The Lagotti Family Series

by Leopold Borstinski

  “I’d go to the movies sometimes, meet up with my girlfriends, stuff like that. Other times I’d stay in and watch the Ed Sullivan Show.”

  “The Ed Sullivan Show?” Frank couldn’t quite decide if Mary Lou was jibing him or not.

  “Yes. He’s funny.”

  “Right. And did you see anyone while I was away?” Frank couldn’t believe he’d just asked the one question he didn’t want to hear the answer to.

  “No, Frank, I didn’t.”

  “You sure? Sounds like you just hesitated again... So you didn’t see anyone while I was gone? You didn’t sleep with anyone while I was gone?”

  There was a silence in the car. Even with the radio station blaring out, Frank was certain he could hear Mary Lou grinding her back teeth.

  “No, did you?”

  FRANK SAW RED. Slammed the brake and span off the road. Him fuck someone when he was in the can? What was she thinking? Who the fuck did she think he was?

  “What the fuck did you just say to me?” he yelled near the top of his voice spit flying onto Mary Lou’s face, his eyes like slits and pure anger on his breath, not able to believe she’d accused him of having queer sex.

  Whatever Mary Lou was thinking, she knew she’d stepped over the line. She, too, didn’t want to be having this conversation and she, too, had plenty of opportunities to close it down. She was silent for a spell and tears started to well up and trickle out of the corners of her eyes until they became a torrent.

  “Nothing, Frank. You’re freaking me out with your insinuations. I didn’t know what I was saying. Didn’t mean what I was saying. I wasn’t thinking straight,” and the crying went up a notch.

  Despite his anger, Frank knew he’d gone too far. He knew she had only been verbally retaliating because he’d got under her skin. And now he’d made her cry and that was not part of his plan. He moved her left hand away from her face and gently stroked her red cheek with the back of his hand, touching her neck and wiped some of her tears away from her left eye with his thumb.

  “What’s done is done. For the two of us. No more questions, eh?”

  “No more questions, Frank.”

  Mary Lou eventually stopped her crying and smiled her cute smile at him. Then she turned to him, kissed him on the mouth and slipped her hand under his shorts and jerked him off.

  Despite the histrionics, Frank had got no further knowing what Mary Lou did with Carter and the bottom line was he couldn’t face finding out. The mere potential of the truth was more than he could actually cope with. But what would happen with Mary Lou and him once they’d done the job? How could he be sure he could trust her? What would he do with her if he couldn’t trust her anymore? She knew too much about him to let her just walk away if they split up. If he couldn’t trust her after the job, he’d have to put a bullet in her brain.

  Frank pulled back onto the highway and drove back to Mary Lou’s apartment. She cooked them some linguini bolognese, Frank’s favorite, and they settled down to watch some television. After the Ed Sullivan Show, they went to bed.

  14

  THE CALL FROM Pete came through a couple of days later. Pete was a great driver, really excellent wheel man. But he had issues. He had very specific attitudes which didn’t always help him get along with folks. And he had a very short fuse, which meant he could be quite unpredictable. And dangerous. But he was a great wheel man.

  Lagotti agreed to meet up with him if only to find out what was going on inside his head. He’d known Pete for about five years and they had first met when Pete came into the auto shop looking for a loan to buy a new set of wheels. Lagotti could tell Pete was no ordinary car freak and hired him for jobs a few months later. Since then, Pete had been on four heists, sliced two throats and shot one guy in the eye. Serious driver with serious problems.

  Under these circumstances, Lagotti decided to bring along Paul and Luigi, in case Pete was going through a troubled phase. They met in a launderette downtown, in the kind of neighborhood where no-one is stupid enough to listen into anybody else’s conversation.

  “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

  “Di niente.”

  Pete shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and looked down at his shoes.

  “Well,” interjected Lagotti after about five seconds of silence.

  “I’ve got something to ask you and I don’t know how you’re going to react.”

  “If you don’t ask, you’ll never know will you?”

  “No... But...”

  “Pete, don’t sweat it. Whatever you have to say, I will not be angry and it will go no further than this damp room.” Luigi nodded to Pete, but they both knew if Pete put a foot wrong with Frank Senior, Luigi would be the one to break his neck and chuck his body in the nearest sewer.

  “It’s about Brian and the job.”

  “What about him?” Lagotti was starting to get impatient with this psychotic gas man.

  “It don’t feel right with him. I don’t trust him.”

  “Really? How so?”

  “I can’t quite say but I’m not sure we can trust him with the money and he’s going to be mighty close to it for most of the day of the job.”

  “This is true. Can you say why you don’t trust him? I believe you. I trust your instincts but I’d like to understand better.”

  Pete couldn’t think of anything specific apart from the fact Brian was a coon lover, but he knew Frank Senior wouldn’t see that as a sufficient reason to have him killed.

  “I think he’ll betray us at some point and I don’t think it’s right to share our winnings with a man who’s going to stab us in the back.”

  “Have you spoken to Frank about your concerns, if you think he’s going to turn on us?”

