by Dan Kelly
Chapter 17
When Mickey arrives at Antonelli’s, the place is packed which doesn’t surprise him because Antonelli’s is always packed during the dinner hours and it’s just a little after six. Tony Antonelli spots him looking around for an open table or booth and rushes over to greet him. Tony’s customers aren’t the only ones that enjoy his cooking. Tony stands about 5’10” and weighs well over about 200 pounds and always looks like he just hit the trifecta at Belmont Park or Aqueduct, his favorite race tracks.
Tony and his wife, Angelina, were born and raised in Naples and at the urging of relatives living in Brooklyn moved to the States to open a restaurant in the Little Italy section of the city soon after they were married. They both loved to cook, but knew nothing about running a restaurant. With the exuberance and naiveté of youth, they figured they could learn on the fly and with the exception of some minor setbacks due to the occasional economic dip in the local economy and some startup capital from the same relatives in Brooklyn they succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. They’ve had this restaurant for over twenty years and each year the food and atmosphere gets better and better.
The only thing that hasn’t improved is their English. Their accents are as thick as the homemade tomato sauces they pour over their pasta dishes with gusto. The funny thing about that though is when you’re around them for a while you start to sound like them.
“Ciao, Mickey, something should be available soon. The folks in the booth in the corner by the window are just waiting for their check. Have a seat at the bar and try a glass of the new house Sangiovese, made from the best grapes in the Umbria region in Central Italy. You’ll love it and it’s on the house.” Realizing what he just said he started to chuckle and then continues with, “House wine on the house. I lika dat. Maybe I should put a big neon sign on the roof showing a glass of wine sitting on top of a house and underneath the house the words saying, ‘The First Glass of House Wine Is on the House’. Hey, maybe I’m finally getting the hang of this crazy American language. Maybe in another twenty years I’ll learn how to spell words like physician and pneumonia. You folks have too many words with silent letters. I’ll never understand the need for secrecy. Pazzo, pazzo!”
With a big smile on his face Tony heads for the kitchen, leaving Mickey to fend for himself at the bar which is also doing a brisk business. He is lucky to find an empty seat at the end of the bar farthest from the door and despite Tony’s recommendation orders a Mickey Amber Bach.
“Maybe I like this beer so much because of the similarities in our names. Maybe I need a shrink because that idiotic thought dared to cross my mind. One thing’s for sure, my growing paranoia over the leaks in the department is going to be driving me crazy until the leaks are found and plugged.”
s Mickey’s wondering about his sanity, Feldman, Kadden and Kessner enter the restaurant. Angelina is the greeter this time. “Ciao, Gentlemen. There is a fifteen minute wait for seating, but if that’s okay with you, someone give me a name and we’ll page it when a table or a booth is available. You may wait in our waiting area or in the bar.’
Felix smiled and said, “The name is Felix and we’ll wait in the bar.”
Angelina left them to circulate amongst her guests and the three of them head for the bar.
As they enter, three seats a few seats down from Mickey are vacated by three elderly ladies waiting to experience the delights of the Antonelli kitchen and Feldman and company quickly commandeered them, much to the annoyance of two beefy guys who had been waiting for seats themselves and were heading toward them when the three of them sat down. One of the guys wasn’t the least bit shy about letting them know how he felt about the matter. “Hey, you’re sitting in our seats. Get your asses out of them or I’ll do it for you.”
Felix turns, looks at the man and says. “I’m sorry for your misfortune, but nobody was sitting in them when we came in and there’s no reserved sign on them. But, hey, I don’t want there to be any hard feelings over this. How about we keep the seats and I pay your bar bill for up to a hundred dollars. Would that work for you?”
The man was flabbergasted. “You’ll give us a hundred bucks?”
“I will. We’re beat from a hard day at the office and it’ll be worth every cent of it to be able to sit and relax with a drink or two before dinner. How about it?”
The man’s demeanor immediately changes and they are now bosom buddies. “You got yourselves some seats and thanks a lot.” Felix calls the bartender over and gives him a hundred dollar bill. He says, “I’m covering the tab for these two men for up to a hundred dollars. If there’s anything left over, give it to them.” Smiling at their good fortune, the man and his friend move on down the bar toward where Mickey is sitting.
Mickey has taken in the whole scene by looking in the mirror behind the bar. “It’s amazing what a C note can buy these days. For a minute there, I thought one of those shrimps was going to throw a punch at the big guy. His face was red with anger. Fortunately for him the other two have longer fuses. If things had gotten physical, the man’s face would have been red for a much more serious reason.”
