Mrs Jones

by William Cain

  When they’ve been seated a while, after the sommelier has had wine poured, the conversation reaches a pause, and Addie asks, “You use Helen Richter once in a while, don’t you?”

  He’s not surprised. “Helen, beautiful woman. Yes, we do business. However, she is someone I call as a last resort.”

  “And why is that?”

  Speaking conspiratorially, Joey puts his head closer to hers and tells her, “Because she scares me.” He bursts out in tiny laughter, looking up into her eyes, “I mean, who needs that stress? If you met her, you’d feel the same way.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right. I’ve heard that from one other person. But I also think that I’m going to have to meet her.”

  Joey looks at her, and she stares back. Then he smiles, “Change the subject or my appetite will disappear.”

  “We don’t want that, do we?” she replies, holding her wine glass. “Let me ask you this then. Who would want Elsie Battaglia dead?”

  Pretending to be deep in thought, after a few moments, he says, “Just about everybody.”

  She gives that open-eyed, head tilted, chin down “go on” look.

  Riggoti collects his thoughts. “Elsie, not so much, but Biggie? Yeah, everyone wants him gone. You know why I want him dead? He kills people. He is deadly and in complete command of his Family. He’s screwed, excuse me, just about every single or married girl within striking distance. He says he’s retired, but he’s not. But the biggest reason everyone wants him out of the picture is that he’s an impediment.”

  She gives him the look again and takes a long sip of wine.

  “I mean, he gets in the way. The Family wants to expand into politics. And to legitimize. Some want to go into businesses he either doesn’t understand or he just marginalizes.”

  She takes another sip. She’s paying full attention.

  “Take financial markets. The Family sees a lot of upside to volume trading, speed trading. It’s entirely legitimate, and others are making huge profits. Biggie doesn’t get it. So, that’s your answer.”

  He looks at her, “You’re beautiful, Addie. And smart.” She smiles at him and gives him her best shy, demure look, looking slightly down and to the left, shamelessly hiding her eyes behind her hair. She knows he’s turned on, and she is, too. It must be the wine.

  Later, after they’ve finished their dinners and are back at the hotel, he’s walked her back to her room. At the door, she unlocks it and turns to him.

  After a pause, she knows what she has to do. “I like you, Joey.” And he can already feel the disappointment coming. “There’s someone else.”

  He’s about to say something, but he stops himself, “Call me if anything changes?”

  “I will,”

  and she couldn’t care less what other people will think if she does call him.

  Chapter 17 Jennifer

  September

  The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them. Ernest Hemingway

  Inside the safe house the DiCaprio Family uses, in a suburb of Chicago, Gangi raps his fingers on the table he’s seated in front of. Jennifer paces back and forth, nervously looking out the window every time she approaches it. She glances at Gangi, who is just calmly staring ahead. Jennifer’s been brought here under the pretense that Biggie wants to see her. But he’s not here.

  Gangi doesn’t like it here. It smells. He knows they have to use this place because it’s free from prying eyes and somewhat isolated, but it gives him the creeps. It’s an old, weathered gray, wooden beach bungalow on Lake Michigan that’s been soundproofed, and, from the outside, it looks like it’s falling down. Gangi’s singular thought is, I can’t wait for this to be over and get out of this dump. He feels bad for Jennifer. This could be her last day on earth, but he’s not telling her nothing—zero. It’s all up to Gen.

  Wringing her hands, she tells Gangi, “I don’t know what this is about, but you’re scaring me. What is this place? Why am I here? Why won’t you tell me?” She’s almost crying. Gangi believes she’s becoming an emotional wreck, but this has to be done.

  They have to know, for the sake of Elsie and Gennarro. She needs closure, and Gennarro knows he’s next. And he’s going to protect himself at all costs. He always puts himself first, except where Elsie was concerned. But she’s gone now. Gangi does as he’s told, and they’re waiting now. Waiting to find out.

  The door opens, and Biggie walks in. He shook the tail Juvieux placed on him. He’s on time, and Jennifer releases a long wail and runs to him. Throwing her arms around him, she sobs, “Gennarro, what is going on? Tell me! Tell me!”

