by Joe Corso
The following morning, while taking a break from working out, Henri wiped his face with a towel and muttered something to Swifty.
“Did you ever hear of a fighter by the name of Riff?”
Swifty was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I heard of him; he’s from Queens and he fought as a lightweight. He was one crazy son of a bitch, though. Why do you ask?”
“Him and I had it out last night.”
Henri had Swifty’s full attention now.
“What do you mean you had it out with him? I heard he’s retired now.”
“That’s not what he told me. He said he had a fight scheduled in two weeks but because he hurt his hand last night, he’s postponing the fight.”
Swifty put up his hands. “Whoa! Back up a little. What do you mean he hurt his hand? What did he do? Hit you in that thick head of yours?”
Henry laughed. “No. He threw a punch and I ducked it and he hit the side of the bus I was leaning against.”
Henri had Swifty’s full attention now. “Go on. What happened next?”
“Well, we introduced ourselves and then went to dinner. Had a hamburger at Heavenly Burgers, as a matter of fact.”
Swifty leaned back and laughed. “That’s Riff for you. Do you know what happened to him once?”
Henri shook his head and leaned forward. “No, what happened?”
“I heard this from Johnny Celini, one of the neighborhood guys who witnessed it. He had a few drinks and got into an accident with an oncoming car and his car turned over and over and it came to a stop at a gas station right in front of a gas pump. Frankie lowered the window, grinning, and said to the astonished clerk, ‘Fill ‘er up.’”
“Sounds like our man,” Henry remarked.
Swifty became serious for a minute. “When you see Frankie, you’re seeing us a few years ago. He won seventeen fights straight before losing. He had a twenty and one record when I was just starting in the fight game. He fought some of the toughest guys around, guys like Paddy DeMarco, Paolo Rossi, Battling Torrez.”
Henri sat down on a bench with a towel around his neck. “It’s too bad he didn’t have Red as his manager. Maybe he would have taken boxing more seriously with Red behind him.”
“Yeah, but he’s through now. You can’t lay off boxing for all those years and then expect to make a successful comeback. Besides, he’s got to be in his mid to late thirties now.”
Henry agreed. “Yeah, he looked to me like he was about that age.”
Henri went on to explain in detail how the fight started and how it ended with Riff injuring his right hand, and how Riff invited himself to join Henri and Lana for dinner.
“That’s a heck of a story, Henri, and it would have been a sports reporter’s dream if Riff would have beaten you.”
Chapter Twelve
Doctor Ben wouldn’t leave Frankie’s side until he was certain that he was out of danger so he stayed with Red’s men at JoAnne’s houses for another five days. Finally, on the morning of the sixth day, he approached Bull and told him that Frankie was out of danger and he would get better. Now he needed to get back to his practice, so he asked Bull to take him to the airport. Bull was concerned and he asked Ben if Frankie was in good enough shape to travel. The doctor thought about it for a moment. Frankie had been sitting up in bed for the past two days and today was the first day he had ventured into the living room, where he eased himself heavily onto JoAnne’s comfortable recliner that faced the television. “I think I’ll give him another day to build up his strength and then tomorrow you could drive us to the airport. This way, I can keep my eye on him.”
“Good. That takes care of one problem,” Bull said.
Bull was getting antsy. He had a job to do in Vegas and he was anxious to get back on the road.
“Guys, I’m gonna take Dr. Ben and Frankie to the airport tomorrow morning and as soon as I return, we’re leaving here, so get your belongings together and be ready to leave when my car pulls into the driveway and I toot my horn.”
Joey arched his brows. “Wait a minute, Bull, what about JoAnne? What are we gonna do about her? I can’t leave her here. Frankie’s leaving with the doctor, but what about JoAnne?”
Bull thought about that for a moment. “We can’t take her with us and, when we get to Vegas, we’ll have too much to do, and she’d only be in the way.”
