1 Murder Takes Time

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  “Hello?”

  “Gina?”

  “Who is this?” Panic was in her voice, though it was tainted by sleep.

  “My name isn’t important. Tito Martelli sent me to kill you.”

  I heard the gasp, then what sounded like a squeal. “How did you find me?”

  “I’m not here to kill you. Not anymore. But if you want to live, you need to follow my orders.” I waited until the sobbing stopped. “Do you understand?”

  “Okay, what? What do you want me to do?”

  “Listen closely. Get your money and anything else you need into two small bags. Also get the evidence you have on Tito.” I waited through another series of gasps, then heard a creaking noise. It sounded like attic steps being pulled down.

  “Gina, listen to me. There isn’t time. Get the money out of the attic later, if that is what you’re doing. This is no joke. I was supposed to kill you today. I didn’t. But if you don’t listen to everything I say, you’ll be dead before noon.”

  “Okay. Okay. Go on.”

  “Tomorrow at morning recess you will hear a gunshot. When you hear it, fall down. Don’t run. Don’t scream. Don’t do anything but fall down.” I paused. “Do you understand?”

  “Fall down when I hear the shot.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What about the children? I don’t want them scared.”

  “They won’t even know what’s going on. They’ll probably think it’s a firecracker or something. You’ll know the shot when you hear it though, and when you do, fall down.”

  “Okay, then what?”

  “This is going to be difficult. It will require all of your concentration.”

  “Okay.”

  “Once you’re down, count to thirty. Slowly. Make each one a second if you can.”

  “You mean like one, one-thousand…”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. Count to thirty. Then get up and walk away.”

  “Where?”

  “There will be a crowd. People will be looking around for what the noise was. No matter what happens, walk away quickly. Don’t run, and don’t take your car. Walk through the neighborhood. Keep going until you find a place where you can call a cab. Do not use your cell phone. Do not call anyone you know. After tomorrow, Debbie Small is dead, do you understand?”

  “How will I—”

  “Just listen. Go to your house. Get the money and the bags then take the cab to the bus station. You don’t need ID to ride the bus. Take it to Wilmington, Delaware. Go to St. Elizabeth’s and ask for Sister Mary Thomas. Tell her that Nicky sent you, and that he asked to keep you safe until he calls. Remember, tell her Nicky sent you.”

  There was a long silence before she spoke. I heard her whispering, probably writing it down. “Bus station. Wilmington. St. Elizabeth’s. Sister Thomas.” She sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You know he’ll kill you.”

  “Sometimes you have to do what you think is right.”

  “When will I see you? I don’t even know what you look like.”

  “It’s better that way. I’ll be in touch with Sister Thomas. She’ll keep you safe.”

  As I hung up the phone, I heard, “Thank you, Nicky.” It sounded sweet.

  I WATCHED THE KIDS playing. Kids were the same the world over. At that age, they had so much innocence. I laughed. Even we were innocent then. The thought brought sadness with it. I focused on the issue at hand. Gina was nervous, but she was doing good. I checked the binoculars and saw Chicky and Donnie watching. No way they could see me, though.

  Get ready, Gina.

  I aimed, focused on her head, then raised the sights by several feet, making sure nothing was behind her. I squeezed the trigger smoothly. The shot boomed, went well over her head and into a brick wall. Several kids screamed. Gina went down.

  Good girl. I moved quickly through the woods. By the time I exited, the gun was back in the briefcase. I checked the road, saw no one, and headed for the car. There was a lot still to do.

  CHICKY DROPPED HIS COFFEE when the gun went off. “Jesus Christ, Donnie, she’s down. She’s down.”

  Donnie turned, head darting in every direction. “Get out of here, Chicky. We can’t hang around.”

  Chicky popped the car in gear and headed out, taking a quick right turn to get to the main roads.

  “Never even saw him, did you?” Donnie asked, looking in the rearview mirror.

  “Not even a peek,” Chicky said. “Just as well. I don’t want to know who it is.”

