by Joe Corso
CHAPTER 22
Red and Marilyn took their time walking up 111th Street. “Which do you like better, Marilyn – Malted milks or ice cream sodas?”
She thought about which she liked better for a moment, then she said, “I like them both, but if I had to choose between one of them right now, I guess I’d pick a chocolate ice cream soda.”
“Good. Then that will be what we’ll order: two chocolate ice cream sodas. You’re in for a treat because people come from all over Queens to have Jack’s malteds and ice cream sodas.” It was 7:35 p.m. when they walked into Jack’s. They sat at a booth and Red was surprised when Jack himself came to take their order.
“What are you doing working so late, Jack?”
“It’s good to see you up and around, Red. As for me working late, one of the kids called in sick and there was no one else to fill in for her, so I’m elected. What would you like?”
“Two chocolate ice cream sodas the way only you can make them.”
Jack beamed. “You flatter me, Red, but don’t you worry. I’ll make you the best ice cream soda’s you ever had.” Ten minutes later, he returned with the ice cream sodas. Marilyn took a spoonful of ice cream and remarked on how good it tasted. The time passed quickly as they sat enjoying their conversation and each other’s company … and their chocolate ice cream sodas. After finishing their ice cream sodas, they walked slowly back, hand in hand, to the Starlight Club.
Red brainstormed with Tarzan and Trenchie, trying to figure his next move. He put himself in the shoes of the assassin and thought of how he would assassinate Richard Nixon if he were him. “Nixon was scheduled to give a fund raising speech at Madison Square Garden during the Republican Primaries and if I were going to cap Nixon, that’s the place where I’d do it. Frankie Carbo is a friend of mine. Anyone who wanted to get a championship fight at the Garden had to get his approval. I’m gonna call Carbo, set up an appointment, and then I’m gonna pay him a visit. I want him to personally give me a tour of the Garden and show me any spot a sharpshooter would position himself in if he were going to kill someone. I don’t know where in the Garden a sniper would choose as his spot, but I’m sure Carbo has somebody in his crew who does.
Sammy, Moe’s buddy, walked into the Starlight Club. He spotted Red sitting at his table with Marilyn Monroe. “Excuse me, Red. Could I have a moment of your time?”
Red looked at Marilyn and sighed. Since he was the boss, this interruption was accepted because Sammy was one of his crew. “Sure, Sammy, Let’s go in my office.”
“Red, I need a favor.”
“Sure, if I can do it for you. What is it, Sammy?”
“A friend of mine is being harassed by some young hoodlums form Sunnyside.”
“How are they harassing him, Sammy? What are they doing to him?”
Sammy was a little embarrassed to bring it up because his friend wasn’t a subscriber to Red’s security protection program. “It’s Rabbi Marvin Liebowitz. I’m a member of Temple Beth Israel, have been for many years. Moe was a member also. We used to attend service together on Saturday nights, occasionally. It was hard for us to go to temple because of the line of work we were in. When Moe died, I kind of stayed away. The rabbi is a friend of mine and he called me last night because he knows that I work for you. He asked if I could help him.”
“Sammy, what exactly is his problem?”
“A pro-Nazi group from Sunnyside is making life miserable for him. They’re always causing some sort of damage to the temple. The other night, all the windows were found broken. Rocks were thrown through them. They found the rocks inside the temple, wrapped in paper with swastikas on them. Last month, they spray painted a message on the outside walls of the temple, telling the Jews to leave or they’d pay the consequences.”
Red didn’t like to hear of things like this happening in Queens. It was his opinion that every person had the right to worship as he saw fit. He had no tolerance for a bigot. “What’s the rabbi’s name again?”
“His name is Marvin Liebowitz.”
“Is he a member of our security program?”
Sammy was silent a moment, then he said, “No, Red, he’s not.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Since he’s a friend of yours, I’ll help him. But when this problem goes away see that he becomes a member.”
“Gee, thanks, Red. I really appreciate it and I’ll get him to join.”
