okay, here we go,” Larry said. He threw the transmission into low gear and gunned the engine, turning the wheel all the way to the right. The tires whined and spun. Larry let up on the gas, turned the wheel all the way to the left, and gunned it again. The tires were still spinning, but the car was gliding sideways.
“All right!” Jerry shouted in triumph.
Loretta could smell beer on his breath, and it wasn’t even noon yet.
The engine was screaming for mercy, but Larry was unaffected, keeping his foot to the pedal as the car continued to drift sideways. “See?” Larry said. “You gotta be tough with mud.”
“Yeah, you gotta ride it hard,” Jerry added.
“I see,” Loretta said. They both smelled, and it was getting hot inside the car, fogging up the windows. She wanted them out.
Suddenly Larry spun the wheel to the right again, and the car fishtailed 180 degrees. The brothers whooped as Larry kept his foot on the gas and spun the steering wheel left and right, jolting over ruts and kicking up a muddy arc behind them.
Loretta didn’t like this at all. “Pull up to the garage doors,” she ordered.
But they ignored her, whooping it up as Larry kept fishtailing around the yard.
“Thank you for getting the car out,” Loretta said, raising her voice. “Now would you please leave it by the garage doors?”
“Oh, don’t be such a fart, lady,” Jerry said. “Let’s have a little fun here.”
“Yeah,” Larry said, slamming the wheel right and left.
Loretta could feel the sweat collecting in her armpits. She didn’t like the way this was developing.
“Let’s go for a ride,” Larry said. He’d turned the car around and revved the engine, making it slide toward the street.
“No,” she said.
“Goddammit!” Jerry snarled, suddenly turning mean. “I hate it when a woman says no.”
“Well, I kind of like it myself,” Larry said with a crooked grin, looking past Loretta and winking to his brother, “because they never mean it.”
“Stop the car right now,” Loretta demanded.
“No!” Larry barked with a dumb smirk on his face. “And I’m a man, so I mean no.”
Jerry snorted up a wet laugh.
Loretta’s heart was beating fast. She wished she could get to her gun, but her purse was on the floor in the backseat.
The engine was screaming as the wheels spun like mad and the car slowly drifted sideways toward the street.
“Trust us,” Jerry said. “We’re nice guys. We’ll have some fun.” He laid his clammy hand on Loretta’s thigh.
Then Larry laid his grimy hand on Loretta’s other thigh. “Yeah, we’ll show you fun like you’ve never had, lady. Right, Jer?”
“Absolutely.”
“Stop the car!” she yelled.
But they just laughed at her, digging their fingers into her flesh.
Loretta squirmed and struggled, her heart pounding. If she could only get to her gun.
“Two tons of fun, huh?” Jerry said to Larry as if Loretta weren’t even there.
Larry sized her up and nodded. “At least that much.”
Loretta could barely move, and their fingers were crawling up her thighs as the car inched closer and closer to the road.
She strained to look over her shoulder, hoping to see Marvelli by the garage, but all she saw was the empty mud field.
“Two tons of fun,” Larry repeated, coughing up a laugh.
“Yeah, this is gonna be good,” Jerry said, raising his eyebrows. “Real good.”
Marvelli was still staring at his muddy boots. “I’m waiting, Tino,” he said.
“But I keep telling you,” Tino said, gesturing with both hands. “I don’t know nothing about nothing about Sammy Teitelbaum. You know more than I do about him.”
Marvelli shook his head. “I’ll bet you I don’t.”
Tino kept glancing at the telephone sitting on top of the computer tower. His forehead was getting sweaty. He was probably thinking about all the customers who weren’t getting through to lay down their bets. “What do you want from me, Marvelli?” he exploded. “I don’t know nothing.”
Marvelli sighed. “I know you’re not a bad guy, Tino, but you’re gonna force me to treat you like one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Either I’m gonna get somebody from the police department to come down here and sit on your head, or I’m gonna follow your two nephews around until I catch them doing something wrong, which knowing them, shouldn’t take too long.”
Tino’s mouth drooped like a clown’s. “Gimme a break, Marvelli. Jerry and Larry are good kids, basically. If they’d had regular parents when they were growing up, they’d be straight up today. But my friggin’ sister ran off with some bum from Alaska and left those boys with my poor mother. They were only in the sixth grade, the poor kids. Then my mother had a stroke, and they ended up with me. No wonder they’re confused.”
Marvelli was not sympathetic. “There are a lot of confused people in the world, Tino, but they don’t all turn into rapists.”
“I keep telling you, Marvelli, they were not convicted.”
“Doesn’t mean they weren’t guilty.”
“Come on, Marvelli. Get off my friggin’ back.”
“Not until you tell me what I want to hear.”
“Come on, will ya?”
Marvelli pointed his finger in Tino’s face. “Those boys aren’t careful, Tino. They don’t watch what they do like you and your goombahs do. So as soon as I catch ’em doing something wrong, I’ll make sure they pay for it big-time. This is a promise, Tino.”
