by Joe Corso
Eight fifteen in the evening, Tarzan sat down opposite Red in his office. Red looked at Tarzan expectantly. “Well, what happened? Did he agree to the deal?”
“Yeah, he did. What cinched the deal besides the cash up front was you waiving the debt he owed his bookmaker. He thinks that the Snake’s brother is going to be visiting him. You should have seen his eyes when I told him that he could get paid twenty grand or he could wipe his debt to his bookmaker and still wind up with five grand. He was tempted to take the twenty thousand, but he was afraid he’d blow it on the ponies. After thinking about it for a few minutes, he decided it was better to have the debt wiped clean and take the five thousand in cash. But either way, it was like Christmas came early for him this year.”
Red took a cigar from the humidor on his desk and lit it and then he leaned back in his chair a little more relaxed now that he knew the cop had taken the bait. “When can we make our move?”
“We need to get there at six sharp tomorrow morning. No one will be there but him and he will conveniently develop stomach cramps. He will need to visit the men’s room. He figures that his cramps will take about ten minutes to ease and, during that time, Richie’s brother can visit him. He doesn’t want to know anything and he doesn’t want to see anything or anyone.”
“Good. That’s even better; with no one to see, he can’t identify anyone. Tomorrow at six a.m., it is, then.” Red picked up his phone and made a call to Frankie the Cop. “Frankie, the doctors say that Sammy’s sister’s baby will arrive tomorrow at around six a.m. and you really should be there for her, since you’re going to be the baby’s godfather.”
Frankie got the message. “I’ll call the precinct now and tell them that tomorrow I’m taking a personal day off.”
“Good. If you can get to my place at five a.m., I know that Sammy would love you to go with him to visit his sister.”
“I’ll be there at five, so tell Sammy to be ready. I wouldn’t want to be late for such an important event.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
An unmarked police car pulled up to 481 8th Avenue in Manhattan. Two policemen got out and walked into the lobby of the art deco New Yorker Hotel. They looked toward the desk for the desk clerk, but he was leaning back with his head resting against the wall at the side of the long, marble counter. The two officers walked unnoticed to the elevator and took it to the thirty-fifth floor and got off. They walked purposefully with a quick step, but not enough to attract the attention of anyone, even though no one was in the hall this time of the morning. They looked for room number 3506 and, when they came to it, Frankie stood watch outside the door while Piss Clam inserted the duplicate key he had had a locksmith make from the wax impression of the policeman’s key, and walked into the room.
A sleepy Richie the Snake lifted himself on one elbow, yawned, and saw that it was a cop he didn’t recognize who had just entered the room. He never noticed the gloves the cop was wearing, but he was used to seeing cops he didn’t recognize come in and out of his room, so he didn’t think anything of it. The uniformed cop apologized for disturbing him and he took a few steps closer to the bed and Richie thought he was going to say something to him. The Snake liked the attention he was getting from the police and especially the pretty policewomen who were always asking him if he needed anything. So he relaxed and laid his head back on his pillow and waited for the cop to come a little nearer to his bed. And when he did, Richie took a closer look at the cop’s face and he thought he recognized him from somewhere, maybe from the neighborhood. Richie studied the officer and the cop looked as if he was going to say something to him, but instead, the cop surprised him by spraying something in his face. Richie became angry and he was about to ask him what he thought he was doing, but his thoughts became muddled and he became confused…and then—everything went black. Piss Clam took out the little bottle of poison and put it on the table. He reached down and pried the Snake’s mouth open by pressing on his chin. Then, with one hand, he held the Snake’s mouth open and, with the other, he took the small glass tube and squeezed three drops of the liquid under the Snake’s tongue. The question Richie the Snake was about to ask the cop was the last thing he would ever remember as he faded into oblivion, never to awaken.
Piss Clam placed the suicide note and the small bottle of poison on the end table beside the bed. With that done, he checked Richie’s pulse to make sure he was dead and he smiled when he felt no pulse. He went to the door, opened it, and walked out of the room. He locked the door and then he and Frankie walked down the hall to the elevator. The halls were still deserted when the door to the elevator opened. When the door closed behind them, Piss Clam took off his gloves and put them in his pocket. There would be no fingerprints that could point to anything other than a suicide. Even Morty Grossman, the regular cop on duty, would believe that the man he was guarding had actually committed suicide…and possibly with the poison his brother could have brought with him when he visited him this morning. Then he wondered if his brother did in fact visit him, because he wasn’t there when he returned from the men’s room. And it appeared that no one had entered the room while he was gone, so maybe the Snake did poison himself. The thought that the Snake might have committed suicide made him feel better because he had second thoughts after he accepted the brown paper bag with the money in it.
The two uniformed cops got into their unmarked car and headed back to Queens and the Starlight Club. Piss Clam looked at his watch and muttered loud enough for Frankie to hear, “Eight minutes was all the time it took to kill a snake.”
