“For quite some time, interests back east have conflicted with those on this side of the country. The situation has not been helped by local law enforcement issues.”
In the most coded way possible, Fabio affirmed what Mary Lou had heard before: when underboss, Joe Dippolito went down in ’69, Bassani took over his rackets. Trouble was that the New York mob needed to extend its tentacles just at the time when Joe Dip was at his weakest. This meant the Pentangelo clan had been nipping at their heels ever since.
That name sent a shudder down Mary Lou’s spine. These were the people who’d had the Feds in their pockets and had gunned down Frank.
“Who would have given the order and supplied Mendoza with financing?”
“Charles Pentangelo. Charlie.”
Beat.
“Leave him to us. Do not go after him.”
“He’s been trouble to you for three years to my knowledge and you have done nothing about him. You won’t change your mind in the next twenty four hours.”
She stared into Fabio’s eyes, seeking to instill in him the absolute certainty and clarity that Pentangelo would soon meet his maker.
“He’s a made guy and he cannot be touched.”
“Even if it frees us from unwarranted attention in the east and delivers us the heroin trade across South LA and Watts?”
“If anything were to befall him, it must not be traced back here. Were that to happen, the kidnapping of Alice and Frank Jr would be the least of your worries. Capiche?”
Mary Lou nodded and checked her cup for coffee but it was long since empty. Only a trickle of dregs at the bottom. The thought of Charlie Pentangelo sucking the barrel of her gun made her smile inside. This was mirrored on her expression as she imagined his gray matter leaving the back of his skull and hitting a wall.
“So we are clear?”
“Like my nail polish.”
Fabio frowned in confusion at her words, then looked down at her fingers and understood.
“I have business to attend out of town.”
“Just remember you have deliveries to make in California before you go anywhere else.”
“I know. And thank you for providing the men to keep my home secure.”
“No one should live in fear in their home, should they?”
His words seemed more labored than Mary Lou might have expected and she stored that thought away for later. She got up and they shook hands. Fabio walked her back to the house and acknowledged Roach with a look. Arnold’s reputation stood before him and no words were necessary for this artist.
As they drove back to Bobby and the kids, Arnold refrained from asking a single question about her private conversation. Classy guy.
31
IRMA HAD TAKEN the kids out for an early pizza, so Bobby was resting by the pool. They all sat down and soaked in the late morning rays knowing this moment would surely pass too soon. And they were right.
“First, we take out Mendoza and then Pentangelo.”
“Charlie won’t be an easy hit but at least we know where he is. Mendoza has flown in the wind.”
“He won’t have gone far. My guess is he’s back in LA, gone to ground. And I’d like the opportunity to do more than watch the kids.”
“It is an important job.”
“Yes, Arnold. But it isn’t man’s work.”
Mary Lou laughed and the two men looked at her.
“Listen to you two. You’re assuming a man will do the killing of Sancho Mendoza.”
“We are both professionals. Or rather we were.”
Arnold cast a withering eye at Bobby and resumed.
“You’ve come rather late to this game and are a robber at heart. That’s said with all respect that’s due to you. If you don’t mind me saying, the Bank of Baltimore heist was nothing short of brilliant.”
“Damn straight.”
“It is one thing to fire a gun from a hundred feet and hit your mark. That is a world apart from walking up to somebody and putting a bullet in their skull when you can taste the fear in their breath. And do it in such a way you get out of the venue in one piece.”
“Arnold, you’re right, but this is a job for a local guy - someone who knows the dives in Watts and can ferret out a dealer who’s hit the mattresses.”
“Not so fast, old man. You don’t need to know every local bar to find a dirty rat. You forget, that’s how I earn my crust. I traveled four thousand miles to find Mary Lou. Some sleazebag smack merchant a few miles down the road will be no bother to me at all.”
They glared at each other and Mary Lou stared both down. This was not the time for petty squabbles.
“You boys want a drink?”
Shake of heads from both and Mary Lou continued sipping her coffee.
“The question isn’t who will pull the trigger on the mook, but when.”
“Today.”
Arnold’s response began almost before Mary Lou finished her last syllable. Bobby nodded agreement but remained silent. For a man who wanted to do more then look after the kids, he was doing a great impersonation of chopped liver.
“Can you get the job done by tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Bobby, you stay here. As much as you want to kill someone for me, you are the person I am trusting with my children. I trust Arnold with a slug, but I trust you with my flesh and blood. And I don’t want either of you to let me down.”
“I’m here for you.”
“I know you are.”
She reached out an arm and Bobby took her hand to squeeze it for three long seconds. Then Mary Lou withdrew the limb and he grabbed a gulp from his mug. The seriousness of his situation engulfed him for a moment and he lost focus on the conversation between Mary Lou and Arnold.
Charlie Pentangelo was a capo in the New York mob and would have plenty of protection surrounding him every minute of every hour. The trick was to find a crack in this seemingly impenetrable armor. If anyone could figure it out, Arnold Roach was at the top of most people’s lists. He held his mug in both hands, repeatedly sipping and swallowing. All the while, staring into the empty, clear pool. The memory of Cindy’s corpse floating in the pink sea was just that: a piece of the past. History.
