The Starlight Club 3: The Vendetta,: Goodfellas, Mob Guys & Hitmen (Starlight Club Mystery Mob)

by Joe Corso

  Moose lit a cigar and they walked, hand in hand, chatting and listening to the sounds of the ocean until they came to a small cabana selling drinks. Sophia took a seat at one of the two tables firmly planted on the sand in front of the cabana while Moose handled their orders at the bar – a beer for himself and rum and coke for Sophia.

  Moose couldn’t remember a happier time. Dinner with a beautiful woman and now drinks under a palm tree on the beach, listening to the waves gently break against the sand while looking at a vision of pure lovely. This was something that one could not do in New York. In the midst of this idyllic setting and conversation, an old Chevy pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Moose, ever alert, watched. Three guys in the car were acting suspiciously and he sensed trouble. Moose stood up abruptly in the middle of his conversation, baffling Sofia who hadn’t a clue what was happening, and turned to her.

  “Come on. It’s time to go.”

  Sophia looked at him quizzically. She didn’t understand.

  “Don’t ask, Sophia. Just do as I say.”

  Sophia placed down her drink and walked with him as he approached the bartender.

  “Do you have a bat or some sort of weapon here?” Moose asked the kid behind the bar. “Quick, gimme something – anything.”

  “No,” the kid answered, “I don’t have weapons per se, but I have this iron bar that we use to hold the side counter up. It’s late and I’ll be closing soon so at night we don’t use the side shelf.”

  “Quick – give me the bar. Fast.”

  The kid, just as puzzled as Sophia, didn’t argue, but took his time handing it over.

  “Oookay,” he answered, in a kind of smart-alecky tone.

  Moose took a position outside on the beachside of the bar and leaned against the cabana wall, shielding the iron bar that he was holding. He motioned for Sophia to move around to the inside and crouch down behind the bar near the bartender. She obliged.

  In just moments, the three men from the car walked around the right wall of the bar to the beach side of the little cabana, leaned into the bar and asked for beer. They glanced around cautiously. Moose could have written the script for what they did next. One of them pulled out a gun and pointed it right at the kid bartender.

  “Gimme all your money. Now!” one of the tough guys shouted.

  When he said that, the other one turned to Moose, standing on his right, and ordered him to empty his pockets. Moose, meanwhile, still had his right side to the cabana, hiding the metal bar in his right hand. Thinking quickly, Moose made a motion with his left hand as if reaching into his pocket and sure enough, the guy’s eyes followed his hand. Without warning and before the man could react, Moose leaned slightly away from the wall and swung the heavy metal bar in a quick downward motion, crushing the man’s skull. The thief collapsed to the floor as his gun skittered along the little cement walkway at the edge of the sand, landing at Moose’s feet. The second man turned to see his friend lying half in the sand and half on the narrow concrete, stone cold dead. Moose crouched down as he attempted to reach for the dead man’s gun, and as he did, his eyes fixated on the gun already trained on him. There was no time to spare. With precious seconds in the balance, he grabbed the iron bar, each hand holding an end, and using both hands, he quickly swept the metal bar upward, knocking the gun from man’s hand. Moose then reversed directions and slammed the bar down this time, landing it on the gunman’s hand, breaking his wrist with a sharp crack. The gunman, now holding his wrist, yelling in pain, was still trying to retrieve his gun. The third man, an observer until now, hesitated. Moose, with his back now to both gunmen, quickly ran toward the gun. He grabbed it, spun back around to face the men, and fired a shot toward the third guy hitting him, first in his arm, and next in the center of his face. He crashed to the ground. The second man, still wincing in pain and holding his wrist, inched his way over to the bar and managed to grab a beer bottle off the counter. Moose, still facing man number three, never saw it coming. Using his good hand, the second guy slammed the bottle across the back side of Moose’s head, shattering the bottle and creating a sizable gash, now spewing blood profusely everywhere.