  “No, I came straight to you.”

  “And how long have you had this ... feeling about Brian?”

  “Well. It’s been a while but our trip to get the guns sealed the deal for me.”

  “How so?”

  “He started whoring around while the merchandise was still in the trunk. And I just don’t think that’s what I want in a business partner.”

  “I understand. So what do you want of me, apart from to hear your concerns?”

  “If things go down on the day, I want to know you’ve got my back and I have your permission to do what needs to be done to take care of business.”

  “Of course you do. Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then let’s get the fuck out of this shit-hole. It’s damper than my wife’s pussy.” And with that, Lagotti stood up and left, sandwiched between Paul and Luigi, both of whom had remained perfectly still throughout the whole conversation, apart from Luigi’s one nod.

  Lagotti knew Pete would kill Brian at some point after he came out of the bank with Frank and the other one. But he also knew this would be the least of Pete’s problems because there would be no money coming out with them. And that would make him mad and try to do something silly. So Paul and Luigi would need to be on hand to deal with the inevitable situation.

  Back at the auto shop, Lagotti sat back in his chair and flipped his feet onto his desk. A move he’d done a thousand times before. He sat still for a second or two, thinking.

  “For a driver, that Pete sure loves to whack people. If he was more stable and less racist, he’d go far. But a man of quality should be able to get along with all sorts of people, not just the ones he can tolerate.”

  Lagotti grabbed the reading material from his desk drawer and settled back for an afternoon’s rest and relaxation.

  THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY, Carter arrived at Frank Senior’s slightly breathless. He’d walked at quite a pace to catch the bus from round the corner of the bank. Cheaper than grabbing a taxi and a damn sight more reliable. But there’d been traffic en route and everyone had taken slightly too long to get on and off and pay and such.

  Now he found himself stood in front of the man instead of just handing over an e
nvelope to one of his goons. Carter was scared shitless. The man hadn’t seen him for months and now he was stood in front of the guy he owed thousands to. And the last time they’d seen each other, Frank Senior had told him he was going to rob his own bank. Jesus! What now?

  As usual, Lagotti had his head stuck inside a picture magazine and ignored Carter for quite a while. He always did that to whoever came into his office.

  “Make ‘em wait,” he thought.

  So finally, Frank Senior looked up and dropped his feet off his desk and onto the floor.

  “Do you have anything for me, then?”

  “Of course. Here it is,” and Carter took an envelope out of his inside jacket pocket and placed it on Frank Senior’s desk.

  “You wanted to see me? I usually leave the package for you. I mean, have I done anything wrong? Or anything?”

  “Don’t you fret, now. I just thought it’d be nice for us to have a chat.”

  “Oh ... okay.” Carter relaxed slightly because he had an ominous sinking feeling from the second he was told to go in and see Frank Senior until now, forty-three seconds later.

  “I wanted to remind you of our agreement. Of how you are going to help me in your bank. And how one day, Luigi will come to your apartment and let you know to bring the case in. And the next day, you’ll put the paper money from the vault into that case and walk out of the bank with it at the end of the day.”

  “Yessir.”

  “And I mean whatever happens, you leave at the end of the day with that case. Do you understand me? Whatever happens.”

  “Yessir, for sure. I’ll leave with the case.”

  “At the end of the day.”

  “Sure.”

  Swirling vipers twirled around the knots in Carter's stomach. This was real, all too real. Why had he been so stupid to double up all those times? Why had he gone round and borrowed so much money from so many people he ran out of options who to borrow from next? Until the only person left to borrow from was Frank Senior with his insanely high vig and his bank robbing interest. The more Carter thought about it, the more unsettled his stomach became.

  “Don’t fuck with me on this one.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Fuck with me and you are a dead man, you hear?”

  “Get outa here. You’ll be fine.”

  All Carter could do was to clench his ass cheeks, nod and leave. As soon as he’d left the room, he started to feel better. That was one scary muchachos. And today neither Paul, Luigi nor the matchstick chewing mute could freak him out as much as Frank Senior had just done.

  15

  THIS WHOLE IDEA with the case was beginning to become real in Carter’s head. He’d need to find one as inconspicuous as could be, given it needed to hold all the cash in the vault. That’d be one mighty big bag. Unless he could convince Frank Senior he should only take the racks, which would be worth the most and take up the least space. For interstate business, they also had some thousand dollar bills in stock and they’d take up nearly no space at all.

  By the time this mental meander had finished, Carter was at the door of the First Bank of Baltimore, Lansdowne branch, and entered the building. As always, he was greeted by the security guard, old man Grimble.

  “Hey, Joe.”

  Joe nodded back at him but kept his eyes unswervingly on the customers and the main area of the bank.

  “Hello, Mr. Reinfeldt.”

  Carter smiled briefly and walked past, heading for his desk. Grimble was a decent enough man, but was way past retirement age. He’d been kept on by JH principally because he was cheap and because this was a quiet branch of a quiet bank in a quiet part of town. Their idea of trouble was being a couple of dimes short on the cash reconciliation at the end of the day.

