by Tom Wallace
“Man, this is straight out of The Godfather,” Eric noted. “The only thing missing is the damn theme music. So… how does Johnny Richards, or Gianni whatever, fit into this?”
“Don Carlo loved Gianni like one of his own children,” Dantzler read from his notes. “He doted on the boy, lavished him with expensive gifts, clothes, and toys. Nothing was too good or too costly for little Gianni. Not surprisingly, Gianni, as he grew older, was fiercely loyal to the old man. And as we all know, in Mafia-land, loyalty and respect mean more than anything.
“At some point, Carlo, recognizing Gianni possessed exceptional skills and intelligence, began to view the kid as a potential successor. He undertook the process of grooming the boy for the top spot, introducing him to the heads of other families, letting him sit in on meetings, pointing out potential rivals or threats, giving him Cosa Nostra history lessons… that sort of stuff.”
Dantzler opened a bottle of water and took a long drink before continuing. “No one knows for sure when or under what circumstances Rinetti made his first hit, but the guess is he was around fourteen or fifteen. What is known for sure is that within the next three or four years he became Gambino’s top trigger man. If the old man needed a rival eliminated, the job was given to Gianni. Also, Gambino began to loan Gianni out to other families-for a hefty fee, of course.”
“Paid assassin,” Laurie said. “What a nice way to spend your teenage years.”
“Ah, come on, Laurie,” Milt said, chuckling. “We want our young people to show initiative, to earn a few bucks along the way. So he murdered people rather than cut grass or deliver newspapers. That doesn’t make him a bad person.”
“Shut up, Milt,” Laurie snapped. She looked at Dantzler. “Continue, please.”
“One of Gianni’s most celebrated hits occurred in nineteen seventy-four,” Dantzler said. “The victim was Carmine ‘Mimi’ Scalino, a feared and respected soldier in the Colombo Family. Scalino was notorious for being loud, arrogant, and obnoxious when he got drunk, which he was when he spotted Gambino at a popular Italian restaurant. Scalino approached Gambino and began to insult him in front of others. Gianni made a move to retaliate, but Gambino, calm and dignified as always, stopped him, never uttering that first word. Despite being embarrassed and disrespected in public, Gambino quietly walked out of the restaurant. I’m sure you can guess where this tale is headed. Not long after the incident, Scalino’s bullet-riddled body was found at Otto’s Social Club in Brooklyn encased in the cement floor. It was common knowledge that Gianni made Scalino pay for disrespecting Gambino.
“In June, nineteen seventy-six, Gianni married Maggie Costello,” Dantzler said. “She was a cousin to Frank Costello, another Luciano protégé, and one of Gambino’s oldest pals. But according to Jeff Walker, my Justice Department source, Maggie was absolutely clean, wanting nothing whatsoever to do with Mob life. To her, there was nothing glamorous or exciting about it, regardless of how the movies and novels portrayed it. She had seen too many friends and family members either sent to prison or die an early, violent death, neither of which was an outcome she wanted for her husband. She pleaded with Gianni to walk away from the business, and although he was deeply in love with her, he wasn’t about to abandon Don Carlo.
“Circumstances changed when Gambino died in October, nineteen seventy-six. All of a sudden, stability was gone, replaced by jealousy and in-fighting. Before his death, Gambino chose his cousin, Paul ‘Big Paulie’ Castellano, as his successor, a decision that didn’t sit well with the family’s other underboss, Neil Dellacroce. The Dellacroce followers included familiar names like John Gotti and Salvatore ‘Sammy the Bull’ Gravano, tough street-wise thugs who viewed Castellano as soft and prissy. They didn’t think ‘Big Paulie’ had earned the right to be Boss of Bosses. He had neither their support nor their respect. As a result, his days were numbered almost from the beginning of his reign as Don. A few years later, after Dellacroce had died, Castellano was gunned down in front of a New York steak house.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” Milt said. “Sparks Steak House, if I recall correctly. Gotti gave the order, then he and Sammy ‘the Bull’ sat in a car a block or so away and watched it happen.”
