by Lyle Howard
“Let’s take it down a notch, shall we?” Diaz implored.
Nicky crossed his legs on the couch and ran his fingers down the seam of his trousers. “Fine. Let’s discuss this like two businessmen. We need to work some things out before you build your new ballpark.”
Mason adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and straightened the lapels of his jacket. “Businessmen? High praise from a gun-runner, drug peddler, extortionist, pimp, and murderer. Have I left anything out, Nicky?”
Coltello grinned. “Are you talking about you or me?”
Mason took a seat on the arm of a plush chair. “Do you think I would move a majority of my company to a new city without doing my due-diligence first?” He leaned forward to emphasize his words. “My family has been dealing with people like you since before your mother started breathing heavy. I know everything there is to know about you.”
Nicky took a deep breath. “Well, some of your due-diligence is wrong, because I ain’t no pimp.”
Mason smiled. “Still not enough to get you an ‘A-plus’ rating from the Better Business Bureau.”
“I sleep very well at night,” Nicky admitted proudly.
Mason clasped his hands. “That’s probably from all the clonazepam.”
In another few seconds, Jimmy Diaz wouldn’t be able to maintain his grip on Nicky. What were to happen after that would be anyone’s guess, but Diaz prayed there was extra carpeting somewhere in the cargo hold.
Nicky the Knife’s head bobbed up and down. He did that whenever he was thinking. “You know, Pete. Can I call you Pete?”
Mason shook his head. “No, you can’t.”
“Well Pete,” Nicky continued, unflustered. “I’m not really here for a social call. I realize that I’m running over my allotted time, but I didn’t come here to be no fucking welcome wagon for you.”
Peter Mason blinked slowly. Nicholas Coltello was always on his to-do list, but it was looking like Nicky the Knife was going to have to be dealt with sooner rather than later. “I assumed that, Nicky. You would have been a mediocre choice on the City of Jacksonville’s behalf.”
Nicky pushed Jimmy Diaz’s hand off his shoulder and stood up. Peter Mason stood as well. There was very little difference in height, but that’s where all the similarities ended. Nicky had clawed his way up from the street, while Peter Mason’s claim to fame was as a beneficiary.
The atmosphere inside the large cabin had suddenly become claustrophobic.
Mason was the first to break the standoff. “What is it that you want from me, Nicky?”
Nicky’s request came across without the slightest hint of reservation and bore the full weight of an ultimatum. “You need to change the location of your new ballpark. It doesn’t work for me.”
“It doesn’t work for you?” Mason said, curiously. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that you had been appointed the City Manager. Did I miss the referendum?”
“Disrespect me all you want, Mason, but I’m here to tell you that your stadium is not going to be built on the site by the river. Find somewhere else. I’ll even help you finance a new location.”
Mason looked at his watch. Dinner would be served soon, and he needed everyone to be in the dining room while the transfer was being made. “That’s very generous of you, Nicky, but I have my heart set on the area by the river. The city commission is ready to approve the sale of the land, and, in less than two years time, professional baseball will have a new home in the City of Jacksonville.”
Nicky shook his head. “Not by the river.”
Mason walked over to a mirror and began knotting his bowtie. “I’m afraid the decision’s already been made. The commission has already agreed to put the issue on the November ballot. Our polls tell us it will pass by a large margin.”
Nicky the Knife stepped up behind Mason at the mirror, and his reflection grinned malevolently. “Well, if there’s nothing I can do to change your mind, then at least let me give you a hand with that tie.”
In a blur of speed, Coltello reached around Mason’s neck and grabbed both ends of the tie and pulled the length of silk taut. Mason reached up to his collar, but the garrot was already digging into his windpipe. Nicky the Knife lifted his left knee and place it squarely on Mason’s back for leverage.
“Nicky!” Diaz yelled. “Not like this!”
Nicky ’s teeth were gnashing, and his face was nearly as red as his victim’s. “He had to go! Might as well be now!”
Mason was flailing behind his back, but Nicky had done this before and knew how to exert the most pressure. “Sorry Pete,” Nicky grunted, as he choked out Mason’s life, “but I never really cared much for baseball. Takes too long.”
56
“Holy crap!” Magnetti screamed as he slammed his hand down on the table, sending his beer can toppling to the floor. “I don’t fucking believe it!”
A young first baseman named Ortega was startled by the sudden outburst. “What’s the matter, Coach? Everything okay?” He asked, in a thick Dominican accent. “You knocked your beer off the table!”
