One Last Kill

by Spenser Warren

  Even more striking than that was the fact that Tony was now a murderer. He had killed for the mob and wiped out Alfredo Petrocelli’s greatest foe. Had he not been shot and now taken in for police questioning, he’d be celebrated instead of vilified by Alfredo.

  “I’m really struggling with this one, Mr. Larson,” Fonzie said. “Based on the kid’s story I think he’s gonna have a tough time telling this to the police. They’ll probably ask much tougher questions than we will.”

  Cal wracked his brain for any way he could trust Tony to sway the police that both he and the mafia had little involvement. He could convince Tony to not cooperate and save the real problems for a trial. But not cooperating would likely lead to an arrest, which would implicate the Petrocellis even further.

  Cal and Fonzie openly debated how they would play this in front of the police. Cal suggested they play the self-defense angle until Fonzie reminded him that Caruso was found running away from the crime scene. Anything they thought of seemed to get them nowhere. Fonzie glanced at Tony before looking back at Cal and shrugging his shoulders.

  “Let’s face it, this kid’s fucked.”

  The carefully guarded identify of Joseph Fletcher was starting to lose its luster for Fonzie. He tugged at his mask, loosening the rubber flesh from his face. The look on Tony’s face was one of horror.

  “Well, you’ve gotta give me something to say.” Tony’s corpse-looking form awakened in protest. The color slowly returned to his pale flesh. Every movement of his body signaled that he knew what was coming. The sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead, and his fingers fidgeted against the armrest.

  “Cal, it’s you, isn’t it? Why are you here? Is Fletcher a fake lawyer too? You’ve gotta help me.”

  Cal took off the wig and threw it to the floor. He nodded to Fonzie, who removed the fedora and rubber mask. Tony’s breathing quickened when he saw it was Fonzie.

  “Oh God. You’re here to do it, aren’t you? You’re here to keep my mouth shut. That’s it?”

  The sweat poured down Tony’s forehead and onto his neck. His arms moved frantically as he attempted to rise from the wheelchair.

  “I never had any intention to hurt you, Tony. I liked you a lot, thought you had a good future. But I hoped you’d find a way out. You could’ve done anything other than this, getting involved with the mob. I know you’re poor, but your family would’ve survived without that hit money,” Cal said.

  Tears streamed down Tony’s face as he shook in fear.

  “It wasn’t only about the money. It was to show I’m worth a damn. To show that I have potential. I want to be important like you, Cal. Give me that chance. I won’t say a fucking word to those cops.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Fonzie chimed in. He stood behind Tony and set his briefcase at his feet. “They’ll have the evidence to put you away and will make a pretty sweet deal to get you to talk. You don’t want to be in prison your whole life. You’re only eighteen. But, if they say you might be out at sixty with parole, or some shit like that, maybe you make a deal. We can’t have that happen.”

  Tony’s eyes grew wide. He struggled against the seat. His mouth opened as if to scream, but Fonzie wrapped his hand over Tony’s mouth, stifling any noise.

  Cal took the knife Detective Thomas had given him out of his pocket, opened it, and stared into Tony’s eyes as the blade shone in the dim light of the cell.

  Tony’s feet furiously kicked against the table. His muffled screams made Cal flinch and caused him to shed his own tears. He didn’t want to do this to the boy. He couldn’t do this. Yet, he stood over the table and brought the knife forward, as if his brain were on autopilot.

  His phone buzzed yet again. No doubt it was the police with an update on Maria. A familiar wave of anger coursed throughout his chest. The longer he spent in here, the worse things would get for Maria.

  Cal saw her pretty face and remembered the promise he had made to her. The promise of leaving the mafia and his hit man lifestyle behind. Starting a new life with her. Tony was the reason that had all changed. If he hadn’t tried to kill Caruso on his own and let Cal do his job, then the Caruso kill would’ve been Cal’s last-ever assignment and he could be free from all this.

  In his effort of pleading with Alfredo and Vinnie to let Tony live, he’d ignored their own lives and his own, not thinking they would be at risk if the boy was allowed to walk away safely. How stupid he’d been.

