The Lagotti Family Series

by Leopold Borstinski

  Three-Piece continued to stare at the theater and turned his head down at the sidewalk. Then he shifted his weight and Mary Lou felt he was staring right through Frank, whose arm stiffened and she braced herself for the crack of the gun barrel.

  Frank dug his heels into the paving stones as he too noticed the change in Three-Piece’s stance. Mary Lou gripped the door handle.

  Beat.

  She blinked and, in that instant, Three-Piece shrugged his shoulders and walked away from the pair, continuing on his way along Hollywood Boulevard. Mickey never knew how close he got to receiving a bullet in his skull, but Frank did and Mary Lou had a pretty good idea too.

  Frank slid his gun back into his pocket and hopped into the taxi, followed by Mary Lou.

  “Let’s hightail it to Riverside Drive and the Warner Brothers studios in Burbank.”

  The driver nodded and hustled them over as quickly as his cab would take them.

  “Why there?”

  “We might spot us some movie stars, babe.”

  She smiled and pecked Frank on the cheek. That was what she wanted: to soak in the glitz of Tinseltown. They stood outside the studio gates along with all the other nobodies waiting to catch a silhouette they recognized in the rear of a stretch limo. But none appeared.

  After an hour, they’d both had enough. The surrounding conversations dragged them down - ordinary people leading normal lives in the usual way.

  “Can we go back to the hotel?”

  “I'm right with you, babe.”

  “We could grab a bite to eat on the way.”

  “Pizza for lunch. Shall we find Chinese for this evening?”

  Mary Lou nodded and Frank walked fifteen feet away from the huddled masses to hail a taxi to separate them from the edge of the magic factory.

  SUNDAY JUNE 29

  37

  THEY TOOK TWO cabs to get to the Wilshire Golf Club: the first was to a random destination made up by the concierge. Then they walked three blocks and caught a different car to where they stood now. The course itself perched on the edge of Los Angeles International Airport. Planes flew over their heads but the site was vast and the noise of the engines didn’t drown out conversation.

  Frank and Mary Lou crouched behind some bushes next to the tee until Mark sauntered up to them. Frank smiled in recognition and they hugged, patting each other on the back they way men do.

  “Damn good to see you again, Frankie L!”

  “Mighty fine to catch sight of your face, Mark T!”

  “And this must be your accomplice.”

  “Mary Lou, meet Mark Tucker. We were cell buddies back in the day.”

  “Not that long ago, Frankie L.”

  “Plain old Frank nowadays, Mark.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Mary Lou shook Mark’s hand for a greeting.

  “Any friend of Frank’s is a friend of mine.”

  “I'm sure we’ll get along just fine, Mark T.”

  He eyed the pair up, watching how they stood and the relaxed way Frank leaned in towards Mary Lou's body. His eyebrows rose and he whistled.

  “Frank, you’ve got more than an accomplice with you, I’d say.”

  “You may well be right there, Mark, but we are here for business. We can catch up on old times later in the day.”

  “You betcha.”

  Mark walked away from the tee, making sure they stayed behind the bushes and wandered into a clump of eight to ten trees. Smack in the middle was a clearing with some stumps left flat, like they were Nature’s own seats.

  “Make yourselves comfortable. No-one can see us from the fairways and unless we scream at each other, they won't hear us either.”

  The three sat on a stump each but only Mark appeared the least bit relaxed on the makeshift wooden stools.

  “Let’s get down to business, Frank. First off. Are you a cop?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “No, I am not.”

  Although law enforcement officers were not the brightest sparks in the firmament, the judiciary had put in place a requirement that undercover cops didn’t lie when entrapping felons. This meant the opening to criminal discussions commenced with a standard mantra.

  “So what do you want to send my way?”

  “We’ve got a large amount of cash needs cleaning yesterday.”

  “How much money and how much time?”

  “About five hundred and fifty thousand. And as soon as you can turn it around.”

  “First Bank of Baltimore was your hit? Don’t answer that. What I don’t know can’t hurt me.”

  “It is a sizeable sum.”

  Frank looked over at Mary Lou who responded in kind. Then they both returned to stare at Mark.

  “I thought that haul was twice as big.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear on the news.”

  Mark smiled and pondered.

  “You got the FBI on your tail? They don’t take kindly to people who rob banks.”

  “I didn't say we robbed a bank but Hoover has taken an interest in our journey across country.”

  “Is he the only one who’s after you?”

  “There are other parties involved.”

  “Baltimore cops?”

  “Yep.”

  “That all?”

  “Nope.”

  “Anyone I should worry about?”

  “There are some guys with East Coast connections, Mark. Only fair to let you know. And some Baltimore locals who are less of an issue - for you at any rate.”

  “Risky business, your line of work.”

  “And yours, Mark. You get stuck with the notes.”

  “Only for a few hours. With a haul like yours, it's out of my hands before the end of the day. I’m old-fashioned enough to not let incriminating evidence languish at the bottom of a drawer.”

  “Good policy, my friend.”

  Beat.

  “So can you help us?”

  “Of course, Frank. The question isn’t if we'll do some business, the question is how much it'll cost you.”