Joey glared at Bull. “Okay. Then I’ll take her and Frankie both to Queens.”
Bull shook his head. “No. You’re not going anywhere. I need you with me. She’ll have to stay here.”
Joey wasn’t about to let this slide. “That’s not gonna happen, Bull. She either goes with us to Vegas or she goes to Queens, but she’s not staying here.”
Richie Fingers surprised the two men by stepping into the debate. “I’ll stay here and, after Frankie leaves with the doctor and you guys get back on the road, I’ll take JoAnne back to New York and then I’ll join you in Vegas.”
Both Bull and Joey looked at one another. They hadn’t expected this simple solution and they were both a little speechless for a moment. Bull rubbed his chin. “I didn’t think of that, Richie. Good idea. You stay here and, when we leave, you take her to Queens and when she gets settled in, then you can join us in Vegas.” But Bull cautioned Richie, “Make sure you don’t take too long. I want you in Vegas as soon as she gets settled in. Do you hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you. Don’t worry, Bull. I’ll meet you in Vegas as soon as I get her settled in.”
That seemed to satisfy Bull. “Good. It’s settled then. You’ll take care of JoAnne and then you’ll meet us in Vegas.” He turned to Joey. “Are you satisfied with this arrangement, Joey?”
“Yeah. At least I won’t have to worry about my sister staying here alone.”
What Bull and Joey Bones didn’t realize was that Richie Fingers had a different agenda. His motive wasn’t altruistic and he did have a hidden agenda. JoAnne was his hidden agenda. During the time he was in JoAnne’s home, he noticed that under her bruised face without any makeup applied to it, and her dark hair pulled back in a frumpy tight bun, and the baggy, ill-fitting housedress she wore, she was an attractive, maybe even beautiful woman. The dowdy way she dressed and the way she walked around without makeup looked to Richie as if she were trying to hide the fact that she was an attractive woman. He liked the way she tossed her head back and the haughty way she carried herself and he was glad that her bastard boyfriend had gotten himself killed. She was soft spoken and caring and he thought that she deserved a better break in life than the one she had gotten so far. Richie had fallen in love with JoAnne during his stay at her home and he wanted to be the one to give her that break.
Richie Fingers stood five foot ten and he kept himself in good shape. He had a shock of dark brown almost black hair and the women he dated considered him very attractive, and women he didn’t know turned their eyes toward his as he passed them on the street. Although he had many women in his life, he didn’t have a steady girl and it was mostly because of the line of work he was in.
As a youngster, he grew up with a deck of cards in his pocket and a pair of dice in his hands. Just as Shooter studied the six-gun fast draw, Richie Fingers studied all of the sleight-of-hand arts, from card manipulation to picking pockets and before he was in his mid-teens, he had mastered all of the arts. Richie was also blessed with an artistic penmanship and, being a product of the streets, he figured if he learned to forge signatures, it might come in handy someday. The end result was that his forged signatures were as good as the originals, which meant that he could be invaluable to an organization such as Red’s.
The Korean War flared up and Richie was drafted into the army when he was twenty years old. He wound up fighting in Korea. He was wounded during a firefight when most of the men in his company fought and died to capture Hill Number 93. Captain Blunck, his unit commander, was shot point blank by a gook that somehow penetrated the company’s line of defense. Richie was the closest to the captain
when he went down, and just as the gook was about to plunge his bayonet into the captain’s chest, Richie shot and killed him. The horns blew and the rest of the North Korean communist squad came pouring into the fray from the tunnels hidden under their camp through a concealed entrance covered by foliage, making it virtually impossible to spot. But by this time, other members of Richie’s company were fighting alongside Richie. The element of surprise was gone when Richie shot and killed the gook who was about to bayonet Captain Blunck. Although the North Koreans had penetrated their lines using stealth and the tunnels, they hadn’t expected the intense firefight that greeted them from their loss of surprise.
