Rocco took a menacing step closer, "You're a member of his crew. My friend told me he saw you."
The man brought his hands up, putting the palms flat together and pleading, "L-look...it wasn't part of the shakedown, I swear. We didn't go back like you told us not to–"
Rocco took a step closer, his jaw set hard.
"It was Eddie...he got a call...."
That caught Rocco's attention. "What are you talking about?"
"He got a call...from Toronto."
That surprised Rocco, "Who was it?"
"I don't know–"
"Who?"
"I swear I don't know. Eddie didn't say. All I heard him say was it was a call from Toronto–"
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why?"
"Why what?"
Rocco took a step forward and placed a gun right between the man's eyes, "Don't screw with me. Why were you guys told to shoot my pal?"
The man's hands were up and shaking now, "I swear, I don't know–"
"Why shoot the kid too? Because he was a witness?"
The man shook his head, "I don't know. Eddie was the first to shoot. I was surprised when he went for the kid instead of–"
"Where do I find Eddie?"
"He...he hangs out at the pool hall on Barton near Sanford–"
Rocco pulled the trigger. The handgun jumped and the man fell backward as the crack sounded along the alleyway. Rocco turned his back on the smell of gunpowder and headed back to the sidewalk, slipping the weapon back under his jacket and into the holster. He stopped at the corner of the alleyway, pulling his flat-cap down as he peeked to see if anyone had heard the shot. There was no one rushing towards the alleyway, there were no cries for help or to call the coppers. Rocco calmly slipped around the corner, keeping close to the buildings as he kept his head down. He slipped back into his car and drove calmly away.
Chapter 75
ROCCO FOUND THE POOL HALL. Goddard's Billiards was a sleazy looking place. Rough and tough characters hung outside the front door, smoking and talking. Eddie College wasn't one of them. Parking just down the road on the other side of the street where he could watch the front entrance, Rocco settled back to wait. That's all he could do. If he went and asked questions, no doubt someone would alert this College. On the other hand, if College heard about one of his gang getting shot, he could run. Rocco cursed.
IT WAS NOW NEARING 2 AM. Rocco wasn't giving up but it didn't look good. The cast of characters around the pool changed but the attitude was still the same. Rough, tough and ready for anything. And then he spotted someone he thought was Eddie College. He was walking this way, hands in his pockets, cap pulled low over his eyes. The man stopped in front of the pool hall and bummed a cigarette from someone. When he lit a match, the flame illuminated his face. Rocco sat up. That's definitely Eddie College. Rocco kept his eyes on the man as he slipped his Colt from its holster. He glanced down at it, making sure everything was ready, and then slipped it back into the holster, eyes hard on College. Someone passed over a bottle in a brown paper bag and College took a drink. Rocco's eyes looked the man over, detecting a bulge under his jacket. Handgun.
A half-hour of drinking and smoking later, Eddie College continued on his way, hands in his pockets, wary of his surroundings.
Did one of those men tell College about the shooting? No. He just looks like a hunter, aware he could be hunted himself. Well, guess what Eddie?
College passed along the street opposite Rocco. He glanced over at the car, studying it for a moment.
Rocco stayed perfectly still.
College kept walking and moved his eyes ahead to the alleyway he was approaching.
Rocco turned his head and watched as College moved to the far right on the planked sidewalk. He doesn't want to get caught off guard if someone's in the alleyway. Smart.
College moved cautiously across the entry to the alleyway and kept walking.
Rocco started the car and did a U-turn in the street, keeping the lights off. He followed College at a distance. A car was coming, lights on and Rocco quickly pulled to the right and parked.
As the car passed, College turned his head and used the illumination from the car lights to see if anyone was following.
Do you know I'm here? Or just cautious?
