by Harper, Chap
He also ate at the same restaurants, such as Mosca’s in Avondale and Salvatori’s in Fat City, as did local mobsters, but denied being connected to any of them. When asked about the notorious restaurants, he said, “Great Italian food for a reasonable price. My wife and boys love the manicotti.”
The idea of an underground facility for his automatic weapons was abandoned when he rebuilt his store in 2007.
His contractor said, “Tony, if we dig down five feet we hit water. There’s no way to keep it out since we’re below sea level here.”
The bunker was then cleverly hidden behind an indoor pistol range at the rear of the store. The only way to enter was to walk down to the end of the range and access a seamless door. These weapons in the bunker were designed for combat where bullets were counted in terms of rounds per second or minute. The federal government prohibited these weapons from being owned, except for the magic and elusive special permit for automatic weapons. Tony and his lawyers knew all the laws, all the ways around them, and methods to get the permits legally. He had made strategic gifts to all the right people to keep his Class 3 federal firearms license current.
The local sheriff had signed off for Tony’s license application way back in the 70s, and in turn, Mr. Evola had bankrolled the expenses of each sheriff’s election every year since.
Chalmette rested close to the Mississippi River and was a lovely spot for off-loading anything needed to keep an attractive array of firearms for Tony’s customers. Many of those customers were just twenty minutes up the road in New Orleans.
The crazy thing was that just about anyone could buy a machine gun if he or she followed the paperwork requirements that Tony’s lawyers had developed. It required the client to form a trust which bypassed their local law enforcement officer’s sign off. Once that was complete and a $200 federal permit was purchased, the expensive part of the transaction was to follow. Tony even put on seminars in the evenings or weekends. He would preach to the enthusiastic audiences until their eyes slammed shut. He truly loved guns and made the following statement at each meeting:
“By law, only automatic weapons manufactured before 1986 can be sold and owned. Since no new ones were in the marketplace, the law of supply and demand has driven the prices through the roof. The price of one M-60 machine gun can cost here at the store up to twenty thousand dollars. AK-47s and MAC-10s are much cheaper. Since we are the dealer, we must clear every person’s licensing process before they are allowed to leave the store with it. If they wish to sell the automatic weapon, it must come back through the store until the new permit holder is cleared even though it’s not our sale. Just remember, anyone can own a machine gun—it just takes money and paperwork.”
Over the years Tony made it known throughout the US that he was a buyer. Behind his concrete bunker wall was a collection that would make small countries larger countries. Of course, his biggest and most profitable sales were when he bypassed all the rules and regulations and sold unregistered automatic weapons of any manufacture date to those who paid the most. They remained anonymous.
In August of 2005, Katrina had flooded Chalmette with over 15 feet in certain areas. Tony loaded tractor trailer trucks and sold his entire legal inventory to a large sporting goods store that had just expanded in the Fort Worth area for $2 million, a full thirty percent off of normal wholesale prices. The automatic weapons, both legal and otherwise, were stored in a dry warehouse until he could rebuild. The trailer with the contraband weapons was worth ten times more but had to be placed in the hands of buyers he would be assured kept their origin secret. With $1.4 million as a down payment for his new store, he built the biggest sporting goods store in Louisiana and a concrete bunker for the largest number of illegal weapons in the United States. The grand opening was held in 2007. The water moccasins were added in 2010.
There were a few dry leaves blowing across the highway, mostly due to stress from the hot days of August. Lester and Debi were quiet on the drive from Lake Ouachita, and both felt warm around their temples from the wine they consumed at Shangri La. The month was ending, and soon it would be time for football games, hunting season, fall events, and cooler temperatures. A time of change. Lester thought about the operation that would remove an object that sat directly on the facilities controlling his ability to read words like everyone else. How long would it take him to relearn everything? Should he wait until his relationship with Debi was stronger so maybe she would be there for him after he was transformed into a total idiot? Would the doctor be willing to operate? Who was this doctor her dad was going to recommend? He looked over at her and squeezed her hand as it rested on the console next to a pump shotgun racked upright between them. They were in Little Richard’s patrol car, identical to Lester’s back at the sheriff’s office.
Debi smiled at him and squeezed his hand as well. “Can I shoot Little Richard’s shotgun?” Debi asked, just making conversation.
“Not yet—wait till a deer crosses the road.”
Debi believed that they were returning to something like normal. Her parents certainly didn’t feel normal when they heard about the shooting on the news. The first statement made by her mother was classic.
“You don’t need to be dating some cop who takes you on shootouts with him. He’s going to get you killed!” Susan Green said this as Debi held her cell phone to her ear and Lester’s big paw in her other hand during dinner. They spent most of the dinner with their eyes locked on each other. Debi had tried to explain.
“Mother! How many times on a date do you pull up to a bait shop while it’s being robbed by two dudes and one has a machine gun?” Debi said, exasperated at the thought that the focus of their date was looking for robberies in progress.
“You would be safer with Brad. He always takes you to safe places,” Susan said.
“Yeah, like his bedroom,” Debi said sarcastically.
“Just saying,” her mother said.