During the firefight, Richie was shot in the right shoulder. While he couldn’t move his arm or shoulder, he maneuvered the captain to the sitting position, then sitting on the ground behind him with the captain’s back to him, he got his left hand under the captain’s left arm and chest and, using his feet to gain traction, he began dragging him to safety. Richie managed to drag Captain Blunck back to their lines to safety. As soon as the surprised medics took the captain from Richie, his eyes closed and he passed out from the loss of blood. Both men were quickly cared for by the battlefield medics.
When the Americans took the hill, both Richie and his captain were flown to the hospital at the Atsugi Naval Base in central Japan. Captain Blunck was near death, but the medics staunched the bleeding and gave him blood transfusions and then when he was stabilized, the army doctors at the hospital in Japan operated on him. X-rays showed that Richie’s shoulder wound was more serious than they first thought because they showed that the bullet glanced off of his collarbone and fractured it. He was lucky the bullet didn’t hit him a millimeter lower because it would have shattered his collarbone, which would have required multiple operations. After surgery, the two men were placed in private rooms to recuperate.
Richie was resting in his room when the door opened and an officer walked in and sat down beside his bed.
“How are you feeling, soldier?”
Richie didn’t know who this officer was and the way he was feeling, he really didn’t give a shit.
“Doin’ great, sir.”
“I’m Colonel Snyder and I came in here to give you an update on what’s happening.”
Richie didn’t know what could have been happening because he had been lying in this bed for three weeks while his shoulder healed.
“What’s happening, sir?”
“Well, for starters, you’re getting a medal for saving Captain Blunck’s life. When you’re up to it, Captain Blunck would like to see you so he can thank you himself for saving his life.”
Richie was a street guy. He’d have done that for anyone.
“The good news is the war is over for you. I’ve approved orders for you to be transferred to the 1st Calvary stationed at Camp Zama here in Japan. You no longer have the rank of PFC. You are now Sergeant Richard Cambria.”
Richie smiled. “What happened to corporal, sir?”
“You were due for promotion to corporal while you were in Korea, but the rank didn’t catch up to you, so as soon as you arrived here, we assigned you the rank of corporal on paper and then I bumped you up another grade to sergeant. I wish we could have done more for you, soldier, but the sergeant’s rank will give you more money on payday than private and at least that’s something.”
“That’s nice of you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me, son. You earned it. Oh! I almost forgot. I recommended you for the silver star.”
“I appreciate all you’ve done for me, sir, but I’d like to know if Captain Blunck is here in this hospital, sir?”
“Yes he’s in the hospital’s officers’ wing.”
“Good. I’ll pay him a visit sometime this afternoon.”
“That’s a good idea, Sergeant. I know he’d like that.”
Richie visited his captain that afternoon and then he visited him a second and again a third time and he kept visiting him until the two men became good friends. Captain Blunck owed his life to Richie and he also knew that someday, if possible, he would make it up to him. The day that Richie had his cast removed, his arm felt strange and he noticed that it seemed to have shriveled. The doctors instructed him to exercise his arm so it could regain its musculature. Richie went to the gym and began the exercises the therapist had shown him. After completing his exercises, he left the gym and drifted to the recreation room, where he sat at a table near a window with a view of the manicured grounds. A nurse noticed him staring out the window and asked if there was anything she could get him. He thought for a moment and then he asked her if she had a deck of cards. The fingers of his right hand were extremely stiff from the lack of use compounded by damaged nerves and tendons, but he persevered and practiced exercising his right hand and arm every day and now he included his sleight-of-hand and card manipulation as another form of exercise. It took a while for his old form to return to near normal, but his hand and arm still weren’t normal yet. He felt much better and he knew that in time his arm and fingers would get back to where they were before he was shot. But right now, he still felt stiffness in his dealing hand, so he kept practicing. As he practiced, his proficiency with cards didn’t go unnoticed by the staff.
