***
Buckala rushed to Leo’s Lair from Jefferson Avenue ten minutes away. Tempted, he did not light a Turkish Cigar, but he did drink his strong coffee. Coarseni had complained the car reeked of cigar smoke.
Coarseni seemed confused. “Sal, I can’t figure you out. This car is old, but very well kept; it’s a collector’s car. It’s cleaner than my house. Why the hell do you stink it up with those damn cigars? How do you take a woman in this car? Her clothes would reek from your cigars.”
Buckala ignored his temporary partner’s whining and focused on a formulating a plan when they reached Leo’s Lair. He parked the BMW between a large Ford truck and a Mercedes SUV across the street from the entrance. Buckala and Coarseni could easily watch the entrance of Leo’s comfortably from the car.
Coarseni pleaded with him, “Let’s go in; I got to get out of this ashtray.”
Buckala calmly grabbed his arm. “Dom, we’re not going in. Let’s lay low--nothing’s going to happen inside. We’re not barging in on MacJames and Mitchelli’s date; let’s just casually scope things out.”
“Yeah I got it,” said Coarseni. “We’ll just casually scope the front doors out while they’re sucking face inside and we’re crapping our pants worrying the thugs are hanging Angel and Peter upside-down, carving them up.” Coarseni looked at the entrance to Leo’s as a voluptuous blonde walked out with her cell phone in hand. “Hello baby, God, those boobs have to be real! Hey Sal, what do you think? Let’s sit tight. Do you think they’re real? Oh baby, they’re real; I know it!”
Seconds later, Mitchelli came out and Buckala quietly exclaimed, “Bingo there’s my boy.”
“Sal, what the hell is he doing flirting with that babe? He doesn’t even smoke! Shit, did you see him pull that cigarette out of her mouth? I’d get slapped for that.” Coarseni slapped Buckala on the back and started yelling, “He put that frickin’ thing back in her mouth! Sal where’d he get that shit? If I pulled that, I’d get bitched slapped by the broad!”
“I know that woman,” Buckala said. “Man, does she have a figure or what? Jesus, he bummed a cigarette.”
Coarseni laughed, teaming with enthusiastic excitement. “She’s lighting his cigarette. MacJames would throw a fit. Is he looking down her shirt, what you think, Sal? Oh, I’d be looking down her shirt.”
“He’s backing off.”
“Why the hell would he back off?” Coarseni asked. “If I was tall enough, I’d look down her shirt.”
“Get your head in the game, Dom. He’s trying to listen to her phone call.”
“She’s checking out his frickin ass! Did you see that? Look, she’s checking out his big ass. She’s piggy! You have to like that.” Coarseni changed his tone. “I don’t like him two timing Angela…” He silently looked at Buckala then turned his focus back to Mitchelli smoking and conversing with the blonde.
“He’s cool as a jewel, don’t you think, Dom?”
“I’ve been around a long time, I was in the military, you know, with some real Casa Novas, but I’ve never seen a simple guy possess the charisma that he has. I’m better looking than him, what the hell--I should be dating Angela. I don’t get it. He says nothing, does nothing, and then blows you away with something cool.”
Buckala exclaimed, “Holy shit!”
“That lucky bastard,” Coarseni gasped. “She frickin’ kissed him! Did you see that? I think she slipped him some tongue--not much, maybe a little. She’s piggy; I like that.”
The two men rocked back and forth in their seats, laughing and cheering Mitchelli on. Then Buckala stopped. “Join the club,” he said. “I don’t get it either. He spent night after night in this car, smoking with me, drinking coffee soaking up all my war stories. Unlike you Dom, he never complained about the smoke. You should have seen him toss that poor bastard Kazzlowski around like a rag doll.” Buckala watched as Mitchelli followed the blonde women back into Leo’s. The ideas in Buckala’s head swirled around as if there was a tornado in his brain. “Kazz, that poor stiff. Dom he told us punks had been found carved up, dumped in the street as a warning. He didn’t say a word until Peter roughed him up.”
“We can’t touch anyone or our pensions go up in smoke,” Coarseni said. “How did Peter do?”