Red listened to every word Piss Clam said as he explained in detail how Red’s plan unfolded and, when he was finished, a relieved Red asked him, “You’re sure he’s dead?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“You checked his pulse?”
“Yeah, boss. He had no pulse. I made sure that Richie the Snake ain’t never gonna rat on anybody no more and that’s a fact.”
“Good. Now that we don’t have the Snake to worry about, who wants to go to the Garden with me for Swifty’s championship fight? The tickets are on me, guys.”
When the guys left his office and he was alone again, Red tried calling Swifty at home, hoping to get him before he left for work, but Maria informed Red that Swifty had left early in the morning for an early call. Red then called Starlight Productions’ main office and asked to speak to Swifty Card. The operator asked who was calling and Red casually said, “Red Fortunato. Now find Swifty for me.”
Recognizing that this was the owner of the studio, she answered quickly in her best professional voice. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
A few minutes later, Swifty was on the phone. “Hey, Red, good to hear from you. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to see how you were doing. Are you training for the fight?”
“Every chance I get, Red. I’m in the best shape of my life, so don’t worry about me being in condition.”
“Good. I was concerned that you were too busy with your new film that you wouldn’t have time to train properly.”
“I’m the champ and I intend to keep my championship belt, so don’t worry about me being in shape for the fight.”
“Okay, go back to what you were doing and I’ll see you at the Garden in two weeks.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Swifty was at the boarding gate for the morning flight to LaGuardia Airport. He planned on getting to Queens two days before the fight while Moose, Gonzo, and Henri were scheduled to take the redeye from L.A. to LaGuardia on Friday morning. This way, the boys would get a chance to rest before the fight on Saturday night. The trouble was everyone recognized the famous movie star. Swifty didn’t have the charm or the patience that Jimmy the Hat had when it came to his fans. Swifty was a private person, whereas Jimmy loved the idolization he received from his fans. Swifty was different in that he could care less for fame. In fact, he only got into this movie acting business because he felt he owed it to Red. Yeah, he was making a ton
of money, but money wasn’t everything to Swifty the way it was with some people, maybe most people. He would be well off with what he was earning now as a fighter. Now that Swifty was making millions of dollars, Red insisted he invest his money in property, so that was what he did. With Sophia Feldstein’s assistance in choosing the right properties, he, Henri, and Gonzo invested in condominiums and apartment houses and commercial property in and around Los Angeles and Hollywood.
Swifty could tell that it was just a matter of time before someone would ask him for an autograph and that would open the floodgates for others to do the same. With the upcoming fight and his eagerness to get to the Starlight Club, he really was in no mood for autograph hunters. Then he remembered Red’s words, cautioning him to cultivate his fans and the staff he worked with, so when the first woman approached him for his autograph, he smiled at her and signed the small pad she took from her purse.
“I really enjoy your pictures,” she said breathlessly.
Swifty handed her back her pad and patted her gently on her arm. “Thanks; that makes me feel good,” he said earnestly and, when he smiled at her, she just melted. He was far better looking in person than he was on screen. That was what she told her girlfriends when she got back home and showed them the paper with Swifty Card’s signature on it.
Swifty walked up to the desk and pulled the man at the desk aside. The man immediately recognized the famous actor. “Yes, Mr. Card. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if there was any chance I can get on the plane a little earlier. I’m about to be attacked by about a hundred fans and I would much rather avoid it if I can.” The American representative looked around at the growing crowd that was eager to get closer to the famous movie star. “Hmm, yes, I see what you mean. I think we can arrange something. Follow me, please. The American Airlines representative led Swifty down the jet way and onto the plane. Once inside the big jet, he took Swifty to the first class section. Swifty attempted to tip the man, but he refused.
“I’d much prefer an autograph for my teenage daughter, a big fan of yours.”
Swifty picked up a magazine and asked the man what his daughter’s name was. “
Veronica,” he answered.
Swifty signed it “To Veronica with fond wishes,” and he handed it to the representative.
“Gee, thanks, Mr. Card. My daughter is not going to believe this.”
“Write your name and address on a piece of paper and when I get back to L.A., I’ll send Veronica an autographed picture.”
The rep put out his hand. “My name is Mark and I can’t thank you enough.”
Swifty dismissed the compliment with a wave of his hand. “Forget about it, Mark. It will be my pleasure to send Veronica a signed picture. Besides, one good turn deserves another, right? You helped me with my problem and a picture for your daughter is the least I can do in return.”
The stewardesses were used to seeing celebrities aboard their planes, but Swifty was something special. He was the hottest star in the world at the moment and because of his masculine good looks and his perfectly formed body, he was the bedtime partner for most of the world’s female population. Swifty sat back in his plush first-class recliner and got comfortable. Mark told the stewardesses working this flight that there was a celebrity sitting in first class and he’d appreciate it if they made sure he wanted for nothing. He mentioned how cordial he was and, without being asked, he said he’d send his picture to his daughter Veronica.
“Who’s the celebrity?” one of the girls asked.