One night in a club in the small town outside of camp, he was playing a game of solitaire when a tall G.I. in civilian clothes walked over to him. “Would you like to see how to really use those cards? Let me have them for a minute and I’ll show you what a guy could do with them.”
A broad smile crossed Richie’s face as he handed the stranger his deck of cards.
“Sure. Be my guest.”
He watched the tall stranger do one-hand cuts, moving the top card under the second card and then he slipped the top card to the bottom of the deck using just his right hand. He went on to show Richie some academic moves that anyone with determination and the will to learn could do. Richie didn’t say a word to the man as he was handed back the cards. He simply acknowledged the man’s ability and then he returned to his game of solitaire. The following day, Colonel Snyder and Captain Blunck, who was in a wheelchair pushed by a nurse, entered the day room, looking for Richie. They spotted him sitting at a corner table, practicing card manipulation.
“Mind if we join you?” Colonel Snyder asked.
Richie motioned to the chairs. “Please, have a seat. What brings you here?”
“You. You’re the reason we’re here. We heard from the head nurse that you are good with cards. Is this true?”
Richie just nodded and then, as an explanation, he said, ““I’m not bad with cards, but there’s always somebody who’s better. Right now, I’m trying to regain my old form, but my arm just won’t cooperate.”
“I think you’re being modest. From what the staff told us, you are the best they’ve seen.”
Richie gave a sad little smile. “What the hell does the staff know about a card handler? How many have they seen?”
Colonel Snyder dismissed Richie’s remark with a wave of his hand. “We’ll be the judges of that. Now how about showing us a little of your card handling?”
Richie didn’t know where this was going, but he agreed to demonstrate his skills for whatever reason. The two officers sat transfixed as Richie demonstrated his skills. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
“My God, man. How old are you?”
“Just turned twenty-one.”
“You sure impressed the hell out of me. Where did you learn to handle cards like that?”
Richie chuckled. “Hell, I was born with a deck of cards in my hand. I’m curious, though. Why all this interest in the way I handle cards?”
The two officers looked at one another and then at Richie Fingers.
“We’re having a Monte Carlo night next Saturday to raise money for our wounded soldiers and we’d like you to deal blackjack for us.”
Richie raised an eyebrow. “You do understand that no matter who’s dealing the cards, at the end of the night, the h
ouse always wins. You don’t need me to deal your cards; you can’t lose because the percentages are against the players. The house always wins.”
“Humor us,” Captain Blunck said. “We want the soldiers to win because at the end of the night we have special prizes to hand out to them. Besides, we have other plans for you after the Monte Carlo night.”
Richie agreed to deal. He didn’t know what other plans they had for him and he really didn’t care. His enlistment was up in a few months and maybe playing cards for the army would help make the little time he had left go a little faster.
Monte Carlo night arrived and the gambling began. Richie noticed the looks he was getting from the tall stranger he met in the club in the little town outside of the base. Richie guessed the guy was wondering why he was working the craps table while the guy who was playing solitaire was dealing blackjack. Ten or fifteen minutes after the game started, Richie spotted two men sitting opposite him swapping aces. When they introduced themselves earlier, they mentioned that in civilian life they were professional auctioneers. The tall man left the craps table, walked over to Richie, and whispered in his ear, “I spotted those two guys at the end of the table swapping cards. I just thought you should know.”
Richie nodded. “I know. I’ve been watching them swap aces, but when this game ends tonight, they’re gonna be in for a surprise.”
The tall man was a little confused at what Richie had just told him, but that made him all the more interested in watching this game play out. Richie’s hand was hurting from dealing cards all night and his fingers were feeling numb. There were only two men left when the game ended — Richie and one of the auctioneers and Richie knew that he couldn’t quit now. The auctioneer started to pick up his money, but Richie stopped him. Richie was a street guy and these two yokels normally wouldn’t worry him, but he had his doubts now because of his hand. He hung in there, though. The die was cast and he bluffed it out, hoping that he could still pull this off.