  Fonzie’s grip on the boy was starting to slip. His eyes were set on Cal, urging him to do what they had come to do.

  Cal felt the heat of his anger spread throughout his chest, like he had when he was about to plunge his jackknife into George MacErlean’s heart. His brain had shut off and his body made the choice to move forward with his arm, to jab the knife into Tony’s heart.

  His attention was diverted by a flicker of light from the ceiling lamp overhead. Something was going on with the power. It was that brief action, small but noticeable, that caused Cal to freeze.

  “What are you waiting for?” Fonzie asked.

  Cal looked up and saw an expression of confusion blended with anger on his best friend’s face. Tony stopped trying to fight Fonzie off and glanced at Cal in surprise. The prospect of sudden salvation alarmed him.

  Cal shook his head and withdrew the knife, still only inches away from Tony’s chest. This was his chance to overcome his anger. He’d find a way to help Maria later. How would she be able to look at him, knowing he’d been responsible for the death of such a young boy, especially when he was so close to escaping?

  “There’s another way to do this.”

  “Oh really? ’Cuz the last time I checked, your knife’s the only weapon we got.”

  Cal shook his head again, walked behind the table, and bent down to the floor, picking up Fonzie’s discarded mask from the ground. He walked back to the front of the table and held the mask in front of them.

  “See this mask? This is how we’re going to keep Tony’s mouth shut. Not by killing him.”

  38

  “You kidding me? You think Alfredo will go for that?”

  Fonzie’s defiance bothered Cal. For someone who often called the mob boss “Fredo” behind his back, Fonzie’s use of Alfredo’s proper name indicated Fonzie may have been under different orders than Cal. Had Meransky told him to ensure Tony’s death regardless of their conversation? Alfredo said that if Cal could convince Tony to keep his mouth shut that he could live. Now was the time to pursue that strategy.

  “Tony, we’re going to put this mask on you. Fonzie, take off your hat and your clothes. Tony and I are going to sneak out of here. Hopefully, they won’t know it’s Tony until after we’ve already left.”

  Fonzie moved within inches of Cal’s face. Cal sensed his friend’s anger boiling inside. It was something he was all too familiar with but hadn’t expected to see in his affable friend.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “You’ll have to find a way out. Blutarski, Thomas, they’re both in on it. Tell them what Alfredo told me. Tony can live if he doesn’t talk. I’ll find a place to keep the kid and figure out how to sort this out with Alfredo and Vinnie. You’re a good talker. Use those skills to find your way out of here.”

  Fonzie exhaled and released the squint he’d formed with his eyes. He let out a cough and covered his mouth with a trembling hand.

  “I don’t like it one bit. But if it means we can save the kid’s life, then so be it.”

  Another exhale echoed through the room, and Cal turned to see Tony, tears still streaming down his face.

  “Thank you, thank you so much, Cal. You won’t regret this. I won’t say a word to anyone.”

  “Let’s hope you can keep that promise, boy. For your own sake,” Fonzie said.

  Fonzie stripped out of his clothes and helped Cal get them on the injured boy. Tony could barely walk on his own in his weakened condition. Cal would have to support him down the hall and through the gate. He hoped they would
n’t be stopped and the taxi would be waiting for them out front. He gave it five minutes before Blutarski and Thomas came to the cell, expecting to find Tony or his corpse, only to see Fonzie.

  Cal donned his blond wig and prepared to use the South Texas accent of Rich Larson once again as he opened the door of the holding cell and guided Tony into the hall.

  “What am I supposed to say if they ask me a question?” Tony whispered.

  “Quiet,” Cal said in the drawl. “Joseph Fletcher is a very quiet man. They said nothin’ to him on the way in.”

  They barely walked ten feet from the cell when Detective Thomas and two other officers marched toward them.

  “Ah, Mr. Larson and Mr. Fletcher. I trust everything went well with your client.”

  “Yessir,” Cal said. “When are you going to question the boy? We may need to make other arrangements for providing the boy counsel. My schedule’s packed with meetings today.”

  Thomas eyed Cal and then Tony, perhaps trying to decipher the meaning behind Cal’s words. Cal wasn’t sure what Thomas expected the outcome of their meeting to be.