  FIRST THING I DID was call Dexter, a guy I made friends with in prison. He had a brother who worked at the Philly paper and had connections everywhere. Anxiety ate at me. This was something I should have planned beforehand.

  “Yo.”

  I could tell it was him when he answered. Nobody said “yo” quite like Dexter.

  “Dex, it’s Nicky.”

  A short silence, then. “Nicky the Rat. How ’bout that shit. What can the Dex do for you?”

  “I need a story planted in the Hershey, Pennsylvania, paper.”

  “Might have to pull in favors to do this. Might take some grease.”

  “Just tell me what you need, Dex. And I’ll owe you one.”

  “Tell me how you want it to read.”

  I gave him the details. He said he’d get back to me. Three hours later, he did. “All taken care of. Gonna cost you five hundred.”

  “Give me an address. And I meant that about owing you one. Just let me know.”

  I put $1,000 in an envelope and addressed it to Dexter. Paying him extra would ensure the best service in the future, and it just might help buy his silence if it came to that. I made one more call before leaving—to Sister Mary Thomas. When I got hold of her, I told her to expect Gina.

  “Nicky, I cannot be involved in illegal activities.”

  “Sister, if you trust me, please listen. Hide her for a few days. Put her with a friend or get her a motel room. Don’t let her use her own name or any identification. Within a few days, she’ll have instructions in a letter I’m sending you.”

  I waited through a few seconds of silence, then Sister Thomas’ voice came through. “Tell her not to worry. And, Nicky…”

  “Yes, Sister?”

  “Nothing. Be safe. God go with you.”

  “You too, Sister. Thanks.”

  I got rid of the gun on the way home. Cleaned it up real good, put it in some trash bags and buried it in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. Plenty else buried in there. One more gun wouldn’t hurt. A lot of guys liked to keep their guns, but I never did. Keeping guns increased the chances of getting caught. If anyone ever came to my house, I didn’t want a gun tying me to a crime.

  When I got home, I wrote the letter, telling Gina what to do and where to go. I finished it with, “Once you get to Indianapolis, find an inexpensive motel. After a week, call Sister Thomas every other day until she tells you she’s heard from me.”

  I mailed it miles from my house then went home. Tomorrow was a big day. I just prayed Dexter’s connections came through for me. If not, I’d be dead.

  TITO SAT AT THE kitchen table, enjoying his morning cappuccino, a paper open in front of him. When Manny came in, Tito set the paper down. “You check it out?”

  Manny nodded. “Chicky saw it go down, and I checked the paper in Hershey. The obituary was there this morning. ‘Debbie Small, teacher at Holy Cross. No relatives.’”

  Tito sipped some more cappuccino then looked up, questions on his face. “Nothing in the paper about the shooting.”

  “Just a statement that the Feds have it under investigation. You hear that, Tito, the Feds. That means they were watching, like you thought. Must have been a trap to get you.”

  Tito laughed. “Good old Nicky. I warned Tony he was rolling the dice. Looks like he lost.”

  I WENT TO TITO the next day, told him that I was quitting, like I said I would. He didn’t take me seriously at first, but
after a while he accepted it. I told him I’d like to stay around, maybe get a real union rep job.

  He tried convincing me, but when I held firm, he said okay. Said I could stay in my union rep position, but now I’d actually have to work for it. Pay wasn’t going to be great, but that was all right. I had saved a lot, and I now had what Pops left me.

  As I was leaving, I turned back to Tito. “I’m going to take a week or two off first, then I’ll be back to start.”

  He looked at me funny, then nodded. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, Nicky. Call me when you get back.”

  As I started for the door, he called. “How much she have left?”

  I knew he’d ask sooner or later. I was surprised he’d held out this long. “Almost two hundred.”

  “Two hundred.” Greed filled his eyes. “That’s a lot of money for one little job. Maybe—”

  “We had a deal, Tito.”

  “Yeah, fuck you. How about that.”

  He was mumbling as I walked out the door, heading for my car. Still…something didn’t sit right with me. Tito had taken that too easily. I made up my mind to be more alert, at least for the next few months.