Dantzler continued, “With his benefactor dead, and knowing too many power-hungry rivals stood between him and the top spot, Gianni heeded his wife’s pleas and left the Gambino family. What he didn’t do, though, was stop killing. For the next three years, he was essentially a gun for hire. He is thought to have done wet work for crime families in Las Vegas, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, and New Orleans. And that’s a conservative guess. In truth, there were likely many others the Justice Department can’t confirm.”
“Okay, okay, Jack, enough with Richards’s past history,” Bird said, still leaning against the wall. “We all know the guy was a Mob hit man. Fast forward to how he got to Lexington.”
Dantzler nodded, said, “Sometime late in nineteen seventy-eight an Organized Crime Unit brought Gianni in for the purpose of letting him hear a taped conversation between two West Coast crime bosses. On the tape, one of the bosses commented that a half-million dollar hit had been put out on Gianni and his wife. The reason for the hit is unclear, but Walker suspects it was because Gianni whacked a target the bosses hadn’t singled out for elimination. Now, in the world of organized crime, wives and family members are considered off-limits. That’s a crucial part of the code. Appalled by this serious breach of ethics, Gianni quickly agreed to testify against both bosses in exchange for being placed in the Witness Protection Program. The Feds, naturally, were only too happy to make the deal. However, when they began to push Gianni for information relating to the Gambino Crime Family, he balked. He had only marginal respect for Castellano, and no respect at all for Gotti, who Gianni knew would eventually muscle his way to the top spot. But there was no way in hell he was ever going to rat against his old family, no matter how much the Feds upped the ante. So, after giving information against the two West Coast bosses, he told the Feds to shove the Witness Protection Program up their ass, moved to Lexington with his beloved Maggie, changed his name and facial looks, bought the tavern, and lived happily ever after.”
“That’s a pretty ballsy thing to do,” Milt said. “To just walk away from federal protection and practically live out in the open. He had to know something the Feds didn’t know. He had to have protection from somewhere.”
Dantzler stood and stretched his legs. After taking another sip of water, he returned to his seat and said, “Jeff Walker said the same thing. He suspects the hit on Richards was likely taken off because his wife had been included in the original deal. All bosses saw that as a cardinal sin.”
“Still, though, a guy like Richards, a modern-day John Wesley Hardin, had to keep looking over his shoulder,” Milt said. “I don’t care how much he changed his looks. Guy with a reputation like his, there is always some young punk looking to make a name for himself. I can’t imagine Richards living a peaceful life.”
“Peaceful or not, he’s still alive,” Dantzler said. “And he’s guilty of these four murders. That’s the only thing that matters to us.”
“Okay, Jack,” Bird said, pushing away from the wall. “Where do we go from here?”
“We take all this to a judge and get search warrants for Richards’s house, the tavern, and his vehicle. Shouldn’t be difficult getting a warrant, given what we know about him. Then we bring him in for questioning. We gather evidence and start building a case against him.”
“Does he have any protection from the Feds?” Eric asked.
“No,” Dantzler answered.” And even if he did, the protection doesn’t cover crimes he committed here.”
“Get those notes typed in readable form and bring them to me,” Bird ordered. “I’ll take them to Judge Tucker. She’ll sign anything I put in front of her.”
“Shouldn’t we go grab Richards now?” Eric said.
Dantzler shook his head, said, “No. Let’s wait for the search warrants. I
want to do everything by the book. We cannot screw this up.”
“And keep in mind who we’re dealing with,” Bird added. “This ain’t Rocky Stone. This is a cold-blooded assassin who knows every trick in the book. He will put you down without blinking an eye.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
At a little past noon, search warrants in hand, Dantzler gathered his troops in the War Room. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and dark circles ringed his eyes, but he was wired to the max. Anticipation and excitement pulsed through his body like electric currents, elevating his energy to off-the-chart levels. He always felt charged when a mystery was about to be solved, but rarely had he experienced this kind of excitement. This was something different.