  “I’m sure we can arrange that, Mr. Larson. These boys won’t be doing the questioning anyway. They’re just here to perform a little cleanup. Is there a mess to clean up? We know your client was having issues keeping everything together.”

  Thomas flashed Cal a wink. That’s when Cal knew the purpose of the muscled police officers. He didn’t want Thomas to think Tony was dead only to see Fonzie alive in the cell. He figured if he hinted to Thomas that Tony was alive that he would save his officers the trouble of going to the cell as well as increase their own chances of escape.

  “There ain’t no problem at all with my client, Detective Thomas. You give me a call when your boys are ready to question him. Let’s not keep him here too long. I’m thinkin’ that boy is innocent.”

  “Yes, sir. You’ll be hearin’ from us soon.”

  Cal and Tony walked past the officers and back toward the foyer where Cal had entered. They didn’t need to go through the metal detectors on their way out. Cal gave a half-hearted wave toward the female officer at the x-ray machine before reaching the door leading to the outside world, and Tony’s freedom.

  Cal opened the door and collided with an officer outside. He made sure Tony had made it outside before offering an apology.

  “Mr. Larson. Everything go alright?”

  Cal had collided with Captain Blutarski. Why he was still outside was anyone’s guess.

  “Everything went great, sir. Not a problem at all. Detective Thomas is gonna give me a call to come back when you’re questioning my boy. If you ask me, he’s an innocent man.”

  “Wait a minute,” Blutarski said before turning to his right and noticing the other officer standing at the door. “You’re telling me your client is—”

  Cal cut him off. “I’m awfully sorry about this, Captain, but I’ve got a busy day ahead, and Mr. Fletcher and I need to get back to the office. Good day.”

  With as much energy as he was sure Tony could muster, Cal and the boy jogged down the stairs and out to the waiting taxi. He knew Blutarski was onto him, but he didn’t care. All that mattered now was keeping the boy safe, and Cal knew exactly how to do that.

  39

  Cal walked away from the Megabus stop on Polk Street, feeling a sense of unease at being so close to the scene of the Caruso murder. His footsteps moved too slow for a run but faster than any of the other pedestrians around him. He had to find a way to talk to Alfredo. He knew there would be a lot of explaining to do for breaking Tony out of jail instead of killing him. He had to convince Alfredo that his decision to put Tony on a bus to visit a childhood friend in Indianapolis had been the right one.

  He pulled out his phone, ready to call Alfredo, only to see he had several missed calls. One of them was from the number without caller ID, and the rest were from Al Meransky.

  That’s when he remembered Maria. He’d been so caught up in anger at not being able to get to her when he was only moments away from fulfilling Alfredo’s order to kill Tony. His change of heart and decision to spare Tony had cost him the ability to be by Maria’s side when she needed him most. He knew he had to do better by her to be the man she deserved.

  He brought up his voice mail, hoping the officer that had been in contact with him had left a message updating him on her condition. Just as he was ready to click play on the message, he noticed an incoming call from Meransky.

  “Hello.”

  “Cal, you finally answered, where the hell have you been?”

  “Al, it’s a long story. Can you meet? I’d rather see Alfredo, but I’m sure he’s not gonna let me talk to him.”

  “You’re right, asshole. With all this scrutiny around us, we can’t chance it. Where are you? If you’re downtown, I can meet you anywhere in twenty minutes.”

  “I can meet you at Murphy’s on Wacker.”

  Meransky seemed to hesitate. Perhaps he had another venue in mind and wanted to control the meeting. If that were the case, maybe he had an agenda and a plan to ensure Cal was taken out, but Cal knew he could be putting the cart before the horse.

  “Perfect. See you soon.”

  Cal clicked off the phone and quickened his pace even further. He knew it would only take about fifteen minutes to arrive at Murphy’s, but he wanted to get there before Meransky to stake the place out.