A few minutes later Mickey’s booth is ready and the incident is quickly forgotten. However, he has only been seated a few minutes when it is resurrected by the three men being seated in the booth in front of him. After they have placed their orders, the man with the deep pockets, Felix, said in a soft but angry voice, “Damn it, Jake, you came within a gnat’s hair of losing your temper and putting us in a spotlight we don’t want to be in. Not to mention that you would probably have wound up in the hospital after that guy lit into you.”
“What are you ranting about? No one knows us here. Even if the cops got involved, who would think anything of a few jewelers getting into a tussle in a restaurant bar?”
“Jake, guys like those don’t get into tussles. They get into serious shit and lay some serious hurt on the people who have pissed them off. One of these days that temper of yours is going to get you and us into some major trouble that we can’t shoot or buy our way out of.”
Jake said, “You know something, Felix, you’re sounding like Pierre more and more with each passing day. You two, even you Amos, are great when it comes to dreaming up grandiose schemes, but you don’t have the chutzpah to make them a reality. You pass the dirty work on to someone else, someone with the fire in his belly, yes the temperament, the temper, to make things work. Temper isn’t always a bad thing, Felix. Sometimes temper can make things happen, so stop lecturing me, both of you.”
Amos jumps in with, “Okay, let’s knock this off right now. This isn’t the place for this kind of discussion. Let’s just enjoy our meal and be thankful we’ve had the success we’ve had. Jake, Felix just wants all of us to be aware that failure lurks at every corner, so we’ve got to be on our toes and not do anything that will undo everything we’ve accomplished.”
With a flash of his temper that hasn’t totally been banked yet Jake snidely says, “Amos, always the peacemaker. You’d be amazed at how good it feels to really blow your top once in a while. You ought to try it. It would make a new man of you.”
The men lapse into an uneasy silence as they eat their food and drink their wine. Although the men have been talking softly, Mickey has heard every word they’ve said and his brain has kicked into overdrive processing the information he has just taken in. “Jewelers, buy or shoot their way out of trouble, Pierre. This has got to be a dream. This can’t be happening. I can’t be this lucky.”
Mickey decides to call in for assistance and goes to the men’s room to make the call. He doesn’t want to bring in the men for questioning. He has no proof of wrongdoing. He needs bodies to help in tailing them in case they split up. It takes him no more than a few minutes to make the call and arrange for plainclothes men to come to the restaurant. When he gets back to his booth his quarry has flown the coop. Their meals are half eaten and a wad of bills has been left to cover their bill.
Talk about temper, the tan
trum Mickey is having right now is one for the record books. Snarling like the proverbial junk yard dog, he’s beside himself wondering why they had suddenly decided to leave. Had he done something to tip them off?
Tony, seeing Mickey pacing back and forth beside his booth and the angry look on his face, comes over to see what’s troubling him. “Mickey what’s the matter?”
Instead of answering Tony Mickey asks him, “Did the men in this booth say why they were leaving without finishing their meals. Didn’t they like the food?”
“They didn’t give a reason. While you were away from your booth, one of the men asked who you were. He said you looked like someone he had met before but didn’t want to approach you without being sure about who you were. I told him your name and that you were a New York City detective. He said he was mistaken. He said the man he was thinking of was an investment banker. He thanked me for preventing him from making a fool of himself and I went back to mingling with our diners. A minute later they left the restaurant. Did I do something wrong, Mickey?”
“No, no, Tony. You did nothing wrong. It’s just the detective in me. I always get curious when people do things that on the surface don’t make any sense. Some friends of mine will be looking for me shortly. When they arrive will you please show them to my booth?”
“Of course, Mickey.”
Mickey returns to his now cold Totani E Tubetti and warm beer while Tony wanders off to the back of the restaurant thinking, “Mickey, I may have done nothing wrong, but I’ll wager this night’s take I’ve somehow twisted something up. No, not twisted, screwed or the f word. Ahh, even if I live forever I’ll never speak American like a native.”
When the help he asked for shows up at the restaurant, he tells them what he has overheard, what he is surmising regarding the investigation he is conducting and what has happened while he was in the restroom calling for assistance. “I thought I had more than enough time to make that call. The only possible good thing to come out of this is I now have some first names of jewelers that may be involved in the precious gem robberies, judging from the comments made about buying and shooting their way out of trouble. How many Felix’s, Amos’s and Jake’s can there be in the jewelry business?”
One of the plainclothes men laughs and says, “In New York City? Too many to locate and weed through and not enough luck in all of Ireland to find the ones you’re looking for. We’re sorry this blew up in your face, Mickey, but having these first names might be of some help further down the road. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open for anything we think might help you nail these guys. In the meantime, keep swinging. We’re out of here.”
