“Keep your dick to yourself. Do not go chasing ass in AC without checking out her family history first, you get me?”
“You don‘t have to worry about that. I‘m a changed man - I got married to a stripper and get plenty of action at home, thank you.”
Frank chose not to apply the same rule to his own sexual encounters. A pile of lap dancers within easy reach was too much of a temptation for him. Once the club was running well - and it only took four weeks from launch, he spent an unhealthy amount of time on the second floor. The way he saw it: he was paying the girls to show their tits and asses anyway, so he might as well enjoy the product.
After two nights, he decided that watching was for chumps and he bought a few hours with some of the prettier skanks. He saw how desperate they were for green and that they‘d agree to anything he suggested if the price was right. He‘d get them stoned to within a wisp of consciousness and then fuck them any which way he could conceive.
“Frank, leave the girls alone.”
“I pay them. I tip them. The Nugget gets its fair share of the take.”
“Let‘s leave aside the fact you‘re getting high on your own supply of women.”
“Nicely put.”
“Once you‘ve spat them out, the girls are in such a bad state, it takes them a day or two to recover - and during that time they‘re not earning. I hate to say this to you, but...”
Beat. Frank gritted his jaw.
“... you‘re pissing on your own porch and you must stop.”
Leonida paused and let his words sink in. This could put his job - or even his life - in jeopardy, but the consequences of saying nothing were worse. If Mary Lou found out he‘d not tried to stop Frank sabotaging his own joint, she would issue the hit on him there and then. No questions asked.
“Why not take a break from the Nugget and spend time in Boston? I‘ll look after everything here while you build up your business interests there. Or remind yourself what educated ass tastes like. When you come back, you can play on the first floor again.”
“But not on the second?”
“No, Frank. We were making a lot of money there until you paid your way through all the girls. To be honest, most of them will leave if we‘re not careful and word on the street is that someone‘ll die soon the way you treat them. I‘m not judging, but I am trying to run your business.”
Frank shook Leonida by the hand and gave him a brief hug.
“Thank you - for your honesty. Takes a brave man to say what you did.”
“Just looking out for your best interests.”
“I respect that. Book me a flight to Boston tomorrow. Looks like AC needs a break from me.”
14
SOME WOULD SAY they had an idyllic life together. Mary Lou and Bobby split their time between home in Palm Springs and the hustle of the Palace in the crumbling facade known as Sunset Boulevard. It was like the inhabitants of Los Angeles had watched the film and lived its dream.
“I don‘t know what Alice was complaining about. This apartment is lovely.”
“Until you step outside. Then you‘re surrounded by all the girls from Partytown USA.”
“We might be married but you‘re telling me you have a problem going down an elevator with a bunch of drugged-up semi-naked hookers?”
“Me? No. I‘ve always admired the female form in all its glorious varieties.”
Bobby leaned over in bed and kissed Mary Lou on the cheek while stroking the tattooed rose beneath her navel.
“Just Alice isn‘t a middle-aged guy. She might have a different perspective.”
“Kids of today: ungrateful. Pure and simple. When I was her age, I lived in a two-room apartment the size of a nickel. And was happy to be with a man who could afford the rent.”
“Well, she‘s not with someone and was brought up in much better circumstances.”
“I know but...”
The thought ebbed away as Bobby‘s hand left her stomach and went to find some other fun. A giggle and two deep sighs from Mary Lou showed it had succeeded.
NEXT DAY IN the summerhouse, they talked about business and the difficult trading conditions.
“Trouble is: the days of receiving protection from the mob have long since passed. I can‘t remember when we saw Pasquale or Fabio last.”
“I heard they retired to Florida.”
“No kidding. I thought both would die in California.”
“Maybe they will, but they‘re enjoying games of penuchle with their old comrades in arms. Miami-Dade County is where capos go to rest.”
“I‘ve still got one or two more projects before I hang up my hat.”