Red walked to the door and motioned to Tarzan. “Tarzan, Sammy is going to bring his rabbi here. He has a problem we need to help him with. I want this trouble he has to go away.” Red looked at Sammy. “When can you bring your friend in?”
“I can bring him here tomorrow morning if that’s all right with you.”
“Make it late morning. I like to keep the early mornings for myself.”
“Would eleven be all right?”
“Eleven would be fine. Bring Rabbi Liebowitz tomorrow morning then, at eleven.”
“Thanks, Red. See you tomorrow at eleven.”
Piss Clam walked into the Starlight Club just as Sammy was leaving. He saw Red sitting at his favorite table and walked over to him. Marilyn was upstairs in her room. “It’s done,” was all he said.
“Tell me about it,” Red said with certainty. He wanted to look into Piss Clam’ eyes to see if he was telling the truth or lying. He needed to be sure it was done. He had a nagging doubt that Piss Clam might have given his friend a pass and that he would come back to tell him that he whacked him. Red had to be sure the job was finished.
“I did what you told me to do. I took the boat out to sea about ten miles and dropped anchor, then we cast our lines. After about twenty minutes, I went down into the cabin and brought out some cold beers and we fished and talked while we ate and drank our beer. When we finished our beers, I asked him if he wanted another cold one. He said to keep them coming and I told him, yeah, I could use one too. I left to get them and when I came up from the galley, I had the .38 tucked into my belt against my back. He had a fish hooked on his line and it looked like a big one. He asked me to give him a hand with it. I said I’d be right there. I walked over to him, shot him once in the head, and pushed him overboard with my foot. I threw the gun into the ocean, cut the fish free, and headed back. Red, this was the toughest thing I ever did.”
Red nodded, slowly digesting the truth of what he had just been told while at the same time looking Piss Clam in the eye. He didn’t see any sign that he was being lied to. “Piss Clam, I know it was tough for you to do this. But this had to be done and you were the only one who could do it without him getting suspicious. If you refused to do it, I would have put you down.” He motioned to Piss Clam. “Come downstairs with me.”
The cellar was the last place Piss Clam wanted to go. “Red, I really don’t want to go down there.”
Red laughed. “Come on, Piss Clam. What are you worried about? You did the deed and I’m happy. Come on downstairs for a moment.”
Piss Clam was terrified to go downstairs with him. Red read his mind. “Come on, Piss Clam. If I wanted to whack you, you’d be fuckin dead already.”
Piss Clam was still very nervous. He kept thinking as he walked down each step, Is this it? Am I gonna get whacked down there? He didn’t know. All he knew was he didn’t want to go down into the cellar with Red, but he had to. He found himself walking down the stairs with Red, following behind him. He kept waiting for the bullet that would crash into his head, ending his life, but it didn’t come. When he stepped off the stairs, he looked around the cellar, thinking maybe Ralph or maybe Trenchie was there. But there was no one there but Red, and he led him to the small burner in the rear of the cellar that had remained there for over one hundred years, but was no longer used. Red had given instructions to Tarzan earlier to throw some wood into the oven and light the fire. Now there was a flame burning fiercely in it. He pointed to it and told Piss Clam to open the little door. Piss Clam did as he was told and Red took the diary from his pocket and handed it to him. “Throw i
t in the gurney.” Piss Clam took the diary and did as he was told. He threw it into the fire. “Shut the door and let’s go upstairs.”
Piss Clam didn’t relax until he was upstairs. He was glad to be alive. When he reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the bar area, Red pointed to his table. “Sit down at the table with me, Piss Clam.” He motioned to Tarzan who had observed them going to Red’s table, “Bring us two drinks. I’m glad that you obeyed me and followed my orders. I like you, Piss Clam. You’re a loyal soldier, but I would have killed you if you didn’t kill that piece of shit Steve the Horse.”
Piss Clam gulped, and managed to say, “Red, killing the Horse was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. But what was even harder was going down into the cellar with you. I thought that maybe Ralph or Trenchie might have been waiting for me down there. Man, I thought it was all over for me.”
