by Susanne Beck
As we stepped through the door, Ice reached off to the left, snapping on the large banks of fluorescent lights that were set into the high ceiling. As the door closed softly behind us, I took the chance to look around, blinking in the suddenly bright lighting. The room was huge, with six bays, complete with lifts and huge orange boxes of mechanics’ tools. It smelled of grease and rubber and reminded me of the days when my father would take me along as he got the oil changed or the tires rotated.
She led us down a short set of concrete steps and onto the main floor of the room. Two state police cruisers in various states of disrepair sat quiescently in the bays. The other spaces were empty. We walked along the oil-stained concrete floor, our footfalls echoing through the cavernous room. There was another door, made of plain wood, which sat off to one side along the wall, and it was to this door that Ice took us. I assumed it was an office of some sort and so didn’t give it much thought when she took the key from its hiding place on top of the jam and thrust it into the lock.
The door opened on silent hinges and Ice stepped through, leaving me to follow as she flipped on the lights of the new room. I could see immediately that my assumption about it being an office was way off the beam. This second room was a smaller version of the first, with two bays instead of six, but with all the rest of the equipment in place. Two cars sat in the bays, almost filling the room to capacity. One was an almost thoroughly dismantled Volkswagen Beetle and the other looked to be a Corvette which was obviously undergoing a new paint-job.
I looked over to Ice, a question in my eyes.
"Chop shop."
"Excuse me?"
"That’s what this is called. A chop shop."
"And a chop shop is . . . ."
"It’s a place where stolen cars are either dismantled for parts or given new, untraceable, identities and resold."
I know the shock and disbelief showed on my face because she narrowed her eyes at me, smiling slightly. "Didn’t think our dear friend the warden had it in him, huh?"
"I . . .I don’t know what to think. This is unbelievable. You’re sure he knows this is going on down here."
Her smile turned to a full blown smirk. "Who do you think set it up?"
"You’re kidding!"
"’Fraid not."
I looked around again, hands on my hips. "How did you know it was here?"
"Ahhh. Now there’s the story. C’mon."
Throwing my hands up in frustration, I turned and followed Ice out of the room, through the regular bays, up the stairs and out of the auto shop. I endured another quick pat-down from my grinning guard friend, then almost had to run to keep up with Ice’s long strides as she made her way back down the myriad of twisting hallways and into the prison proper.
She hit the stairs and kept on going. I followed right behind, slightly out of breath as we finally reached the top. Looking at Ice’s retreating back I tried to guess whether she was running toward something, or away. Shrugging, I broke into a jog, entering the cell a moment after she did, putting my hands on my hips and staring down at her as she sprawled on her bunk, one arm behind her head and her eyes far away.
I tried. I really did. But as silent seconds turned into silent moments, I could feel my frustration level rising. "Well?" I asked finally, unable to bear the silence any longer.
At the sound of my voice, she blinked, as if startled that I was even in the room with her. She turned her head slowly to meet my gaze, her own expression thoughtful and sad. "Cassandra didn’t kill Josephina."
Whatever I might have been expecting, that softly uttered statement certainly wasn’t it. "Wha-at?"
Rolling up to a seated position, Ice tucked her long legs up, winding her arms around them and resting her chin on her upraised knees. "What I mean is . . .well . . .she killed her, obviously. But not for the reason she said."
"I don’t think I’m following you here, Ice." My mind was desperately trying to forge some sort of logical connection between the illegal operation in the auto shop and the information Ice had just given me. I was failing miserably.
"Cassandra said that she killed Josephina because Josephina called me a friend. That’s not true."
"How do you know that?"
"Because she told me."
"Who told you? Josephina?" I had the strangest feeling of sinking in quicksand and was casting about for a way to drag myself up from the mire.
"No. Cassandra. When we were in the hole."
"Ice, Cassandra’s nuts. She’s so obsessed with you she’d probably say anything to get you over wanting to kill her."
