by Joe Corso
Red turned crimson from anger and he bellowed louder than he intended to. “Call Jeff. Tell him to come here as soon as he can. Tell him it’s important.” When Tarzan turned to walk out of the office, Red got up heavily from his chair, cursing softly under his breath. He returned to the table by the window and sat down beside Marilyn, who was nursing her coffee. She smiled as he approached.
“Well, that didn’t take long. Is everything all right?” she asked innocently. Then, she took a closer look at Red, who was still steaming.
“One of my men has a problem and I have to help him with it.”
“Can you solve his problem?” she asked.
Red didn’t want to be having this conversation because he didn’t want to lie to her. However, if she persisted in asking questions, he’d have no choice but to lie. “I’d rather not talk about him. I’d rather talk about pleasant things like the Starlight Club. By the way, how do you like the way it’s coming?” he asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Steve the Horse.
“I love it. It looks almost the way it did when I saw it in the movies.”
“Yeah, it does, and you don’t know how good it makes me feel, seeing it the way it is now. I didn’t realize how much I missed the old place. Seeing it fixed up brings back a lot of great memories; some happy, some sad, but all of them memorable.”
When Tarzan arrived at the club, Jeff was with him. Red asked Trenchie to remain with Marilyn for a few minutes while he took Jeff and Tarzan into his office to discuss Steve the Horse’s problem. No one had to tell Marilyn that there was a serious problem that had to be worked out. She could tell by the looks on the men’s faces. She hoped that Red could work the problem out.
Red sat at his desk while Tarzan and Jeff sat in chairs opposite him. He had the two chairs in front of his desk modified so that he sat higher than they did. Anyone sitting in front of him was at a psychological disadvantage. It was designed to make the person sitting opposite him uncomfortable, although this little ruse wasn’t meant for the two men sitting in the room with him. “Jeff, I want you to go with Tarzan to Steve’s house. Your job is to find Steve’s diary. I don’t know if it’s in the house, but I want you and Tarzan to check the house thoroughly. What’s in that diary is not your concern; it’s mine. If you find it, I want you to bring it to me, but I hope you don’t find it. I’m hoping it’s a lot of bullshit because if he does have a diary, it puts me in a precarious position. Search the house for the diary, but make sure you do it when his wife isn’t there and remember: leave the place the way you found it. I don’t want you to leave any trace of you two having been there.”
Tarzan and Jeff waited in their car for hours until Steve’s wife, Doris, left the house to go shopping. The property had high hedges lining the front walkway, so as soon as she was out of sight, the two men walked toward the house hidden, by the hedges. They were through the front door and in the house in less than a minute. They hurriedly performed a thorough search of the house, but they couldn’t find the diary, so they left the way they entered, making sure the place was left the way they found it.
Tarzan reported this to Red. “If he has a diary, he must keep it in a safe deposit box either in a bank or in any one of a number of places. An airport, bus terminal, train station or a ship and pack store, or even the post office.”
“If he has it in a bank, then there’s a chance he could be keeping it in one of my banks,” Red said. “I’ll check on it tomorrow. Meanwhile, I want you to keep a couple of guys on him. He has to check for it sometime. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll check on it sooner rather than later. Keep following him, but never let him know he’s being followed. Sooner or later, he’ll lead us to the diary.”
CHAPTER 21
Attorney General’s Office
“Have your men found her yet, Emil?”
“Uh, no, Mr. Kennedy. Not yet, but they have them under surveillance. I’m certain that we’ll have their routine logged over the three-week period and their report will be given to our experts to examine. Then, based on the information gleaned from the report, they will make an informed decision on where and when to ambush these men.”
“How long have your men been following them?” the attorney general asked.
“It’s just one week now, sir. We need at least another two weeks for our experts to make a determination on where to surprise them.”
Kennedy shook his head, “I hate waiting, but I guess we don’t have any choice in the matter, do we?”
“No, sir. We need time to document all their moves so our people can determine the perfect spot for the ambush.”
“Keep me informed on your progress, Emil. Hopefully we can conclude this business soon.”