  He places his arms around her. Then he puts his hands on her shoulders and looks into her eyes. She looks up and meets his penetrating look. He tells her this, “Jennifer, you’ve been speaking with Riggoti. I need to know if he’s responsible for Elsie’s death. I need to know if you’re involved. I stayed a day later than I should’ve last time I was in town. That was because of you. If I had gone home like I planned, Elsie would still be alive. That’s what this is about.” He guides her to a chair, and she numbly sits, thinking worriedly.

  Gangi pours a stiff whiskey and puts the glass in front of her, and she downs it. When she settles down, she tells him, “I been talking to Riggoti, yeah. Nonsense and stuff. He wants to know if you’re really retired, or if you got a gang and you’re expanding the business. He wants me to put in a good word for him because he wants more of the Miami business. I tell him I can try, but you make up your own mind already and not much is going to change that. For God’s sake, his son is married to my sister.”

  She begins to cry again, “You think I’m involved in Elsie’s murder? I couldn’t, I wouldn’t never do that! You have to believe me!” She’s shaking so much, it’s pitiful. Gangi pours her another drink.

  Biggie’s all business, and he asks, “Tell me about your friend Vinny.” He hands Gangi a piece of paper.

  Surprised, she looks up, “Vinny? Why? He’s just a friend. We hang out sometimes. He’s harmless. We get along. He’s just a friend.”

  Biggie spells it out for her, “Vinny works for Riggoti. He’s Riggoti’s man here in Chicago.” Then he tells her through clenched teeth, “He’s not harmless.”

  The harsh tone of his voice alarms Jennifer. He only talks like this when death is involved. She knows she’s in danger. Now more than ever, and she’s getting close to the end. This is not good. Still, she’s not going to lie to Gennarro; she loves him. She would sacrifice her own life for him.

  “Gennarro,” she begins, the liquor working through her, calming her down. “I know my place in your life. I know Elsie came first. Believe me, I’m very happy the way things were. I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”

  She takes his hand and holds it to her face, “I love you, and no one else. I know you love me, too. If you think I’m involved then I know you have to kill me. I’m not going to resist. I will do anything for you.”

  It’s so wrenching, even Gangi tears up. They want to believe her. Her love for Biggie is so great. It’s a tragedy what they have to do, what their life choices make them do. Gennarro stares at her. She’s so beautiful. Even mobsters have feelings, sometimes.

  Gennarro reaches behind him and pulls his gun, still staring at Jennifer. She reaches for the hand holding the gun and places the barrel against her head. Gangi backs up a little, his hand clenched around the paper he was given. This is going to be messy.

  A few moments go by. Jennifer tells him, “Goodbye, Gennarro, please remember me.” She’s weeping softly. She’s not afraid. She’s stopped shaking.

  The air is tense. Biggie slowly moves Jennifer’s hands away and places the gun by his side. “Let me show you something,” and he draws Jennifer to him. They walk over to a door off the main room. At a nod, Gangi throws open the door. Jennifer looks in and releases a quick gasp, sucks in her breath, and raises her hands to her mouth in horror at what she sees.

  In the middle of the room
sits a lone chair. Its occupant is a naked, bloodied man. His head, hung low, raises to see who walked in. His face is a mess, his mouth is even worse. Jennifer wonders how this person is even alive. She looks at Gennarro and asks, “Who’s this, what did he do?”

  He looks at her and explains, “This is your friend Vinny. He’s a bad dude. He told us about Riggoti. He confessed. They killed Elsie and they’re trying to kill me.”

  “Oh my god!” she wails, “that can’t be right. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Jesus Gennarro! He’s gay!”

  “Even so, it’s the truth,” Gennarro states bluntly.

  “What are you going to do with him?” Biggie can tell she fears for Vinny’s life.

  Gennarro tells her, “I’m not going to kill him if that’s what you mean.”

  “Thank God,” she answers, relieved.

  “You are.” He holds the gun up for her to take, which she does hesitantly. She can see the all-business look in Gennarro’s eyes. He then adds, “Shoot him.”