College continued on down the street to the front stoop of an apartment building. Checking both ways, he climbed the steps to the front door
Rocco pulled to a stop just as College pulled the door open and disappeared inside. Rocco jumped out, jogged across the street and climbed the stairs to the front door. The glass was opaque and Rocco could only see the dim light of a small lobby inside and a shadowed hallway just beyond. He slipped his hand inside his jacket, opened the door and slipped inside the apartment building. The lobby was dim and the smell musty. Ten feet ahead were two large square pillars. Twenty feet beyond that, a set of stairs climbed to the next floor. Rocco felt more than heard the movement on his right as he passed the pillars. He ducked slightly as he turned, pushing a gun hand upward with his left as he threw a right hook at a face.
College went down hard with a grunt. The handgun clattered on the floor.
Rocco took a quick step and kicked the gun away from College.
College was rolling and reaching for the gun but his hand only hit hallway floor as the gun rattled softly away from his grasp.
Rocco's sweeping right foot caught the man in the jaw and lifted him over onto his back.
College groaned.
Pulling the Colt semiautomatic pistol from his jacket, Rocco stepped over and pointed down at the man's face. He didn't say a single word as he stared.
College opened his eyes and put his hands up in a defensive position. Seeing the gun, he pushed his feet against the floor, sliding his body a foot away.
Rocco adjusted his aim appropriately.
"L-look. I was just hired to do a job–"
"By who?"
College shook his head, "I don't know–"
Rocco's jaw hardened.
"Honest. Honest. I got a call from someone who knew I'd be at Goddard's Billiards. The operator said the call was from Toronto. Some guy said he'd pay me to bump off some kid and then...."
"And then what?"
"And then you and your pal...."
"Why?"
"I never asked."
Rocco's jaw tensed.
"Honest. Why would I care? He said I'd get ten grand for each–"
"How were you supposed to get paid?"
"Fifteen grand was left in a paper bag at my apartment door. Someone knocked. I heard them going down the back stairs but never saw–"
"Why you?"
College shrugged his shoulders slightly, "He knew I was pushing people in the neighborhood for protection money...including Pops McMillan–"
Rocco pulled the trigger three times, putting bullets between the man's eyes. Bending over, he checked College's pockets quickly but found nothing. He was slipping out the front door when he heard a woman's scream from back near the stairs. Rocco heard yelling from back inside the apartment building as he pulled away with his lights out.
Chapter 76
St. Joseph's Hospital
THE HEAVY SMELL OF the diluted sodium hypochlorite and boric acid used to irrigate Tony's gunshot wounds floated in the air as Rocco stood patiently by his bedside. He had just filled his friend in on what he had done and now watched as Tony's brain, groggy from the morphine the doctor had given him, tried to process the information.
Tony finally shook his head as he spoke up, his voice still tinged with pain, "What College told you...I know I'm not thinking right but...it doesn't make any sense, Rocco."
Rocco glanced to see if the other patients in the long open ward were listening. The three closest beds had the blankets thrown back and were empty and the next person was sitting on the far edge of the bed talking quietly to a visitor. No one else appeared to be paying them any attention. Rocco still lowered his voic
e, "Maybe it was Cipriano. I'm positive he's trying to bump us off or get us out of the way."
Tony closed his eyes and gave that some thought. Looking up at Rocco again after a few minutes he said, "Okay. That makes sense. Except...why would he want to do the kid?"
Rocco had to admit that didn't make sense. "You're right. I could see them going for you first and then doing the kid because he was a witness but..." Rocco thought about it for another moment and then asked Tony, "Why were you with the kid that early anyway?"
Tony coughed, wincing from the pain, "The kid was going to sign with us. His pop was going to meet us down there early, so we could finish the paperwork and Paulie could be at the morning practice on time."
"Was the kid into anything?"
Tony shook his head, "No. I talked with his pops. The kid was always playing hockey or lacrosse. He was a good kid, Rocco. He probably would've made us really competitive as a team. At least a lot better than they were last year in Québec City."
Rocco cocked his head, "Is it possible someone didn't want that?"
