King of the Bootleggers

by Eugene Lloyd MacRae

  Bruno flashed her a nervous smile and then glanced over at his mother.

  Olympia Gagliano was a tall, thin elderly woman. Dressed all in black, her white hair was pulled back in a severe bun. But the smile on her face cut through all the severity and she clapped her hands as the band, consisting of two men on mandolins, two guitarists, a fiddler, an accordion player and two young men striking tambourines and singing from time to time, played there heart out.

  Concetta squeezed his hand again, "And don't think your mother's going to be there by the bedside to help you either."

  Bruno's face showed mild surprise. He shook his head, "I wasn't–"

  Concetta winked at him, "I'm just teasing you." Stepping onto the dance floor, she pulled his hand, "Come."

  Bruno looked like he was being led to the slaughter. When his wife turned and put her hands out in the dance position, he awkwardly took up his stance. Concetta then gave him a slight nod to begin and Bruno began to lead her around the dance floor in a waltz at three-quarter time.

  Shouts of 'evviva gli sposi' rang out and the wedding guests clapped in rhythm to the music.

  After a few awkward moments, Bruno began to relax and moved his new bride smoother around the dance floor.

  The wedding guests laughed and applauded and the cheers and shrill whistles of encouragement swept around the room.

  Angelo Controni pushed his way to the edge of the dance floor, pulling a laughing Rosalia Nicoletta behind him. He put his hands to his mouth and yelled "kiss for the bride" repeatedly. Others took up the chant, clapping their hands.

  Bruno bent his head and gave his new wife a brief kiss.

  Concetta stopped dancing, reached up, placed a hand on each side of her husband's head and pulled it down towards her, planting a passionate kiss on his lips. She held it for nearly thirty seconds as the wedding guests stomped, clapped and cheered her on.

  When the kiss ended, a member of the band shouted out, "Tammuriata" and they began playing the first of a series of fast, upbeat Tarantella folk dances. The wedding guests cheered and piled onto the dance floor, kicking up a storm and for the rest of the evening they engaged in every popular dance from the recent ragtime era to the new jazz age.

  NEAR THE END OF THE evening, as the wedding guests continued to eat, drink and dance, Rocco held Olympia Gagliano's hand as he led her out the front door of the social club. Bruno and Concetta, holding hands, followed closely behind. Strangers on the street complimented Concetta on her wedding gown as the group headed for the far corner of the street.

  "I hope your mother knows how much I appreciate her grandmother's wedding gown," Concetta whispered to Bruno. "I didn't have anyone to pass one down to me and–"

  Bruno squeezed her hand, "She knows. She's just happy someone decided to marry her son."

  Concetta smiled back at him.

  Turning the corner, Rocco led the group halfway down the street where he crossed over and stood in front of a large, three-story wooden home.

  "This is a big house," Bruno said as he stood on the planked sidewalk beside Rocco and his mother. "But why...?"

  "Besha and I wanted to give you a wedding present," Rocco said. "This is it...your new house."

  Concetta broke into tears, "Veramente? La nostra casa?" She threw her arms around Rocco's neck, "Grazie. Thank you. Thank you very much."

  When his wife stepped back, Bruno threw his big arms around Rocco as well, "Thank you, boss."

  Rocco grunted from the force as Concetta explained to Bruno's mother in Italian what was happening. A surprised look crossed her face and she clapped her hands in delight.

  As Bruno stepped back, Rocco pointed at the house and said, "Actually you only get two-thirds of the house. I know you and Concetta were worried about your mother, Bruno. I know you were trying to find an apartment big enough for all of you. So we had the back half of the first-floor made into an apartment for her, complete with a small kitchen. That way she doesn't have to climb any stairs."

  Concetta took her mother-in-law's hands and explained it to her.

  Mama Gagliano burst into tears and threw her arms around Rocco, squeezing him tightly, her words muffled as she buried her face against his shoulder.

  When his mother stepped back and searched for a handkerchief, Bruno moved in and shook Rocco's hand, pumping it up and down, "Thank you again, boss. You paid to bring my mother over and I didn't expect anything more. Grazie."

