Jon Fixx

by Jason Squire Fluck

  “I’ll need to set a time to do one more interview with Maggie and Marco together. Before I leave, I’d like to meet with the family all together,” I replied. “And I have to interview you, of course. Other than that, I’ll spend the rest of my trip visiting the places Maggie and Marco spent together while they were dating. I’m planning on visiting the old neighborhood where you used to live, where they grew up together. By that point, I should be all set.”

  Vespucci glanced at Marco as he directed his words at me. “If you need anything, ask Marco and he’ll get it for you. Right, Marco?” Marco responded with a reluctant nod. Vespucci continued. “If you need something from me, you know where to call.”

  Michael jumped in. “Jon, you better prepare yourself to come back here sooner rather than later.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “In case you couldn’t tell, my wife is fascinated by what you do. I think I’ll be hiring you for our tenth wedding anniversary, which is coming up soon. So be prepared.”

  “I’d love the opportunity,” I said with my most winning smile, though I didn’t feel it. The thought of continual involvement with the Vespucci family filled me with a sense of impending doom. I figured by then Maggie would be pregnant, not something I had any interest in seeing.

  Barbara cut the discussion short when she entered the dining room with a large chocolate soufflé and ice cream. As the dessert was passed around the table, I looked to my friends to see how they were holding up. Catching Donovan’s eye, his return stare told me he was doing fine. I glanced across the table at Luci. I could see questions and concern in his eyes. He was worried, though it didn’t show on the rest of his features. In a room full of people, he had the amazing ability to read people’s emotional state like it was on a visible heat scale. He knew who was stressed, who was angry, who content. He was always an asset on my trips, but on this one he was essential. He’d give me a full rundown when we were alone.

  After everyone finished dessert, the women began to clear the table. Though Vespucci knew I had to set a meeting time with him, he didn’t provide an opportunity to do so. When we were ready to leave, there were lots of kisses on the cheeks and hugs all around. Grandma Jean had taken a special liking to Luci, more than once conspicuously squeezing his biceps while commenting on his “Herculean” build. I’d seen Luci blush only a few times as long as I‘d known him, so I found it amusing to see a woman in her eighties bring redness to Luci’s cheeks. Both daughter and granddaughter found Luci’s reaction endearing. Vespucci waylaid me as we exited the front door.

  Walking down the path toward the front gate, he held me back, taking my arm in his, his voice lowered. “Jon, I know you’re almost done with this thing, and you’re doing what I hired you to do. But I want to make it clear that we are a very private family. We keep our business inside the family. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I most definitely did. “I do.”

  “Good. If anyone approaches you asking questions, I want to know immediately.”

  “Okay,” I said, as I thought about Williams and Mosconi. Was he testing me? What did he know?

  “Good. Call me tomorrow and we’ll set a time for you to interview me.” He turned, about to walk back to the house when I stopped him.

  “Tony, can I ask you something?” I called back to him.

  Now seemed like as good a time as any to ask Vespucci about what happened before Marco left for Italy. “When Maggie was sixteen, I know you caught her and Marco together.” I stopped, watching for Vespucci’s reaction to decide whether I should continue. His face remained neutral. I pressed on. “What happened afterward?” Vespucci didn’t respond. After several uncomfortable moments, I considered his silence to be his response.

  I was about to apologize for asking and say goodbye when Vespucci’s voice came at me in the darkness. “The boy needed to learn respect,” he said quietly. “I had certain ground rules when it came to my daughter. Marco disrespected both my daughter and me.”

  “Is that why he ended up in Italy?”

  “Yes, it is. His father and I decided rather than punish him here that he’d go to Italy to help Giancarlo open the first foundry.”

  “And you’ve forgiven him for that?”

  “Let’s just say the marriage is what my daughter wants, and I have no good reason to oppose it.” With that, Vespucci turned and walked back toward his home.