“You‘ve got plenty of successful years in you yet.”
“Tell me about it. Right now, I‘m finding new ideas hard to come by - Alice will save our bacon.”
“And without a mob behind us, every muchacho for miles comes biting at our ankles.”
“They don‘t play by the rules either. Instead of taking out a street dealer, they whack the boss. What kind of way is that to live?”
“If the rats and cockroaches don‘t get you then your own fellas will. The Feds have been far too good at getting stool pigeons to blab.”
“And once they start, you can only stop them with a bullet.”
“Sometimes I wonder why we bother having a house phone.”
“You can never have a conversation on it in case the FBI has it tapped.”
“Worthless piece of junk.”
Mary Lou was right to be cautious. Too many fellas who‘d built up worthwhile operations served life sentences thanks to the testimony of those they thought they could trust. The Feds had turned underlings against capos and capos against bosses.
While she and Bobby had never risen through the ranks - they were so far from thoroughbred Italian - they had created a sizeable organization. Not having to pay their tithe helped the bank balance, but they spent considerably more than ten per cent on security for their empire.
Without the safety net of the mob, finding a reliable partner was hard. Ventures popped up and fell apart all too easily as mistrust or deceit revealed itself. Narcotics was fraught with danger.
Drugs had been the most profitable part of the business for years, but was populated with the most unstable and untrustworthy characters. This meant pieces of the jigsaw would break apart with a moment‘s notice as someone was taken in for questioning or got plain greedy. Mary Lou and Bobby spent a disproportionate amount of their time keeping all those plates juggling in the air. It was tiring and they both knew they were too old for that caper.
In Mary Lou‘s head, Frank was the perfect guy to manage the narcotics operations, but she needed to wait for him to grow up more before she could let him take over the reins. On the other hand, Alice had the temperament to do well with all the other parts of the business. She had every faith Bobby and Alice would run things very well. Gambling, prostitution and their other rackets would thrive under her stewardship.
But Mary Lou wasn‘t ready to give up and head over to Boca Raton just yet. Knowing the lottery gig was going to succeed was the first step and figuring out how to replace narcotics revenue with something safer was the second. After that, she‘d have to see. Besides, she didn‘t want to hand over a doomed business to Frank. Perhaps he could make it thrive. He had street smarts and had a better idea than Alice of how the ordinary Joe thinks.
BACK IN THE Palace, Mary Lou and Bobby took advantage of what the city offered. They took in a show and dined in some of the most pretentious restaurants on the west coast. The money continued to roll in and Frank‘s call about the Lucky Nugget made Mary Lou think her son was finally growing up. Even Bobby had to admit the guy was something.
“I‘m surprised to hear myself say this, but the boy has done right by you for once. He‘s actually given you some of your money back.”
“Half of our money.”
“And not only does he look like paying the rest but he‘s got sufficient surplus to fund th
e purchase of his own casino.”
“Wonders will never cease.”
“And some. I bet it‘ll put Alice‘s nose out of joint.”
“I haven‘t told her yet. She needs to have total focus on the lottery gig. That‘s big news for us too.”
“For sure. More states’ll legalize gambling because they are desperate for money. What Alice is doing in California, we can replicate across the country. Frank opening up an opium line on the east coast is our first narcotics venture on the Eastern Seaboard. Your children are something else.”
Mary Lou grinned from ear to ear.
“I know. I‘m very proud of them.”
Then she burrowed under the sheets until Bobby‘s breathing became deep and rhythmic.
MONROE LINWOOD WEIGHED on Mary Lou‘s mind. While she was pleased with the way Alice handled herself at the situation they‘d got to within a few hours of a knock on the door and a troop of Feds tipping hats and thrusting a search warrant in her hand. Too close for comfort.
There was only one thing to do: a top-to-bottom security check on everyone in the organization. And no exceptions. They‘d begin with narcotics, the weakest area, and move on to prostitution later. Mary Lou sent Bobby on the road to interview anyone peddling, manufacturing or managing the various operations along the Californian coast.
