by Joe Corso
“Tell me what you need and what you want the cocktail to do, but don’t tell me who it’s to be used on, understand?” Red understood and he began to lay out the scenario.
“I’m gonna be meetin’ with some dangerous men - enemies of mine who killed three of my friends. One was my Uncle. You remember Yip, you did a job for him once. Well they killed him and one way or another I’m gonna make ‘em pay. What bothers me is I have to do this under their noses so I need somethin’ safe, somethin’ that won’t show up in the body. It has to be untraceable and it has to be permanent.”
“I have just what you need. We did Jack Ruby with it. It’s a combination of chemicals I mixed myself and when put it in a drink, it’s colorless, odorless, tasteless and it’ll produce a symptom similar to a bacterial infection leading to a slow painful death. And the best part is . . . you only need one dose. Since I’m not the one doing this job, it will cost you three grand for my services, payable up front. Is that a problem?”
“No, I have the cash on me.” He took the envelope out of his inside pocket, counted out three thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills and handed it to Lauter. Lauter, in turn, took the money, counted it himself, and dropped it onto the table.
“Come over here,” Lauter said.
Lauter walked to a cabinet and took out a small box containing a number of different sized rings and he handed the box to Red. “Pick one that fits you.”
Red reached in and tried on three rings before finding one that fit his finger.
“Now give it to me.”
Lauter held the ring between his thumb and forefinger and told Red to look closely and follow what he was about to do. At the edge of the large ruby, a catch was built into the design. It was ingenious because the ruby itself didn’t open, which would have been a give-away, but when the ring tilted, a small part of the setting on the side opened, allowing poison to drop unnoticed into a drink. Lauter explained that the ring was a copy of Lucretia Borgia’s ring. Legend has it that she used it to kill her husbands the same way. Red made a few clumsy attempts at opening the catch - not so easy at first but after a while, he got the hang of it. First the trip mechanism, then the release of its contents.
“Okay, now show me how to do this with people standing all around me.”
Lauter explained to Red that opening the ring was the easy part. The tricky part, he explained, was opening the ring at the exact moment the drink was about to be passed to the mark. It’s misdirection he said, but more than that, it’s the point of maximum misdirection. Let me explain. You turn your wrist and with misdirection and sleight of hand, click open the setting under the ruby and drop the poison into the drink, all in one fluid notion as you pass the drink with your left hand. Before handing it to the victim, you close the ring while it’s still hidden by your wrist. Here let me show you. “This is the way it should look,” as he demonstrated to Red. Red was amazed at his dexterity and sublime misdirection, Red couldn’t spot the move. Noticing Red’s look of awe and befuddlement, Lauter remarked, “Don’t worry, we’ll practice the move until you get it right.”
“What do you think?” Lauter asked.
“I still need some practice but I’ll get it. I may have to use it twice.”
“That’s no problem. I’ll give you enough for a half a dozen clients. It looks like you have the move right, but you gotta practice turning your wrist exactly the way I showed you at the moment of maximum misdirection. Do it any other way, and they’ll see what you’re trying to do. And that could be fatal . . . to you. Remember when you turn your wrist to transfer the drink to your other hand, that’s the moment the ring opens and the poison is transferred to the drink. Practice it until it’s second nature because if you do it right, no one will ever notice.”
Over and over, Red turned his wrist, flicked the ring, tilted it slightly, closed it and passed the drink. Turn, click, tilt, click. Turn, click, tilt, click until he somewhat got the hang of it. Red understood how crucial the timing was. He thanked Lauter for his assistance and began his long drive back to The Starlight Club.
Every spare moment he had, Red practiced clicking the ring open while turning his wrist. It took hours of practice until he perfected it to the point of semi-mastering it. He continued to practice each day until the move was undetectable to anyone standing near him. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, he even filmed himself, performing the move from different angles, using an 8mm camera. When he reviewed the film on his screen, he was pleased to see that his move was indeed undetectable - sleight of hand, just like Vegas magicians. Satisfied he had the move perfected he destroyed the film. The time had come.
