by William Wolf
He’s got no reason to worry about me.”
“What about Bobby?” asked Mouse. “You gonna let him of the hook?”
“Fuck Bobby,” said Catel o. “We don’t need him anymore.”
“Now you’re talkin’,” said Mendy. “How about you spring these cuf s? They’re cut in’ of my circulation.”
“You know bet er than that,” said Catel o. “Mouse, you want to make your bones? Tonight’s the night.”
“You want me to kil Mendy?”
“Hey, come on, I’m sit in’ right here listenin’,” said Mendy.
“Sorry,” Catel o said. He took Mouse aside and quietly said, “Wait til I leave, then smother him with a pil ow and drop him someplace.”
“Where?”
“There’s a mil ion lakes out here. Choose one.”
“You do this, the Purples are gonna come after you,”
said Mendy.
Catel o laughed and said to Mouse, “You bet er get Catel o laughed and said to Mouse, “You bet er get moving. If he croaks from Alzheimer’s, it don’t count as an of icial hit.”
“Hey, I’m serious, the Purples are back. They’re al over the place.” Mendy paused, waiting, but Rudy didn’t appear. He raised his voice and cal ed, “Even out here.”
“What are you yel ing about?” Catel o demanded.
“Me,” said Rudy, ambling out of the kitchen on his two-tone platforms, a peanut but er and Ritz in one hand and an Uzi in the other.
Mendy twisted his hands free and said, “Jeez, I thought you forgot me.”
“I was enjoying myself, just watching you work your show,” said Rudy. He turned to Catel o and said, “I can’t help it, man, whenever I’m around this old dude he takes my black ass clear out of the moment.”
Catel o gave Mouse a do-something signal with his eyes, but Mouse simply returned a de antly resentful glare.
“You didn’t tel me it doesn’t count if it’s not an o cial contract,” he said to Catel o. “You never mentioned that.”
“That’s crap,” Catel o snapped. He was ghting to regain his poise. Turning to Rudy he said, “Look, kid, I don’t know what kinda bul shit you been hearin’, but my name is Luigi Catel o. That mean anything to you?”
Rudy shook his head. “Nope.”
“You heard of the Tucci Family, right?”
“Yeah, they the I-talian mafia.”
“Good. Wel , I’m the head of the Tucci Family. That’s
“Good. Wel , I’m the head of the Tucci Family. That’s who you’re fuckin’ with. Now put down the gun and beat it.”“Wait a minute,” said Rudy. “If you the head of the Tucci Family, how come your name ain’t Tucci? What are you, some kind of brother-in-law?”
“Mouse, explain it to him,” said Catel o.
“He’s an interloper,” said Mouse. “That means—”
“I know what it means, motherfucker,” said Rudy.
“He don’t mean no harm,” said Mendy. “He su ers from a high IQ.”
“Yeah, sorry,” said Mouse. “No of ense.”
“No damage, no foul, my man,” said Rudy.
Catel o said to Rudy, “Give me the gun and you can have a piece of the smack and coke action on the East Side. You’l be the richest eggplant in town.”
“Nah, I’m already independently wealthy,” said Rudy easily. “Besides, I got a feelin’ you sel in’ me wolf tickets.”
“Listen to what I’m tel ing you—I can make you the fuckin’ colored don of Detroit.”
“Man, I got a problem with that don shit, on account of Don Ho.” He turned to Mendy. “What we gonna do with the godfather here?”
“I been thinkin’,” said Mendy. “You stil got Muhammad Ali?”
Rudy’s dark eyes lit up. He turned to Mouse and said,
“This man, just one thought from his mind be enough to blow of the whole top of a average motherfucker’s head.”
blow of the whole top of a average motherfucker’s head.”
“Who’s Ali?” asked Mouse.
“Whatever you’re get ing, I’l triple it,” said Catel o to Rudy.
Rudy ignored the o er and said, “Ali is our mascot. He gonna love Mr. Softbody here.”
“Mouse, you fuckin’ wop, when this is over I’m gonna put a piece of you in every gravel pit in Michigan,” said Catel o. “What are you, nuts, siding with a nigger?”
“What kind of mascot?” asked Mouse. “Like a stu ed animal?”
Rudy smiled and looked directly into Catel o’s brown eyes. “Bet er not let Ali hear you cal him stuf ed,” he said.