  "You're very welcome. He looked at Concetta, "I guess you'll be closing down the bakery shop, now that you're a married woman."

  Concetta shook her head, "No, no. Momma Gagliano and I discussed it and we are going to work it together. She wants to keep busy and I want to keep it going out of respect for my parents and my grandfather who started it." She looked up at Bruno and added, "Of course, I might have to hire help once all the little bambinos come along."

  Bruno flashed her an awkward smile, "We should get back to our guests."

  "He's right," Concetta agreed.

  "No," Rocco said firmly. "That's why Besha stayed behind, she's letting them know you two have started your honeymoon." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large wad of bills, "Normally the bride is given little packets of money by the guests but we wanted to do it differently. Everyone chipped in." He passed the cash to an astonished Concetta, "Use whatever you want for a quick trip or save it to start your new life together. Tony is bringing your car around later, Bruno. He'll park it in front of the house. The boys will move your mother's stuff over from your old place as soon as you're ready." He slapped the big man on the shoulder, "The girls put some curtains on the biggest bedroom and you'll find a bed set up and stuff in the bathroom. See you in a few days."

  Concetta threw her arms around Rocco again and then grabbed her husband's hand, pulling the red-faced Bruno towards their new home.

  Rocco took Momma Gagliano back to the wedding and was surprised when she dragged him onto the dance floor.

  Besha laughed and clapped as the pair swung around the room.

  BRUNO AND CONCETTA roamed through the big house hand in hand, laughing and giggling at the fact they were the owners of a home they considered the size of a palace. Besha and the girls had set up the kitchen area, leaving a note that they could pick out their own furnishings when they were ready. Bruno was very happy with the small apartment area set up for his mother.

  They found the bedroom area the girls had set up on the second floor.

  "This is nice," Bruno said, "I wonder what we have on the third floor." He headed for the door.

  Concetta grabbed his hand and stopped him from going into the hallway. She reached out and pulled the door shut. Then she turned and walked over towards the bed. Standing beside the chair she turned and began unbuttoning her wedding gown.

  Bruno shuffled awkwardly on his feet.

  Peeling the garment off, Concetta set it carefully on the chair as she glanced at Bruno, "We don't want to ruin it, do we?" Concetta put her thumbs in the waistband of her white knickers and slowly pushed them down her legs. Stepping out of them, she put them with the dress. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked at her husband, "Do you approve?"

  Bruno swallowed hard as he looked her over from head to foot. The soft, pink corset barely contained her breasts. Her hourglass shape was quite evident and the garters held up white stockings that hugged her shapely legs. His eyes lingered on the triangle of dark hair between her legs.

  After allowing her husband a few moments to drink in her beauty, Concetta sat on the bed, "You can remove the rest for me." Waiting a moment, she nodded her head once towards his pants, "Are you just going to stand there?"

  Bruno hesitated a moment and then quickly removed his suit jacket, kicked off his shoe's, dropped his pants and undershorts, pushed them off his legs and stood up to unbutton his shirt.

  Concetta moved her hands to her face in astonishment. "Your mother warned me," she whispered, "but I never thought..."

  Bruno stopped un
buttoning his shirt, surprise showing on his face, "My...?"

  Concetta nodded, "She said ever since you were a baby and she knew how large you were...she worried if women wouldn't want you to...." She lay back on the bed and slowly opened her legs, "We're going to have big bambinos...."

  Chapter 60

  ROCCO LEANED BACK against a tree at the edge of the road outside The Racalmutese Social Club, smoking a cigarette. He was glad everyone was having fun. Only one thing bothered him right now. The second Pinkerton Detective. The one who was supposed to be a woman. How long would this Chief Constable Wherley keep her around? And where is she now? Is she here tonight and we don't know it? Rosalia Nicoletta popped into his mind. But he wasn't sure if it was because he suspected her as one of the few unknowns around the gang...or the fact she was a gorgeous, dark-eyed beauty with pouty lips who used those assets in a very deliberate manner. He had known women like that but this seemed different in some way. She sure loved to twirl on the dance floor and get her dress lifting with a definite purpose. Rocco had watched her watching the men's eyes roving over her legs and underwear as if she were measuring them in some way.

