The Lagotti Family Series

by Leopold Borstinski

  Once they discovered the total, they put the notes into the bags, careful to keep them even.

  “I'm hungry.”

  “Me too.”

  Taking the bags with them, they walked round the corner and along half a block where a fast food chain had dumped a building. Thirty minutes later they were back in the room filled with burger, fries and a shake. Mary Lou brought back her shake as she couldn't finish it at the burger bar.

  “The trouble with you and me, Frank, is that we’ve known each other for a long time.”

  “Met in ‘62.”

  “We’ve both been through a lot of shit over the years.”

  “And?”

  “And we’ve always been there for each other. Even in the bad times. Now we’re finding ourselves in a situation where the trust between us is breaking down. You think I'm in love with Carter and I think you’re ready to dump me for the money. Right?”

  “More or less.”

  “Today has been one hell of a day but we’re never going back to Lansdowne and you are never going back to your family. What has past is now long gone. We only have what we’ve brought into this room: you, me and the money. If you’re not satisfied with that then we should split now because it’s not going to get any easier if we stay together and one of us wants to leave.”

  “Do you want to split, Mary Lou?”

  “No. That’s what I've been saying to you this afternoon. I want to be with you. I chose you over Carter because you are the better man, Frank Lagotti. In the car I got to thinking how much we need each other. Not just to escape the cops today but how you fill me up. How you are a part of me.”

  “I don't want us to split up either.”

  “Then we shouldn’t.”

  “But I gotta tell you I find it hard to think about what the two of you got up to.”

  “Then don't think about it Frank because I can’t spend the rest of my life apologizing to you for extracting information from Carter Reinfeldt. It’s what you wanted me to do and you never said there were any restrictions on how I should go about doing it.”

  Frank nodded. They both sat on the end of the bed as there was nowhere else for the two of them to perch. He returned his hand to her leg, just as though they were still sitting in the car.

  “And I won't keep asking you if you'll drive off and leave me. If we’re with each other, it has to be because we want to be.”

  “Mary Lou, you’re right. If we trust each other then we trust each other. And if we don't we’ve got nothing.”

  She nodded in return and kissed him on the lips.

  “Let’s go to bed.”

  He undressed first and got under the covers still in his shorts. Mary Lou came out of the bathroom and removed her blouse then her skirt as Frank stared at her rose tattoo which peeped out from her pubes and headed up until it nearly reached her belly button. She slipped off her bra and panties and lay beside him.

  Frank threw his shorts onto the floor, rolled over to face her and wrapped himself around her body until his dick moved just below the rose. Mary Lou didn't push him away.

  CHARLIE PENTANGELO PUT the phone down on Frank Lagotti Senior. He had already listened to the radio to know the robbery had taken place and had been waiting for the call so he could press the button on the money laundering. The last thing he wanted to hear was the take was on the lam.

  Ordinarily, Charlie would have shrugged this off but the news broadcast had mentioned a heist value much higher than any sum Frankie had offered him. This meant either Frankie was withholding money from him or that the bank was involved in an insurance scam by overinflating its claim.

  If Frankie was withholding money that was the same as stealing from the Bonanno Family. The punishment for that crime was anything from having your hand cut off through to death, depending on the sum involved. On the other hand, if the bank was lying to the insurers then this created its own set of problems. While Frank had selected the First Bank of Baltimore for logistical reasons to make a heist most successful, he happened to have picked a financial institution where the Bonanno Family had made a series of investments.

  Banks inflate figures only to hide losses elsewhere and this sum was big. The implication was clear: if the bank was claiming more than had been lost in Lansdowne that was because the amount was lost elsewhere and needed to be recouped. Chances were that was Bonanno money which had been silently lost.

  Charlie made a mental note to instigate some enquiries about their First Bank of Baltimore investments. The chief executive would receive a phone call and that should straighten matters out.

  The other outstanding issue was that Charlie’s money was in the wind and if Frankie was stealing from him then he couldn't be trusted to recover all the take and deliver it for laundering. That meant only one thing: Charlie must recapture the money himself.

  Pentangelo picked up the receiver and made a local call.

  “Hi there.”

  “I told you not to phone me.”

  “This is an emergency: I need your assistance in a small matter.”

  “How small?”

  “Some materials of mine have gone missing and I’d like you to help me find them.”

  “The usual recovery fee?”

  “Of course. And given the importance of the materials to me, there’ll be a healthy bonus if you succeed.”

  “Do we know where the materials are located?”

  “Not precisely but we know the individuals holding them right now. My people will fill you in with the details. You’d better pack a suitcase; it’ll take a few days to track them down.”

  10

  TED GOODWIN HOPPED out of his vehicle and walked into the Lansdowne branch of the First Bank of Baltimore. The call had come through at five past nine and by the time he arrived, there was a police line in situ and he had to fight his way to the front: the numbers of passersby who’d stopped to stare was remarkable for an ordinary Tuesday morning.