  Before he could get to his chair, Carter was accosted by George, the deputy manager who also happened to be JH’s son. George Hunkerton had obtained his position at the First Bank of Baltimore’s Lansdowne branch by emanating from Joshua Hunkerton’s seed. The only job young George could get was working for his father because he was stupid and incapable and everyone knew it. Even George. But to hide the truth from himself, he bossed people around as much as he could because he believed that was the best way to show his authority and to gain respect. He was wrong on both counts, which exemplified how stupid he was.

  Seeing Carter head towards his desk when he should already have been sat there after lunch was a perfect opportunity for George to prove his superiority to Carter and the rest of the staff.

  “You’re late back from lunch, Mr. Reinfeldt.”

  “Am I, George? Never mind, I’m only a couple of minutes over.”

  Like all the staff, Carter called George by his first name precisely because George wanted everyone to use his last name, just as they did out of respect for his father.

  George scowled at Carter as he sat down at his desk and fiddled with his index cards and diary.

  “Well, keep an eye on the time in future.”

  “Oh, I will, George. I will,” and Carter picked up his phone as if he was going to make a call. George stood there for a second or two, mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and sidled off back to his own desk.

  Across the reception area, Miss. Galtieri and Mrs. Pieck were busy with customers. Mrs. Pieck was counting out five dollar bills for a local businessman but Miss. Galtieri looked straight at Carter and when he caught her eye, he winked at her and she raised her eyes to the heavens as if to say: “What a pain that George is.”

  JH stayed in his office in the early part of the afternoon. He was either in meetings with the richer customers of the bank or discussing strategy and plans with Bob Cranford. One day Carter would take his assistant manager’s job. In most branches it wasn’t much to write home about, but with George as useful as treacle, it actually was the second most important role as JH’s right-hand man.

  Carter was attracted by the power and by the extra few thousand a year. Once he became assistant manager, he’d have enough money not just to pay for an apartment for Mary Lou, but have enough to start a new life with her and leave Rita. And they could move out of the state and he could get a bank manager’s job somewhere else, somewhere he could make a mark for himself without being dragged down by Rita and her negativity. About him and about what he did. And Mary Lou would be with him and they’d have a lovely house with a lovely garden and a lovely car. And they’d have some lovely children too.

  BUT, AS EVER, that night Carter went home to Rita and not Mary Lou. Their house was a bit out of town on the corner of Hazel and Baltimore Avenue. Not that far from the interstate which made it cheaper to buy, but it still had a white picket fence, flower beds and more rooms than Carter and Rita needed. They had planned on staying there forever with enough space for their family, but there was no family because they had no children. And no prospect of them either unless they adopted, but Rita wanted her own and not to look after someone’s reject child, so she said, and Carter agreed with her.

  They had found out Rita’s tubes were fucked two years ago and since then, things had got tense between them. It had got to the point where they were two people, sharing a last name, but living almost entirely separate lives under the same roof.

  The only moments of connection were dinner time and the fact they shared the same bed. They’d occasionally make love but the pleasure was gone. It was almost like it was for old time’s sake rather than anything else.

  It was no surprise when he came home, Carter found Rita in her sewing room, having put the dinner in the oven a short while before. He went down into the living room, poured himself a scotch on the rocks, and settled into his leather easy chair, holding the squat glass in his hand, slowly rotating it to cool the drink down with the three ice cubes floating in it. He stayed there until Rita called him into the dining room to eat.

  They sat down opposite each other, having only said a couple of words to each other since Carter had entered the house some forty-five minutes ago
.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Only took me a short while to rustle up.”

  They both looked down at the casserole and knew that Rita had spoken the truth. Quarter of an hour chopping vegetables and a few seconds to shove it in the oven. Done.

  “Tastes good.”

  The silence of their lives enveloped them as they chewed on diced pieces of beef, carrot, potato and onion. Rita was pretty with light brown hair down to her shoulders and a cute, pointy nose. And pointy breasts. But Carter knew he no longer loved her and believed if he was going to leave her he should provide for her too. After all, they had vowed to stay together through thick and thin so he owed her if he was going to depart her shores.

  They had been attractive shores at one point. Now Rita left him cold; no, not so much cold as empty. Besides, she’d be fine. She felt the same way towards him. He knew this by the way she looked at him. And she’d find a much better guy with the turn of her head. Rita was a fine woman with fine looks and a mighty fine way of cooking. He just needed to leave her.

  AND THE FIRST real step to do that was to get a case and do Frank Senior’s bidding. But the germ of an idea was taking root inside Carter’s head. He thought if he was going to take the risk of stealing the money and get away with it, why not take the money for himself and leave the state? That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about paying Frank Senior back and he’d have more to spend on his new life with Mary Lou.

  Now, Carter wasn’t absolutely sure about this idea because he knew there was quite a risk. If he tried to pull this off and failed, Frank Senior would most definitely kill him. But if it came good he’d be set for life.