  For a few days, I did nothing. I made it a point to be seen with Tony and Suit, letting Tito know I was still around. After about a week, I gathered the money I’d hidden in the house and headed out late at night. It was time to go to Indianapolis and help Gina start a new life. I owed her that. If I had just killed her, she would have no worries.

  CHAPTER 49

  INDIANAPOLIS

  20 Months Ago

  I drove the car down to Philly and left it at the airport. Then I took a cab to Center City, and another one to a rental car center, where I got an economy class for two weeks, all under a different name. From there, I headed west to Indianapolis. With a decent day of driving, I’d be there for dinner.

  I thought about a lot of things on the way out. Most of all, about how my life had changed and why I’d risked everything for a woman I didn’t know. After much philosophizing, I blamed it on the church and Sister Mary Thomas. They were the ones who planted the seeds of guilt in me.

  By the time I got to Indy, Gina was a wreck, trembling all the time, and looking over her shoulder every few minutes. It took me a while to calm her. The next day we went to Chicago and got her two new identities—Kathy Mynnocki and Mary Simmons. She didn’t like the names, but she wasn’t too unhappy with them. The worst thing was, I told her she couldn’t teach anymore; they’d be looking for all the things she’d done in her former life.

  We went back to Indianapolis and rented her a small house. Then I gave her instructions on how she’d have to live her life. She cried when I left. It hurt, but I knew I had done the right thing. Indianapolis was a good place to hide her: big city, but growing fast; airport with quick, easy connections to a lot of nearby cities; and best of all, four interstates to jump on and be damn near anywhere in short order. Within four hours she could be in Chicago, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Detroit, Louisville, or St. Louis. As I drove back to New York, I realized I not only felt sorry for her, I kind of liked her.

  At times like this I envied Bugs, out with different women all the time. I couldn’t do that. I was always looking for that one special someone. The problem was, none of them were Angela.

  Gina wasn’t Angela either, but…something was different. Maybe I just wanted her more. Maybe it was empathy—both of us loners and without family. I picked my car up at the Philly airport, then headed for home. As I drove over the Walt Whitman bridge I reached for a cigarette that wasn’t there, then shook my head. I had to get this shit out of my mind. If Tito found out she was alive, then I was dead.

  CHAPTER 50

  TONY AND TITO HAVE LUNCH

  Brooklyn—18 Months Ago

  It had been a few months since I left Gina, and the memories were already fading. For a while there had been a strong desire, but maybe that was just me being horny. What I needed was a “good lay” as Tony always said, but that didn’t strike me as appealing. I might as well beat off. It was faster, cheaper, and I could dream about somebody I actually wanted to be with.

  As I pushed the image of Angela out of my mind, the cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Nicky, it’s Tony. We’re having lunch at Cataldi’s.”

  It was early for lunch, but what the hell. “I’ll be twenty minutes.”

  When I got there, Paulie and Bugs were at the table with Tony, and it looked as if at least one, if not two, limoncellos had already gone down. “You guys getting an early start on something?”

  “Just another wonderful day,” Paulie said.

  “So I guess you’ve all been swimming?”

  Bugs grabbed a piece of bread from the basket, but before he stuffed it in his mouth, he said. “I have.”

  “I don’t care about swimming,” Paulie said. “I’m hungry.”

  “What’s everyone having?”

  “Cannelloni,” Tony said, and the grunts coming from Paulie convinced me he was too.

  When the waiter came to the table, three of us ordered cannelloni. Bugs ordered manicotti. All through lunch, we talked about old days, like we did every time we got together. As the years passed, real memories of the old days faded and they became more what we wanted them to be. We talked about gang fights but forgot how scared we were before the fight happened. All we remembered was that one moment of euphoria afterwards. Frankie and Tony talked about girls and their conquests, ignoring the heartbreaks that went along with them.

  Paulie downed his drink, ordered another round, then asked me if I was ever going to see Angie. “Take a goddamn weekend off and drive down, for Christ’s sake. It’s only a couple of hours.”