  Adrenalin was pumping high throughout Moose’s body and the blow seemingly did not faze him. He turned just in time to block a second blow. This time, Moose looked right at the guy and smiled.

  “Now what cha gonna do, hotshot?” he said to the second guy. “You have a broken wrist and no gun.”

  Moose walked over to the man who seemed rooted to his spot and punched him hard on his jaw. The guy staggered backwards into the light pole near the cabana, but managed to stay on his feet. The guy was breathing heavily and didn’t utter a word as Moose leaned over to grab him. He put up his good hand, cowering in defense. The message was clear. He was through. The young hoodlum just stood against the pole, grimacing in pain, holding his broken wrist as Moose walked up to him.

  “Who put you up to this?”

  “No one put us up to anything,” he managed to say. Moose lifted the gun to the punk’s forehead and said, “Do you see what I did to your two friends?”

  He then dragged guy number two over to man number three on the ground, blood draining from his mouth and face. He grabbed the lone man standing by the back of his head and shoved his face into that of the dead man.

  “Look at where I shot him. It’s just about … here,” Moose said as he pressed the barrel of the gun against the center of his forehead and pulled the hammer back.

  “No don’t. Don’t shoot. I’ll tell you. Some federal guy put us up to this. He said he’d get the police to drop the drug charges they were holdin’ against us if we took out you guys. Said it would be alright because you’re all criminals.”

  “What was the name of this fed?”

  “Loni something. We were watching you guys all night but you were the only one who left the hotel, so we followed you to the restaurant and from there we followed you here. This seemed like a good place, but we had to make it look like a robbery.”

  “You can come out, Sophia. This punk’s not gonna hurt ya.”

  Sophia peered over the top of the bar and then stood up straight. The young bartender behind the counter was shaking. Moose turned to him.

  “Close up the place and go call the police. I’ll wait until you get back, then I’m gone. When the police get here, be truthful. Tell ‘em everything that happened.”

  The kid ran down the street to a pay phone and made the call. When he returned, Moose picked up the other gun with his handkerchief and put it onto the counter. Then, he used his handkerchief to wipe his prints off the gun he had used. When he was sure it was clean, he told the kid to put the guns under the counter.

  “Give ‘em to the police when they come. We’re takin’ off, but it would help if you didn’t give ‘em a good description of me. I don’t wanna talk to the police because I’ll be leavin’ town tomorrow. What’s your name, kid?”

  “Sonny.”

  “You did good, Sonny. It took a lot of nerve to stand tough against these guys.”

  Sonny beamed.

  “Thanks, Mister. I was real scared there for a while.”

  “Yeah, I know you were. So was I.”

  Hopefully, that incentive was enough to give the police a so–so description of him. Moose grabbed Sophia by the arm.

  “Come on, let’s go. We don’t wanna be here when the cops come.”

  Sophia took over the driver’s seat and sat there for a moment. She appeared traumatized a bit but snapped out of it at the sight of blood pouring from Moose’s head. It was gushing down his neck, saturating his shirt,

  “My God,” she shouted, “you’re bleeding like a pig. You’re coming to my house right now. We have to clean you up and take care of that head wound.”

  The wound looked worse than it was – a nice long gash but thankfully, not deep. Back at Sophia’s house, she quickly set about gathering her alcohol and bandages and proceeded to clean him up.

  “You k
now,” she said, “what happened tonight is a first for me. I can’t recall the last time I went out with a man for a lovely evening only for it to be capped off by him killing a couple of guys. They must have been high on something. Moose, I was really scared. I couldn’t believe how you fought those men. You beat all three of them all by yourself. My God, I can’t believe what you did.”

  Moose shook his head. “This wasn’t a random act of robbery. They were sent to get me and my friends, but I spotted ‘em when they pulled up. Spoiled their plans.”

  “Wow. What happened? Tell me what happened. How’d you know?”

  These moments provided a great opportunity for them to get to know each other so Moose began his long–winded play by play.