  Rocco had to admit though that she appeared to like Angelo Controni a lot and they had drawn close. He was happy for Angelo. But how much was genuine...and much could it be acting skills from the second Pinkerton Detective–?

  A giggle from the side of the club caught Rocco's attention and he turned his head to look around the tree.

  Elena Borrasso was leaning back against the wall as a young man whispered in her ear. Rocco smiled. Tommy Giachetti had brought her to the reception, proudly walking in with her on his arm. He wasn't much of a dancer but he was having a lot of fun. And Elena was another one who knew how she affected the men around her, especially Tommy. She made sure she stepped away from him when he twirled her on the dance floor, aware his eyes were on her legs under the lifting skirt just like–

  The young man moved his head from her ear to brush his lips across hers. It was Marco Passantino...not Tommy Giachetti.

  Elena giggled again as she blocked Passantino's hand moving up from her waist and just before it cupped her breast.

  Rocco's jaw clenched with anger. Not because he cared about Marco Passantino looking for a little extra on the side. Not because Passantino's pregnant wife Gabriella was inside. But because he was cutting in on someone Rocco cared about. Tommy had worked side by side with him from the start, rowing across a bitterly cold Niagara River to deliver their first cases of whiskey. And what Passantino was doing could only create division in an organization that was starting to really work well. That idea struck Rocco as odd. He had never, ever thought about what he was putting together as an organization–

  The laughter and joy from inside The Racalmutese Social Club burst out across the street for a moment as someone came out the front door. It was Tommy Giachetti.

  Tommy called out to someone on the sidewalk, "Hey, you see Elena?"

  Rocco saw Marco Passantino's greasy smile as he slipped away from Elena and moved back into the darkness along the side of the building. The bastard knows fully well what he's doing.

  Elena smoothed her dress down as she slipped out onto the sidewalk and headed towards the front door, "Hey Tommy. I just came out for some fresh air."

  Rocco stepped away from the tree and took a drag from his cigarette.

  Elena slowed her pace for a moment, looking at Rocco in brief surprise before trying to hide it.

  Blowing out the smoke, Rocco gave her a hard look. I saw you. I know.

  Giving him a slight sneer, Elena picked up her pace again and met Tommy, grabbing his hand, "Let's go inside and dance some more." As she led Tommy back inside, she glared back at Rocco one more time.

  Rocco just took another drag on his cigarette, eyes steady and unwavering. When the door closed he turned back to face the street. Maybe I should just put a bullet in both of them–

  Noise from the club spilled out again as someone else came outside. A few moments later, Guido Vitale stepped over beside Rocco, holding up a cigarette, "You got a light?"

  Rocco passed his own cigarette over as he blew out a puff of smoke. He looked up at the night sky for a moment as Vitale puffed the way, getting his own cigarette lit.

  Vitale passed the cigarette back, "Thanks." He took a heavy drag on his cigarette and inhaled deeply, "And thank you for inviting me and the boys. And our families. It wasn't expected–"

  "It's smarter than keeping old feuds going."

  Vitale nodded agreement as he smoked the cigarette.

  "You sure dance up a storm."

  Vitale shrugged his shoulders and smiled, "Yeah. Me and momma like to spend our summers in Crystal Beach. They got a real nice dance hall there and good bands. Waltz, Tango, the Fox-Trot...you ever been...?"

  "No. I've been near there, but for different matters."

  "You should go sometime. You and Besha. Maybe we all get together and have some fun."

  "Maybe," Rocco said as he flipped his cigarette into the street, "I did notice though, that you looked worried from time to time tonight...."

  Vitale didn't say anything. He took a puff on a cigarette and looked in the other direction, watching people walk along the street. After a moment, he gestured with the cigarette, "I got a bit of a problem. But me and the boys–"

  "Who is it?"