  “If the cash is only with you for a few hours then your risk is minimal, wouldn't you say?”

  “You’re kidding me, man. It's all mine. You walk away with the clean bills and I’m left holding the baby and the bath water. Your notes can get traced back to me. The only thing stopping the cops knocking on your door is what I tell them. And that’s a price worth paying.”

  “Mark, you know me well enough to be certain of this: if anyone crosses me, I’ll kill them. Plain and simple.”

  “You’d better watch out for him, love. Frank’s business partners have a nasty habit of getting buried.”

  “Don’t you worry about me. I know his past. From way before his arrival at the Baltimore Penitentiary.”

  Mark looked at her with cold eyes, deciding how much to believe this woman. Truth was Mary Lou and Frank got together soon after she arrived in Baltimore, some six years before he did time for the store heist.

  She stared back at Mark, letting him make his judgements but not wishing to give him a moment to think she was some pushover. The fact they’d only just met meant Mark had no idea about her and Frank. He might not have mentioned a word about the man since he got out of the can, but Mary Lou could tell there was some special bond between the two men.

  THE BALTIMORE STATE Penitentiary had never been the most luxurious of penal institutions but it followed a series of protocols designed to keep the prison population as placated and secure as it could be. Two guys per cage was the rule and when Frank’s cell mate finally got parole in ‘66, a new arrival was inevitable within a few days.

  Mark waltzed into his life by throwing himself into the top bunk, declaring his possession. As Frank was lying on the lower bed, he didn’t care as he wasn’t planning on budging from his perch.

  The first two weeks passed without incident, both men engulfed by the tedium of their position. Mark kept his mind alive by doing what came natural: buying and selling anything h
e could lay his hands on and sometimes that included property owned by the prison staff.

  Nooks and crannies stuffed with contraband filled their cage. Frank didn’t care as he got the occasional perk and no-one would believe he was the perp. Mark’s import-export business was thriving, but it relied on him getting goods of interest to the inmates. He operated a barter system which meant other prisoners were encouraged to offer items they’d found to swap for objects in his cell.

  The big problem was that it encouraged criminals, many of whom were habitual thieves, to rob from each other. The more desperate prisoners would take the biggest risks, leading to Mark rubbing shoulders with the more dangerous elements of the prison population.

  In the third week, Donald “The Hatchet” O’Reilly came into the cell. His nickname said it all: you should never cross Donald unless you wanted to be wearing an ax embedded in your skull. Frank was on his own, polishing his shoes.

  “Where’s Tucker?”

  “Dunno, O’Reilly.”

  “Not good enough. Where is he?”

  “I don't know. He’s been out the cell most of the morning.”

  “Tell him he needs to find me.”

  “Sure thing, O’Reilly.”

  The lumbering giant, bedecked in tattoos of every conceivable pattern and image over every visible inch of his skin, lurched toward Frank, grabbed him by the throat and yanked him upwards.

  “Listen closely, Lagotti. You don’t appear to be taking this matter seriously enough.”

  Beat.

  “When Tucker gets back from fucking whoever he’s fucking, send him over before he has a chance to nestle down between your great hairy, white ass cheeks. Get me?”

  Frank nodded as best he could, blinking acknowledgement to the bearded behemoth who ran the block. O’Reilly’s hand relaxed around Frank’s larynx but maintained a basic grip.

  “The slug has my property and I want it back.”

  “Okay. Understood. What is it?”

  “Are you his agent?”

  Frank thought for a minute and realized O’Reilly was right. The last thing he wanted was to get involved but here he was with a hand around his throat and a question out his mouth.

  “Smokes. Ten cartons.”

  “I'll let him know. That’s a lot of smokes.”

  “Better believe it. If I don’t receive restitution by four this afternoon, he’s a dead man walking.”

  O’Reilly growled and exited the cell, leaving him alone knowing Mark was due to die. Just before five, Mark entered the cage, torn overalls, bruises around his cheeks, mouth and forehead. One eye was closed up; Frank couldn’t work out how the man could see.

  “Jeez, Louise.”

  “Shoulda seen the other guy.”

  Mark attempted a smile but the pain of moving the muscles in his face was too much for him.

  “O’Reilly found you then.”

  A nod.

  “He set you a four deadline.”

  Another nod. Mark sat down on Frank’s bed.

  “I tried to find you but you vanished. Thought you might have had the good fortune to have escaped.”

  Further attempts to chuckle by Mark but still in too much pain.

  “It’s not over yet.”

  “Still wants his smokes. You got them?”

  Mark shook his head.

  “Sold them on?”

  A nod again.

  “Anything worth ten cartons to trade?”

  Another shake.

  “Huh? You always have stuff coming and going.”

  Amid the spit and drops of blood:

  “O’Reilly owns all my stash now. I owe him twenty cartons on top of it all. I got zip.”

  Frank stood and thought. Mark made this problem for himself but he guessed the guy didn’t realize he was trading in O’Reilly’s cigarettes.

  “How long to pay the debt?”

  “Two days.”

  “Jeez.”