The following day, Red called Profaci on his private line and requested a meeting with him. Profaci agreed. It was set for six days away, the following Thursday at ten, at Profaci’s estate in New Jersey. Red was told to come alone and unarmed.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was Monday morning around seven and Jimmy was on the set waiting for the director to call “Action.” When Moose slid into the chair alongside him, Jimmy, surprised, looked at Moose and asked, “What are you doing here?”
Moose shrugged, “Red figured you needed a secretary so he sent me.”
Jimmy laughed and shook his head, “Moose, a secretary,” and he laughed again, knowing Red had sent Moose to be his bodyguard. He was glad the Moose was here. “Where you stayin’?”
“I just got here - haven’t had a chance to check into a hotel yet.”
“Forget about a hotel. You’re stayin’ with me.”
At breakfast the next morning, Jimmy asked Moose to check to see what homes were for sale in Hollywood Hills area where the stars lived. He figured now that he was one of them, he might as well be living amongst them. One of the studio secretaries was only too glad to do Jimmy a favor and gave Moose the number of a local real estate agent. It was only an hour later that Moose was at the office of Sophia Feldstein in Hollywood Hills. Moose looked at her name on the business card curiously.
“Yes, I know, Sophia doesn’t exactly go with Feldstein, but my mother was Italian and my father Jewish and that’s the story.” Moose chuckled. He should have known that. The Jewish - Italian alliance went way back to the Bugsy Siegel, Meyer Lansky days - The Jewish Mob and the Mafia. Intermarriage since then had become quite common.
Moose was an intimidating man with big, broad shoulders and powerful arms and a beer gut that was beginning to show. He really wasn’t much of a people person and he didn’t have the most outgoing personality but he was comfortable with Sophia. When he mentioned that the home he was looking to buy was for James Roman, Sophia was jolted into action. She picked up her attaché case, and leaning it on the fender of her car, she opened it, removed some listings, setting aside the first five, and placed the sixth listing into her purse.
Sophia was a pro. She had shown and sold houses to many movie stars and for the most part, weren’t impressed with celebrity. But this sale, well, this was for James Roman! Sophia had developed a schoolgirl crush on him after seeing Mob Enforcer. Only the best for James Roman, she thought.
Sophia took her keys from her purse and motioned for Moose to get into the Lincoln Continental for a day of house hunting. Destination - Mulholland Drive, home to some of the most exclusive, expensive homes in the world. Most of the homes were set back from the road and many had an incredible view of downtown Los Angeles. The house she showed Moose was exquisite. Sophia named the numerous famous inhabitants of the area - celebrities such as Errol Flynn, John Barrymore and a host of other actors and directors but before she could finish her sales pitch, Moose interrupted her. He really didn’t care who lived here. “We’ll take it,” and he bought it right on the spot, leaving the usually unflappable Sophia Feldstein completely speechless.
Mob Hit Man finished shooting on schedule and came in within budget, which was rare. It was scheduled to open two days before the Academy Awards extravaganza. But at the last moment, Bernstein pulled it, opting to re
lease both of Roman’s other pictures before releasing Mob Hit Man. This sequel was special. This was Bernstein’s Scarface 2 and timing was important. Knowing that anticipation creates buzz, and buzz creates press, and press means more dollars, he shelved it. He would hold off until the right moment.
Bernstein possessed something that many other studio heads lacked - instinct. He had a knack for recognizing a great script and more important, he had an instinct for timing. Three things had to work in sync - good script, star power actors, and the timing. That instinct was what had kept him on top of the heap for so long.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was Oscar night. Seated fifth row, center, were Big Red, Frankie, Trenchie and Mary together with Jimmy, Shorty, and his wife Sandra. Best Director went to John Houston, Best Supporting Actress to Lana Thomas, Best Cinematography - Shorty Davis, and Mob Enforcer won Best Picture, Best Score, Best Screenplay. So far, it had swept the awards like an old straw broom. There was one award left - Best Actor. William Holden called the name of each nominee as a short clip of a scene from his or her movie flashed onto the screen. When he got to Jimmy’s name, the clip showed his realistic fight scene, striking the film’s protagonist in the knee with a wrench. The audience burst into applause which was followed by a moment of silent suspense as Holden opened the envelope. Holden glanced at the winner’s name and raising his head to face the audience, showing his white, even teeth, he said, “And the winner for Best Actor is . . . James Roman.”
