by Brian Martin
Jim had arranged to keep in touch with his son while he was away. Every day around noon Jim would slip away and dial a public telephone number , a different one each day, so he could chat with his son and keep up to date with what was happening in the city. His son had heard about Morgenstern and Tarantino the day after the event and passed the news on to his father. Jim didn’t comment one way or the other. His son knew nothing of his involvement. Jim was relieved that things seemed to have gone as planned, but he was on edge none the less. This wasn’t his area of expertise. He worried about his nephew and he worried about himself and his immediate family. He thought about his escape plans and what to do if certain things went wrong. He worried about almost everything, but one thing he did not worry about was Dolores.
Lying by the pool, Jim closed his eyes and he remembered the first time they had met. It was around lunchtime and he was coming off the pier having made a collection. He was headed for his car when he passed a line of longshoremen standing near the back of a truck. Ordinarily, there would be someone standing on the back of the truck selling cigarettes or booze or whatever. He didn’t see anyone there at first, but then he saw a guy coming out of the back of the truck doing up his zipper. He understood immediately what the line was for. Whoever was running this operation was obviously new to the area. One of the crews, not the one he was associated with, ran a house only a couple of blocks from there and they did not appreciate freelance competition and would deal severely with offenders. The local cops, at least the ones on the pad, were instructed to come down heavy on operations like this as well. Jim walked on, observing one of the golden rules of the street, ‘mind your own damn business’, and this was not his. His father had told him, when he was old enough, about what had really happened to his uncle Billy and he had sworn he would never in his life be so foolish.
Then he heard a women’s screams coming from up the alley way. Jim had a little Spanish he picked up from dating a Columbian girl on and off for a couple of years. The woman was screaming and pleading and begging not to be put in the truck. Jim really wanted to keep walking and the voice in his head told him to keep going. Although he was very used to violence, and it could truly be said of him that he was a violent man, if there was one thing he hated to the core of his soul it was violence against women or children. He reached into his jacket pocket. He ordinarily did not carry a gun, as he had never had to use one to collect. But today he knew that he would be carrying a lot of cash and that he had to walk through some pretty bad neighborhoods, so he had taken it along, just in case. He gripped the .38 Special and moved to the alleyway entrance. A tall, skinny guy wearing a jacket and jeans was beating a small, good-looking girl wearing a short black dress. He was not just slapping her, he was punching hard and really hurting her. She fell to the ground and he began to kick her between curses. That was enough for Jim,
“Hey, you, that’s it, that’s enough.”
The skinny guy turned toward him but seemed to have trouble focusing. Jim figured the guy was high on something so he tried to keep the instructions simple.
“You, stop now, get in the truck and get the fuck out of here.”
The guy seemed to understand; he shook his head.
“Fuck you, man, mind your own fucking business.”
Jim pulled the .38 not wanting to take any chances with a junkie and was about to repeat his instructions when the girl got up and hit the guy in the back of the head with what looked like a piece of pipe. He went down right away and before Jim had a chance to say anything, the girl had taken the guy’s jacket off. Jim figured she was going to rob him and he was about to turn away himself when he saw her reach around and pull a pistol from the guy’s waistband. Jim took aim at her and watched mesmerized as she wrapped the pistol in the jacket, put it behind the guys left ear and pulled the trigger twice. She then wiped off the pistol and laid it on the ground, faced Jim and put her hands up.
“This was business, it’s over now, let’s just walk away now, okay?”
“You want me to just walk away now?”
“Yeah, that’s right, you and me, we just walk away.”
Jim was stunned. He had never seem someone act with such cool and calm efficiency. This girl wasn’t shaking or crying. She had been screaming a few minutes ago. Was that all an act? This is definitely a girl to walk away from, but for the second time that day he went against his little voice.
“Okay, we’re both going to walk away, but I want to talk to you. We’re going to meet Friday night nine O’clock under the arch at Washington Square Park. You know where that is?”
She nodded.
“Look at me,” he said. “Do I look I’m alone?” She understood right away,
“No, you’re not alone,” she replied.
“That’s right, so you be sure to show up and don’t make us come looking for you.”
She nodded again and they went their separate ways.
The next day, it was all over the pier that Jim Flanagan had whacked some Puerto Rican pimp. The guy had been running a truck across the street from the dock and Jim had just gone up and given him two in the head. Jim noticed that guys he had known for years were acting nervous around him. When he kidded around with people they laughed a little too loud, like they wanted to assure him that his joke was really funny, and that as his good friends they really appreciated his sense of humor. He was sure this would get back to the police, but he was pretty certain they wouldn’t bother him about it. He had saved them the trouble of throwing the guy a beating and chasing him out of the neighborhood. He was more worried about what other people would make of it. And that very evening when he was again leaving the pier and heading for his car, he heard a voice call out his name.
“Jim, Jimmy, wait up.”