  The suggestion sounded good, I had to admit, but then reality hit. “What am I going to do, Paulie, go back and say, ‘Hey, Angie, look at me. I’m a union rep.’”

  Tony seemed pissed. “Why the hell would you want to see her after what she did to you?”

  I didn’t like his tone or his attitude. “What the hell, Tony. I was in prison. Tell me you’re waiting seven years for someone?”

  He let out a half-snort, accompanied by a sneer, the kind Tony was so good at. “Yeah, but she didn’t even wait seven months. She’s a—”

  I reached for him, but he was across the table. If he’d have been closer, I’d have hit him. “Don’t.”

  I looked at each of them. “I know you didn’t like Angie much, but I won’t have anyone talking bad about her.” I turned, staring straight into Tony’s eyes. “Nobody.”

  Bugs changed the subject then scooped the last of his dessert onto his fork. “Fuck, that’s it for me, guys.”

  “What?” Paulie asked.

  “Tito just walked in. I can’t afford to be seen with him.” Bugs wiped his mouth and threw two twenties on the table.

  “Put your money away,” Tony said.

  “Can’t take a lunch from you either.”

  “I can,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Tony said. “See you guys next time.”

  I nodded to Tito as we passed.

  Within five minutes, I was on my way.

  TITO WALKED TO THE table that Nicky and Bugs just left, pulled up a seat across from Tony. “Hey, Paulie, why don’t you watch the car. Let Tony and me talk.”

  Paulie got up and left, and after the waiter took Tito’s order and brought some more bread, Tito started talking. “I’ve been proud of you, Tony. You’ve been making good money.”

  “Thanks, Tito.”

  “They told me you were a smart kid when I took you on. That was the tag you had coming up, but lots of kids have that. What you’ve done is deliver, and that’s important.” He took a sip of water, then another. “Nothing is more important than delivering.”

  “I couldn’t have done shit without Paulie. He’s the best.”

  Tito nodded. “Yeah, I hear Paulie’s good. You need good people around you. You’ve got a lot of good friends—Paulie, Nicky, and even Bugs is good. It
’s a shame he’s a goddamn cop.”

  “At least he had the balls to give us a heads-up.”

  “That’s what I mean—he’s all right.” Tito drank more water, then held his glass up for the waiter to see. “Service here has gotten bad.”

  “They’re just busy. It’s usually great.”

  After Tito got more water, he leaned close to Tony. “That thing we talked about before? It went good. Your boy did okay.”

  Tony’s eyes went wide. “You mean Nicky?”

  Tito looked at him as if he were nuts. “Yeah, the same Nicky who just left here ten minutes ago.”

  Tony wiped his mouth and crumpled the napkin, laying it on his plate. “You see the body? If not, you paid for something you never got. But who cares? If it took care of your problem, that’s all that matters.”

  “My men saw it go down. Manny verified it with the papers.” He wiped his face with the napkin—wiped it hard, as if he were scrubbing off glue—then wagged a thick finger at Tony. “And I get what I pay for. That’s what matters.”

  Tony held up his hands. “Whatever you say, Tito. But he didn’t kill her. Nicky Fusco would never kill a broad.”

  Tito sat silent for a while. He ordered a cappuccino when the waiter came, and once they were alone again, he spoke. “I’m gonna have this checked out. In the meantime, you put somebody on Nicky. I want to know what he does, where he goes, what he buys, what he eats. If this guy fucked me…”

  “If he fucked you, it wasn’t you he was after. I’m telling you, it’s the broad thing.”

  Tito stood, threw his napkin on the table. “You find out if he killed that girl. And if he didn’t—kill them both.” He stared at Tony. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You’ve been pressing real hard on this. What’s the matter, he fuck your wife or something?”

  Tony’s face tightened. “That’s out of line. I don’t care who you are.”

  “I’m going to have this checked out. I’ll let you know what I find,” he said, and stormed out of the restaurant.