  "No, no. It's my problem, Rocco," Vitale said as he flipped his own cigarette into the street. "There's no need to get you involved."

  "Keep in mind your problems could eventually become my problems. I prefer to know about them ahead of time."

  Vitale buttoned his suit jacket and smoothed the material as he considered that comment. Then he said, "It's Charles Corman down in St. Catherines. You know him?"

  "No."

  "He moved in a few years ago. From Montréal. They called him an 'edge man' when he was up there."

  "Edge man?

  "Yeah. That means he kept the gambling going for everyone by working with the police and the politicians. Corman left someone behind to run his operation up there and then muscled out the small timers down in St. Catherines. He made a deal to bring alcohol out of Quebec and I'm told his plans are to sell to the Americans, starting in the Buffalo area. He's been getting some push back from Baby Face Monterosso over there but he's made a lot of headway. And now he's headed my way. He's starting to push his way into Cherry Heights–"

  "Leave him to me."

  "Rocco, I'm not asking–"

  "You don't have to," Rocco said as he put his hands in his pockets." When he gets into alcohol, he's a threat to my business. And I have no interest in waiting until he tries pushing further across the city before dealing with him."

  "Okay, I understand," Guido Vitale said. He turned to head back inside the club. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back, "When me and Emilia go to Crystal Beach, an old friend vacations there at the same time. He comes across from Cleveland to be with us."

  Rocco looked at Vitale, wondering why he had broached the subject.

  "Samuel Todaro?"

  "Of the Todaro brothers? Read about them in the newspapers. What'd they call them? Black Sam and Big Joe...don't remember the names of the others–"

  "The other two brothers are dead now," Vitale said with a reluctant shrugged. "They all came over once. Real nice, you know? Anyway...when I saw Sammy last summer we talked about the new laws down there and he asked about liquor. He and Big Joe were thinking that finding a supply might be good for them. Add it to their gambling enterprise, you know? We had talked about doing something together but...I had a hard enough time getting enough for my own customers...."

  "Is he still looking?"

  "I don't know. But...if you're ever looking for new outlets–"

  "I am. Set up a meeting in Crystal Beach as soon as you can. I'll give you 2% on everything I move over there."

  Vitale expressed surprise, "Two percent on...?" He shook his head, "No. It's okay, Rocco. I'm not l
ooking for anything. I didn't bring it up for that reason. I just thought–"

  "I know. But that's your fee for setting it up, 2%...take it or leave it."

  Chapter 61

  St. Catherines, Ontario

  ROCCO PULLED TO A STOP across from King's Coffee Shop in downtown St. Catherines. The coffee shop was situated inside an old, narrow brick building. There were only twelve tables and eight counter stools for customers. According to Guido Vitale, Charles Corman had the habit of holding afternoon meetings here with his four top men. It had also become a spot to 'accidentally' meet a politician or city official he was working with. Rocco could see a man, dressed in a tweed jacket and brown pants, heading for the front door. Vitale said Corman had taken to wearing a colorful rust-red and brown-check 3-piece suit so that wasn't him. Five men were sitting around a table on the left at the back wall and - Rocco saw Corman. He definitely stood out from the other men sitting around the table. Rocco could see another man behind the counter to the right of the table. Six to deal with then.

  When the man in the tweed jacket stepped outside, he turned to his left on the wooden sidewalk but checked furtively over his shoulder to see if anyone saw him. It was obvious he was someone not wanting to be spotted anywhere near Charles Corman, the 'edge man'.

  Two women were window shopping halfway down the block. Time to go. Rocco slipped out and across the street. As he approached the front door of the coffee shop, he checked both ways to make sure no one acting as a lookout in a doorway. He couldn't afford to let someone get behind him. Slipping his right hand under his coat, he opened the front door a crack with his left and slid inside, barely noticing the aroma of coffee wrestling with the scent of Turkish cigarettes. Stepping forward down the aisle between the tables, Rocco smoothly pulled his Colt and fired, picking off the two closest men at the table with shots to the chest.

  The others reached for their weapons.