“He’s a kangaroo,” said Mendy.
“Yeah, but not no regular kangaroo. He’s a pissed-o , seven-foot ying purple people-eater, that’s who Ali is.
And I’l tel you one other something. Delbert, this militant friend of mine? He been readin’ Elijah Speaks to Ali until he thinks he’s some kinda Muslim. Got that animal al ful of race pride. So if I was you, my man, I’d just ease o on that nigger talk, ’less you want a seven-foot kangaroo dick up your pasta-fied ass.”
Chapter
Chapter
Twenty-five
WHEN BOBBY GOT back to the apartment he found Til ie in the bedroom reading Vonnegut. “We’ve got to talk,” he said.
“Final y,” she said, closing the book.
Bobby took a deep breath and said, “The other day, when I went to Detroit I met a guy named Al Rel i. He’s a friend of my mother’s. Was. He’s dead.” He paused.
“Keep going.”
“He was going to kil Jimmy Ho a. And I was supposed to tag along as an apprentice hit man sort of. Only he got numbed in a shoot-out in a warehouse in Pontiac.”
“Where were you?”
“Right there. Ten feet away, maybe. I could smel the gunpowder or whatever it is. I can stil smel it.”
“Jesus,” said Til ie.
“I panicked. For a while I just drove around. Then I went to Mendy’s.”
Til ie threw her book at Bobby. “I can’t believe al this was happening to you and you didn’t say a thing to me,”
she said.
“I didn’t, you know, want to get you more involved than you had to be.”
you had to be.”
“I feel like I don’t know you at al . You were actual y going to kil Jimmy Hof a?”
“Are you kidding? I was going to get out of it, convince Rel i I was weird.”
“Jesus, no wonder you were freaked out the other day,”
said Til ie. “Wel , since this Rel i guy’s dead, it’s al over.
No?”
“I wish it was. Mendy heard from one of his cronies that some ma a honcho was sent in to make sure the Ho a job gets done.”
“Sent in? From where?”
“New Jersey,” said Bobby. “What di erence does that make?”
Til ie was silent for a long moment. Then she looked directly into Bobby’s eyes and said, “I think I met this guy at your grandfather’s funeral. Is his name Carmine Pat i?”
Bobby nodded.
“Oh, shit,” said Til ie. She was grinning.
“What?”
“He tried to hit on me.”
“And?”
“I was tempted. The way you’ve been acting.”
Bobby surprised her by smiling back. “I sure pissed you of ,” he said.
“You sure did.”
“How do I get back on your good side?”
“Try communicating for a change.”
“Try communicating for a change.”
“Isn’t there an easier way?” Til ie stared at him, and Bobby said, “Hey, I’m only kidding.”
“I know when you’re kidding,” said Til ie. She sighed. “I don’t feel like being mad at you right now. Not when you’re in this kind of trouble.”
“Don’t worry, I can handle things.”
“Pat i is a dangerous guy.”
“Yeah? Wel , I’m a pret y dangerous guy myself. Not.”
He laughed, and Til
ie did too.
“When you’re like this, you are dangerous,” she said.
THE ELEVATOR OPENED and Annet e stepped into her father’s stubby embrace. “How’s things in the Motor City?” he asked.
“I came to talk,” said Annet e. “Not on the phone.”
“So let’s talk.”
“I got a freshen up first,” she said.
Annet e went upstairs, put on her mother’s black silk dressing gown and a pair of satin slippers, and touched her neck with My Sin. Her father whistled when she came into the den. “You’re a beautiful woman,” he said appreciatively.
“As beautiful as she was?”
“Your mother, rest her soul, never had your inner beauty,” said Tommy the Neck. He poured them each a glass of Chianti and raised his in a toast. “To my lit le glass of Chianti and raised his in a toast. “To my lit le girl.”
She raised her own glass and said, “To the Center Cut.”
Tommy sat down next to her on the leather couch. “So, what’s so important?” he asked.
“Everybody’s missing,” she said.
“Who’s everybody?”
“Catel o, for one. I haven’t seen him since the day before yesterday when they read the wil . Nobody knows where he is. And Bobby’s gone, too. I think they might be of together, planning something.”
“Bobby doesn’t have the bal s,” said Tommy.