The audience went wild as Jimmy strode boldly to the stage to accept the little statue that carried such a big punch in the world of film. Holden passed the bronze award to Jimmy. Jimmy, in proper Oscar fashion, thanked all those who had been a part of the film, keeping it brief, and then he said in his most sincere Jimmy the Hat con man persona, “I really don’t think I deserve this award, not after seeing the amazing performances of the other four nominees who are real actors.” He pointed to each actor and mentioned his or her name. It was a classy move. This was the first time that most of the audience had ever heard him speak - this little known guy who sprang from obscurity into stardom almost overnight. He endeared himself to most everyone. This was impressive, considering they were stars in their own right. They appreciated his humility. It was indeed different from most of the Hollywood ego types. They listened intently to every word. As he was about to finish he added, “I have one last person to thank … and that is Larry Bernstein who took a chance on an unknown guy to star in his great picture. Thank you, Larry,” he said as pointed to Bernstein and then motioned with his hands for him to stand. Bernstein stood and waved to the audience as they applauded in acknowledgement. And Jimmy closed by blowing a kiss with both hands to the audience and leaving the stage to decibel piercing applause.
* * * * * * * * * *
The engagement party was held naturally at Red’s place. Red, Trenchie, Jimmy, Ralph, Moose, Tarzan and Gibby were still celebrating with the soon to be married couple - Trenchie and Mary. Tex joined the celebration and the mood was contagious. Everyone in the bar began to celebrate with them. A lone figure sat at the end of the bar nursing a beer staring malevolently at Trenchie. He turned to Tarzan, who was behind the bar serving drinks, and asked, “What’s the celebration for?”
Tarzan without thinking answered, “It’s sort of an engagement party. You see that big guy over there? Well he’s the one tying the knot.” The stranger still gazing at Trenchie asked, “Did they set a date yet?”
“Yeah, June sixteenth.” Something struck Tarzan as odd. He, too, was in a celebratory mood and really hadn’t paid much attention to the stranger until now.
“Why do you want to know the date they set?”
The stranger, realizing the danger of his mistake answered, “No offense mister. I was just curious, that’s all.”
Tarzan looked back at him. “Finish your drink and get out of here.”
“Why?” the stranger asked.
“Why? Because I don’t like you, that’s why, and I just changed my mind. Don’t finish your drink. Just get the hell out of here before I throw you out.” The stranger chugged the rest of his beer and made a quick exit. He began walking the two blocks to 41st Avenue where his car was parked, but turned around and headed for the candy store on 111th Street near Roosevelt Avenue. He used the pay phone there to call his cousin Julius and tell him the news.
Chapter Thirty
When the meeting with Profaci was finalized, Red called for another meeting - this one with the Gambino crime family boss, Carlo Gambino, and Lucchese crime family boss, Tony Lucchese. He knew he had to tread lightly with these men. Red explained that it was important he meet with them privately. He mentioned that he had information they weren’t aware of and asked them to pick a place where they were comfortable, stating he would come alone and emphasizing the urgency of meeting in the next day or two. When Lucchese asked why the rush, Red told them because he was meeting with Profaci and it was imperative that he meet with them first, beforehand. The meeting was set for the next day at the butcher store at 104 West Houston Street - ten am. Red was given his instructions - enter the store, don’t talk to anyone, walk through the store, straight to the back, to a flight of stairs. Take the stairs to the basement. Don’t be late.
Red descended the staircase at exactly ten o’clock. At the bottom of the steps, a large man patted him down professing, “He’s clean,” to someone in the rear of the basement.
“Why did you call for this meeting?” Lucchese asked, his voice coming from somewhere in the darkness. Red could see a large old unused walk-in meat locker on his right. In front of him, as he stepped off the stairs, was a small bathroom and a cluttered set of storage bins on his left. Red walked toward the voice which seemed to be coming from the right. There he was - Carlo Gambino, partly hidden by the shadows of the room, seated on a chair beneath a casement window. The boss of bosses sat looking at him silently as he approached.