“Swifty Card.” That did it. The girls couldn’t wait to board the plane.
One of the stewardesses smiled. “Boy, you got lucky, Cynthia, working first class this flight.”
Cynthia smiled coyly. “I’ll sell you my shift for a hundred dollars,” she said, laughing.
The plane lifted effortlessly into the air; the four large jet engines pulled the plane higher and gained altitude quickly. Swifty adjusted his seat and picked up a magazine and was surprised to see his picture on the cover. He absently threw it onto the next seat as if it bothered him to see his face staring back at him.
“Do you think the face on that cover is ugly?” an amused feminine voice asked.
Swifty looked up to see a stunning blond standing there, smiling at him. He smiled back and then he shrugged his shoulders. “I see that guy looking back at me every time I look in the mirror. I don’t need to see him now.”
“Well, if you don’t mind…would you sign that cover for me? I would really appreciate it, but please don’t sign it on that handsome face. Sign below it.”
Swifty reached over and picked up the magazine. He asked the stewardess for her name.
“Cynthia.”
He picked up his pen and wrote. “To my beautiful stewardess Cynthia. A pleasure to have met you. Swifty Card.”
She picked up the magazine and read what he wrote. “Thank you for signing it. Now, can I get you a drink?”
“Yeah, a drink would hit the spot. I’ll have a gin and tonic please.” Cynthia left and returned a short while later with his drink. When she handed him his drink, she kept thinking that she had almost six hours to figure out a way to get a date with this good-looking hunk.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cynthia wrote her name and address and her telephone number on a card and she put it in her side pocket, hoping to slip it into Swifty’s jacket, which was lying neatly folded beside his recliner. What she didn’t know was that Swifty had gone through this sort of encounter before. He was in the same position now as he was then. Only at that time, his stewardess had taken him to the security lounge and then she took a note to Moose, who waited by the carousel with Swifty’s luggage, waiting for him to appear. Then she offered to drive him to the Starlight Club. He agreed to go with her, but first, they stopped for breakfast at the airport diner and that was when Swifty decided she would be his date at Red’s upcoming party. He would have done the same thing now because Cynthia was a stunning blond with a dynamite figure, but Swifty had a championship fight this Saturday to consider and every fighter knows that being intimate with a woman before a fight weakens a fighter’s legs. Besides, if he wanted to take a woman to Red’s party, he could have asked any one of a dozen beautiful Hollywood stars or starlets to accompany him to the Starlight Club. He pushed away the thought of this beautiful blond rescuing him from the mob of fans that’d want autographs when they spotted him waiting by the luggage carrousel, and he buried his face in the small pillow in an attempt to get some shuteye.
Swifty woke with a start when something was tugging on his shoulder. “Wha’… what’s happening?” a sleepy Swifty asked as his eyes focused on the blond stewardess.
She smiled patiently at him. “We’re getting ready to land at LaGuardia and you have to put your seat in the upright position.”
“Do I have time to wash my face and comb my hair?”
“Sure. But don’t take too long.”
Swifty was back in his seat five minutes later, feeling much more refreshed. He motioned the blond over to him.
“Yes, sir. How can I be of help?”
“Could you take me to the security lounge while my buddy gets my luggage?” Cynthia tried not to show her surprise because this could be the opportunity she was waiting for. “Yes, we’ll wait until everyone deplanes and then I’ll be happy to take you to the security lounge.”
“Thanks. The last time I was there, they had a phone handy. Is there still one available to use?”
She nodded. “Yes, although it’s not used as much as we thought it would be. Still, it comes in handy at times.”
Swifty nodded back. “Like now, right?”
“Right. Like now.”
When everyone was off the plane, Swifty stood and was about to leave but the captain and co-pilot stopped and asked him for his autograph. These men hardly ever asked a celebrity for their autograph, but Swifty was the hottest star on the planet and he was coming to New York to pu
t his championship belt on the line and these two ex-combat pilots respected a real man. Swifty signed the two menus and the captain and co-pilot thanked him and wished him good luck on Saturday night.
Swifty thanked the captain because he recognized him as more than just a play actor. “Thanks, Captain. I appreciate that.”
The captain patted him on his arm and waited for him to leave before leaving the plane himself.
Cynthia took him through the jet way and onto the concourse and then she led him through the doors to the security lounge, much to everyone in the lounge’s delight. Cynthia figured now was as good a time as any, so she reached into her pocket and removed the little card with her name and address and phone number written on it. “Take my information. If you intend to fly back to Los Angeles, call me and maybe I can make your flight a little less troublesome.”
Swifty took the card and studied it before putting it in his pocket. “I appreciate your offer, Cynthia. If this was a normal time for me, I would ask you to dinner.” Her heart fluttered for a moment. “But that can’t happen because of my fight Saturday night. But if you’re interested in coming to the fight, I could leave two tickets at the box office for you and your boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Then take your mother or anyone else you’d like…or don’t come; it’s your call.”