“Maybe he does. He hasn’t been himself lately Or it could be that Catel o’s got him.”
Tommy stroked his chin, contemplating the situation in al its complexity. Final y he said, “We got a do the job on Ho a before Catel o. You already know most of the details from Rel i. What you don’t have is the time. Maybe Catel o got that from Bobby, maybe not. But we don’t need it.”
“What do you mean?” asked Annet e.
“Cal Ho a’s o ce, tel his secretary Al Rel i’s stuck in Sicily. He wants you to go to the meet instead of him,
’cause it’s a deal that won’t wait. Say that you got a reschedule, move it up. Let Ho a pick the new time and place. He won’t be scared of you, just make sure he knows you’re coming alone.”
“What if Catel o cal s him, too?”
“What if Catel o cal s him, too?”
“Don’t worry. I’l get word to Jimmy that Catel o’s out,”
said Tommy. “That this is strictly your deal and Rel i’s.”
“Okay, I meet Hof a, I’m alone. Then what?”
“Tel him you wanna take one car, you can talk on the way. Try to make it yours, but don’t insist. Drive him out in the country, we choose the spot in advance. When you get there, take him.”
“Me?”
“Why the hel not?” said Tommy “You can handle a gun as good as any guy. Just give him one to the head, and bye-bye, Jimmy.”
Annet e stared at her father. “Do you real y mean it?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself. After you do him, stick him in a body bag,” said Tommy. “He’s a lit le guy, but it’s dead weight, so you’re gonna have to tug. Close up the bag and wait, Ralph and Jo-Jo wil come by. I’m sending them to Detroit to dispose of the body, but I don’t want them to know who they’re disposing of.”
“Ralph and Jo-Jo are blood,” said Annet e.
“Yeah, but there’s gonna be heat on this you wouldn’t believe,” said Tommy. “The only two people in the world I trust a hundred percent are sit ing in this room.”
Annet e sat in silence for what seemed like a long time.
Her father was sending her, a woman, out to make her bones in the biggest hit of the century. “I don’t know what to say,” she mumbled.
Tommy shrugged his neckless shoulders. “You earned Tommy shrugged his neckless shoulders. “You earned it,” he said simply.
“I won’t let you down,” Annet e said.
“I got al the con dence in you,” said Tommy. “Now, remember, you’re gonna be the last person they know of who saw Ho a, so natural y the rst nger’s gonna point at you. But if there’s no body, there’s no crime, that’s the law. You dropped him back o at the Red Fox. For al you know he skipped the country with Teamster money, or he’s holed up with a broad somewhere. Maybe they believe you, maybe not. But they can’t do a thing if they ain’t got the body.”
“There’s half a dozen places I can think of to ditch him,”
said Annet e.
“If you can think of ’em, so can they. Every cop in America’s gonna be looking to get famous nding Jimmy Ho a. We got a put him where nobody’d ever even dream of looking.”
“Like where?”
Tommy grinned widely, exposing his yel ow, nubby teeth, and said, “I got an idea.” He crooked his nger and leaned over to whisper his secret in her ear. She bent toward him, but at the last moment she turned her head so that her face met his. “Oh, Daddy,” she breathed and opened her lips.
Chapter
Chapter
Twenty-six
MENDY AND MOUSE were at the Bul Pen eating steak and eggs when the phone rang. It was Rudy. “Excuse the interruption,” he said, “but you think you could swing by here?”
“Something the mat er?” asked Mendy.
“De nitely,” said Rudy. “Something is de nitely the mat er.”
Rudy was waiting outside the clubhouse when they arrived. Mouse took a look at the sign and said, “The Toussaint l’Ouverture Freedom Al iance of Oakland Avenue?”
“That’s our new name,” said Rudy apologetical y. “The lady from the Ford Foundation said it sounds more militant. They some badass hard-liners over there. But don’t worry, we stil New Breed Purples when the foundation people ain’t around.”
“Hey, you got a go with what works,” said Mendy. “I remember when Lefty Levine opened up a gambling joint cal ed the Theodor Herzl Hebrew Aid Society just down the block here. He hired a rabbi to stand out in front like a cigar store Indian. So, what’s the problem?”
“Y’al bet er see this for yourselves,” said Rudy. He
“Y’al bet er see this for yourselves,” said Rudy. He unlocked the door and led them inside. The place was empty except for a noticeably subdued Delbert, who sat at his desk in the front.