Buckala contemplated as he sipped his coffee. “He flopped him around like he had been doing it his whole life. Like a pro, just like he saved our asses at the grain elevator. He takes this job to another level.”
“Yeah, Level Psycho--The Marauder; Freed doesn’t get it. He’s unassuming, quiet, comes in at low level, then surprise! He’s throwing, shooting, punching, and bombing the hell out of everyone, then he gets the hell out. Sal, you’re a history buff--he’s just like the frickin’ plane, you know from World War II.
“Are you kidding?” Buckala asked. “My grandfather was in the war. I built models of most of the planes, including the Marauder, it replaced the B-25 Mitchell. The Martin B-26, also known as the Widowmaker, the Flying Prostitute, the Baltimore Whore, and best as the Marauder.”
***
“Well the bar business is good,” Leo Handly said, “and we don’t need any grease balls to make a profit.”
“Leo, you made tens of millions with those grease balls I hooked you up with, Katherine responded disparagingly. “The garbage and bar business didn’t put you and your wife in the nicest house in Clarence and buy Porsches for the whole family.”
“Yeah, but the garbage and bar businesses aren’t going to slit my throat either, those grease balls won’t hesitate.” The waitress brought their drinks and quickly fled the table, as though she had been instructed not to hang around. She nearly fell, tripping over her own feet, but she steadied herself on her long heels. “Bullshit, Delany better come up with something,” Handly continued. “Yeah I made money, and millions for those ingrates. I rather be partners with the towel heads, at least they deliver on time. Remember who you’re talking to, I knew you when you were a child actress.” He grinned and looked away.
Katherine’s phone rang, interrupting Handly’s insult. She quickly grabbed her designer purse and casually looked at the number.
“Ok, relax,” she said. “It’s him.”
Handly gritted his teeth and spoke in a low tone. “Take it outside; the reception is bad in here, I don’t want this call dropped.” He tensely scanned the bar, restraining his paranoia. “Make like you’re going outside for a smoke, move your ass.” Handly believed blackmail was emanated. He trusted no one, not even Katherine or Delany.
The phone continued to ring. “Leo, don’t push it.” Katherine answered the phone, “O’Connor. Hang on a minute, Hun. I’ve got to go outside I can’t hear a thing in here.” She scooted across the booth and quickly walked outside.
Handly covered her back as she exited the bar, admiring her fantastic figure. As he resumed scanning the bar drinking his whiskey, he noticed a man quickly place his drink on the table across the bar and follow O’Connor out the door. Son of bitch, it’s a grease ball from Chicago--or the bastard’s sent a gunner from New York. Leo, get a grip, this guy looks familiar. Handly’s mind raced as he struggled to watch O’Connor outside the bar. That Guido’s pitching her for a cigarette, cheep bastard. Leo, he’s dressed too well to be cheap, he must be someone new trying to make contact. He pulled the cigarette from her mouth—Jesus, he put it back! She’ll never date a dago. I know this guy. Leo think, you know him, She’d better tell that bastard to get lost or he’s a dead man. That frickin’ mother, dago bastard! She kissed him! What the hell is wrong with her? They’re coming after me--if she’s playing me for a fool, she’s dead, we’ll all be dead. I’ll kill them all, torture them, I’m not going down.
O’Connor returned to the table and Handly stared at her intensely. “Who the hell was that guy?” he snapped. “Don’t tell me you don’t know. I’m no frickin’ idiot!” His fists were clenched laying on top of the table.
Annoyed, she patiently responded, “Leo, there’s too much money at stak
e for you to go postal.”
“Ok, Ok, I’ll calm down. But really, who is that guy? I’m calm!” He put his open hands on either side of his face. “I lost four men and three hundred million in heroin, I think all things considered, I’m calm.”
O’Connor smiled. “Business first,” she said. “Delany didn’t get much out of Kazz. He worked him over for good, so good he left Kazz as a sign. He said you’d understood.” Handly took that to mean Kazz was tortured, his body left to scare any competitors to stay out of his business, as did the previous hits. The method had worked for the last two years, up until now. “He says before Kazz left us, he mentioned a guy that roughed him up in a bar; you know the one by the cereal factories. Buckala may have been there, Delany said Kazz was pretty messed up by that time.”