  Mark looked up at him with plaintive eyes. The men shared a cell, but that was about all.

  “I might be able to help.”

  Mark gave a quizzical expression in between the cuts and bleeding. Frank knelt next to the head and pulled a small plastic bag out of a cubby hole. Without letting Mark see the entire contents, he took out a roll of notes and replaced the bag.

  “First, I'll have to find a new hidey-hole. Second, you can pay O’Reilly off with the green here. It’s at least the price of twenty cartons, but you have to understand that was my bribe money. Without it, I can’t keep the guards away - and I haven’t been too friendly with some of them in the past, see. So if I hand over this cash, you'll have to look after me instead. Got it?”

  If Mark had been able, he would have smiled, but a ghoulish set of teeth showed across his expression.

  That night, Frank went to bed first and Mark slipped in under the covers beside him. Frank did nothing to push him out and Mark looked after Frank’s interests from that moment until he got parole three months before Frank himself stepped out into the bright Baltimore sunshine.

  38

  MARK AND FRANK stared at each other, the memories of the penitentiary flickering across their expressions.

  “You guys will be off out the state while I’m stuck with a bunch of questions from the Feds or a bullet from the mob. So be serious, my man.”

  “Mark, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Yes, I want us to do business but we need to remember what is what and what has passed.”

  “The past is gone and all we have is our future.”

  “Gone but not forgotten.”

  “Sure, Frank. But gone.”

  He fell silent as he didn’t think it wise to push Mark too far because he so needed him, but he thought Mark and he had some connection the boy wanted to ignore. Maybe it was just negotiation.

  “What of the future then?”

  “You’ve got racks and you want me to swap them for greenbacks. Untraceable and with no consecutive serial numbers unless I miss my guess.”

  Frank nodded, knowing Mark had the upper hand - but that had been the case before he’d picked up the phone and contacted the only person from California in his address book.

  “What can you give us?”

  Now Mark was silent as he mulled over his opening offer.

  “Your uncle: what deal did he throw at you?”

  “Forty cents on the dollar.”

  Mark smiled.

  “That was the offer. In reality he planned on taking it all and leaving you with nothing, so anything I put forward will be better than the only offer you currently have on the table.”

  Frank ground his molars because Mark was squeezing him. There was no need for him to behave like this. Why play a power trip on him?

  Mary Lou watched the proceedings and wondered why Frank was trying to do business with this guy. Better for the two of them to torture him until he spilled where he stashes his clean cash. Must be somewhere and not that far from here either. But that’s not how Frank wanted to play it - and she respected him too much to take action right now.

  “Me and Mary Lou can slice your throat open right here and take all the money you’ve got stored around the city. But you and I have a history and I’m hoping you remember that as we carry on our conversation.”

  “Stay chilled, Frank. Just jerking your chain. Nothing more. How about twenty cents on the dollar?”

  “That won’t give us much. We'll have to leave the country - at least until everything dies down and that could take years, not weeks or months.”

  “I hear you, but you understand I have overheads and I’m trying to do the best I can for you under the circumstances. If you flee the heat, chances are it’ll descend on me and we must factor that into the price.”

  “You and I appreciate there’s plenty of fat in the eighty cents you’re talking about keeping. All I’m asking is for you to share a little - like I shared my stash with you when we were inside.”

  Mark gazed down at the earth, eye
s unfocused. Mary Lou couldn't tell if he was having an attack or had fallen under some hypnotic spell. After fifteen seconds, he blinked and looked up.

  “Twenty five cents. And that takes account of everything that happened in Baltimore. Everything.”

  “Appreciate that, Mark. Is that the best you can do for us?”

  “Better believe it. How much are you sitting on again?”

  “Five hundred and fifty thousand.”

  Mark’s eyes widened until he got them under control and let out a quiet whistle.

  “Total respect man. And to you, lady.”

  Mary Lou nodded. She was seeing a different side to Frank than he'd shown these last few days. Almost like she’d forgotten how he spent a year planning the heist and leading the gang all that time.

  “Tell you what. Round the total up to one hundred and forty thousand and we’ll call it quits.”

  “Frank, as it’s you, I’ll show a splash of generosity. You and your missus have yourselves a deal.”

  Frank had squeezed an extra two and a half grand out of Mark. All three stood up and shook hands to seal their fates.

  “Unless you’ve got the racks stuffed in your pockets, you'll need to collect the goods.”

  “Yeah, we decided not to bring it with us. Nothing personal, but it’s a dangerous game we’re playing.”

  “No explanation necessary. You didn't know if you could trust me. No worries. I’d have done the same.”

  Frank seized Mark by the cheeks and planted a kiss square on his lips.

  “I knew you were the right man to come to.”

  A long hug as they relived their shared past. Mary Lou stood by, wanting to join in but knowing there was a private experience connecting the two felons. Once they’d separated, she gave Mark a peck on the cheek.

  “Thanks for everything. For helping us now and for helping my Frank through his prison time. He’s always refused to talk about it, but I can see you too had something special.”

  She squeezed Frank’s hand and he placed an arm around her shoulders. Everyone was square.