“Hiya, Delbert,” said Mendy.
Rudy shot Delbert a contemptuous look and said,
“Catel o stil in my of ice?”
“He’s back there.”
“Come on, say hel o,” Rudy said. They fol owed him to the o ce, where Luigi Catel o sat slumped in a chair, his eyes shut, his plump features twisted into a grimace.
Mouse said, “Luigi, you don’t look too good.”
“You got a speak up a lit le,” said Rudy, “him being dead and al .”
Mouse stumbled, bumping into Mendy, who took him by the shoulders and guided him into a chair. Mendy inspected the body and said, “What croaked him?”
“Ask Delbert,” said Rudy.
“Fear croaked his ass,” said Delbert resentful y. “He supposed to be the baddest dude in the ma a. How the fuck I know he scared of animals?”
“Delbert put him down in the cel ar and let Ali o the chain,” said Rudy.
“The kangaroo did this?” said Mendy. “I don’t see no marks.”
“Ali never laid a hand on him,” said Delbert. “Hel , he’s a damn vegetarian, he don’t bite. He wasn’t gonna do nothin’.”
nothin’.”
“So what happened?” asked Mendy.
“Like I told you, the motherfucker died of fear. He just grabbed that fat chest of his and flopped on the floor.”
“Jeez,” said Mendy. “That’s a new one.”
Mouse mut ered, “May God have mercy on his soul.”
“Amen,” said Rudy. “Now, what we gonna do with him?”
“Catel o’s people know he was coming to Waterford to see me. My ass is in a sling,” said Mouse.
“Oh, yeah?” said Delbert with evident relief. “You hear that, Rudy? We ditch the body, nobody ain’t gonna suspect us, man. It’s al on this motherfu
cker.”
Rudy said, “The Mouse ain’t gonna say a word, that what you think? Not even mention us at al ?”
Delbert said, “Shoot his ass and ditch ’em together.”
Mouse drew his pistol and said, “Hey, you chocolate cock-sucker, anybody gets shot around here it’s gonna be you.”
“Man, put that away, nobody’s gonna shoot anybody,”
said Rudy. “Delbert, the Mouse come al the way over here to give us a hand, and you talkin’ about what? Shoot the motherfucker?”
“Shit,” said Delbert. “I told you we don’t need to be get in’ mixed up with these damn dagos.”
Mendy snapped his ngers and said, “Hey, did I ever tel you about Dr. Fred Marcoo?”
Mouse, Delbert, and Rudy al shook their heads.
Mouse, Delbert, and Rudy al shook their heads.
“Back during Pro’bition, Dr. Fred Marcoo was a sawbones who used to hang out at Jew Mary’s cathouse.
He was a real prominent guy, but regular. Sometimes I sold him Scotch, he drank Haig & Haig. One time he took an appendix out for a cousin of mine, also named Mendy Pearlstein, I might have mentioned him.”
“Man, what this got to do with the corpse?” asked Delbert.
Rudy gave Delbert an admonishing look and said, “Go on, man, tel us about Dr. Magoo.”
“Marcoo. Anyways, this one day he comes in and I can see he’s feelin’ blue. He says, ‘Mendy, today a patient of mine just keeled over and died in the middle of an examination.’ I said, ‘Jeez, that’s tough. Whaddya do in a jam like that?’ And Dr. Marcoo told me something I never forgot. He said, ‘When a patient dies in your o ce, always drag him out in the hal and lay him down so it looks like he was on the way in to see you.’ ”
“Man say, ‘Drag him in,’ ” said Rudy. “That’s some deep strategy.” He was grinning.
“See, Catel o wasn’t murdered, he’s just dead,” said Mendy. “Anybody could have a heart at ack. The question is, who nds him, and where? Mouse, you know where Carmine Pat i’s stayin’?”
“At the Ponch,” said Mouse. Cal ing the Pontchartrain Hotel by its nickname made him feel like an insider.
“Okay, give him a ring, tel him Catel o’s on his way
“Okay, give him a ring, tel him Catel o’s on his way down to see him about something urgent. Tel Pat i to meet him in the parking garage in an hour. Then stick Catel o in the trunk of your car, drive him over there.