Red just shook his head. “Piss Clam, have you ever known me to bullshit you? Answer me. Have you?”
“No, Red. You’ve never bullshitted me.”
“You’re one of my most valuable men. You’re loyal and honest and I can always depend on you. I know how hard it was for you to do what you did today. And because of that I’m giving you an extra five hundred bucks a week. What are you making a week with me now, Piss Clam? Two, three thousand a week? Maybe the extra five will cheer you up a little. Steve’s problem, besides his weakness for the horses, was his mouth. You know, Piss Clam, his mouth was like a shovel. It dug him his own grave.” Red could see the hurt on Piss Clam’ face and he wanted to ease his pain a little. “Don’t worry about his family; I’m going to continue taking care of them. I’ll see to it that his wife gets a check every week, same as she has for the past two years.” Piss Clam hesitated before speaking and Red picked up on it. “What is it, Jackie?”
“Well, Red. Now that you mentioned Steve’s wife. I don’t know what I’m going to tell her. I mean, you know … about Steve. What will I tell her when she asks me where he is?”
“Don’t tell her anything. I sent someone to take care of the car, so if she asks you where Steve is, tell her that when you got back from fishing, he was in a hurry and couldn’t wait for you. Tell her he mentioned that he had something important to take care of and he jumped in his car and took off and he left you to take care of your boat all by yourself. Tell her that and let her make up her mind where he went.”
CHAPTER 23
Red, Trenchie, and Tarzan walked through the entrance to Madison Square Garden, only to be stopped by two security guards. Red explained that he had a nine o’clock appointment with Frankie Carbo and asked them where Carbo’s office was. Carbo was a made member of the Lucchese crime family and he was known as the Czar of Boxing. In 1947, it was rumored that Carbo had engineered the murder of Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel in Beverly Hills, California but Red didn’t know if that was true or not – and he never asked. It was none of his business.
After checking with Carbo, they pointed them to a door marked office in the rear of the main floor. Tarzan knocked once and a large man with a broken nose opened the door.
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“It’s all right, Vic. They’re friends.” Frankie rose from behind his desk, came over, and shook Red’s hand. “I heard you almost bought the farm a little while ago. It’s good to see you Red. And these gentlemen are?”
Red spoke in terms that only the mob could interpret. “These two are friends of ours. Say ‘hello’ to Trenchie and to Tarzan.” Carbo shook each of their hands. He knew from Red’s introduction that they were made guys and he treated them with the respect they deserved. If he would have said, “They’re friends of mine,” Carbo would have known they weren’t made men.
“Have a seat, Red. Vic, bring in another chair for Tarzan here.” Vic left dutifully, and then came back a minute later with another chair. “Put it by the desk, Vic. Thanks. Your phone call had a sense of urgency to it, and was rather cryptic. Now what is it that takes you out of Queens and brings you to my castle?”
“I think an attempt on Richard Nixon’s life will be made when he gives his fund raising speech the week after next.”
That got Carbo’s attention. “What? Did I hear you right? You’re kidding me, right?” The last thing he needed was an attempt on the ex-vice president’s life in the place where Carbo made his living. He stood a chance to lose a fortune if that were to happen. “I can see by the look on your face that you’re serious. I know somebody must have tipped you off. You don’t have to answer this, but can you tell me who it was?”
Red didn’t bat an eyelash when he said, “You won’t believe it, but Marilyn Monroe tipped me off.”
Carbo sat back in his chair. “Wow, Jack Kennedy’s main squeeze. Man, that’s getting it right from the horse’s mouth. How can I help?”
“I need a tour of the Garden, Frankie. Especially the hidden little nooks where a gunman could take a bead on Nixon and not be seen. Look Frankie - if you wanted to kill Nixon, where would you put your shooter?”
