by Harry Brady
So on this snowy morning as the Cadillac slowly pulled away, Slick Johnny Anderson was no longer The Man ruling the drug traffic on Pittsburgh`s lower Northside.
Fifteen minutes later Detectives Phillip Cash and LaKeisha Johnson arrived on the scene. Yellow tape was already up preserving the crime scene. Since it was an obvious homicide, Cash from homicide took the lead and approached a patrolman trying to disperse the small crowd that had gathered.
Flashing his badge he introduced himself and said, “I`m Cash from homicide. What do we know so far?” The patrolman shooed a couple of teenagers away and turning to Cash said, ”The victim is someone known as Slick Johnny. Apparently he was blown away by someone in a dark sports utility vehicle.”
Detective Lakeisha Johnson tapped Cash on the shoulder, ”I know Slick Johnny from narcotics. He`s a local dealer with a long rap sheet for narcotics and pimping. He uses local muscle to control things. No fireworks.”
Turning back to the patrolman Cash asked, “Any witnesses?”
“There are about half a dozen witnesses in the Shamrock Café two doors down. That`s where he was coming from when he got hit. My partner is holding them there for you guys.”
Cash stepped under the yellow tape and turned toward Johnson. ”Let me check the scene out here and you can get out of the snow and start with the witnesses”. LaKeisha turned away and walked toward a door with a large green neon shamrock marking the entrance to the cafe.
As Cash went over to the body the snow began to come down harder in large flakes. Slick Johnny`s sunglasses had fallen off and laid next to his right hand. The rivulets of blood on his overcoat had begun to clot and the large snowflakes were giving them the bizarre appearance of little candy canes. Cash went over to the place where the Cadillac Escalade had parked, and to his surprise found a shell casing lying in the gutter. Putting the shell casing in a baggie he completed his evaluation of the crime scene and crossed back over the street and went into the warmth of the Shamrock Café. Looking around, he thought he had entered a time warp from the thirties and forties. The bar was long and its polished mahogany extended almost the entire length of one wall. The back bar had a double shelf that held almost any liquor known to modern civilization. A mirrored wall extended almost the entire length of the bar. On the opposite side of the Shamrock Café were dark brown booths extending back to two doors that appeared to open into a kitchen area. In the last booth were four card players who looked up briefly at Cash and went back to their game. On the dark paneled walls were sports pictures of all Pittsburgh athletes going back to the Pirates’ Honus Wagner and up to Ralph Kiner, Bill Mazeroski, and Roberto Clemente. The Steelers Terry Bradshaw and Franco Harris had prominent spots, as did the boxer Fritzi Zivic.
Detective Johnson was over at the front of the bar talking to the bartender. Seeing Cash she offered, “Slick Johnny was to meet someone here. Apparently he came in, didn`t order anything and kept checking his watch. After about 20 minutes, he left.” Pointing to the bartender she said, “This is Fred and he said Slick Johnny is not a regular here but sometimes waits outside to meet people.
At this point, Fred interrupted and said, “We don`t allow any drug deals in here. I think he came in today to get out of the snow and cold.”
“What about other witnesses?” Cash asked LaKeisha.
She replied, “The same four guys that were playing pinochle the last time we were here claimed that they didn`t see a thing. The big guy standing by the window is the football player that was involved in the assault at Holy Angels. He heard the gunfire and looked out the window in time to see a black sports utility vehicle with dark windows drive by. Fred said he is a regular and comes in almost daily. I`ve got all the names and info if we want to talk to anybody later.”
Cash said, “Give me a few minutes with the guy by the window and we can head back”.
Cash went over to the window and flashed his badge to Damien and had a brief discussion with him.
Back in the car Cash said, “The big guy was interesting. He`s a former Steeler, who played back in the 1940s. He likes to hang out at the Shamrock Café, because that is where the players would go after a game. The owner Art Rooney would come in buy them beer and burgers. If they won the game it would be steaks. He says his picture is hanging on the wall by the third booth next to that of Bullet Bill Dudley`s”.