Handly raised an eyebrow. “Buckala, that fish! I thought Delany took care of him?”
O’Connor said, “Delany sounded surprised; he said this big guy with Buckala worked Kazz over good. He told Delany that Buckala said he was with the Feds.”
“No way,” said Handly. “If the Feds were involved, we’d know. There’d be reports, chatter between them and Buffalo PD. The Feds’ hands are tied; those queers can’t mess anyone up or they lose their pensions.”
“Well the only chatter Delany came up with is some operator, no name but he’s got a nickname, Marauder,” she said.
“Marauder! That’s not Italian! What the hell is a Marauder? You sure it’s not Mérida, that’s a dago word?”
“I made you millions,” she said. “I’m no idiot, he said Marauder, as in pirate, bandit, raider.”
“Like that Disney movie?”
“Well, if it is, your Disney character has established quite the reputation in the last several weeks,” she replied. “Delaney says Kazz couldn’t remember a name. But…”
Handly yelled, “But what? Finish! I’m going crazy here!”
“--But the Marauder scared the hell out of Kazz. Delaney says Kazz was terrified of this guy. Kazz kept saying, you can’t hurt me I’ve been to hell I’ve looked in Marauder’s eyes. Delaney says Marauder’s a mystery man and no one’s talking, but Delany says he’s on it.”
“Yea I’m real scared; ok, now tell me who that grease ball outside was.”
***
MacJames watched Mitchelli walk quickly back to the table. Ten feet from the table, his eyes winced with pain and his body stiffened. He carefully slid into the booth.
“Ok,” she said, “please tell me that was your cousin, or better yet, an ex-employee you bummed a smoke from, please tell me. I’m trying not to panic. I’ve never been jealous.”
“I don’t know who she is,” Mitchelli said, “but she was sitting with Leo Handly.” He sipped his drink.
MacJames grabbed his hand and spoke in a hushed tone. “Peter, are you kidding? Your life is at stake! What the hell were you thinking making contact?”
Mitchelli looked into her eyes as the eighties music played on; a Go-Go’s song was being performed, and the band was dressed like the B-52’s. Mitchelli was failing, the last several days rewound within seconds in his mind. He looked at her, attempting to drown his confusion in her beautiful green eyes. His attempt failed, he couldn’t use MacJames to escape his mental torment, the Mitchelli Mind Kill. What the hell was I thinking when I got up and followed that woman out of the bar? What was on my mind? Everything Angela--I can’t escape it! Focus Peter, God help me Freed’s placing a security team at my house to watch my kids 24/7. Why did he confirm that tonight? Why didn’t he just tell me at tomorrow’s meeting? I need to call Lillian and tell her not to worry, she may see the men in the car and panic. I’m sure they parked down the street from the house. What would Ann think of Angela? Ann, I love you, I miss you. I need to check in at work, hope Pat followed up with the site contractor. Handly! That’s got to be Handly; who else would be smoking in this bar, other than the owner? Too dark to see his face, should I go over to their table? Don’t be stupid. She going outside, I have to follow her, see if I can hear her phone conversation, Angela will understand, hide the pain, just keep walking the sutures will hold. Man she’s in a hurry. Ok we’re outside she’s talking on the phone, look for your cigarettes, keep looking. Look at her, admire her undress her with your eyes. She’s ignoring you, get close, personal, don’t look at her chest, look into her eyes, and listen with your ears try to hear the conversation. What Delanie, Kazz, Marauder? She noticed; quickly look at her chest, stair at her cleavage. Leave the pack, take her cigarette, grab it from her mouth, slowly puff. Man is she mad. Take your time too late now, slow, slower put the cigarette in her mouth. Take the cigarette from the pack smooth, wow she’s offering to light it, let her light it, she’s coming around. Small talk, look at her eyes, look at her eye’s not her chest; get in close, closer, the kiss was nice. I’ll be damned I didn’t get slapped!