They left with Mickey right behind them after he stopped to pay for his meal which has gotten cold and he didn’t get to finish because Lady Luck once again has kicked him in the ass.
Chapter 18
Chuck Ferguson has been busy going over the same ground that Morretti has covered. He figures it is worth the effort because sometimes a second look by a fresh pair of eyes and ears with a different approach to things can uncover something that the first look missed. Unfortunately, that hasn’t happened.
Nothing new has come to center stage and the only possibilities waiting in the wings are Vicki Valance’s knowing something helpful about Pierre Lavelle, his operatives in Paris digging up something useful on this Pierre, his network of people engaged in the more shady aspects of urban life in the major metropolitan area across the country picking up on something he can sink his teeth into and the internet search for the likely hi-tech equipment being used in these robberies leading to some persons of interest.
He’s got his cell in his hand and is about to dial Vicki Valance when it fills his office with the voice of Billie Joel singing New York State of Mind. It’s Vicki Valance returning his call.
“Hi, Chuck, I’m sorry for not getting back to you sooner. Between the insurance company giving me fits about the appraised value of the stolen diamonds and asking for all kinds of paper work and getting ready for several estate auctions coming up in Paris in a few days, I haven’t had much time for anything else.”
“I just have a quick question for you and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Fire away.”
“A name has come up in my search for something to hang my hat on and I want to run it by you. Have you ever heard of a Pierre Lavelle?”
“I’ve heard of him and saw him once at a jewelers’ convention a while ago. Someone at the convention said that he was some kind of blue blood with an eye for beautiful things, including the ladies, and has the money to enjoy them. I’ve never spoken with him though. Why are you interested in him?”
He tells her about the conversations he had with Arnie Serefino and Jacques Prevot and what he has his people in Paris doing. “He’s someone that’s got my attention and I want to learn more about him and his activities. He could be a dead end or the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
“Why don’t you join me on my trip to Paris? The auctions I’ll be attending are for the very rich and there’s a decent chance he’ll show up at one or more of them. If he does, we can engage him in some polite conversation and you can do your evaluation of him up close and personal.”
“We?”
“Some of these high society types can be snooty and have distain of the common folk down to a fine art. However, since Pierre has a thing for the ladies, he’s more apt to talk with you if I’m on your arm.”
“Aren’t you the clever one? When are you leaving for Paris?”
Thursday morning on Air France’s 9:30 flight out of Kennedy. Would you like to join me on the flight? I could have my office manager arrange it.”
Chuck paused for maybe a nanosecond. “Paris with Vicki on my arm? This has got to be the best no brainer I’ve ever come across.”
“I’ll make sure to pack my beret. I like to fit in.”
“Laughing she said, “Fine. I’ll meet you at the airport.” As soon as she hangs up Billie Joel does an encore. This time it’s Mickey Morretti, a very pissed off Mickey Morretti.
Without any of the usual social amenities like Hi, Chuck, or I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time, he plunges right into explaining the reason for his call. “Can you imagine how you’d feel if you won the state lottery and then lost the damn ticket? If you can, then you’ll appreciate the frustration I’m dealing with.” He proceeds to tell Chuck about what had happened at Antonelli’s.
“I’m beginning to think Lady Luck has it in for me.”
With a cautious chuckle Chuck responds with, “Maybe she shined on you more than you think.”
“How so?’
“You now have some names that might be connected to these robberies and what’s more you’ve seen their faces.”
“So?”
“So maybe, just maybe, your fellow diners being in the jewelry business might have been concerned enough about the safety of their inventory and themselves to purchase guns for protection. Guns require permits and permits have photos of the applicants. If you search through your data bases, you might find some interesting matches re: names, faces and precious gems. Granted, any connections you come up with might be coincidental, but I think that would be pushing coincidence a little too far. Hell, if something turns up from your searching you’ll at least have a lead you didn’t have before.”
After a prolonged silence Mickey finally says, “I should have thought of that. There are a lot of people who own guns in New York City, but it’s worth a shot, pun intended.”
“While you’re doing that I’ll be gallivanting around Paris with Vicki Valance, hoping to cross paths with Pierre Lavelle.” He fills Mickey in on what they are up to and finishes with, “Between the tails I have on him, the discussions I might have with him and the attendant personal observations I will engage in, something just might come to light that has up to now been hiding in the dark.”
“Boy, talk about luck looking the other way. I get to stare at a computer screen for hours
and hours and you get to stare at a gorgeous female.”
Laughing Chuck said, “Hey, traveling overseas is a pain in the ass these days. It’s tough work, but somebody’s got to do it.”