"I believe her."
"Can you tell me why?"
She smiled slightly. "Lots of reasons. One of which was confirmed for me this afternoon."
Ahhh. Now we’re getting somewhere. "I was wondering about that."
The smile broadened. "I know." Shifting a little, she patted the area beside her and I took her up on the offer, lowering myself down onto the lumpy mattress and scooting back until I was against the cool concrete of the wall. A more comfortable silence stretched out between us and I forced myself to be content with just the sound of our breathing. When she finally turned to me, her gaze was direct, but shuttered. "Angel, why haven’t you ever asked me if I did what I got put in here for?"
The quicksand was back and I suddenly found myself sunk up to my neck in the stuff. I could feel Ice’s body tense up beside my own as she waited for an answer. "I . . .um . . .I guess because I figured that if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me. It’s really none of my business."
She nodded at my answer, then turned her gaze back to the opposite wall where the Bonsai were flourishing in all their artistic glory. The silence stretched out once again, though not quite as comfortable as before. I could feel my own body begin to tense up. I think I may have held my breath, though I’m not positive.
Her voice, when it sounded, was barely above a whisper. "I’m guilty of killing a lot of people, Angel. But that man wasn’t one of them."
I nodded, feeling indescribable relief wash through my body. "What happened?" I asked, praying that the door she was so tenuously holding open for me wouldn’t suddenly slam shut in my face.
"It’s a pretty long story," she replied, giving us both an easy out.
I didn’t take her up on it. "Well, considering that I’m in here for at least a few more years, I’m sure you can squeeze it in if you try."
That got a genuine smile out of her and I patted myself on the back. "Alright. I told you I was a hired gun for Briacci, but I didn’t always take my orders directly from him. He has a bunch of underbosses and other lackeys that relay his orders for him. One of them is a guy named Nunzio Callestrano." She made a face. "Ugly guy with more hair on his knuckles than most guys have on their heads."
I couldn’t help but laugh at the image and she lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "It’s true. Anyway, Briacci and his wife were in Sicily for the funeral of one of his great Aunts when the word came down. Nunzio sent one of his lackeys over to tell me that they needed someone taken care of. This guy was supposedly really bad news; into things that even the Mafia didn’t mess with, like kiddy porn. This guy told me that Callestrano told him that this man, whose name was Tony Selleti, was making a play for some of the dope houses that Briacci controlled. Like any other gang, the Family doesn’t give up its territories without a fight and I was obviously being brought in to take care of the ‘little problem’ once and for all."
"So then what happened?"
"I always do my homework before making a hit," she continued matter-of-factly. "And this time was no exception. I cased the guy’s home and his work to generally get a feel for him and, perhaps, get a feel for the place that I could take him out with a minimum amount of hassle."
Her words and the flat, emotionless tone of her voice sent chills through my body. I crossed my arms to try and hide the goosebumps that spread their way over my bare flesh. Her eyes told me that she’d seen through my little deception and I
again held my breath, wondering if she’d continue.
Letting go a long breath, she settled her chin on her knees once again. "Let’s just say that what I learned was at odds with what I was told."
"What do you mean?"
"Instead of being this wild-eyed kiddy porn dealer who raped babies for a living, I found a quiet, hard-working family man who bore no resemblance whatsoever with the man I’d been ordered to kill. Now, before you say anything, I know that most criminals of this type don’t have stamp on their forehead, but I’ve learned to trust my instincts in these situations and my instincts were telling me that this was bad news." She shifted again. "During my time with Briacci, I’d learned the value of obtaining private contacts and they came in handy here. From a friend, I learned that the only truth I’d been told about this man was his name. The rest was a pack of lies wrapped up in pretty paper guaranteed to get my temper hot and tied up with a neat little bow. I also found out something very important."
"And that was?"
"That he was a government witness for a trial involving a rival Family."