  He flashed his detective’s badge and the officer let him duck under the tape and go into the bank. The first thing he noted was the sheer quantity of blood - it looked like the robbers had smeared red over the floor and the walls. A uniform stood near the door as a defense in case someone crossed the line.

  “How many dead?”

  “Two out back we reckon but the bodies turned to ash when they set the van alight.”

  “Injured?”

  “Three in hospital and the rest in shock.”

  “What happened to the three?”

  “The security guard was pistol-whipped and was unconscious when they took him out. Another man shot in the groin and one cashier... Well, they slashed her breast, sir.”

  “Where are the rest of the staff?”

  “Right now we have them all in the manager’s office, but it’s pretty cramped. Doubt if we can keep them there much longer.”

  “Until we've got enough vehicles to take them back to the station, let’s hold them where they are. It won't be long and they’re out of the way.”

  The officer nodded and Goodwin moved tentatively around the bank trying to figure out what happened and when. Once they interviewed the staff, they should have a reasonable picture. Goodwin spotted Sam Parrish squatting next to a pool of blood, so he scooted over.

  “Hey Sam. Here before me. What you see and what you got?”

  “Yeah, I was round the corner buying a coffee.”

  “Did you get here before they left?”

  “Nah. The cashier only pressed the alarm after the perps had gone out the back door.”

  “And then they killed two out the back?”

  “Yep. It’s all strange. From what one cashier was saying: the money hadn't been in the vault but an employee, Carter Reinfeldt, had taken it.”

  “Say again.”

  “You heard. Sounds crazy, but it definitely happened."

  “Any news on the identities of the bodies in the parking lot?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Have you been o
ut there yet? They torched a sports car and stuffed what we think are two corpses inside before they lit it.”

  “How are we so sure there’s two if the car’s been in flames?”

  “There were two bursts of gunfire. One happened when at least two of the gang were in this room and the other burst occurred after they departed.”

  “Are all bank staff accounted for?”

  “Yes, so the bodies are likely to be crew members, not civilians.”

  This case would take a while to crack. Dead 'uns, money stolen from bank staff who’d stolen from the bank.

  “And the vault?”

  “Clean as a nun’s conscience.”

  Sam pointed to a security door next to the counters. Goodwin followed the finger and entered the staff-only area. Cashier desks to one side and a corridor in front. As he walked along the narrow space, Goodwin noticed a kitchen and a locker room.

  At the far end, by the back door was a staircase leading downwards. At the bottom of the stairs: a wall filled with safe deposit boxes and on the opposite side of the room - behind bars - was the safe itself. It was open and there was no sign of any of the large denomination notes. None of the deposit boxes appeared disturbed.

  The gang come down here to take the money. At least one guy upstairs to maintain order over the staff. Possibly more. Someone’s hit the safe before you so you'll be spitting venom by the time you get back up top. Then you torture people to find out where the cash is.

  Goodwin couldn't understand it: two hits on the same bank on the same day. That was a new one. So unlikely it couldn’t be true, could it?

  What next? You scream for the money and the staff look blankly at you. Reinfeldt knows but doesn’t say and lets a woman get slashed for her troubles. Gangs rely on bank staff to give up the loot in a breath because it’s covered by the insurance. Policy would demand they hand it over but still Reinfeldt refuses. How did he give the game away?

  Strange fact number two: if they were professionals and they had the money, why shoot Reinfeldt? Why the unnecessary violence? They’d be able to interview him in the next day or so - assuming he survived. The chances were he was part of the gang and had tried to double cross them.

  Detective Goodwin sauntered upstairs and popped his head into the locker room and kitchen, but neither appeared to be the source of anything interesting. The boys would have a look-round before they left.

  Ted made his way out the back into the parking lot. He gagged with the stench and covered his mouth and nose with his handkerchief. The last fire wagon was heading off to leave a husk of a car - black, charred - and a large puddle of water hiding any forensics that might have been on the ground.

  He peered into the remains of the vehicle and made out two bodies - one dumped across the front seats and one at the back. Doors were open, but the fire had done its worst. Shards of melted glass lay on the floor. They came prepared to burn evidence: no matter what happened for two people to get killed, they were expecting to destroy a vehicle here. And why were the pair dead? An unsuspecting civilian bumped into the waiting getaway driver, perhaps. That doesn't explain the second body though. Strange fact number three.

  Goodwin walked out the parking lot onto the street and made his way left, then left again two hundred feet later, to arrive at the front of the bank. Into his car and back to the station to interview the staff before their memory for details faded.

  TED SAT AT his desk and stared at his typewriter. Most bank jobs were simple affairs: some men enter a building, take the money and leave. End of story. But this was peculiar around the edges and plain weird in the middle. His phone rang and he carried on focusing on his typing. The ringing continued until he snapped out of his thoughts and picked up the receiver.

  “Detective Goodwin.”

  “The staff from the robbery have arrived. They’re in the interview rooms.”

  “Thanks. I'll be right down.”

  Goodwin headed over to meet Sam organizing drinks and food for the witnesses.

  “How are they shaping up?”