Nothing. Their call girl rings were a mix of high-class hookers in a place like the Palace through to much cheaper options for the working man, who‘d rub their tits for twenty bucks and the promise of a shot of tequila.
The locations were diverse and diffuse. In LA, the model created on Sunset Boulevard was replicated although renting apartments in a cheap condo served a cost-effective means of delivering the girls to the johns. This required someone to run each apartment or an entire block for those with the right skill set.
Bobby began in the Palace because he had a soft bed to sleep in overnight. As he expected, everyone was clean. When he moved away from the confines of Beverly Hills, the story changed. He found apartments run by a dude called Coby Ingham.
They hadn‘t met before and Coby had a self possession Bobby hadn‘t come across for quite some time. Almost like the guy felt protected by an unseen hand and wasn‘t the least bit bothered about his line of questions. If that hand was cloaked in an FBI leather glove then they were in trouble.
Bobby called Naldo as he was round the corner looking after Alice. Within an hour, Coby was bundled into the rear of a van and taken to a special location out in the desert. A person could scream until their lungs burst out their mouths, but no-one would hear them call. This place was remote as hell.
By the time Bobby and Mary Lou arrived on the scene, Naldo had the guy tied up with electrical tape - wrists and ankles - with a hood over his head. The shack was replete with shelving attached to two of the walls. On the shelves were the full gamut of DIY tools that looked as though an electrician, carpenter and plumber had stowed away all the equipment they might ever need.
When the couple walked in, Naldo nodded at them and pointed at the hooded figure in the middle of the room. His wobbly chair only added to the sense of foreboding Coby felt. Mary Lou grabbed a stool and positioned herself in the far corner so she could observe proceedings. Bobby dragged a small wooden table and stopped when he‘d placed it in front of Coby. He sat down opposite him and gave a hand gesture for Naldo to remove the hood.
As soon as the material was off his head, Coby blinked four or five times and tried to get the measure of the room. Before he had time to focus on any individual, Bobby slammed his fist down on the table to attract Coby‘s attention. He was startled and gave a little jump. Other than that, he stayed cool.
“How long you been running the girls in your apartment block?”
“Dunno. Two, three years. I don‘t know why you‘re treating me this way. I‘ve always delivered on my numbers.”
“This isn‘t about money.”
Coby stared right though Bobby, trying to figure out what gives. He looked askance at Naldo and then he noticed Mary Lou. Neither gave anything away and both turned their heads toward Bobby. Coby refocused on the man sat opposite.
“What is it about?”
“You, Coby. This is about you.”
“Huh?”
“Let‘s start with the basics, shall we? Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“Are you a member of any law enforcement agency?”
“No.”
“Are you working with any law enforcement agency, local federal or national?”
“No. Look, whatever you think I‘ve done, you‘re wrong. I wake up, I check the girls are fucking the johns, I sort out any problems. I go to sleep. That‘s my life. Period.”
“Coby, you are too generous. You must spend some time outside your rat hole. I mean, how‘d you eat? Do you have a girlfriend? You must go to the movies occasionally.”
“Of course I eat. And I‘ve got a steady.”
“Right. So don‘t tell me all you do is work because that’s a lie.”
Beat. A stone cold stare boring into Coby‘s soul.
“Do not lie to me. Only speak the truth in this room, understand? You lie, you die.”
Coby‘s eyes widened. If the circumstances of his arrival hadn‘t rattled him then Bobby‘s words sure did the trick.
THREE HOURS LATER and Coby was singing like there was no tomorrow. Bobby accused him of skimming the proceeds of the block. He admitted to it. Was he feeding information to the cops? Yep. To the Feds? Sure. The fact he had electrodes attached to his balls might count as coercion in a court of law, but the shack was not a duly constituted venue exactly.