Now the pieces, or at least some of them, were starting to fall into place. I nodded in what I hoped was an encouraging manner for her to continue.
"Many of us have lines we draw in the sand and this was one of my lines. I never killed innocents and I never killed witnesses, no matter who they were testifying against. Needless to say, I had a very large bone to pick with Salvatore Briacci for setting me up like this and I made a quick call to Sicily to let him know that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t available when I called, so I left a message. Then I went back to Nunzio’s lackey and told him ‘no deal’. I went home, stowed my gun, and went to sleep, thinking that was the end of it." She snorted softly through her nose. "I should have known better."
The shuttered veil slid over her eyes again and I resisted the urge to put my hand on her arm in support.
"I woke up the next morning to the sound of a dozen police officers beating down my door. It seems that Tony Selleti had a little accident during the night and they had five witnesses ready to swear in court that I was seen walking down from his office, gun in hand and blood all over me." She laughed mirthlessly. "It’s amazing what a little money in the right hands will cause a person to see, isn’t it."
I nodded, understanding her perfectly. Though the witnesses in my trial weren’t bribed, or at least not that I knew of, it’s amazing what neighbors think they hear in the dead of night and from behind closed and locked doors. The mind is a very selective thing. I’d learned enough about that first hand. Add a little incentive to the pot and . . .well, it’s said that every man has his price.
"Was it Salvatore?" I asked after a long moment of contemplative silence.
"I thought so, at first. I wracked my brain trying to think of something I’d done to make him want to set me up like that. I couldn’t think of anything. I’d always been a good soldier, listening to his orders and obeying them without question. This was the first time I’d turned my back on a hit." Rolling her head against the concrete wall, she ran a hand through her hair, settling it somewhat. "What I couldn’t figure out was why he would want me to take out a witness who could put a rival behind bars. It didn’t make sense to me. At all. Briacci had always had trouble with this guy. I’d have thought he’d be happy that there was finally enough evidence to get him out of the picture without having to get his own hands dirty."
"You’re right. That doesn’t make any sense."
"Then I started having my suspicions, but by then, I was tried, convicted, sentenced, and on my way to the Bog."
"If you had suspicions, why didn’t you fight it?"
She laughed again, though I could see, in the bright of the lights, the glitter of tears in her eyes. It was an astounding sight. "I didn’t fight it because I belong where I am, Angel. I might not have killed Selleti, but I’ve killed so many more. I’m too dangerous to be left out on the streets."
"Ice . . . ."
"No, Angel. It’s true. I’m where I belong. Where I’ve always belonged." She wiped her eyes harshly with the back of her hand, obviously annoyed at the wetness she found there. "Anyway, after he heard, Briacci backed off from me totally. I wasn’t too sure why, since even though I’d turned away from the hit, his objective got accomplished. Maybe he was just pissed that he’d had to use someone else to do what I should have done in the first place." She shrugged. "I dunno."
"I’ll bet that hurt."
She looked at me for a long moment, then turned away, hiding her face with the fall of her hair. "Yeah. It did. What hurt worse was the fact that Josephina wouldn’t talk to me either. It didn’t matter to me what the rest of them thought, but I wanted . . .no, I needed her to believe my version of the events. I tried calling her a couple of times but there were always excuses about why she couldn’t come to the phone. After awhile, I just gave up."
"Then why did she . . . ."
"I’m getting to that. When I saw her that morning, I knew something wasn’t right. Aside from Cassandra’s knife at her throat, that is. Josephina may not have been a saint, but regardless of who her husband was, she was a good woman. There was no reason for her to be locked up here, unless someone else was behind it. And for her to be brought in in the middle of the night . . . ." Her words trailed off as she shook her head.
"You’ve heard about Salvatore’s troubles with the law," I ventured.
"Yes, but not until it was all over. Her refusal to testify against her husband was just like her, and the prosecutors wanting to play hard-ball just added to the equation. And then she was killed and I wound up in the hole."