  I exited the compound through the main door and joined Donovan and Luci on the street. Donovan suggested that we walk rather than take a taxi because it would be much easier to spot a tail. The walk was only a few miles, an hour at most, and would give us time to talk. Luci and Donovan gave their impressions of the personalities around the table, especially of Vespucci and Marco. I filled them in on everything I discussed with Vespucci, both in his study and on the front path.

  “You still think there’s something else going on?” Luci asked.

  “Vespucci doesn’t like Marco. That much I’m sure of.”

  “It’s strange that a guy so high in the mob hierarchy would intentionally bring someone around his family whose job it is to ask questions.”

  “That’s what my sixth sense has been telling me all along,” I said.

  “Maybe you’re his mole,” Donovan said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This guy hired you to write his daughter’s love story, but what if that’s just a cover. What if he wants to know about Marco from a different angle? Vespucci figures people tell you things, things they might consider innocent, but you may see them in a different light. He can’t go snooping around because of who he is. But you can. Maybe he figures you’ll uncover something.”

  What Donovan suggested made sense, and it jived with what I had been thinking since my first meeting with Vespucci. He wanted more than just a love story for his daughter. He wanted dirt on his daughter’s fiancé. And that’s what I had found. If Mosconi was right, I now knew that Marco had bred a bastard child and killed a grandfather over it. Unless Vespucci already knew about that. “Do you think Vespucci knows about the illegitimate kid in Italy?”

  Luci shrugged.

  “Hard to say,” Donovan added.

  I considered who Vespucci was. “Regardless of whether he knows or not, Vespucci is not only the head of his family, he’s the head of the Family. If he doesn’t like Marco marrying his daughter, why doesn’t he just say ‘No,’ he won’t allow it?”

  “Imagine the ruckus that would cause. Not only would he be going against his daughter’s own wishes, he’d be speaking out against the son of his best friend and a made member of the organization,” Luci said.

  Donovan added, “Better to let his daughter marry the guy than stir up that hornet’s nest.”

  “Enter Jon Fixx,” Luci quipped.

  “But if Vespucci doesn’t want Maggie to marry Marco, hiring me to find compromising information seems like such a long shot.”

  “Not looking like such a long shot now,” Luci retorted.

  “Mosconi’s information is not verified. Imagine what Marco or Maggie, or even Vespucci, would do to me if it wasn’t true. And what if Maggie, or her father, already knows about what happened in Italy. Then I would just look like a troublemaker. I mean, how do you bring that up in conversation? ‘Oh, by the way, did you know your fiancé got a fifteen-year-old girl pregnant in Italy, then beat her father to death, and has an illegitimate child over there? I wasn’t sure if you knew, but just wanted to check.’ I don’t think that would go over too well with anyone.”

  “Jon, put yourself in Marco’s shoes for a moment,” Donovan said. “Let’s assume what Mosconi told us is true and that Maggie and her father have no idea. If you’re Marco, you wouldn’t want them, or anyone else, to find out.” Luci nodded in agreement. Donovan continued. “That’s the kind of information you would do just about anything to keep under wraps.”


  “That would explain why Mosconi’s so jumpy,” Luci added.

  I looked at them both, realizing the implications. “And Marco knows I’ve met with Mosconi, so . . . ” My words trailed off.

  “Exactly.”

  “Yep.”

  “I need to speak to Mosconi again. Find out who his source is,” I said, feeling this piece of knowledge was urgent.

  “I’ll call my guy, see if he can give us anything,” Luci said. He knew quite a few people at the C.I.A.

  We walked down the sidewalk past the chic Brooklyn homes, the apparent danger we were in weighing down on me. Over the years, I’d discovered indiscretions on both sides—some occurring within a week of the wedding—that I knew would have ended the wedding festivities. But I had always believed that my job had nothing to do with the infidelities of the couple. I was hired to write a love story. Any information I uncovered that went counter to the overall goal was solely for my notebook. It bothered me to keep the damaging information secret but, in the end, I believed it was their karma to work out, not mine. They’d chosen each other for a reason and, therefore, they had to deal with the other person’s issues, good and bad. My dilemma with the Vespuccis, however, presented a unique situation for me. I was sure Tony would not take it well if I withheld pertinent information about his future son-in-law that could harm his daughter’s happiness. I noticed we weren’t far from the hotel. The buzz of my PDA grabbed my attention. I pulled it out, a New York exchange number on the display screen.