Red was once again enjoying his morning routine, especially since Marilyn was with him each morning. He read his paper by the window while enjoying his morning coffee with toast or biscotti. It’s funny how important the little things are, he thought. He realized now how much he missed sitting by the window at his favorite table, reading his papers and drinking his coffee. It was true, it was a little thing, but it was missing from his daily routine. Now that his routine was reestablished, he sat back and sipped his coffee … and he enjoyed it. The one fly in the ointment was Marilyn, although he had to admit she was a beautiful fly to have buzzing around him. While that thought was on his mind, Marilyn waltzed down the stairs and into the room. She sat down opposite Red and poured herself a cup of the rich Italian coffee from the pot Piss Clam had left on the table. But she refused the Sambuca and instead, she put one teaspoon of sugar in her coffee.
“When do you think this will be over and I’ll be able to live a normal life again, Red?”
Tarzan entered the Starlight Club, stood by the bar, looked towards Red, and motioned with his head to get his attention. Red spotted Tarzan as soon as he walked in and he caught the urgency in his face and body language. He excused himself and told Marilyn to hold her thought; they would continue the conversation as soon as he got back.
“Red,” Tarzan said. “Give me a minute, I got something for you.”
Red knew Tarzan had something important to tell him. “Sure!” He turned and Tarzan followed him into his office. “What is it?”
“We found where Steve hid his diary.”
Red never showed emotion in his business dealings and this time was no exception. “Good. Now where was he hiding it?”
“It never left his house. He had it hidden in a secret wall safe in his den. It was Jeff who figured it out. He called me and asked to meet him. Jeff thought he knew where he might have hidden it. We had to wait for Steve and his wife to leave the house so we could go in and get it. We met earlier at the Zebra Club, where we could talk privately. He told me something was nagging at him ever since we searched Steve’s home and found nothing. He told me that he looked for a safe, but he never considered a safe hidden behind the paneling until it occurred to him that paneling was a perfect place to hide a safe. He thought there might be a hollow spot behind the paneling, but he couldn’t be sure until we got back inside the house. So we waited until both of them left the house. When we were sure it was clear, we quickly picked the lock on the front door and re-entered the house. Once we were in, we went straight for the paneling and we tapped it from one end to the other. Then we got lucky because sure enough, we hit a hollow spot. Jeff found the solenoid switch easily and the paneling clicked open.
“Now let’s see,” he said while looking at the safe. “Let’s hope we get lucky. A lot of safe buyers leave the combination locks on their factory settings because they’re afraid they might forget them. It’s usually 100-50-100. However, when a new combination is chosen, the person entrusted with it lives in fear of forgetting it. So, people tend to use numbers they know, like their birthday, or their phone number. If this doesn’t work, we’ll have to do some background research to find his birthday as well and his wife’s and kids. Let’s try this first.” Jeff tried 100, 50, 100 and we both brea
thed a sigh of relief because the safe door opened. There were a lot of papers of no importance to us in the safe. The deed to the house was kept there, as well as his car’s title and, lucky for us, the diary. We closed the safe and then the secret compartment on the wall and left with the diary in our possession before someone spotted us. Here it is.” He threw it on the table.
Red picked up the diary and started to read it. After a few pages, he became pissed off. “What the fuck was this guy thinking? He’s recorded the times and dates of all the jobs he went on. Names and addresses of our bookmakers, as well as our numbers runners, and our wholesale swag distribution list.” He slammed the book on the table. “He’s friends with Piss Clam, right?”
“That’s right, Red. They went to school together and Piss Clam vouched for him.”
“Piss Clam sponsored him?”
“That’s right.”
Red didn’t hesitate. “Call Piss Clam and if you can’t get him by phone, send someone to get him. Tell him to get his ass down here right away. Now go and find him.”
A little after noon, Tarzan walked in with Piss Clam tagging along behind him. Piss Clam couldn’t figure out what the urgency was. Tarzan didn’t tell him anything and he was a little nervous waiting for Red to explain why he was in a rush to see him. Piss Clam knew he didn’t do anything wrong. But still – someone else could have violated one of the rules and there was always the possibility that he’d be blamed for it. He summoned his courage and spoke first. “Red you wanted to see me.”