“Angela I’ve got a ton of things on my mind, it was spinning up until I went out that door,” he snapped at MacJames.”
MacJames blurted out, “--your wife.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to; she’s always on your mind. You beat yourself up with her memory.” MacJames gave no quarter.
“You went right for the jugular,” he said. “You both deserved better. Maybe I am a mental case.” Mitchelli looked across the bar at Handly, who was having an intense conversation with the blonde. He watched them intensely. Handly suddenly placed his hands on either side of his head.
MacJames never stopped looking at Mitchelli. “What the hell Peter! Do you think you’re the first man who can’t stop thinking about his deceased wife? I know she’s in your thoughts. It’s difficult for you to feel comfortable with me. Peter, it will take time. I’m willing to wait, but I’ll never be willing to let you get yourself killed.” MacJames followed Mitchelli’s eyes across the bar as Handly dropped his hands from besides his head. The bar was dimly lit but she could tell by Handly’s rapid movements the conversation was intense. “Did you pick up anything outside other than a smoke and a kiss?”
“Oh, do you mean when I was reckless, amateurishly putting my life in danger?” Mitchelli also gave no quarter.
MacJames smiled. “You went right for my back, didn’t you?”
“I learned from the FBI’s best.” He grinned as a Foreigner song began to play in a slow melody. She took his hand gently, nudging him to the dance floor.
She placed her head on his shoulder as they danced. Mitchelli had forgotten what it was like to dance with a woman; her body pressed close to his, the smell of her perfume aroused him. The soft touch of her hair on his face brought back memories of his first romance, long beaten out of his memory from his guilty self-torture.
As MacJames was feeling the urge to gently kiss Mitchelli’s neck, a young brunette approached the couple on the dance floor and interrupted their slow dance.
“Mr. Mitchelli! Mr. Mitchelli is that you? It’s me Stacy, your old Nanny. Oh, my God, you look great, you lost weight. You’re so hot!” MacJames watched in astonishment as the brunette nudged her out of the way, pressing her balloon breasts against his arm, and kissing him on the lips with her mouth partially open. “I’m sorry to hear about Mrs. Mitchelli she was so nice. Wow, you look great. I’m disappointed you didn’t call me. Ok, I’ll admit I’ve had a crush on you since I started working for Mrs. Mitchelli. You know, I was only nineteen, I’m old enough to drink now, almost two years.”
“Stacy, this is my friend Angela,” Mitchelli said, attempting to change the topic.
“Oh hi, you look great, I mean, for your age you’re beautiful. Are you related to the Mitchellis?” Stacy continued rubbing her breasts on Mitchelli’s arms as she spoke. “I’m teaching now at a Catholic school, St. Mathew’s. Your house is beautiful; I loved your bedroom I dreamed--when the kids were playing, I used to…”
MacJames interrupted her, “Stacy, it was nice meeting you, but we were just leaving. Congratulations on your job and please stay in to
uch. We are leaving now, at my age we have to make middle-aged fornication before I fall asleep. He sprung for dinner and drinks--I have to give him something, right!”
Stacy looked quite surprised. “I would…what’s middle-aged fornication? Is that a new board game?” MacJames quickly pulled Mitchelli away leaving the large breasted young brunette alone on the dance floor screaming, “Bye, Mr. Mitchelli! Good luck playing Fornication, maybe you can show me how to play.” She watched the couple walk away holding hands. “Board games! Wow, old age must suck!”
“Good bye, have a good night,” MacJames said as she ushered Mitchelli off the dance floor. They busted through the entrance doors; MacJames was breathing hard, she had worked to pull Mitchelli out of the bar. Her chest was rising and falling as she struggled to breathe. Their eyes locked on each other, and she opened her mouth slightly, shaking her head as if apologizing for her audacious comments. She wanted to be alone with Mitchelli. He did look great; woman were noticing him again for his looks, not just for his family’s good name. MacJames continued to breathe hard as they stared at each other.
Mind Kill- Rise of the Marauder Page 28