  I put the phone to my ear. “Jon here.”

  Mosconi’s voice came at me in a ramble. He was drunk. “Fixx, you need to keep what we talked about today quiet, just between us. Do you understand?”

  “Jim?”

  “Who else? Listen. Soon, I’m gonna have enough to break this whole story wide open. I’ve got a source in Italy who’s going to give me the story of a lifetime. Crime connections between Italy and the United States, Mafia, politicians, business ties. Oh, it’s gonna be my biggest story ever. And your boy Marco is only a small piece of the big puzzle.” There was a pause. I could tell he was taking a swig of something. From the slur in his words, I figured it was something strong. “I’m going to bring them all down. You wait and see. But you need to keep your mouth shut! Until I’ve gathered all my evidence. Do you understand?”

  “I do understand. What we discussed today will not be repeated to anybody,” I assured him.

  “Because this is going to be my Watergate.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  I heard another gulp. “Sure.”

  “What you told me today, do you have proof?”

  “I will soon enough. But you’re just gonna have to wait like everybody else.”

  “Could we meet again?”

  “Maybe. I’ll call you. I’ve got work to do.” Hiccup. “I gotta go, Fixx. Time to write.”

  Then, silence. I thought maybe he’d passed out.

  “Jim, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Silence. “Talk to you later.”

  I was about to hang up the phone when I heard Mosconi’s voice, speaking so quietly I could barely make it out. “Be careful out there. The world’s dangerous, so just—” followed by the sound of snores.

  I hung up.

  “That was Jim Mosconi.”

  “What’d he want?” Luci asked.

  “I’m not sure. Sounded like he was well into a bottle of Jack Daniels. He was reiterating his request for us to keep silent about today. I’d say he was scared, but he was too drunk to be sure.”

  “He say anything about his proof?”

  “No. But he said he’d soon have everything he needed to break the story wide open.”

  We were standing in front of the hotel. Luci reached the entryway first, holding the door for Donovan to enter, followed by me. We crossed the lobby to the elevator, Donovan stutter stepping so he could fall in beside Luci. A silent exchange passed between them, and then we were inside the elevator going up.

  I looked from one to the other. They had the same look on their face, prompting me to ask, “What?”

  Donovan answered, “Guy sitting in the lobby. Did you see him?” I shook my head. I’d been lost in my own thoughts. “Cop, enforcement officer, something.”

  I looked to Luci to see if he concurred. He nodded. We were silent the rest of the way up, considering the implications. The elevator doors opened on our floor, the three of us on guard. Silently, we walked down the hallway in single file, Donovan taking the lead. He held his hand up, stopping us just before the hotel door. He put his finger to his lips. Luci and I stood still. Donovan pointed at the door, indicating his mark had been moved. Luci stepped around me to Donovan’s side, the two of them straddling the door. As quietly as he could, Luci inserted his plastic card into the lock. The lock light lit up green, making a slight noise as it did so. Donovan motioned for Luci to step back, Donovan doing the same. They were in sync. I stood off to the side, feeling hyperalert and helpless. Seconds ticked by, first ten, then twenty, then thirty. Luci and Donovan exchanged a glance. Donovan reached down to the door handle when the sound of someone grasping the other end signaled him to stop. Donovan quickly pulled his hand back, preparing himself, standing aside to remain out of view as the door slowly opened. Donovan spun on his toes, shoving the door inward, pushing his way inside. Luci followed closely on his heels and they disappeared from view. I rushed to the doorway opening, hoping to be of some assistance, if necessary, but Luci and Donovan had it handled.