“During the day, there is enough security you’d need either someone on a suicide mission or a Molotov cocktail. Neither option has a great survival rate.”
“Especially suicide.”
“Most people who throw Molotovs tend to dowse themselves in burning gas.”
“Like a Buddhist monk on a ’Nam protest.”
“So we should avoid the day, then?”
“Unless you’re sitting on a mighty clever idea.”
“Just my ass.”
“And what about evening or night time?”
“I think we’d have more options. There're the times when his guards change shift. They stand in the hallway, outside his apartment, and get bored. Better still, in the middle of the night, they fall asleep. Protecting Charlie is a dull job. You work your way up as an enforcer to show you can handle yourself in a crisis, but then you stand around doing nothing for weeks at a time, because no-one is stupid enough to attack Charlie Pentangelo. Present company excepted. No offense, you understand.”
“None taken. Right, Bobby?”
“For sure. Too stupid to care, me.”
Arnold blushed, but the grin on Bobby’s face belied how he actually felt. Roach was more concerned about Mary Lou’s response, because Bobby was just the nurse. Her wink to Bobby gave Arnold the comfort of knowing all was well in the Lagotti household.
“So down the fire escape and hit him while he’s asleep?”
“If you’ve taken out the guys on the roof and have padded down the metal stairs so quietly you haven’t woken up the whole neighborhood.”
Mary Lou stared at the water in the pool. Arnold sure wasn’t making this easy. She’d been certain he’d have had a plan up his sleeve, but they had bupkis.
“What about blowing the pl
ace up? Plant a bomb under his bed and be long gone out of town by the time his brains are mixing with the ceiling.”
Sigh.
“If we could get inside without being suspicious then there’s just the issue of killing his wife at the same time. Neither you nor I care if she lives or dies, but the Pentangelo family will judge it an unnecessarily cruel act to take her out as well. And then they would come after us. If we can make this a pure business hit then we might get away with the assault on the capo as a piece of justifiable revenge. He funded an attack on Mary Lou’s children, which was so out of line.”
“Sounds like you don’t think there’s a way to get to him.”
“I didn’t say that, but it won’t be easy.”
“And we do it, how?”
“Dunno. Blowing him up or shooting him on the sidewalk are not solutions. That I know.”
“What’s wrong with where he works?”
“It’s a mob stronghold. He’s not sat in an office dictating memos to some big-tittied secretary, sitting on his knee massaging his... ego.”
Mary Lou stiffened on her sunbed and Arnold realized he had gone a pinch too far.
“Sorry.”
“De nada. How are we going to kill this motherfucker?”
Everyone remained silent as they mulled over ideas too foolish or insane to voice out loud. Mary Lou went inside after ten minutes to brew more java. Sitting around was not good for her mental state. She needed action and the closest proxy was the coffee pot.
The problem wasn’t how to kill Pentangelo - they would use a bullet or two. The difficulty was getting in and out without being caught. This was a situation more like guerilla warfare than an assassination. With this notion as a backdrop, Mary Lou saw she needed to stop thinking like Arnold and Bobby. What would her Frank have done?
He would have got her to turn up in a short skirt and heels and let the goons check her clutch bag. Then when she was alone with Pentangalo, she’d have pulled a piece from beneath her panties and plugged him full of holes. Gun in her bag, she’d have walked out, asked the goons for a light and made sure she pressed herself close just to take their minds off guarding the boss long enough for her to get out of Dodge.
When Mary Lou described the plan to the other two, they nodded, pondered and nodded again. All they had to figure out was where Charlie would be on his own so she could pay him a visit. At home in the evening, at lunch if he didn’t go to a restaurant. Even in the mob’s headquarters if they came up with a good enough excuse for her to be there. The good news was that none of the New York contingent had any idea what Mary Lou looked like. And only a handful, who’d been in the game two years before, had any clue about her past connection to Charlie Pentangelo.
“Let me make a few calls.”
Arnold stepped inside to speak to his contacts back east. Fifteen minutes later, he returned with a smile on his face and a fleshed out plan in his pocket. They ran through it twice, trying to find any holes and to check it out from every angle. Two minor amendments and Mary Lou knew exactly what to do and when to do it.
“Once I’ve spoken to Milton about the China white, I’ll be on my way.”
“You need a hand?”
“No thank you. Arnold: you attend to Mendoza. Bobby: keep my babies safe.”
They stood up and each hugged the other two. However the dice rolled, nothing would be the same again.
32
MARY LOU DROVE over to the Country Club to find Milton. He’d been missing since he scooted off with her powder, but this was the first opportunity for Mary Lou to do anything about it. Despite all that had gone down with the twins, she knew deep in her heart she needed to pay her tribute to Pasquale on Friday. So she had to generate some income during the week otherwise Irma would find her employer floating in her own swimming pool, which was not a good look.
Her concern right now wasn’t the tribute, so much as Milton’s absence. In the darkest recesses of her mind, a worm burrowed through with the thought he’d absconded with the white - or cut a deal behind her back.