Red knew from a reliable source that Gambino and Lucchese had suggested that Profaci retire in order to promote peace within his family. Profaci suspected that they were secretly supporting the Gallo brothers. The simple fact was Gambino and Lucchese wanted to limit the power of Profaci and the Bonanno family on the Mafia Commission, but Profaci vehemently refused, warning of a greater gang war if someone attempted his removal. Gambino and Lucchese were at a stalemate. Red knew this.
“I asked for this meeting because I want your approval for a move I’m about to make.
Lucchese responded sharply, “What move is that?” while Gambino sat like a silent statue, mute, but listening with interest. From the bemused look on Gambino’s face, Red surmised that Carlo had read his mind.
“I intend to kill Profaci.” Red’s answer was direct and Lucchese struggled to keep his composure. Red looked toward Gambino and in return, Gambino smiled, knowing he had been right in his assessment.
“How ya gonna do it?” he asked.
“How I’m gonna to do it is something we don’t need to discuss, but I’d like your approval. I’m gonna’ do it anyway but I came here in good faith and would like to leave with an approval from both of you. Look, I just wanted to give you a head’s up. I know that you’re having problems with Profaci and if I’m successful, I’ll solve that problem for you. There’s absolutely no risk to you guys. I’m the one takin’ all of the risks, so it’s a win-win for you.”
Carlo Gambino sat silently in his chair with barely any movement. He was intent - listening and analyzing and had yet to speak. He was the chess master. He could see the moves before his opponent could play them. That’s why the old man was still here while many others had come and gone. Lucchese spoke. “We know Profaci had Yip killed. I liked Yip and considered him a friend. He was a guy who used his head before he used his guns. He always tried to find a peaceful way of settling things and that’s why we stayed out of it when you took care of the guys who killed him, but that still left Profaci believin’ he got away with it.” Red smiled because
Lucchese had just made Red’s case for killing Profaci. Lucchese realized it too, so he pointed a finger at Red and said, “If you can do what you say you can, then you have my approval. Just don’t fuck it up.”
Red turned his attention to Gambino, looking for a sign of approval. The old man had enjoyed the back and forth of the conversation but it was his turn to acknowledge. Slowly, he raised his hands giving Red the thumbs up signal, while simultaneously nodding his head in yes mode. Gambino walked toward Red, smiled, took his hand in his and shook it.
Red had gone to this meeting not knowing what to expect. It was a huge risk - one that could mean his own assassination. Hell, he didn’t even know if he would be come out of the meeting alive, but he had. Now, if he could pull this thing off, it would be to everyone’s advantage. Phase One - successful. Now for Phase Two - to take place four days from now.
Red was in his office waiting for word on Ralph when the front door opened. After being absent for three days, Ralph resurfaced at The Starlight Club. He was about to take a seat at the bar when Tarzan jerked his thumb and indicated with a tilt of his head to go to Red’s office. He knocked once, opened the door, and took a seat with the familiarity of someone who had sat in that seat many times. There was a noticeable look of relief on Red’s face when he saw Ralph. Ralph noticed it.
“You’re probably wonderin’ why I was in a hurry to see you. I have some unfinished business for you to take care of and I wanted to give you instructions before the Profaci meeting tomorrow. Look, Ralph, I don’t know if I’m gonna make it out of that meeting alive and I wanna make sure you know what to do if I don’t. The unfinished business is Lt. Rocarro of the 110th precinct, the one up the street from here. You know what he looks like so it makes it a lot easier. I don’t like killin’ cops but this guy’s dirty. I was told by Joey before he was killed that he’s the one who was in the room when Creighton made the call and not Randone. He’s the one who told Randone about us leaving for Florida. Randone in turn made the phone call to Cordero and almost got me and Jimmy killed. I’m meetin’ with Profaci tomorrow because I have some of my own unfinished business to settle with him.” Ralph got the drift. The ‘boys’ have their own language.