“Who is this guy named Bullet Bill Dudley?” Johnson asked. Then she continued, ”This shooting was a gangland type assassination which makes me think we may have a turf war in the making”.
“You mean the brothers on Wylie Ave are moving in on the Northside” Cash asked.
“No, this isn`t black on black. The new guys are Korean.”
“What? The only Koreans I know around here own restaurants and cleaners.”
“Cash, do I have to educate you on everything?” She then went on to explain to him about the Kkangpae and the South Korean mafia. They got their start back in the mid-1950s in Seoul during the turbulence after the cease fire had been signed with North Korea. Basically they extorted protection money from Korean merchants. Then in the nineteen seventies and eighties, they infiltrated larger businesses and set up connections with some government officials. From there it was the next logical step to global crime rings. That is how it all began in the United States. The particular branch we think are moving into Western Pennsylvania began in Incheon and Suwon have ended up in New York City. Because of their turf wars with the Chinese Green Dragons, they have been looking for places to expand their operations, specifically into the Rust Belt.” She continued her story, ”Cities like Ambridge, Aliquippa, and Monongahela are small towns and presented no problem for them to muscle in on the small time dealers. These are bad dudes and they deal in extortion, drug and human trafficking. Violence is their primary MO. In Queens, they operate out of a martial arts gym. Now that they are here in Western Pennsylvania, we have some big time problems.”
She paused for a moment and then continued, “I referred to them as the Korean mafia. They are not exactly the same as we know the mafia here. There are no families, like in New York mafia, where different families go to war with each other. They function more as a brotherhood, in which an established Khangpae boss will recruit young men they feel have the qualities that would benefit the organization. The older man then takes on the role of an older brother, who mentors the younger man on how to become a loyal Khangpae operative. This is somewhat akin to a mafia soldier becoming a “made man.”
Queens, New York
It was snowing and cold in Pittsburgh that day, but sunny and cold in Queens, New York. Lee Heon Tae was finishing a blueberry bagel at Starbuck`s when his cell phone buzzed. Recognizing the number, Lee answered with the colloquial Korean hello, “Yoboseo”.
The voice on the other end said simply in perfect English, “Slick Johnny retired from the sales department this morning”.
“Good work, my little brother. What is your next step?”
“We have his cell phone, which has a list of all of his customers. I plan to contact them all today. There should be no problems once we let them know they are now buying from Kkangpae.”
Lee said, “Keep up the good work and keep me informed.” With that he disconnected and took another bite of his bagel and felt an inward warmth that he had chosen a good man to take into the brotherhood.
Chapter
13
The snow was coming down heavily now as Raymond stepped out of the Taco Bell. Wearing tennis shoes, a grimy light jacket, and no cap he began to shiver as a wind gust hit him in the face with a wind chill factor of five degrees. Damn it`s cold here, he thought to himself. It ain’t never this cold in New Iberia. He remembered seeing a Goodwill store over on Federal Street and headed in that direction to buy some warm clothes. About ten minutes later, he approached the front door of the store. Brushing the snow off his jacket and shaking it out of his more than eve
r scraggly hair he stepped inside. An overhead vent was blowing warm air and Raymond stood under it. After he warmed up a little, he looked around. Seeing a rack of coats and jackets on his right, he went over and spotted a maroon quilted jacket that didn`t look too worn. It had a six dollar tag on it. It was a little big but it would keep him warm. Next he went to a pile of caps, put on a black corduroy Elmer Fudd style cap with ear flaps priced at one-dollar and fifty-cents, and went over to the cashier. Pulling out two fives from his pocket he paid her, received his change, and went back out into the storm and headed back to his Lockhart Street apartment.
His feet were wet and freezing as he walked up the stairs and opened the door. Going in, he flopped on the moldy couch and took off his wet socks and tennis shoes. He emptied his pockets and came up with a total of seven dollars and sixty- five cents. Walking over to his bed in a small alcove, he raised the mattress and pulled out a Walmart bag that contained his drug money. He knew that he had enough to buy a week`s supply of meth for himself and his three customers. He could also buy the heroin for the janitor at Holy Angels and the janitor`s girlfriend.