“Mother, I’m done with Brad. No lawyer for a son-in-law. Get over it.” She ended the conversation with her mother with a scowl on her face.
Susan Green had also been a Tri Delt sorority sister while at the University of Arkansas and had married well—something that seemed to be required of her. This challenge had been drummed into Debi’s head most her life. Besides wanting grandkids, she wanted her daughter to marry someone with a good income so there wouldn’t be a financial burden on her and Dr. Martin Green. A lowly corporal in the sheriff office did not figure inside the picture she vividly painted in her mind for her daughter. It didn’t matter that the cop was famous.
Lester had overheard part of this conversation but didn’t say anything until they were driving back to Hot Springs. He figured he wouldn’t be too popular with her country club parents.
“You know, Debi, I’m never going to be truly welcome at your parents’ house unless I get my problem fixed and make something more of myself. It might take a while, but I’ll do that; I promise you.”
“Lester, I like you and feel totally comfortable around you. You’ve done a tremendous job educating yourself, and if you never get over your problem, I’ll still like you. And guess what? My parents don’t choose the guys I date—I do. If they want to see me, then they get to meet the people I go out with—like it or lump it,” she said forcefully.
“I’ll start out in the ‘lump it’ category and see if I can work my way up.”
In about a half-hour, Lester pulled up next to Debi’s car and got out and opened her door, partly to be nice, and selfishly, so he could kiss her goodnight without leaning over Rich’s shotgun. She stood by her car after she had pressed the automatic lock release on her key chain. She turned towards Lester, and for a few seconds they just stared at each other, smiling. He kissed her, and this time it was much different than the kiss over the table at Shangri La. It was deep, passionate, and involved tongues that danced around each other and sent warmth to the lower parts of both their bodies.
“Good night, Debi. I’ll call you
tomorrow about the doctor your dad might be recommending.”
Both went home with one overriding thought in their heads, but it wasn’t time for that yet. Lester checked his mail at the apartment complex’s group of receptacles. The tape he had been waiting on was there with raised braille lettering next to the printed text. He had learned braille several years ago and had an adapter for his computer and printer which featured a stylus attachment for either raised dots for braille or black and white dots adapting braille for the sighted. Lester found out many years ago that schools for the blind could be a great resource to help him. The Hadley School for the Blind had turned him onto The Learning Ally, which featured thousands of audio text books.
He rushed to his apartment, grabbed a cold beer and placed the first CD into the player. The speaker introduced the person reading the book with some soft music playing in the background. Lester readied himself and placed a small braille stylus maker in his lap. He used it to type notes which he could read back by feeling the impressions made by the stylus on special paper. “How the brain learns,” started the reader. Lester waited on every word and at times stopped the player and went back to hear facts again. It was an eight-hour book and Lester listened to it all that night. The only break was when Debi called.
“How are you doing—how is the arm?”
“Fine. Getting a little sore where it tore through some muscle—but you know I have so much of it, it’s hardly missed,” Lester said, laughing.
“I’m sorry you got shot, but I’m glad I was with you.”
There was a pause, and then out of nowhere she said, “Yes.”
“Yes—what?” Lester inquired.
“Yes, I’ll go out with you for dinner Friday,” she said with a muted laugh, answering the question that had been asked of her a couple days ago.
“And my dad has made you an appointment with Dr. Steve Arrison next Tuesday at the University of Arkansas for Medical Science in Little Rock. He has your MRI, so be there at 10 to fill out your medical background. Your appointment is at 10:30. They know to verbally get your info. My dad likes you and wants to meet you, so prepare yourself to be invited over real soon. Seems like you’re like a folk hero to him.”
“And your mom?”
“You have work to do there. Two out of three ain’t bad for starts,” Debi chuckled.
“So’s your mom have any hobbies or special interests?”
“Uhh…she’s in a garden club—likes roses mainly. Why—you going to win her over with gardening tips?” Debi said sarcastically.
“No, but I hope to know something about roses by the time I meet her.”
“Where do you order all these audio books?” Debi asked.
“Blind schools.”
“Oh, my God! You can read braille, can’t you? It would be a perfect learning tool for you. I never thought about it.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It didn’t really come up, and you never asked me.”
“Did you take courses with them?”
“Yes.”
“Why do I have to pull this out of you? It’s amazing what you did!” Debi said, slightly exasperated.
“Did you take college classes and if you did—how many credits do you have?”
“Yes and sixty-six hours. But Debi, they’re correspondence courses from a blind school. It’s not exactly something I want anyone to know. You’re the only one I’ve ever told about it. It’s been a very private way for me to learn. I can feel words but still can’t read the black and white dot version or regular English.”
“Wow! Wow! What in the hell are you going to do to amaze me next?”
“I’d say win over your mother, but that might take a while. I better get back to my book so I can get some sleep. Thanks for calling, and I’m looking forward to Friday.”
“Me, too. Oh by the way, what audio book are you listening to?”
“How the Brain Learns.”
“Jesus! I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night, baby.” Debi hung up, wondering what other surprises Lester had for her and then realized that she had just called him “baby.”