The Country Club was empty - or rather, it was full of people imbibing an early cocktail, but none of them was Milton. The blond hairs at the nape of her neck froze and an icy chill shuddered through her body at the thought of losing all that smack.
Next stop was Milton’s house. Janet answered the door in her dressing gown. Mary Lou glanced at her watch and saw it was nearly eleven.
”How are you?”
Janet was frosty - had been ever since Mary Lou talked business with her husband - but there was an extra edge to her voice this morning.
“Just fine, thanks. How’s Milton?”
“Fine too.”
Terse. Janet’s eyes flitted away from the door and to the stairs. Something was amiss in the state of California.
“Am I keeping you from anything?”
“What? No!”
She wrapped her dressing gown tighter round her body, pulling at the belt. Arms folded.
“How’s Paulie?”
“Good. At a sleep over with a friend. We should organize a play date with him and the twins.”
“He’s twice their age...”
“What? Oh yes. Silly me.”
Janet wasn’t thinking straight and spouting crap.
“Can I come in? I need to talk to Milton about some business.”
“Come in? Huh? He’s not... It’s not convenient right now.”
“Convenient?”
Janet’s eyes glanced upstairs again. She gripped the edge of the door firmer than before. Mary Lou noticed the throbbing of a blood vessel on her right temple.
“Is Milton there?”
More discomfort as Janet tied her dressing gown again, only this time she revealed she was naked underneath the silky bed coat. Then Mary Lou woke up and smelled the coffee. Janet had a house guest in her bedroom, no clothes on and Milton wasn’t home. When the cat’s away...
“No, he’s not.”
Another furtive glance to the bedroom and a shuffling of dressing gown cords.
“Sorry Janet. I didn’t realize. Let Milton know I’m looking for him next time you see him.”
Beat.
“Enjoy!”
With a single wink and a dirty grin, Mary Lou turned round and headed back to the car, leaving Janet to slam the door shut and return to her paramour. For a second, Mary Lou wondered who Janet was fucking. Then she realized she didn’t care - unless it interfered with her business interests with Milton.
This left open the question of where the man had gone. Apart from the possibility of having missed him at the clubhouse, she thought she'd try the lab where Milton should have taken the heroin for processing.
To call the place a laboratory was stretching the meaning of the word. In truth, it was a disused factory on the edge of nowhere surrounded by the memory of a Palm Springs long since faded and died. On the corner of Belardo and East Ramon Road, east of the city, the factory looked like every other building on the block. Each one was run down to the point of senility and comprised a rusty gate, once imposing doors and brickwork that contained more pockmarks than a teenager’s face.
Mary Lou parked round the back and watched as a young dude eyed her vehicle and placed a hand on his concealed weapon. She got out the car and, open palmed, walked toward him. He stared at her as though she was the woman who’d slashed his mother’s face.
“Hi. I’m Mary Lou. Is Milton in?”
A flicker of recognition and a terrible quandary: how to figure out if she was telling the truth? His mouth opened, but no words emerged.
"Well boy?”
He stared and caught flies. Mary Lou brushed past him and opened the door. What a waste of space. Up some stairs and into the main area. There was a glass room in the middle where the drugs were processed. Scales, bunsen burners, the works. Looked like the biggest science experiment in the world. Mary Lou spotted Milton on the far side and raised an arm to grab his attention.
He smile
d and waved back. Mary Lou held her ground and waited for him to do the right thing and come over. Thirty seconds later and he got the message.
“Good to see you.”
“Yeah. Working hard, I see.”
“Just trying to make my quota.”
“Been here all the time since we split up?”
“More or less. I mean I popped out to get some smokes and a bite to eat. But I slept on a chair in the corner of the office upstairs.”
He appeared genuinely confused, unsure of the meaning behind Mary Lou’s question. She stared at his expression, trying to read his face and decide whether he’d helped Mendoza at all. There was nothing to suggest he’d double crossed her so Mary Lou told him about the twins and Cindy.
Milton was devastated and sat down to collect his thoughts. Mary Lou gave him some time to pull his shit back together and briefed him on what she needed over the next couple of days. Bottom line: he must generate and distribute a large quantity of brown sugar by the end of the week.
“Anything else I can do?”
“Just keep these wagons rolling.”
“Okay.”
“Actually, there’s one thing.”
“Name it.”
“Get rid of the boy on the back door. I never want to see him again. Find someone with some cajones who’ll protect my investment.”
“You won’t see that kid again. Promise.”
With business taken care of, Mary Lou was now free to pursue Charlie Pentangelo to the gates of hell.
Mary Lou parked her car around the corner so she wouldn’t be seen. She walked to the rear of the house, past the pool and into the summerhouse. As much as she wanted to see the twins she knew there needed to be no witnesses. The last thing she needed was Irma to walk in unannounced.
To the back of the hidden room to get her hands on the right snub nose to do the job: as small as possible - given where she’d be hiding it - but with enough punch to take Pentangelo out with one shot. A silencer would make the whole thing quieter, but there was only so much space below her rose.
The Lagotti Family Series Page 61