All the while, Mary Lou sat impassively watching Coby while Naldo earned his bonus. Red trickled out of Coby’s right cheek where Naldo had made an early incision. His wailing was too loud and Naldo moved on to a different body part. No-one wanted a headache from all that noise. A fingertip lay on the floor in a large pool of blood. Naldo had strapped each wrist to the armrests of the chair before he got the shears out.
When Coby regained consciousness, they gave him a glass of water and took out the electrical equipment. At this point, he admitted everything: the Feds, the skimming. Everything. Bobby reckoned he‘d have sung to the assassination of Abraham Lincoln if he was given the chance but Mary Lou interceded.
“Let‘s finish up, gentlemen.”
Coby dribbled toward Bobby, who thought he discerned a smile of sheer relief. Unfortunately he misunderstood Mary Lou‘s instructions. Naldo kicked the chair over, whipped out a pistol and shot him once in the head and once in the heart.
“Now we know.”
Bobby wasn‘t so sure. He felt Coby was hiding something but by the end the guy was singing to every suggestion put in front of him. Naldo and he were an excellent team at extracting information from people but this didn‘t sit right. As a mark of respect to Naldo, Bobby helped him destroy the body and clean up the shack ready for their next visit - whenever that would be.
15
COBY WEIGHED ON Bobby‘s mind. Not so much his death - that had been almost inevitable the moment Naldo dragged his sorry ass into their desert hideaway. Bobby kept playing back the confession in his head. Over the years many men had admitted all sorts of misdeeds to him. Mainly they told the truth and occasionally they would lie. Or rather, they might utter an untruth at the start, but Naldo‘s persuasive techniques encouraged them to change their story - at least by the time a pair of pliers or a scalpel had been applied.
A few brave men lasted a little longer but not much more. Coby had been different. He‘d fixed on claiming his innocence and only broke down just before his end. His behavior wasn‘t consistent with his words. Bobby feared they had made a mistake although Mary Lou was satisfied: she‘d found her canary.
The guy had something to hide but maybe it had nothing to do with Feds. What if his only sin had been to schtupp the odd girl in his block? Or even every one of them. Might he have held back that information think
ing that it would be better to admit to that than have his dragon-wife find out.
The only promise Bobby had made was that lying would get him killed. If Coby thought he was giving up a story Bobby wanted to believe then it wouldn‘t have appeared as a lie and Coby‘d have survived. Only Bobby didn‘t tell him the truth. A tangled web.
WHEN HE NEXT met up with Alice in her Malibu apartment, Bobby voiced his concerns.
“You got to be kidding, right?”
“No.”
“You reckon you coerced a confession out this guy.”
“I‘m saying I’m not sure if we did. Mary Lou called a halt to the proceedings a little early for my taste.”
“And despite that, you sat there and did nothing.”
“Hey wait a second. Mary Lou issued an order and Naldo executed it immediately after. There was no time to think and intervene.”
Alice remained silent, ruminating on Bobby‘s response. She respected that he was an arch interrogator, but her mother wasn‘t prone to errors of judgment. She‘d never seen Mama do that.
“When was the last time you can remember Mama making this kind of mistake?”
“Never. That‘s why we are having this conversation.“
“Have you asked Naldo?”
“No way. He‘s loyal to both Mary Lou and I. So he‘d just be hopelessly conflicted.”
“He‘s never expressed an opinion to me.”
“The man watches and waits. He follows orders. It‘s what he does. But he has his own mind and expresses his views when he thinks it appropriate.”
“Old school.”
“All the way back to the Sicilian hilltop village where he was born.”
“And such a charmer.”
“Yeah, he doesn‘t believe in getting too close to a woman in case he has to bury her in the desert.”
Alice‘s jaw dropped.
“Joke. He‘s been married, but she died. Long time ago and, let‘s face it, in his line of work it‘s hard to find the right person.”
The Lagotti Family Series Page 73