Lester showed up for work a little late on Wednesday since he was determined to finish the book. What he had learned about the brain only created a desire to learn more. He put in a call to the Garland County Library to see how many books they had on roses and asked them to hold a couple for him. Sheriff Mike came by and told him they were finished processing his car and had towed it to Golden’s Body Shop for repairs. He patted Lester on the back and said the department would pick up the deductible on his insurance, and if they raised his premiums, he would pick up the difference. In fairness, Lester thought the department should have picked up all the expense so that no claim was charged to his insurance. Maybe Mike wasn’t being as generous as he appeared. Had he been in a patrol car, all the damage would be paid by the sheriff’s office.
The suspension would be over on Monday since there were no findings so far on Lester’s part. He was free to use the patrol car, but no active assignments. Jake had called about the visit to the crystal mine, and Mike Adams told him he thought next week would be okay. Mike wandered off to glad-hand a visitor wearing a suit who had entered the office.
Lester asked Little Richard to read some reports that were on his desk. One pertained to the two weapons used for the bait shop attempted robbery. The guns had been bought from individuals who had purchased them legally from the Louisiana’s Sportsman’s Super Store. One was a .40 caliber Glock semi-automatic pistol and the other was a MAC-11 automatic pistol. Lester knew the specs on this weapon and had fired it and the 9mm MAC-10. The smaller MAC-11 used a .380 caliber and a 32 round clip that could be emptied in two seconds if the trigger was held down. To own one, an application fee of $200 would have to be paid and there would be a background check at both the local and federal levels.
“Rich, call down to that gun store and find out what paperwork needs to be done to buy one. Tell ’em you’re a member of the Mountain Valley Sportsman’s Club and the club wants one for their range. Then find out what they cost. My guess, they’re between three and five thousand. No way could that dude afford one unless he was either furnished the gun or stole it.”
Rich made the call and finally got to the manager, who was one of Tony’s sons. He told him that he was representing the gun club and that they wanted automatic weapons to have special shoots for club members.
“If you’re serious I’ll send you the paperwork. In lieu of a local sheriff’s sign-off, you can have the gun owned by a trust set up for your gun club, which for a fee we’ll draft. You pay a two-hundred dollar fee, and pass the federal application process. The gun needs to be manufactured before 1986. What kind of weapon do you want?” asked the manager.
“MAC 10 or 11. We’ve heard the .380 MAC 11 is cheaper than some of the others.” Rich was working on his academy award speech, Lester figured.
“I’ve some of both, but the MAC-11 will run you thirty-five hundred dollars.”
“Do you have an indoor range where I could fire it?” Rich asked.
“Yes, but you pay for the ammo.”
“Please send the application to Mt. Valley Sportsman Association at …”
Then he gave his home address and thanked the manager for his help. Rich was a member as was Lester since they had an IPA range for pistols and great trap shooting bunkers for shotguns.
“I’m going to guess that Tony Evola has a herd of attorneys that’ve made this application process very easy. Let me know what they send you,” Lester said.
Lester drove to the library to check out some books on roses. He hoped someone would help him learn to identify species and forms of roses and give him an excuse to call Debi.
Chapter Seven
Tony Evola knew exactly when the local UPS trucks were being retired and sold. This only occurred after extensive work was done to remove proprietary logos and equipment. Great care was taken to grind of
f any identifying UPS signage. Even more work was required to place all those logos back on the trucks after Tony purchased them. They were the older model trucks without automatic transmissions and improved ventilation systems but worked just fine for delivering anything Tony desired. A UPS truck could pull up to the Louisiana Sportsman’s Super Store and load up boxes containing Uzis, AK-47s, and BARs without question and drive them around locally or to neighboring states where they would be placed in the hands of the buyers.
The drivers used quick-change license places after crossing state lines to avoid questions from local UPS employees who were avoided like the plague. Rarely do UPS trucks make left turns as it is more fuel-efficient to make only right turns, so Tony required his drivers to follow this protocol. In the event of an accident, real license plates had to be flipped and the UPS uniform top had to come off. As soon as the police arrived at the scene they would find a used UPS truck with current insurance, tags, and a legitimate registration to Chalmette Speedy Delivery Service, which was owned by Nicco Evola, Tony’s older son.
“We haven’t had time to take off the logos since we bought it,” would be the explanation to the police. All the paperwork was in place, so hope was there would be no further investigation. However, when these trucks started showing up in Hot Springs, Arkansas, it would only be a matter of time before they were noticed by Lester McFarlin.
Drugs, weapon sales, and prostitution were the only ways Spider Gambini knew to make money. She wasn’t really good at anything else. Had she won the Miss Louisiana beauty contest, her life might have been different for a while. She would have toured the state, gone to charity events, and maybe met an eligible suitor other than Richie Gambini. Maybe a doctor, lawyer, or rich guy would have asked her out—but there would have come the time she would bring them home to meet Mom and Dad—Sam and Mary Matranga. Sam was a cousin to Charles Matranga who had retired as a major crime boss in the 1970s and turned his empire over to “Silver Dollar Sam” Corolla. If the suitor called again after that encounter, he was either connected by family, or he was a total moron.