  She has the gun in her hands, and she looks at Vinny, who stares back at her through swollen, bloody eyes. He’s breathing heavily. He’s closer to death than he’s ever been.

  Jennifer raises the gun to Vinny’s head. A long pause follows. Vinny lowers his head and waits for the inevitable. It’ll all be over soon. No more pain. No more pleasure. No more anything. This is the life they chose. Gangi’s men wouldn’t give him any latitude. They just beat him until he told them what they wanted to hear. He’s relieved it’s over.

  Jennifer drops the gun to her side, “I’m not doing this. I can’t,” and she begins to cry again. Where she’s getting the tears from is a miracle. She knows that Gennarro will believe she’s involved now, and that her fate is arriving very soon. But she’s not a killer. Vinny is her friend.

  Gangi slowly reaches for her hand and takes the gun from her, which she readily gives him, with a shudder.

  Gennarro looks over to Gangi and tells him to open the paper he was given earlier. Gangi forgot he had it, even as he clenches it tightly. He gives Biggie the gun and unfolds it to find these words:

  ‘Gangi, read this out loud. If Jennifer shoots him she’s involved. If she doesn’t she’s not. She would only shoot him to cover herself. That’s what traitors do’

  Gangi, staring at the paper in disbelief, looks up at Gennarro and Jennifer. He repeats out loud what he just read. Jennifer collapses to the ground, and Gennarro kneels beside her, holding her. She’s crying even more, and louder, uncontrollably.

  Gangi’s gaze turns to Gennarro, and he sees him crying also. Gennarro tells him, “She’s as pure as anybody I’ll meet in this life.” Then the two of them slowly return to their feet and walk out of the room from where Vinny is still seated.

  The door closes behind them.

  At the close of the door, Gangi looks over at Vinny. “Biggie says after we kill Riggoti, we’re going to mount both your heads on poles and line the drive of our Family home in Glencoe for all our visitors to see. He wants you to know you’re going to be famous.”

  Gangi pulls his barbershop razor from his trouser pocket, calmly steps behind Vinny, crouches, yanks Vinny’s head back, and slits his throat.

  Outside the room now, “I’ll always trust you. You know what that means?” Gennarro asks Jennifer in a halting voice.

  She looks at him, and he continues, “It means if you ever betray me, it’s my fault. When I give my trust to you, it’s a gift. What you do with it is out of my hands.”

  She looks deeply into his eyes, “I will never betray you.” And he knows he can believe her. She’s proven herself for the last time.

  Chapter 18 Frank

  September

  Love is when the other person's happiness is more important than your own. Brown

  Frank lands in Asheville in the evening and, as planned, Addie meets him in baggage claim. He waves to her when he sees her and she smiles and waves back. When they’re together, he gives her a big hug and she makes this eye-popping expression, but he doesn’t care. He’s happy to see her, and it shows.

  “Hello, Adelaide. Thank you for picking me up,” Frank says, delivering the customary appreciation.

  “You can call me Addie, everyone does,” she says. “No problem picking you up, I just left the stationhouse. I’m free until Tuesday.” Noticing him look at her, she feels a little self-conscious, “What are you staring at?”

  Grinning, Frank tells her, “I’m not staring at you, you’re staring at me.”

  “You’re out of your mind!” Addie responds.

  “You’re out of your mind,” Frank repeats.

  She purses her mouth to one side, “Jesus, would you stop that?” Then she smiles broadly back at him, thinking, He’s busting my chops, just like I did to him. She adds, “let’s go, I’m starving.”

  They leave the terminal and she hands him her keys, “You drive, ok?”

  She’s a cop, so the car is parked at the curb, and they don’t have far to go. He opens the passenger door for her, and, once inside, she tells him, “Drop yourself off and then I’ll return later after we’ve freshened up and we’ll head to this little French place in town. They have the best duck ever.”

  Put off, Frank says, “I don’t have reservations anywhere.”

  “You staying with your mother?” Addie asks, and Frank shakes his head, to which Addie looks at him from the corner of her eyes and questioningly asks, “You thinking about staying with me?”