Stuffing the cash into his pocket, he put on his only other pair of socks, his wet tennis shoes and set out for Uncle Sam`s Military Salvage store to get some combat boots and heavy wool socks.
Uncle Sam`s was one of the few places left where Raymond knew he could buy army surplus combat boots. He arrived at the store and found some heavy wool socks in one of the aisles and going to the shoe department found his size combat boots from a stack of shoe boxes. He paid the cashier and then sat down on a bench near the front door and proceeded to take off his now wet socks and his soaked tennis shoes. He put on his new wool socks and combat boots and placed his wet shoes and socks in the shoe box and placed it in the plastic bag with Uncle Sam`s logo on it. He then exited the store. The cashier and another customer who was checking out watched this in silence. After Raymond left, the cashier commented to the customer, “We certainly get all kinds of people in this place.”
With his new warm clothes and dry feet, Raymond set out for his meeting with Slick Johnny at the Shamrock Café. He knew he was late but he felt confident that Johnny would give him the drugs and wait until payday for his money. Johnny had done this once before when Raymond first came to town. As he approached East General Robinson Street, the snow began to fall more heavily. Then he noticed two patrol cars on the corner. At the intersection he looked down the block and saw a small crowd, some cops, and yellow crime scene tape. He hesitated on the corner trying to discern what was going on. As he stood there, two teenagers broke away from the crowd and came walking toward him. He stopped them and asked what was causing all the excitement. One of them replied, “Some black dude just got gunned down coming out of the Shamrock.” The teenagers continued walking around the corner, and Raymond stood there for a moment and then began to walk cautiously toward the crime scene. When he reached the yellow crime scene tape, he saw the camel hair overcoat and sunglasses and immediately Raymond knew that he had a big problem. He turned his back to walk away and had no feelings for Slick Johnny`s demise. Raymond`s only concern at this point was how he could get a new supply of drugs for himself and his customers. All he had left was one baggie of weed in his room and the potent fentanyl he had taken from Granny`s stash. He had spent a good part of his drug money on his new warm clothes and his rent was due soon. The snow continued to fall heavily as he walked back toward his apartment on Lockhart Street. The only stop on the way was a liquor store where he purchased another pint bottle of Seagrams and a six pack of Iron City beer. The only reason he was drinking Iron City beer was because it was cheap and they didn`t sell Dixie beer in Pittsburgh.
Later that afternoon in his apartment as he was getting ready to go to his 3:00 P.M. to 11:00 P.M. shift at Holy Angels, his cell phone rang. Someone named Tom announced that Slick Johnny had retired and Raymond would now be getting his “groceries” from Tom. Everything would be a cash only deal and prices were going up.
Raymond said, “What if I have another dealer?”
“You don`t understand the situation. Pay attention,” Tom said, “unless you buy from me you may retire permanently along with Slick Johnny.” Raymond hesitantly gave Tom his weekly order and asked when he could get it.
Tom answered, “Same time same place as with Johnny. Remember cash only.” And the phone went dead. Raymond went over to the counter by the sink and took a swig from the already opened bottle of Seagrams. He then opened a can of the Iron City beer and took a big swallow as a chaser. Then he put on his quilted jacket followed by his Elmer Fudd hat. He sat down on the overstuffed moldy couch and tied the laces on his combat boots. He got up and chugged the last of the beer and left the apartment for Holy Angels.