Not wanting to sound supersonic, he took a slow, deep breath, and said, “Milt and Eric will go to Richards’s house. If-”
“Take as much back-up as you need,” Captain Bird interrupted. “SWAT is on alert, if you want to use them. That’s your call, Milt. But make no mistake about it-all of you. I do not want another one of my detectives getting shot. That’s an order.”
Dantzler waited until he was certain Bird had finished before continuing. “Laurie and I will go to the tavern. This time of day, that’s most likely where Richards will be. We’ll have back-up, but I want them out of sight. Laurie and I will go in alone. I don’t want to spook Richards. We’ll tell him-”
“Hell, Jack, you’re gonna serve the guy with a search warrant,” Eric noted. “You don’t think that’ll spook him?”
“If it does, it does,” Dantzler conceded. “How he chooses to play it is up to him. If he cooperates, great. If not, we don’t play nice.”
“You’re nuts if you think he’s gonna cooperate,” Milt said. “A guy as wary as Richards will go on the offensive in about two seconds. You need to go in barking, not asking.”
“Jack, I have to agree with Milt on this,” Bird said. “I think the smart play is to go in with back-up. A show of force is not necessarily a bad thing.”
“We’re not there to arrest the guy, Rich,” Dantzler argued. “At this stage, we don’t have enough hard evidence to arrest him. We’re only there to talk to him and to search the premises. Unless he fails to cooperate, I see no need to go all Atilla the Hun on him.”
“Play it the way you feel most comfortable,” Bird said. “Just don’t take any unnecessary chances. That’s all I’m saying. And keep in mind who we’re dealing with. The guy was Carlo Gambino’s right-hand man. He’s bound to have a few deadly tricks up his sleeve.”
*****
Dantzler and Laurie drove away from downtown, in the direction of Meadowthorpe Shopping Center, with three police cruisers tailing close behind. Turning right off Leestown Road, Dantzler led the procession to a service station, parked, got out of the car, and met with the six uniformed officers. He ordered two officers to position themselves at each end of the shopping center, two stationed in the front parking lot, and two in the alley behind the tavern. After giving the six men a detailed description of Johnny Richards, he and Laurie got back in the Forester and drove to the tavern.
“That’s Richards’s Lexus,” Laurie said, pointing. “Means he’s here.”
“Stay alert,” Dantzler warned, although he knew the warning was not necessary. “And never take your eyes off Richards. If anything looks even the least bit hinky, do what you have to do. Don’t let him shoot first. He won’t miss.”
*****
Inside the tavern, Sally, the big-bosom bartender, was conversing with two male customers standing at the end of the bar where Richards normally sat. Judging by the intense look on her face, and the interest shown by the two men, the tone of the conversation was serious. As Dantzler moved closer to the trio, he thought he detected tears in Sally’s eyes.
When Sally looked up and saw Dantzler, she immediately came out from behind the bar, threw up her hands, and began to weep openly. “I don’t know where Johnny is. He’s not here, and he’s not at his house. Something bad must have happened to him.”
Dantzler gently took her by the arm and led her to a chair. He sat across from her, while Laurie remained standing behind him.
“Isn’t that Richards’s Lexus in the parking lot?” Dantzler asked.
“It is,” Sally said, sobbing.
“Does Richards have a second vehicle?”
“Not anymore. He had a Mazda, but he sold it when Maggie died.”
“You’re positive he sold it?”
Sally nodded. “Yes. To my nephew Eddie. Eddie Clayton.”
Dantzler said, “When was the last time you saw Richards?”
“Two nights ago.” Sally pointed at Laurie. “The night she was in here.”
“Do you have a key to the upstairs apartment?”
“Yes. But he’s not up there. I’ve checked.” She wiped her eyes with the front of her apron. “I’m not related to Johnny, but am I allowed to file a missing persons report? If so, you can get a real search underway.”
Dantzler looked up at Laurie. “Call the officers and have them meet in the parking lot. Tell them to go ahead and search the vehicle. Then phone Milt and let him know what Sally has told us. Have him make sure Richards is not in the house. Tell him-”
“He’s not at his house,” Sally insisted. “I know, because I went by there last night and again this morning.”