  A man’s legs spread across the floor were keeping the door ajar, with Luci straddling the guy, his knees pinning the man’s arms. Donovan was quickly looking around the room, making sure we had only one visitor. Satisfied, he returned to our uninvited guest. Luci backed off the guy’s arms, pulling him up off the ground in a full nelson, keeping his arms locked up. Donovan patted the guy down and pulled out a gun from a shoulder holster. Deciding it would not be good if a passerby saw what was happening, I stepped in and let the door close behind me. Up to this point, our visitor was silent. As I crossed through the narrow hallway, following Luci into the larger bedroom area, I got a look at our visitor’s face. Too much had happened for me to be surprised.

  Williams spoke first. “Hey, Jon, is this how you treat a guest?”

  “An uninvited guest. Gentlemen, meet Ted Williams.”

  Luci asked, “FBI Ted?”

  Williams answered, “The one and only.”

  Luci reluctantly let loose of Williams’ arms.

  “Can I have my gun back?” Williams reached out toward Donovan, expecting to have it summarily returned to his possession.

  Donovan, however, was not so accommodating. He shook his head, placing the gun in his waistband. “You get it back when you leave.”

  Williams groaned. He turned to me. “Can we talk?”

  I took a seat in a chair near the bed. “You’re a long way from California. Don’t you guys have like a local jurisdiction or something? Aren’t you in the wrong air space?”

  “You read too much fiction, Jon. Listen, I’m on your side here, and I’m here to help.” He could see from the looks on the three faces before him that none of us believed him. “Could I speak with you privately? This information is somewhat sensitive.”

  “No. My friends understand discretion.”

  Williams stared at each of us in turn, before speaking again. “That’s good, because it might be your life we’re talking about.” He gave me the serious, advisory FBI look. “Jon, listen, the first time we met was not official business. I was doing a favor for my cousin.”

  “Michelle?”

  A look of annoyance crossed Williams’ face, but he let my comment pass. “That’s not why I’m here. This is far more serious. I’ve been reassigned to the task force dealing with organized crime in New York. And your name keeps popping up linked with
Tony Vespucci.”

  Luci asked, “You know as well as we do that Jon is not doing anything even remotely illegal in relation to Tony Vespucci. How has Jon’s name come up?”

  “I can’t disclose that information. But we would like your help.”

  His words fell like a heavy stone in the room that no one wanted to pick up. After several moments of silence, I asked, “What kind of help?”

  “For starters, we’d like you to wrap up whatever it is you’re doing with Vespucci, stop any further research and interviews, and get out of here.” Williams was met with a wall of silence. “Or, to be honest, we’d like to strap a wire on you for the remainder of your visits until you get us something incriminating on tape.”

  I blanched at the thought. Alarm registered on my friends’ faces.

  After a pregnant pause, Williams laughed. “Just kidding. I love using that one.”

  Donovan frowned. “Not funny.”

  “Geez, tough crowd.” Williams looked at me. “In all seriousness, I was brought in because of my unusual connection to you, Jon.”

  “Through Michelle?”

  Irritation flitted across Williams’ face. He was losing patience, what little of it he had. “There’s something much bigger going on here that has far more significance than the little job you’ve been hired to do, and we need you to get it finished up and move on.”

  Williams’ jokes at my expense had both angered me and cleared my head. As he spoke, I started imagining scenarios for why the FBI would send him to visit me. Only one thing could have caused such a ruckus, at least as far I could see. I decided to throw a name at Williams.

  “Is this about Jim Mosconi?”

  I saw recognition in the FBI agent’s eyes. I’d hit a bullseye. Williams was silent a moment. When he finally spoke, there was an edge to his voice. Any humor he’d brought with him was gone.

  “Jon, counter to what you might think, I like you. You’re not a bad guy. But you’ve been warned. Stay away from this. You have absolutely no idea what you’re involved in, and if you’re smart, you’ll make sure you finish up your job before you ever find out.”