"With Cassandra."
"Exactly." Her smile was hard; devoid of any warmth. "She told me an interesting little story. It seems that the night Josephina was brought in to the Bog, the warden paid Cassandra a little visit. In exchange for him letting her keep Heracles, a deal which I’d already worked out with him, as you know, he had a little job for her to do."
"To kill Josephina," I breathed, my heart beginning to race.
"Exactly. He gave her a knife and left the door to her cell unlocked so she could carry out his orders. He only had one other condition."
"And that was?"
"That I had to be there to witness it. She told me he was very adamant about that."
"My God. Why?" Suddenly, the mystery of his presence in the jail on that day became very clear.
"Because Josephina was carrying a very important piece of information. And if I received that information, his whole little fiefdom here could come tumbling down around his ears."
"What was the information?"
"The name of the man who had killed Tony Selleti. Before she died, she managed to tell it to me. It was the lackey of Nunzio, the guy who had given me my orders in the first place. A man by the name of Joseph Cavallo. And the same man you saw outside today shaking hands with the warden."
The whole puzzle suddenly came together with blinding force. Our pious warden was up to his eyeballs in corruption that went far beyond some stolen car ring.
"When Cassandra acted up the first time and I went to talk to him about Heracles, he made me a deal. The continued liveliness of her pet in exchange for my participation in a little business venture he was starting up."
"The chop shop."
"Right. I knew there was really no getting around it, so I agreed. I started having my suspicions back then when I thought I recognized some of the guys who were bringing in the hot cars. But I bided my time until it was too late. Cavallo’s supplying Morrison with the cars and no doubt paying him a tidy sum of money to break them down or paint them up. The warden pockets the money, Cavallo gets new cars at cut rate prices, and everyone’s happy."
"I’m still not sure exactly how Josephina’s death plays into all this, though. Beyond the obvious, of course."
"It plays for a number of reasons. First, with her as a living witness to the actual events that took place on the night that Selleti died
, I could get a new trial and stand a good chance of being acquitted. That would leave me wide open to expose the warden’s little money making scheme and that would be the end of him. In addition, there are some higher-ups in the State Capitol who would very much not want to see that happen, given the fact that Morrison helped them get elected in the first place."
"That’s very true." The prosecution’s sudden desire to get tough with Josephina made much more sense now, given who signed their paychecks.
"Add to that the fact that if you put two and two together, you get a picture of one Joseph Cavallo working as a mole for the rival Family who had a vested interest in seeing Selleti go down permanently. It was the perfect set-up. Cavallo gets me to kill the witness against his real boss, the rival don. It didn’t matter that I refused because he had it done anyway and put my name to it. Briacci never received my message so he had no choice but to believe the little weasel. Josephina also told me before she died that Salvatore had long suspected a plant in his own Family. Cavallo convinced him it was me to get the heat off himself. Josephina’s dead, so the chances of my getting a new trial are nil. But, since I now know who the real killer is, and since I also know he’s a plant, and further that he and Morrison are business partners, I just might have some leverage with our dear warden."
"What kind of leverage?"
"I’m not sure yet. Morrison made his biggest mistake when he made Josephina’s death such a public spectacle. He should have had it done in private, or at least somewhere where I wouldn’t be around to see it. But he got cocky. He took a big risk and he lost." Her teeth flashed again. "He just doesn’t know it yet." Straightening slightly, she stretched, bringing her long arms up over her head and arching her back. The sound of her vertebrae crackling was loud in the quiet room. "But one thing’s certain. Joseph Cavallo’s days are numbered. I’m going to see to that personally."
I couldn’t help the thrill of fear that skittered its way down my own spine and I kept myself from looking at her, knowing that the expression on her face would doubtless deepen that. This Ice wasn’t a noble woman trying to make life better for the women she shared space with. This was a trained killer full of the fire of retribution and the cool cunning of a prowling cat.