“The house on Summershade?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a key to the house?” Dantzler said.
“No. But I knocked until my knuckles bled. And I looked in all the windows. He’s not there.”
Dantzler dug into his coat pocket and pulled out two envelopes. “These are search warrants. One for the bar and upstairs apartment, one for the Lexus. Given the circumstances and the fact you’ve asked us to file a missing persons report, I don’t need these warrants to search the premises. However, for the sake of protocol, I’m giving them to you anyway.”
“Search warrants?” Sally said, taking the two envelopes from Dantzler. “Why on earth do you need search warrants? Johnny’s not here. I already told you he’s missing.”
“I can’t discuss the details, Sally,” Dantzler said. “What I can share with you is that we’re in the middle of an investigation involving Johnny Richards. That’s why we need to search the bar, apartment, and car.”
Sally’s confusion was quickly replaced by anger. Her face reddened and her eyes welled with a new wave of tears. Kicking the stool, she stood and aimed a finger at Dantzler.
“You have no cause to harass Johnny,” she screamed. “He has done nothing wrong. Johnny Richards is the nicest, kindest gentleman I have ever known.”
“Then he has nothing to worry about,” Dantzler said, not wanting to extend the argument. “Let us do our thing and we’ll be out of here.”
“Will you at least put out a missing persons report?” Sally said, bottom lip trembling. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.”
Dantzler was about to say something to Laurie when Craig McKinley, one of the uniformed officers, came into the bar.
“We found something of interest in the vehicle, sir,” McKinley said. “In the trunk, wrapped in a plastic bag. A forty-four.”
“Same caliber the killer used to take out Colt Rogers,” Laurie said.
“Bingo.” Dantzler said. Then to McKinley, “Log the weapon and take it to ballistics. Tell them to match it against the bullet that killed Colt Rogers. And tell them I want the results yesterday.”
“You got it,” McKinley said, turning and heading for the door.
Dantzler’s cell phone chirped. The caller was Captain Bird. “Yeah, Rich, what’s up?”
“You and Laurie need to get to TAC Air ASAP,” Bird said. “There’s something here you need to see.”
“Can’t it wait, Rich? We’re about ready to begin searching the bar and apartment.”
“Forget that for the time being. What I have to show you is far more interesting.”
CHAPTER F
IFTY-THREE
Johnny Richards’s body lay on its side in the Jetta trunk. His hands were tied behind him, his legs bound at the ankle. There was a single bullet entry to the back of his head.
Just like those two kids in the barn, Dantzler thought to himself. What goes around, comes around. Maybe there was justice after all.
“What did Joe Louis say?” Bird said. “You can run but you can’t hide. Looks like the Brown Bomber was right.”
“Who found the body?” Dantzler asked.
“Couple of executive types arrived back from a business meeting in Houston,” Bird answered. “Their car was parked next to this piece of shit Jetta. One of the guys noticed blood pooled beneath the trunk. He reported it to the lady at the front desk. She phoned us. Officers Bradley and Cline were first on the scene. They popped the trunk, found Johnny-boy.”
“Who do you think did this?” Laurie said.
“Believe me, we’ll never know the answer to that one,” Bird answered. “And you know what? I don’t give a shit. This murder has been on hold for more than thirty years. It was destined to happen sooner or later. Somebody got even, that’s all I can tell you. Old debts were collected. And with the enemies Richards made over the years, the crowd he ran with, there’s no way we’ll ever know who pulled the trigger.”
“But Richards was a pro,” Laurie reminded. “He was clever enough to stay alive all these years despite having a target pinned on him. I can’t help but wonder how he ended up like this. I mean, who could have outsmarted him?”
“Someone he trusted,” Dantzler said. “Someone with a private plane. Richards contacted the person, asked him to fly in and pick him up. Once the plane showed up, Richards would have instructed the man to fly him wherever he felt safe enough to live. But… he got a bullet rather than a boarding pass.”
“How did the shooter get Richards into the car?” Laurie asked.