  Moose recounted the evening’s events to Sophia, who found the evening to be a complete blur. He told her how he had watched as the three hooligans’ heads had bobbed back and forth and then when they reached for something, guns he thought, that’s when he asked the kid bartender if he had a weapon handy.

  “I had to swing that bar with all my two hundred thirty–five pounds as hard as I could,” he said, delighting her with the story, “intending to break whatever bones I could. I was surprised how easily the first guy’s head cracked open.”

  Sophia was in awe. This was every woman’s dream – a man who had protected her. It was the classic damsel in distress storyline that always got the girl. My hero – that type of theme, only this was real. She could listen to him all night.

  “With one man immobilized, I had to face the other two,” Moose continued. “If it wasn’t for the guns, I figured I probably could take ‘em. They seemed like junkies to me,” he added, “and I know, from experience that when you hit a junky, they usually fold like a tent, but they had to be brought down fast. I was lucky. I was worried about you and the kid gettin’ hurt.”

  “Who could possibly have sent them?” Sophia asked.

  “Federal agents sent by Bobby Kennedy,” Moose answered without missing a beat.

  “Robert Kennedy? Oh sure, Moose. Okay. Tell me another one.”

  “I’m serious,” he said.

  Sophia looked deep into his eyes.

  “You are serious, aren’t you? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. You weren’t close enough to hear the man confess to me – am I right?”

  “No, I was so out of it. I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Well, the kid behind the bar heard him confess, so everything is fine.”

  “But aren’t you worried about the men you killed?”

  “Why should I be? They’re dead,” he said with a little chuckle.

  “It doesn’t bother you that two men are dead?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “You killed two men and you mean it doesn’t bother you?”

  He looked at her with a tight lipped but encouraging smile.

  “Not in the least. Now how about a cup of coffee?”

  Moose was lucky. He wasn’t in the shape Trenchie or Swifty were and taking on three guys was a reach. One-on-one, he was a match for most any man. He had that big bruiser, street-wise physique, with huge arms and a broad chest – a hint of what he once was. His body was still solid and a bit intimidating, just not the agile young man that he used to be. An overindulgence of beer was responsible for an expanded gut, a little more than he liked, and he had stopped working out on a regular basis, but after tonight, he’d rethink that.

  Two of the punks were dead and the bartender would tell the police what happened. They would say in their report that it was self defense. If it were discovered that a federal agent put them up to it, one of two things would happen – either all hell would break loose when the papers got hold of the story, or it would be buried and covered up quickly. Moose figured on the latter happening. In any case, he wasn’t worried. He had two reliable witnesses and the only thing they could get him on was leaving the scene of a crime which didn’t worry him at all.

  Chapter Twenty–Four

  The evening just flowed. They snuggled on her big black leather couch and enjoyed a movie while sipping gin and tonics. Sophia really liked Moose and she felt safe with him, especially tonight. By him subduing those three young thugs, he had saved their lives. She asked Moose again what businesses his boss owned and his position in the firm. Moose explained to Sophia that when you’re the chief executive officer in charge of many large corporations, you sometimes discover you have enemies.

  “I was hired to protect my boss,” he said. “Keep all those bad guys at bay.”

  “So you’re saying that you’re your boss’s bodyguard?”

  “Well, I’m one of ‘em. He has a few but probably depends a little more on me. You saw how close I was to James Roman. Well, now I’m doin’ the same for Swifty Card.”

  She at him looked suspiciously.“You’re not a criminal, are you?”

  Moose laughed.“Hell no, I’m just a highly paid bodyguard whose job eventually allowed him to enjoy a night with a beautiful lady. And who’s lookin’ forward to enjoyin’ other nights with that same lady.”

  Sophia giggled.

  “Great job with turning that whole conversation into something else, something else that made me smile,” she said, “and to tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to spending other evenings with a certain gentleman I like, because I also enjoyed myself last night more than I have in a long time.”