  Frank looks at her for a few moments, then breaks into a mischievous smile and says, “OK, I’ll stop kidding you. I have reservations at the Grove Park Inn.”

  Addie takes this as her cue and punches him in the arm, but not too hard, “You said you were going to behave yourself! Don’t make me tell your mommy, little boy. Go. Drive!”

  Frank pulls away from the airport and they find themselves later at the Inn, where he hops out. As Addie rounds the car to get into the driver’s seat, Frank opens the door again and she jumps in, telling him, “I’ll text you when I’m almost ready, ok?”

  Frank nods and watches her pull away. He looks at his watch and sees almost an hour has gone by. It felt like two minutes. He’s already enjoying having made the right decision coming here.

  ◆◆◆

  Later, they find themselves at the restaurant in Downtown Asheville. The place is packed with people waiting. The owner spots Addie and comes over to show them to a table in the back with a reserved sign. Frank looks over at Addie and, impressed, states bluntly, “Nice work, Detective, that’s what we call ‘pull’ in New York.”

  She smiles at him and takes the seat Frank has waiting for her, “You always a gentleman, Frank?”

  “Yes. I didn’t always live in New York City. I was raised around here. We were brought up to say yes, sir and yes, ma’am, hold doors for women, things like that. Besides, holding the door is the most subtle way I can use to check out your cute behind.”

  “All men are alike,” and she raises her brow.

  “Yes, all men can be alike, but not all men are the same. You say the duck here is good?”

  She looks at him. “Not good, the best,” she says, smiling and thinking, He’s a strange guy, I kind of like it.

  “I’ll have that, even if it does come with brussels sprouts,” he says to her while picking up the wine list.

  “Not a fan, huh?” she replies while looking over the menu herself.

  After they order, they settle down to get to know each other more. Addie reaches across the table and touches Frank’s hand, “Tell me about yourself, Frank. Tell me about the funny guy sitting across from me.”

  Raising his wine glass to his lips, he takes some, their eyes locked, “I was married, and we have one son together, Frank Jr., who we call Frannie. I met Frédérica in France when I studied abroad and she became pregnant. We didn’t marry until a few years later. It wasn’t a very good marriage, she cheated on me a lot but would always insist—if I found out—that she loved me and not them,” an
d here, Frank pauses. Then he adds with an overly exaggerated, comic look of disbelief, “Which is a bald-faced lie!”

  At this, Addie adds her own laughter and Frank continues, “I think she liked sex more than she loved me. Anyway, that’s over. I’ve been divorced now for a short time. She left me a couple of years ago for another man, then he kicked her out and she wanted to come back. I said no.”

  Tilting her head to one side understandingly, Addie adds, “That must have felt good.”

  “It did, and it didn’t. It was a lot of wasted time there. I’ll never get that back,” he replies quietly. “What about you?”

  Addie wrinkles her nose. “I’m forty-six now, and I’ve never been married. Either the department consumed my time or I just couldn’t find the right fit, or spend enough time to make things work.” Taking a sip from her glass, she blurts out, “I have a brother named Stewart that married four times, twice to the same woman.” After seeing Frank register surprise, she adds, “Now he’s gay.”

  Frank is blown away, and the look is all over his face, “You win. Wow!”

  “Yeah, he’s a gay porn producer and he lives in Palm Springs with his boyfriend.”

  Frank just stares at her, his mouth open.

  “That’s a nice look for you, Frank,” she tells him between sips of wine and short laughs.

  After a pause to gather their thoughts, Frank says, “Ok, let’s move on. Likes and dislikes. Hmmm, for instance, I don’t like overused words like ‘quintessential’.”

  “Or ‘blessed’,” she adds.

  “Yes! Yes! Nailed it!” he exclaims excitedly. “I think we need another bottle of wine.”

  She looks at him, “I wanted to be an actress.”

  “And I wanted to be a veterinarian,” he replies.

  “I know the words to every Broadway song and every TV theme song. It’s a habit I can’t break. Or maybe don’t want to break. I can’t decide,” she tells him happily, adding, “Want to hear the tune from My Three Sons?”