Later that afternoon in the health care center, Raymond watched for the 4:20 P.M. exodus from the resident`s apartment hall for the four-thirty buffet in the ballroom. He knew everyone would be going, because today`s menu would be a Mexican fiesta theme and there would be appropriate music and decorations. Watching through the windows in the heavy brown doors he waited until the parade of canes, walkers, and scooters had gone down on the elevator. Entering the resident hallway he surreptitiously checked each apartment until he found an unlocked door. Opening it he entered into a small living room and glanced around. He saw that it had some football pictures on the wall and a crucifix. There was a cocktail table with a Sports Illustrated magazine on it and some other magazines scattered on a couch and on the floor. Against the opposite wall was a small television set. Going into the bedroom he saw that the bed was unmade and shirts, under wear and socks were scattered over the bed and on a dresser. Next was a small room apparently functioned as a den. On a desk was a picture of an attractive woman with a young girl blowing out candles on a birthday cake. Above the desk was a picture of a woman with a hairstyle from the 1940s standing next to a man wearing an air force uniform. There seemed to be no organization of anything on the desk or any other place in the apartment. Then he spotted what he wanted laying on a blotter in the center of the desk, a worn black wallet. He reached over and flipped it open. Inside he found twenty-seven dollars and a picture of the same woman that was on the wall above the desk. All he wanted was cash so he put the money in his pocket and the wallet back on the desk. Then retreated and silently opened the door of the apartment and checked to see if anyone was in the hallway. When he was sure no one was present he stepped out of the apartment. Checking the other apartments on the floor for an unlocked door was unsuccessful, so he returned to the health center.
When the elevator disgorged the walkers, canes, and scooters back on the third floor after the Mexican fiesta Damien and Millie followed the parade back toward their respective apartments. Reaching for her keys Millie said, “Damien you still owe me $4.95 for the medicine I picked up for you at Walgreens.”
“I`ll get it for you right now, so I won`t forget” he replied. Opening his door he went in and came back quickly holding his wallet. “Millie, my money`s gone!” he said showing her the empty wallet.
“Are you sure you had it? You know how forgetful you can be.”
“I know it was there because I checked this afternoon to see if I would have lunch money for tomorrow.”
“I noticed that your door was unlocked. How many times have I told you about that?” she scolded him.
“I know, I know.” an admonished Damien replied. “But somebody stole my money.”
The time and the place for Raymond`s meeting with Tom was 9:00 P.M.at the back of the apartment building next to the grotto of the Blessed Virgin. Watching from the back entrance instead of Slick Johnnie`s pink pimpmobile Raymond saw a black Cadillac Escalade pull up and a rear window open. Walking over he saw an oriental looking face looking out and he said, “I’m Raymond. Are you Tom?”
The voice he recognized from the phone call said, ”Yes, I`m Tom. Do you have the cash?”
Raymon
d replied, “I have the money do you have my order?”
“Hand it over first. Then you get your drugs.”
Raymond handed Tom what money he had and Tom counted it. “This isn`t nearly enough you weasel! You don`t pay attention. Payment in full or no merchandise.” He handed Raymond a piece of paper with a phone number on it and added, “Call that number when you have the cash.”
The window rolled up and the black Cadillac drove off.
Raymond stood there in his blue scrubs and combat boots and began to shiver. All the warmth and confidence he felt earlier that day had vanished. What I do now, he thought. Nick the janitor, his best customer will be here soon looking for the heroin for himself and his girlfriend.
Going back into the building he walked up to the third floor, but instead of going to the nursing wing he turned and entered the chapel.
Approaching the life size statue of the Blessed Virgin, he grasped it by the base and slid it sideways on the pedestal revealing the deep depression of an old holy water font. Reaching in he pulled out a grimy plastic bag. Opening the bag he checked to see if all his fentanyl pills from Granny`s drug business were still there. They were and he knew the fentanyl was the strong stuff that could put some people on an eternal trip. He also knew that Nick and his girlfriend were long time heroin users and could handle the new drug. He counted out twenty- eight pills. A one week supply for Nick and his girlfriend. He would have to charge them a lot more now since the cost of doing business had gone up.
Chapter
14
The following Monday in the squad room at the Zone One headquarters, Detective Lakeisha Johnson walked over from the copy machine and handed Cash a report on two overdoses in the Holy Angels parking lot from two nights previously. “The guy was a janitor at Holy Angels and the female was his live-in girlfriend. We know it was fentanyl, because they had a baggie with a number of pills in it and the lab confirmed that`s what they were.”