Tony shook his head slowly as he gave that idea some thought, "No. I can't see really it. But then...you met the other owners. Those guys are pretty competitive. Thompson told me both Toronto and Renfrew were trying to sign the kid the year before. But Paulie just didn't want to leave home. When we moved the team to Hamilton...."
"It was perfect for him. Live at home and play professional hockey."
"Yeah. Look, Rocco. Until we figure this out, you gotta watch your back out there."
"Like we haven't been doing that running the whiskey?"
"I really mean it, Rocco. The whiskey is one thing and we know to watch out for coppers or hijackers. But this shit around the team adds a whole new level of goofy and we've got no idea what could be coming at us."
Chapter 77
Giachetti's Café
ROCCO SAT DRINKING a final coffee at the café after checking to make sure everything was right with the whiskey business. It was quiet and Mr. and Mrs. Giachetti were in the kitchen, cleaning up to close for the night. Besha was going to stay with Maria tonight. Tommy and several of the others were sitting in the hospital ward, watching to make sure the remaining members of College's crew didn't try to finish the job. The bell over the front door jingled and Rocco was surprised to see Roberto Borrasso walk in.
Mrs. Giachetti stuck her head out the kitchen door, "Sorry, but we are closed."
Borrasso acknowledged her with a nod, "Okay. I'll just say hello to Mr. DeLuca here and be on my way."
Mrs. Giachetti looked at Rocco and disappeared when he nodded okay.
Borrasso sat down across from Rocco, settling his arms on the table. He looked across the table without saying anything.
Rocco simply waited.
"Mauro Contini and Giovany Nuvolette," Borrasso said, "you know the names?"
"Just what I read in the paper. Both shot in Toronto."
"Mauro was my brother-in-law, married to my sister. Giovany was married to my wife's sister. Both were family."
"Sad."
Borrasso's gaze never wavered from Rocco's face.
Rocco didn't flinch. Why is he here? Maybe I can use this situation to my advantage. He looked down at his coffee and lifted it to his lips, "Maybe you should talk to Victor Cipriano about those two men." He took a sip and looked across at Borrasso for a reaction.
Borrasso's gaze was steady for a moment and then he said, "I'm very aware of Mr. Cipriano. He appears to be trying to take advantage of what he sees as a hole in the market that he can fill."
Rocco put both elbows on the table and felt the slight warmth of his cup, "So why are you talking to me? I have nothing to do with Toronto. None of my business takes place up there–"
"But I know you've met with Cipriano."
Rocco kept an impassive face, hiding his surprise behind another sip of his coffee. Who's telling him my business? How would he know? After another moment, he asked, "And why would I do that?"
Borrasso looked at Rocco for a moment and then changed the subject. "I've watched you around the neighborhood over the years, watched the fear you created. Never said anything...." He stopped there.
"Sounds like you wanted to say something, though. Why didn't you?" C'mon Borrasso, what are you up to?
Borrasso waited a heartbeat and then said, "I'm stepping into the shoes of both Mauro and Giovany. I'll be running La Mano Nera for both Camorra families up in Toronto."
Rocco just listened, no reaction.
"I'm thinking of expanding the family influence to Hamilton, including here in the North End."
"Thinking? Or doing?"
"I'm also thinking of working my way towards St. Catherines...." Borrasso watched Rocco's eyes for a reaction.
Rocco now understood part of the reason for this conversation, "Which means you're thinking of removing Guido Vitalie."
Borrasso was silent, waiting.
Rocco didn't bite, didn't say anything to give away any alliances or agreements he might have in place. Clearly, Borrasso knew something. But what?
After a few moments, Borrasso rapped his knuckles on the table, "Just thought it would be good to lay the cards out on the table, so there's no misunderstanding." With that said he stood up and stepped to the side of the table, zipping up his jacket up as he said, "Sorry to hear about Tony. That was nasty business."
Rocco didn't reply. But it wasn't easy because the half smirk on Borrasso's face belied the words.