  Sophia wasn’t a beautiful woman in the classic sense. She was a little full figured but her curves were distributed proportionately. She had large breasts which drove Moose crazy. Most every time Moose met her, she had her hair pulled up in a bun, but last night her hair was down and her makeup tastefully applied. She looked like the most beautiful woman in the world to him.

  Sex with her was wonderful and it was all that occupied his mind on the drive back to his hotel the following day. It was already late morning. When she pulled into the drop-off circle of the hotel, she kissed him hard on his lips.

  “I have to go to work now, handsome.”

  “Yeah and I hope you spend some time this morning figurin’ out how to spend that beautiful commission that I made sure you got,” he kidded.

  She kissed him again and said, “Thanks for thinking of me.”

  “Baby, I’ve been thinkin’ of you for the past three years and I couldn’t wait to get back here so I could see you. Now that I’m back, you’re gonna be seein’ a lot of me.”

  She giggled again.

  “My turn,” he said. “I’ll pick you up tonight at seven. Be ready.”

  Trenchie and Swifty were waiting for Moose in the hotel lounge and they couldn’t help seeing the friendly way they said goodbye to each other.

  “Moose, over here,” Trenchie hollered as he motioned with a wave of his arm to get his attention.

  Moose sat down and asked the waitress for a cup of coffee. Trenchie noticed the bandage covering the back part of his forehead.

  “What happened to you last night? Rough sex?”

  Swifty just howled with laughter.

  “No, not rough sex, smart ass. Rough guys.”

  That got Trenchie’s attention.“What rough guys?”

  So Moose told him everything that had happened the previous evening.

  “Christ, you killed two guys?”

  “Yeah, I shot one in the head with his own gun and the other one got his head crushed a little with an iron rod. You know, Trenchie, I have to start workin’ out again. They almost got me. I got lucky.”

  Trenchie’s lips twitched a little which was his way of smiling.

  “Moose, by definition, you were a perfect match for those guys. You won the fight.”

  “Well . . . yeah . . . I guess.”

  “Tell me again who the guy said sent him.”

  Moose repeated the part where the guy said a federal agent told him the police had agreed to drop drug charges against them if they took care of us.

  “He said his name was Lonny something when I ask
ed him.”

  Trenchie listened carefully to every word he said.

  “So Lonegan is still huntin’ us. Well, our business here is finished, so I think it’s time we paid him a visit. I’m callin’ Red and askin’ him to meet us.”

  Moose was silent. Dejection flooded his face. He wanted to stay. He had dinner plans with Sophia tonight.

  “What time we leavin’?” Moose asked.

  “Don’t look so depressed, Moose. You’re not goin’ anywhere. You’re stayin’ right here. Red’s orders.”

  Moose perked up.“What?”

  “Yeah, he wants you to stay with Swifty from now on and do for him what you did for Jimmy the Hat.”

  While elated, he felt guilty having his buddies leave without him.

  “Maybe I should come with you,” he added, trying to be a good sport.

  “No. You heard what I said,” Trenchie said emphatically. “Red wants you to stay here. Don’t worry about anything. We can handle Lonegan.”

  They got up from the table and walked to the pay phone in the lobby of the hotel.

  Trenchie called Red.

  “Mr. Blue, please.”

  “Speaking,” the voice answered.

  “Our business is finished here. Three time’s a charm. I suggest we have a capital meeting as soon as it’s convenient for you. Looks good for the first day.”

  Red got the hint.“I take it something negative happened while you were conducting business.”

  “Sure did. I’ll tell you all about it when we meet, but it worked out fine. It concerns your old friend who visited you at the club with some of his friends.”

  “Understood. I look forward to seeing him again. Reunions are always enjoyable, don’t you agree?”

  “I sure do. I’m really looking forward to this one,” Trenchie said.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  The phone went dead. The time and place was set – two old friends, looking forward to seeing each other, would meet in D.C. in three days. Trenchie would arrive on the first flight.