He looked down the street and he saw Tommy Spano getting out of a car and walking toward him. Tommy’s expression seemed friendly enough and there were lots of people around so this probably wasn’t trouble. You could never tell though with people like Tommy. There were gangsters who tried to convince people they were crazy and then there were the ones who didn’t have to put on an act; Tommy was definitely the latter. Tommy was a large, powerfully built man with a terrible temper; he was that kind of person who just went into a rage for no apparent reason. When he erupted, he would usually take to beating whoever was around, with whatever came to hand. If nothing was available, he would smash their heads against the pavement. Jim had met Tommy a couple of times in the gambling clubs run by the families. He looked into his eyes the first time they met and made sure he kept his distance after that. Jim believed that more often than not you could tell a crazy person by their eyes.
Jim knew that Tommy was with the crew that ran the brothel near the pier. He didn’t know what relationship, if any, Tommy had with the skinny pimp. Were they business rivals or had Tommy arranged a payment from the guy to operate on his turf? Well, he was certain he was about to find out.
Tommy came right up and gave him a firm hand shake. He spoke loudly so that all the guys coming out of the pier could hear him.
“Jim, Jim, good to see you, how you doin’?”
“Good, Tommy, good, and yourself?”
Tommy didn’t let go of Jim’s hand; in fact, he gripped Jim’s elbow with his other hand and drew him close. Tommy leaned in so that they could be seem to be having a private word.
“Thanks for taking care of that thing for us.”
Jim leaned in to reply, “Tommy, with all due respect, I’m not sure what thing we’re talking about.”
Tommy stared into Jim’s eyes and Jim was truly concerned. He did not have his gun and he would have real trouble against a crazy guy this size unless he struck him first and that was out of the question. Striking a member of the Mafia first was usually a death sentence; even fighting back in self-defense might get him killed. Tommy continued to stare in silence and then leaned in again,
“What is the fuckin’ world coming to when two guys can’t even have a
conversation in the street? But I understand the fuckers are everywhere now with their fucking devices. They got them inside every-fucking-where, they can pick you up even walking down the street, motherfuckers. It’s a God damn shame, but I understand we all have to be careful. Let’s just say then that I hear good things about you and that if you ever need anything you come see me, okay?”
Jim said, “Sure, Tommy, I’ll do that.”
Tommy then stepped back and said loudly,
“Good man, Jim, you’re a good man,” and he leaned in again and kissed him on the cheek. Jim was relieved that Tommy was walking away, but he was confused by the kiss. It was generally reserved for Italians and it was generally a sign of respect or affection. It was done very publicly too, so everyone could see. Tommy had probably wanted to send the message to everyone that he approved of Jim taking action and that he appreciated the gesture. Or maybe Jim was over thinking it and Tommy was just plain crazy and had felt like kissing him.
Dolores had been good to her word and had met him under the arch at Washington Square. They went for a drink and Jim heard her life story, or at least he heard what she told him, and it seemed to make sense. She was born and raised in San Juan, her dad was a criminal and her mom was a drunk, she had grown up on the streets and had become accustomed to violence. She figured out early that she had great nerves, nothing much seemed to bother her at all. She wasn’t into it, she didn’t enjoy it, but violence just didn’t bother her. She looked on it as business, ‘you prepare, you execute, you try to be efficient and careful.’ When her parents died in a car wreck, she moved to New York to stay with an uncle, also a criminal. Her uncle used her special talent from time to time and she explained that she had been sent to kill the pimp and was planning to do so when Jim arrived. Jim remarked that she didn’t seem to be doing too good when he arrived, but she assured him that once the pimp had gone up the alley with her, he was not leaving alive. Jim looked into those big brown eyes and he believed her. Jim got her to admit that he had the drop on her and that he let her complete her business. He let her walk away and for this he was owed something and she agreed. Before they parted, she told him how he could get in touch with her. She really was a very attractive young woman with a great figure and Jim thought about maybe getting a down payment on what he was owed. Then he looked into those big brown eyes again and went straight home.
In his world, news travelled fast but even he was surprised and annoyed when the next night he went to play cards and some of the old timers greeted him by calling him Jim, ‘the good man’, in Italian. He knew his boss Al would be pissed off at the whole thing and although, he denied knowing anything about what had happened to the pimp, he couldn’t deny the meeting with Tommy and that Tommy had shown him a lot of respect in front of everybody. After a while Al calmed down, when Jim had assured him that he wasn’t considering a career change, and that he did not want to work with Tommy and his crew. He remembered how angry Al had been though and he worried about how bad things would get if Al began to put things together this time. No wonder he couldn’t relax here on vacation. He ordered another drink and turned over to get some sun on his back.
Two days after their return to the city, Jim was playing cards with some old friends upstairs in a private club in the Village. He actually had what he was sure must be a winning hand for once when an old timer leaned over and whispered in his ear that Al DiGeorgio was downstairs and would like a word with him. He had been with Al for a long time now, but he saw him less and less as the years went by. Al had been inside for a while and his cousin Tony ran things for him and took care of all the day to day things. When Al got out, although it was clearly still his crew, he let his cousin continue running things day to day. He kept a low profile, only occasionally visiting, like a general coming from headquarters to inspect the troops.