“You’re just jerking my chain, Marvelli. You’re not a cop, you’re just a PO. There’s nothing you can do to those boys—even if they were as bad as you say, which I know they aren’t.”
“Last chance, Tino. Speak now or forever—”
BOOM!
A splintering crash shook the whole building. It sounded as if a tank had just broken through the bay door.
Tino jumped out of his chair, instantly pale. “What the hell’s going on, Marvelli? Marvelli!”
But Marvelli was already running out into the garage space. Daylight was shining in where the big garage door used to be. He ran between the two old tractors and found the door off its tracks and draped
over the front of the white Chevy Cavalier, which was halfway inside. The car doors were open on both sides, and Tino’s nephews, Larry and Jerry, were scrambling for cover on the gritty cement floor. Loretta emerged from the passenger side, leading with her .38.
“On your bellies, you disgusting maggots,” she shouted. “Hands behind your heads.” She was holding her gun in both hands, pointing it down at the twins.
“Loretta, what the hell happened?” Marvelli said.
“She tried to kill us,” Jerry whimpered from down on the floor.
Larry had his fingers linked behind his neck. He strained to look up at Marvelli. “She stomped on the gas and wouldn’t let up. Then she grabbed the wheel. She crashed it on purpose. She’s nuts.”
Marvelli looked at Loretta. “What the hell’re they talking about?”
“Attempted sexual assault,” Loretta said. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“That’s a lie,” Jerry said.
“We were just helping you get your car out of the mud,” Larry whined. “That’s all.”
“Shut up!” Loretta snapped. “Marvelli, call nine-one-one. Get some uniforms down here. I’m pressing charges.”
“Hold it, hold it, hold it.” Tino muscled his way past Marvelli. “Let’s talk about this first.”
Marvelli was trying to suppress a grin because he knew what Tino was thinking. “Okay, Tino, let’s talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Loretta interrupted. “Call nine-one-one. And stop squirming,” she yelled at the twins as she kicked the soles of their shoes.
“Just give me one minute here, Loretta,” Marvelli said. He put his arm around Tino’s shoulders and led him around to the back of the garage. “The choice is yours, Tino. Either you tell me what I want to know, or I let my partner press charges against your nephews.”
Tino was chewing the arm of his glasses. “You can’t do this, Marvelli. This is illegal.”
“Loretta can press charges. There’s nothing illegal about that,” Marvelli said. “I might be able to change her mind, though. But you have to make it worth my while. Capisce?”
“This is extortion, Marvelli.”
Marvelli shrugged. “It’s the way of the world, Tino. Your world.”
Loretta was glaring at them down the length of the trucks. “Make the call, Marvelli,” she shouted. “What’re you waiting for?”
“Uncle Tino,” Larry called out, “do something. I only touched her knee. I swear.”
“Please, Uncle Tino,” Jerry wailed. “This lady’s a nut. She’s gonna friggin’ shoot us.”
Tino whispered to Marvelli. “She wouldn’t do that, would she?”
“A woman with a gun is a bad combination. You know that, Tino.”
“Marvelli!” Loretta yelled.
“Take it easy, Loretta. I’m working it out here.”
“Forget about working it out. Just call nine-one-one.”
“One minute, Loretta.” He turned to Tino. “So what’s it gonna be? Either you tell me about Sammy, or the dum-dum boys go back into the system. And I can guarantee you this: The county prosecutor will definitely want payback for their acquittal on that rape case.”
Tino grimaced, clicking the arm of his glasses against his teeth. His eyes roved from Marvelli to Loretta to his nephews on the floor. “You promise to get her to change her mind about pressing charges?”
“I’ll talk to her. I think she’ll listen.”
“No deal. I want a guarantee.”
“Then go buy a refrigerator. I said I’ll do what I can.” “Marvelli!” Loretta shrieked.
“Okay, okay,” Tino said, barely whispering. “Here’s what I know. Sammy came by a few days after he got out of prison. He told me he wasn’t gonna work for me no more. He said he was working for someone else now.”
“Who?”
Tino hesitated. “He told me he got a contract to do some guy. It was gonna be a big hit, he said. ‘Mega’ was the word he used.”
“Who’s Sammy working for?” Marvelli pressed.
Tino glanced at Loretta and let out a long sigh before he answered. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, Marvelli.”
“Yes, you should. Now tell me. Who?”
Tino hesitated again. “Taffy,” he finally said. “Taffy Demaggio.”
Suddenly Marvelli’s gut was burning. His jaw was locked shut, and he could feel the blood pounding behind his eyeballs.
“Marvelli, what’s the matter?” Tino asked. “What’s wrong? Say something.”
Taffy friggin’ Demaggio, Marvelli thought.
His hands were cramped into fists.
3
Back at the office Marvelli was pounding his fist on the edge of Julius Monroe’s desk. “Taffy friggin’ Demaggio,” he fumed. “That mother-loving son of a bitch.”