Carbo looked around the large arena. Then his eyes drifted up towards the little room high above the garden where Tony, the man who operated the camera and took films of all the events that took place there, worked. “That’s easy. I’d put him up there in the eagles nest,” he said, pointing to a small room with a window at the highest level of the arena. “That’s the place I’d put my shooter. The only other spots that could work would be up close, but if you want my opinion, I don’t think they’d go that route. Guards and secret service guys will patrol the walkways and aisles, so that area is out. There are alcoves on the sides, but anyone setting up a rifle to take a shot at Nixon would easily be spotted. No, it would be up there or up close.”
“Okay, then. Take me up there and show me the spot you’re talking about.” Red’s eyes never left the spot at which Carbo pointed.
The more Carbo thought about it, the more aggravated he became. “Some miserable son of a bitch won’t ruin my business. I’ll kill the bastard first.”
“You may get your chance,” Red said from behind Carbo.
“Red, we gotta stop this from happening. I have two championship fights coming up. It’ll kill me financially if the fights were called off.”
Red smiled tightly. “Well then, let’s not let that happen.”
Carbo stopped climbing the steps and he turned to Red. “Since you think there could be an attempt on Nixon’s life. Do we know who’s trying to kill him?”
“Yeah. A guy by the name of Emil Reynolds.”
Carbo thought he recognized the name. “Reynolds, Emil Reynolds.” Then it hit him. “You can’t mean the Deputy Secretary of State?”
“The one and the same. He’s working under orders from Bobby Kennedy.” Carbo sat down in one of the seats in the upper level. “That miserable fuck, that son of a bitch, rat bastard Kennedy. First it’s Hoffa, then the heads of the five families.” He turned to Red. “Does he know you’re not dead?”
“No, he thinks he killed me. He doesn’t know I’m alive and I want to keep it that way.”
“But … how did Monroe contact you? I mean, come on, a mob guy from Queens?”
Red decided that Carbo should know how they met. “Actually we met quite by accident. Reynolds tried kidnapping her. The men he hired killed her bodyguard in an attempt to get to her, but we killed her three would-be kidnappers.”
Carbo shook his head. “Red, this is getting complicated. How did you get involved in helping her?”
“I told you. It happened by accident. I went to Washington to clear my name and as I was getting off the elevator, she was literally pushed into my arms. The bad guys didn’t expect a firefight, but they sure as hell got one. I wound up taking Marilyn with me for her protection. Moose and some of my men are watching out for Nixon and his family just in case I figured wrong. They have no idea that we’re protecting them.”
“Let’s get back to Nixon for a moment. Why do you think they’ll try to kill him at the Gar
den?”
“A lot of highly classified information was discussed in front of Marilyn. Besides which, it seems Jack promised her that he would divorce Jackie and marry her. She’s delusional. She wants to be the first lady and she believed Jack’s bullshit story that he’d leave his wife for her, and she really thought it would happen. You can imagine how upset she was when she found out that all Jack wanted was to get in her pants. It crushed her and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. So, to get back at them, she ran off at the mouth and told them she was going to tell Nixon all of their dirty secrets and, believe me, there are plenty of them. The bottom line is, they believe Marilyn did what she threatened she would do. I managed to get Nixon’s schedule for the next two weeks. I crossed everything off the list but the Garden. This is where they’ll try to assassinate him. I’m sure of it. They’ve come too far now to stop. Now show me the spot you pointed to.”
Carbo showed Red the little room. “This is the perfect spot for a sniper,” Red said. “This is where I’d place my guy, right here. Who’s going to be working the camera the night Nixon gives his speech?”
“Tony, the old man. He’s been working this room for the past thirty years.”
Red looked around the cramped little room. “What’s in there?” he asked, pointing to a door.
“Just a closet.”
“Let’s take a look.” Carbo took out a set of keys. He turned them in his hand until he found the right one and he opened the closet door. The room was packed full of film cans, posters, and papers, but if some of the junk was taken out a man could hide in there without being seen.
Red turned to Carbo. “Can we get rid of some of these film cans?”