  “Fine under the circumstances. All seem eager to help but it's hard to tell if they know anything.”

  “What we got?”

  “Bank manager, assistant manager, deputy manager, cashier. Other cashier, the security guard and financial advisor in hospital.”

  “I’ll take the bank manager and the assistant. You take the deputy and the cashier. First one to finish gets the donuts.”

  He winked and walked off to bring Joshua Hunkerton into an interview room. Food and a coffee arrived a few minutes later and Goodwin waited for the guy to settle down. He sat with a straight back and a dignified air the whole time.

  “How’re you doing?”

  “I'm fine. A bit shaken, you understand and obviously concerned about poor Miss. Galtieri and Mr. Grimble.”

  “The cashier and the guard?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn't mention Carter Reinfeldt.”

  “Well, it looks as though he was involved with those people, so forgive me if I'm less worried about that fellow.”

  “We’ll come back to that later. Let’s go over the events of the morning piece by piece, starting with your arrival at the bank. What time was that?”

  They burrowed through the minutiae from Hunkerton’s breakfast rituals through to the moment just after nine when three men wearing balaclavas entered the building and announced the start of a stick-up.

  Hunkerton was in his office. The gang came in and forced him at gunpoint to join the others in the middle of the floor in the customer area. One of the crew made them lie face down and the other two left to go to the vault. A few minutes later, they returned empty handed. The leader was furious and threatened him to say where the money was.

  “I really didn't understand. You see, I had opened the safe as usual at eight in good time for some of the smaller denominations to be taken upstairs by the cashiers. I was dumbfounded. I'm sure that made the felon more angry, but I plain had no answer. That is when he walked over to Miss. Galtieri and...”

  The bank manager sank into silence as he recalled Frank taking a knife and slashing open her breast to force Hunkerton to spill his guts. But he had nothing to say. And the blood...

  “Then what happened?”

  “They looked like they would give up. Him and the fellow who had been with us earlier.”

  “What about the third guy?”

  Hunkerton squinted to improve his memory.

  “I don't recall him being in the room at that point.”

  “Go on.”

  “The leader strode over to Mr. Reinfeldt and demanded the money from him. It was as though he knew him but Carter didn't do a thing. So the man upturned Mr. Reinfeldt’s desk to reveal two bags. He took them and made to leave but then he stopped, turned round and shot poor Carter in the...”

  Another introspective silence as the image of the red pool forming around Carter’s groin returned inside his head. And the screaming. Carter had lapsed into unconsciousness before the robbers had gone out the staff corridor.

  “Did you hear any shots?”

  “Only after they left. Two, I believe. Then a roar and Mrs. Pieck was brave enough to move and press the alarm.”

  Goodwin checked a few more details and then was done with him. Meantime, Sam had interviewed the deputy manager, George Hunkerton.

  “Related by any chance?”

  “Yes Ted. My Hunkerton is the son of yours. And I figured out why such a small branch needed an assistant and a deputy. My Hunkerton couldn’t find the end of his nose.”

  “Good that nepotism is alive and well in the banking industry.”

  “For sure. And we’re not even in Alabama. But the goofball had one useful thing to offer. While they were being minded, my Hunkerton heard a single shot go off.”

  “He’s certain of this?”

  “Yes. He told me he’d already pissed himself when the gang came into the bank and he was trying to hold it together b
y listening to anything happening outside the room. He definitely heard one gunshot while two of them were in the building.”

  “So one left early and clipped the fourth?”

  “That’s what I'm thinking.”

  “But why?”

  “Beats the hell out of me.”

  “What did your little Jimmy have to say about Reinfeldt?”

  “Not much. The guy had a roving dick and trouble at home but George knew nothing about the money.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Reinfeldt transferred over to the Lansdowne branch after he slept with a young floozie at his previous branch. Now he was carrying on with a customer. Been seeing her for months, apparently.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Not clear as yet but I'll work on it.”

  “And was anything else happening at home?”

  “Dunno. He and his wife have no children but they weren’t happy. Not getting along. That’s all I got so far.”

  “Let’s keep going and catch up later. The girlfriend might be able to tell us if Reinfeldt was mixed up with the gang. One of the uniforms can put together a description from all the staff. If we’re lucky, we'll even get an address.”

  11

  FORTY FIVE MINUTES later a blue-and-white called in a blaze on the outskirts of town. The uniform had been chasing a suspicious vehicle when the smoke hurtled into the air. He’d swung back to find a barn on fire and steel shells billowing flames.

  Goodwin left Sam to finish the interviewing and hightailed it northeast of Lansdowne via the scenic route to Philadelphia. Two sets of melted cars in an hour were too much of a coincidence in a day filled with them. This marked the trail of the gang out of town.

  When he arrived there three uniforms in front of the barn and two fire trucks. Smoke was still visible, but no flames were in view from the highway. What once had been a barn lay in seared carbon on the floor, one corner of a wall refusing to collapse. Behind this mess was rough ground containing a melted vehicle with another blob of former cars standing on the edge of the field.