“Yes. I understand Steve the Horse is a friend of yours. Is that right?”
“Yeah, we went to school together and we lived on the same block. He lived down the other end, but we hung out together. Why? What’s up? Why do you want to know about Steve?”
Red didn’t answer him. “Do you still have that boat of yours?”
“Yeah! Actually, I have two of them. I bought another PT boat for spare parts, although my original one is in great shape. You want me to take you out on it? Is that why you’re asking me about it?”
Red shook his head. “No, Piss Clam. I want you to invite Steve to go fishing with you on your boat. Have you taken him out on it before?”
“Yeah, a few times. He loves going out on it. We go out past the bay and into the ocean to do our fishing.”
“I want you to invite him to go fishing on your boat with you this weekend, but don’t meet him anywhere except by the boat. When you call to invite him, tell him to meet you at the dock in Islip, at the boat. It’s important that he takes his own car, understand?”
Piss Clam was getting a bad feeling about this. “Yes, I understand. But . . . but why?”
Red ignored his question. “Make sure you have your gas tanks topped off and take him way out. When you’re about ten miles out, you’re gonna take out the fishing lines and do some fishing. Make him comfortable. Pour some drinks, eat some sandwiches. Then, when he casts his line to do some fishing and he has his back to you, you’re gonna shoot him in the head and drop him into the ocean.”
Piss Clam wasn’t new to killing, but he didn’t want any part of killing his friend. He couldn’t do it … he wouldn’t do it. Red would have to get someone else for this job. “Red, I can’t do it. You have to get someone else. Please, he’s my friend, for Christ sake.”
Red glared at him. “I’m giving you a fuckin order and if you don’t want to do this thing then I’ll kill the both of you. You’ll do it or you’ll die. Those are the two choices you have.” Red kept his cold dead eyes on Piss Clam and at the same time he put his hand out palm up and extended it toward Tarzan, who took a gun wrapped in a white cloth napkin from his side pocket and placed it in the palm of Red’s hand. Red unwrapped the gun and handed it to Piss Clam. “Take it. It’s cold steel and perfectly balanced. It’s been tested. This gun won’t jam and it won’t misfire. Use it on Steve or I’ll use it on you.” Piss Clam reached out and took the gun. He held it like he was holding dry ice. He looked at the gun in his hand and then at Red. His heart was heavy and he had a lump in his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried, but suddenly he felt like it. He looked at the gun in his hand and hoped he’d wake up from this nightmare. He looked down at the gun once again … but he wasn’t sleeping; he was awake. This was still a nightmare and he was part of it. He looked at Red again and when he didn’t see a reaction from those cold eyes, he turned and looked at Tarzan and he got the same reaction. He held the gun, but he still didn’t move. He hoped something would change and he would be told that he wouldn’t have to go through with killing his childhood buddy Steve the Horse. Red finally spoke and Piss Clam’ hopes were revived; maybe Red was kidding.
When Red spoke this time, his words chilled Piss Clam. “Call Steve from the pay phone by my office and invite him to go fishing with you. I’m gonna be listening to every word that’s said. I’ll be right alongside of you. I want to hear you tell him that you want him to go fishing with you on Saturday.” Red stood alongside Piss Clam when he picked up the phone and called Steve. Piss Clam did this against his will and although he didn’t want to do it, he invited Steve to go fishing with him.
Piss Clam told Steve that he was taking the boat out on Saturday and asked him if he felt like doing a little fishing. “I don’t like going out to sea that far by myself. I always like to have someone else with me in case of an emergency.” Steve jumped at the chance to do a little fishing with his pal Piss Clam.