Jim finished his hand and lost, again. How you could lose with a full house was beyond him. He gets a full house and some guy gets a higher full house. He was well-known as one of the unluckiest card players in the neighborhood and hence very welcomed whenever he sat down to play.
Jim approached Al’s booth and waited for him to look up. Al seemed to be engrossed in a newspaper. After a moment, Al looked up,
“Jim!”
“Al!”
Al did not get up, and they did not embrace. They had known each other for decades, and it was all business between them and only business. Al nodded to Jim to take a seat and Jim obliged. Al went back to his paper and Jim began to get just a little impatient.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah, did you see this?”
Al handed over a newspaper and pointed to an article about the deaths of Morgenstern and Tarantino.
“You hear about this?”
“Yeah, I was in Florida on vacation but I heard about it when I got back.”
“So you heard about it, what do you think about it?”
“I didn’t really know the guy. I met him around a couple of times. I don’t know, shit happens, I suppose.”
“Shit happens, huh? When I was inside this last time, I tried to better myself a little bit. I tried to use the time to read and think about things. I read this book, For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. Did you ever read that one, Jim?”
Jim shook his head no.
“But you probably seen the movie, with Gary Cooper and Ingrid Bergman, right?”
Jim nodded his head yes.
“Well, anyway, at the start of the book, Hemingway quotes this poem. It says that when you hear the bell toll, when somebody dies, you should never send to know who is dead because every death diminishes us, that we are all involved in mankind. I understand the point and all and I agree with him. A death like this involves us all to the extent that we are all members of mankind, but really only to that extent, am I right?”
Jim assured him that he was right, absolutely.
“I’m glad you agree with me on that. A man’s death involves us all as members of mankind and as such we are sorry that men die because we will all have to face death one day. I get all that. The point about death diminishing me, I am not so sure. Particularly this death, I wouldn’t say it diminishes me at all. I would say probably the opposite has occurred. It has provided me and all of us with an opportunity to expand. The business interests of the departed and his people are going to report up through me going forward. What do you think about that?”
“Congratulations, Al. Let me know if I can help.”
“Help, yeah, you will be helping out with the new business, Tony will give you the details. But first, a couple of other items. Starting Monday morning, your brother is getting a job in the office. He is off the lanes for good. This will be much better for him, breathing in those exhaust fumes all day can’t be good. This will be much better for his health, don’t you agree?”
Jim nodded his head in agreement.
“So, this death does not diminish your brother either. It’s an opportunity for him. An opportunity for a fresh start in a new job, putting his old job and his past behind him as he looks to the future, right?”
Al waited for an answer,
Jim realized that Al wanted a formal recognition, so he replied that he understood completely and thanked Al for his brother’s new position.
Al took the newspaper back and looked at his watch.
“Listen, I got to go. Tony will be in touch. I will let you get back to your game. No offense, but I don’t understand why you play cards with those old guys. They tell me that you are the unluckiest card player they ever met.”
“I like their company and I know they could use a couple of extra bucks.”
“I like that about you, Jim, you have a big heart but you still get your business done. And Jim, I want you to remember what we were talking about. Remember those bells. Unless I am up in the bell tower hauling away on the rope and making those bells chime, I don’t want to hear the God damn bells ever again. If someone else rings the God damn bell
s, and whether I am diminished or not, the person who rings the God damned bells is going to be diminished for sure, understood?”
Jim nodded his assent and replied, “Understood.”
Al got up to leave and he nodded at a couple of guys that were sitting at the bar. Jim noticed Tony and two other guys that he didn’t recognize. Al went out to the street followed by the two guys Jim didn’t know. Tony came up to him to say hello. Tony, unlike Al, was a hugger.
“Good to see you, Jim, you doin’ okay?”
“Good, Tony, good, and yourself?”
“Couldn’t be better, good times are coming, right? Listen Jim, everything is good, understand? Al is getting grumpy in his old age. I should say grumpier, he was always grumpy. Sometimes, I think he must have been born fucking grumpy. Anyway, come by Umberto’s tomorrow night. We’ll have dinner and talk about the new things. It’s all fucking good, seriously, you’ll love it.”
Another hug from Tony and then he was gone. Jim wondered how much he would have loved it if Al had given a different signal to the men at the bar.
Chapter Fourteen
Ireland, New York, 1988/89
The bell rang and Brian put down his paper and picked up his lesson plan folder. The last class before lunch break was, almost always, the most challenging. The kids have been in class since early morning and they do not have what Americans call ‘recess.’ Lunch time would be their first break and they were more than ready for it. The Irish have a great word for it ‘fidgety’; it means restless, an inability to sit still. He had to go and teach a class in Economics to a bunch of fidgety teenagers and truth be told he was loving every minute of it. He loved the kids, even the ‘messers’ (class clowns, anything for a laugh types). He enjoyed the challenge of trying to make the stuff relatable and interesting. He got genuine satisfaction from seeing the little light bulbs go off when they got a tricky concept. From a career point of view, he was happier than he had ever been. He was not earning much, but he had enough to get by. He had found a small apartment not too far from the school and he could ride the bus to and from.