Marvelli was still all worked up. He was so mad he was barely coherent, and Loretta hadn’t been able to get him to calm down enough to explain what was bothering him. She sat on the couch and watched her partner pacing like a caged tiger, punching his palm and grumbling to himself. She’d decided to just stay out of his way until he simmered down. He was in such a state she didn’t dare say anything about his not calling the cops on those two little snot-noses, Larry and Jerry, but she sure was going to chew him out about it later. Where the hell did he get off using an attempted sexual assault against her as a bargaining chip? Those two perverts should be rotting in jail, for crying out loud.
Julius was slumped over his desk, cradling his face in both hands. “Why don’t you take it from the top, Marvelli? And slow down the tempo so I can pick up on what you’re putting down.”
“Okay, okay,” Marvelli said, patting the air in front of him with both hands. “This is what I got out of Tino. Sammy is supposedly doing a hit for that bastard Taffy Demaggio. According to Tino, Sammy is up to his eyeballs in debt to Taffy, but Taffy has agreed to settle Sammy’s tab in exchange for doing this job.”
“So who’s the lucky person Sammy’s supposed to offer up to the gods?” Julius asked.
“You’re not gonna believe this. Gus Rispoli.”
Julius clutched his belly and started to laugh, but then just as quickly he stopped and turned serious. “You don’t think your crazy brother-in-law could actually pull that off, do you?”
Loretta was confused. “Wait a minute. Hold on. Rewind. Who’s Gus Rispoli?”
They both looked at her as if she were from Mars.
“Mizz Kovacs, I am surprised at you,” Julius said. “Gus Rispoli is Top Rat, stoolie number one. He is the thorn in the mob’s jelly-belly side, and the marinara is leaking out pretty heavy because of him.”
She looked at Marvelli. “Translation, please.”
“Gus Rispoli is a mob turncoat,” Marvelli said. “No, correction: He is the mob turncoat. He used to be with the Luccarelli family, same as Taffy Demaggio, but now he’s cooperating with federal prosecutors, helping them build cases against the mob. So far the feds have put away eight high-level Mafia guys thanks to Rispoli’s testimony—six captains, a consigliere, and an underboss. And they say he’s just getting warmed up. The feds are bragging that when Rispoli is through, there won’t be a Luccarelli family left.”
“No kidding.” Loretta was impressed. “But what about Sammy? What if he does whack Rispoli?”
“Well, there’s two ways to look at this situation,” Julius said, leaning back and linking his fingers on top of his head. “The feds are holding Rispoli at My Blue Heaven. That’s the U.S. Marshals’ top-secret Xanadu prison for the ratsos in the Witness Protection Program who still have time to serve on their own convictions. Now, nobody but nobody knows where My Blue Heaven is. Just the marshals who work in the program. Rispoli’s the prize egg in their basket, so they must be watching him pretty good, keeping him safe and sound, which means there should be nothing to worry about.”
“So what’s the other way to look at it?” Loretta asked.
Julius dropped his chin
and stared at her. “My Blue Heaven is run by the feds. Nobody knows how to screw things up like a fed, my dear. You should know that.”
“Oh, I know,” she said.
“But,” Marvelli said, “there’s a third factor in this equation. Sammy. He is crazy, but it’s genius crazy. He’s very smart, and he doesn’t look anything like a wiseguy. I think if anyone could get into My Blue Heaven and pull off a hit, it would be Sammy.”
“I don’t know about that,” Julius said, shaking his head. “Sammy T. may be good, but I think the feds can secure at least one building.”
“What about the Zito hit?” Marvelli said. “Word out on the street is that Sammy did that one. Even Tino thinks he did it.”
Loretta had heard about this one. Eugene Zito, the underboss of another mob family, had been stabbed through the heart on his own private island in Long Island Sound. The island was tiny, and the only way to get there was by boat. At the time of the murder, there were four bodyguards on the island as well as five other wiseguys from the family. It had been done out in the open on the beach at three o’clock in the afternoon with the two bodyguards on duty just a hundred feet away. Zito had been sunning himself, stretched out on a lounge chair all by himself. The bodyguards thought their boss had fallen asleep, so they didn’t disturb him. They didn’t realize that he was dead until the sun started to go down. The two bodyguards swore that they hadn’t seen or heard anyone else on the beach all day.
“But wait a minute,” Loretta objected. “I just read Sammy’s file. He was never charged—let alone convicted—on any murders. How can he be a hit man?”
“Because he’s that good,” Marvelli said gravely.
Julius picked up his flute and blew a single pensive note as he stared out into space. The note slowly trailed off into silence. “We better not sit on this,” he said. “The guys upstairs will not be jolly if they find out that one of our jumpers pulled off the Academy Award of hits. Throw in a Grammy for being the brother-in-law of one of our parole officers. Mucho embarrassmento for the Bureau of Parole. Mucho crapola for us. Heads will roll, children. Mine, too.”
Double Espresso (A Loretta Kovacs thriller) Page 3