Not able to get a reaction, Borrasso turned and headed for the door. Stopping after a few steps, he glanced back, "Oh yeah. And just to let you know...I have family on the Toronto hockey club." He watched for a reaction again. Not getting one, he continued on to the door, the bell ringing as he left.
But Rocco was hearing that last sentence over and over in his head. And Tony's shooting and the killing of Paulie Thompson was suddenly front and center in Rocco's mind again. I have family on the Toronto hockey club. Was Borrasso involved in the shooting? Or did he just pick up the info from some copper he's bribing? Maybe he's just trying to use it to create uncertainty, keep us off balance while he moves in. And there was the other question. How did Roberto Borrasso know about his meeting with Cipriano? How is he getting his information? Only one name came to mind, Elena Borrasso.
Chapter 78
Starkman Imports & Exports
BESHA AND MARIA brought in some new desks, chairs and filing cabinets to make the old space a less depressing place to work in. They also brought in two more young women from the neighborhood, Valeria DeBonis and Lucinda Placido to work for them, learning how to fill out the customs forms as well as create the bogus purchase orders and legal paperwork.
It was late and Besha took a break from her training session, leaning against a file cabinet Maria was cleaning out. Pushing a stray piece of hair back out of her face, she sighed, "I have to admit, at times it's a little nerve-racking, filling out all this fake paperwork and wondering if some eagle-eyed government official spots an error and the police come pounding up the stairway."
"At least the stairs are squeaky and you could hear them coming," Maria said in a quiet voice.
Besha rubbed the back of her neck, "So what do we do then? Burn the place or just jump out the back window?"
Maria nodded vacantly.
Someone walking across the squeaky floor caught Besha's attention and she turned her head.
Valeria DeBonis, a chubby blonde was holding several pieces of papers in her hands, "I think I've got it now. Does this look right?"
Besha looked over the paperwork and gave her a weary nod and smile, "It's good, but don't forget to put the excise number in that little square box at the top."
Valeria swore under her breath and walked back over to her desk.
"They're getting there," Besha said.
"Mmm hmm," Maria said.
Besha leaned on her elbow, realizing Maria wasn't really paying attention. "Did you know thatTony of yours snuck h
ome to your place from the hospital last night? He invited me over while you were here and banged me really good and hard."
"Mmm hmm."
Shaking her head, Besha pressed on, "He had my legs over his shoulders and he really gave it to me for an hour. I bet if you go home tonight, and you check your bedroom ceiling, you're gonna see my shoe prints up there."
"Mmm hmm."
Besha slapped at the papers in Maria's hand, "You're not even listening to me."
Using the papers, Maria slapped her in turn on the shoulder, "Yes I am."
"You're not–"
"When I go home tonight, I'll check my ceiling. Did you wear your new shoes?"
Besha put a hand over her mouth and laughed.
Maria went back to looking at the papers, a smile on her face as well for a moment and then it faded as she concentrated on the papers again.
Besha stepped around to look at them as well, "What's so interesting?"
"I don't know," Maria said, "I was cleaning out these old papers and came across this certificate."
Besha looked closer.
"At the top there it says Starkman Imports & Exports is licensed as an import and export house."
"Right. Mr. Starkman used to do a lot of exporting when the wheat market was strong. But the last few years all he was doing was importing sugar."
"Why would you need a license in the first place?" Maria asked. "Why can't you just sell what you want, where you want?"
Besha leaned with her elbow against the cabinet again, "I don't really know all the ins and outs of it. But I remember Mr. Starkman saying most of that was political. The politicians use laws to protect businesses inside the country, especially local businesses that help them get elected by giving money. The farmers in Ontario grow a lot of crops and they employ a lot of people. But if someone can bring in a lot of cheap potatoes, the farmers can't compete and people lose their jobs."
Maria nodded her head slowly in understanding. She looked at the paper again, "So why can't we use this to import the Jamaican rum you're trying to get legally?"
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