  As Cal hustled to the restaurant, he brought up his voice mail once again and was able to hear the message that Officer Luis Rodriguez had left for him about Maria. Maria had suffered a minor concussion as a result of her fall. Officer Rodriguez also said Maria was convinced someone was following her and that she believed she’d been shot. There was no evidence of anyone unusual on the scene, and the cop assured Cal that Maria hadn’t been shot. Cal’s heartbeat drummed faster and faster, but he knew there was nothing he could do right now.

  He hoped the meeting with Meransky would be quick and fruitful. He needed to stop by the hospital to see Maria and make sure she was alright. If someone really had been following her, he had to know. The last thing he could handle was someone trying to hurt the only woman he’d ever loved.

  Cal arrived at the bar a tick after three o’clock. He scanned the bar, the tables, and the booths that encircled the tables on the outside. No sign of Meransky. Only a few people were eating, but there was a decent crowd at the bar for a Wednesday afternoon.

  Cal had purposefully picked the bar because it was the epitome of class, just the way Al Meransky tried to portray himself. The restaurant featured dark wood framed paintings and photos of all varieties along the walls. Solid wooden booths were covered in brown leather above hardwood floors. The ceiling consisted of light-brown wood planks, like that of a barn. The main bar vied for attention at the center of the restaurant, shouldering its way into the surrounding dining areas.

  Cal told the hostess that he would take a seat at the bar and order a drink. Cal wasn’t a man who often needed liquid courage, but he hoped a nice cocktail would loosen him up.

  Cal sipped his drink as he waited for Meransky. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. It was unlike Al Meransky to be late. What was going on?

  Finally, Cal saw Meransky enter through the front door. Cal got up from his barstool and moved toward an empty booth in the back.

  Cal sat and waited for Meransky to approach the booth. He could tell from the look plastered on the North Side capo’s face that he wasn’t happy.

  Meransky slid into the booth with unprecedented speed. He glowered at Cal before gazing at Cal’s drink and then to his lap. Something was definitely going on.

  “What are you drinking?”

  Meransky’s eyes continued to dart all over the restaurant. First, he looked at the picture of a woman in a black cocktail dress on the wall next to them, then at the bar, before returning his gaze to Cal’s drink.

  Cal told him he was drinking a NorCal margarita. A waiter came to the table and Meransky ordered the same.

/>   “Such a bizarre drink,” Meransky said. “I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

  Cal cleared his throat, determined to break the silence. He knew he had to explain his position, and he needed to do it fast.

  “I’m sure you want to talk about Tony.”

  Meransky took a sip of his drink, made a sour face, and set the glass down on the table in disdain. He pushed the glass toward the wall with the back of his fingers.

  “That’s why we’re here,” Meransky said. He paused and leaned toward Cal. Even though no patrons were seated close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation, Al positioned his lips in a whisper. His eyes lit up like a flash of lightning, so quick was his rage.

  “Why the hell didn’t you execute the hit on Tony like you were asked? As far as I know, the order was to have him killed. That’s the only way we know he’ll keep his mouth shut. Anything less than that and—”

  “Al, you need to listen to what I’m about to say.”

  Cal didn’t have time to hear a lecture from Meransky. If Al had wanted a better outcome, he would have had real attorneys in there with the boy to make sure he didn’t say anything that would incriminate the mafia. That’s not what they wanted. They wanted Tony to die because it was the safest—and most typical—option. Death was always the preferred outcome in the mafia; your enemies couldn’t speak when they were dead. Yet another reason for Cal to get out of the mafia as soon as this mess was sorted out.

  “You’re talking about me killing an eighteen-year-old kid. A kid who did exactly what Alfredo wanted. Ross Caruso is dead thanks to that boy. Alfredo should be grateful for what he did.”

  “Oh, believe me, Alfredo is more than grateful for the service the boy performed.”

  “Good. But Alfredo’s main concern was keeping the boy’s mouth shut, right? Alfredo told me I wouldn’t have to kill Tony if I could keep his mouth shut. That’s exactly what I did. Thanks to that mask you gave Fonzie, I busted Tony out of jail by giving him Fonzie’s gear. I told Fonzie to settle up the story with the police. Tony’s on a bus as we speak, heading way out of town where he won’t tell a soul what happened.”