Red never wanted to be forced into a position where he had to make a decision as tough as this one. But decisions like this came with the territory. He couldn’t show weakness to any of his men, especially Piss Clam. He had to be strong and he had to have Piss Clam do this thing. He liked Piss Clam, but business was business so he decided to give a little and tell him why Steve had to be killed. “Piss Clam – I’m gonna tell you why you have to do this thing. Did you know that the Horse kept a diary? In the diary, he named the jobs he went on, and he named the guys on the jobs and one of those names he mentioned in his diary was yours. He described the jobs we pulled, including the ones that you participated in. He threatened to turn the diary over to the police if I didn’t give him a raise. He said he needed more money--that he wasn’t getting paid enough. The guy is a congenital gambler who couldn’t hold on to a dollar even if I if I paid him three times what he’s getting now. Let me prove something to you.” He turned to Tarzan. “Get it for me.” Tarzan left and he returned with the diary. Once again, Red’s eyes bored in on Piss Clam, never leaving his eyes. He held his hand out to Tarzan palm up once again, but this time instead of a gun, Tarzan placed the diary in the palm of his hand. “In case you think I’m bullshitting you.” Red fanned the pages and told Piss Clam to stop at any page he wanted. Piss Clam stopped a page with his hand. Red turned the book so Piss Clam could read it. His eyes lit up as Red explained his situation to him. “I’m trying to prevent Marilyn Monroe from being kidnapped or possibly killed and I’m trying to keep Richard Nixon from being assassinated and I don’t have time for this bullshit. You’ll do what I tell you or so help me God, Piss Clam, I’ll see to it that you’re buried next to your pal. In fact, I’ll kill ya myself. Now get the fuck out of here and report back to me when that cocksucker is dead and don’t try to bullshit me because I’ll know if you’re lying.”
The PT boat left Islip, Long Island and cruised slowly along the bay until it reached the Fire Island Inlet. Piss Clam eased up on the throttle and followed the waterway around Fire Island and out into the ocean. When they were ten miles out to sea, Piss Clam released the anchor. He got the fishing gear, the bag of sandwiches, and a couple of cold beers and brought them up front for their lunch. The two men relaxed, finished eating their sandwiches, and finished drinking their refreshing cold beers. “Hold the lines steady while I get us a couple of more cold ones,” Piss Clam said casually.
“No problem. Get the beers. I’ll watch the lines.”
Before going below, Piss Clam scanned the horizon for boat
s. There were none. He came back up with three cold ones: two beers and a thirty-eight special tucked in his belt behind his back. Steve’s line jumped. “I got one. I got a big one. Come on. Give me a hand and let’s reel this sucker in.” Piss Clam rushed over to him, but instead of helping him reel in the big fish, he raised his gun and shot him point blank in the back of the head, watching mesmerized as the front of his friend’s face separated from the back portion of his head. He stood still, unable to move. His friend’s body lurched when he shot him, but he sprang back; his body held by the straps and the position of his chair. The bone fragments mixed with brain matter and liquefied by his blood created an inverted mushroom, which lingered in front of the body for a moment until the ocean mist washed it away. Piss Clam lifted his right foot and nudged his friend Steve the Horse’s body forward, causing it to slide between the guardrails and to slip into the cold waters of the Atlantic. He watched the body float for a brief second, then it sank down into the black depths of the ocean. He lingered for a moment and watched the spot where the body fell into the sea, then he looked absently at his hand and he realized he was still holding the smoking gun. He allowed gravity to take over, which caused the gun to drop from his hand and fall into the ocean in seemingly slow motion. He sat briefly in what might have appeared to be deep thought, but it wasn’t. It was shock and remorse over the fact that he just killed his childhood friend. Then, he came out of his blue funk, reeled in the anchor, started the big engines, and made ready to leave. Just as he was about to gun the engines, he noticed Steve’s line had tension on it. He picked up the rod, turned the sprocket, and reeled in the biggest bluefish he had ever caught. He looked at the big fish squirming and wriggling on the deck, fighting for his life. Piss Clam didn’t have the heart to kill another living thing, so he pulled the hook from the fish’s mouth and threw the blue back into the water and watched with satisfaction as it swam away. He gunned his engines and, with a heavy heart, he headed back home.