“I can’t freakin’ believe it! Son of a bitch!”
Ortega reached down and retrieved the half-empty can of brew. “Jesus, Coach! You scared the shit out of me? What did you do that for?”
Magnetti tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling deep in thought. The first baseman glanced around the table and shrugged at his teammates. “You want a fresh beer, Coach? You look like you just seen a ghost or something!”
The batting coach pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “Excuse me, guys. I’ve got to talk to someone.”
“I think they’re serving dinner soon, Coach,” Ortega said. “You want to tell me what you want to eat?”
Magnetti didn’t answer his player as he turned to cross the room.
Simone was the first to spot the coach heading in their direction. She squeezed Matt’s knee under the table like it was a tension ball. Matt winced in pain. “What was that for? He signed indignantly.
Simone jabbed her chin toward the dance floor. Matt locked eyes with the man that had killed his parents a decade ago. Simone continued to squeeze Matt’s leg so hard that he literally had to peel her fingers away beneath the linen tablecloth.
“Matthew,” the Coach said as a way of reintroduction, “I knew that I remembered you from somewhere. It’s been driving me crazy!”
Matt translated for Simone, her eyes growing larger with each hand gesture.
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
Matt wordlessly held out his hand toward the chair next to him. Magnetti sat down and smiled at the older couple sitting across the table. “How are you folks doing tonight?
They nodded happily. “Some terrific ship Mason’s got here, am I right?
“Yes, it’s beautiful,” the older woman testified.
“Have you taken the tour yet?”
“Not yet.”
Matt continued to interpret for Simone, but she missed half of what he was telling her since she had her eyes fixed on the uninvited guest.
“I heard they’re going to be serving dinner soon. If you want to see the rest of the ship, you should probably take one of the tours before they start bringing out the food. You should try stepping out on the Oceanwalk. I was scared at first, but it’s pretty exhilarating once you’re out there.”
The old woman put her hand on her chest. “I don’t think I could. I get queasy pushing a grocery cart.”
Magnetti looked at her husband, but now there was more curtness in his tone. “How about you, old-timer? Have you got the stomach for it?”
The elderly man threw his napkin down on the table and grabbed his wife by the arm. “Why I never…”
“Yeah, you probably haven’t,” Magnetti sniped. “Why don’t you take the old bitch for a spin on the dance floor?”
“You are either very drunk, sir, or very rude!” The elderly woman groused. “Either way, I won’t be insulted by the likes of you!”
“Yeah, whatever. Break a leg.”
Simone’s bottom lip began to tremble as Matt’s hands formed the words so fast, she could barely keep up. Even in silence, the look on the killer’s face spoke volumes.
“So,” Magnetti said, turning his attention back to Matt and his date, “Now that we’ve got a bit of privacy, we can talk.”
Matt formed the words for Simone.
“Are you translating everything I’m saying to her?” he said, pointing to Simone.
Matt nodded.
“That’s awesome. I don’t know how you do that.”
Instead of repeating what Magnetti had said verbatim, Matt signed, “You see the woman with the red hair sitting at the table around the far corner of the dance floor? I want you to excuse yourself and get her over here. She doesn’t sign. Get her now!”.
Magnetti stood gentlemanly as Simone pushed away from the table. “Something you said?” He asked.
Matt shook his head. “She’s going to the bar to bring me a drink. Do you want something?”
Magnetti smiled at Simone and mimicked popping open the top to a beer.
Matt looked at her with his eyes wide. “Stop by the bar and bring back a beer for him and something for me.”
“But you don’t drink,” she signed.
“I told him you were going to the bar. Go!”
Simone excused herself and walked away. Leaving Matt alone with his parent’s murderer was the last thing she wanted to do.
Magnetti watched her walk away. “Beautiful girl! So exotic looking! You’re a lucky guy! In my line of work, it’s hard to find anyone for more than one night, if you know what I mean. Family life is fine for some people, but I’m always on the move, so it’s tough.”
Matt looked at his fingernails, but he was really just double-checking to make sure that his hands weren’t shaking. “What can I do for you, Tony?”
Magnetti grinned at the young man’s sudden informality. Once a gutsy kid, always a gutsy kid. “It’s funny. I’ve been sitting over there at my table, wracking my brain trying to figure out where I know you from. Your face looked so damned familiar to me.”
Matt swallowed hard.
“Then I figured it out. Now I know why I recognized you…”
“Matthew!” Lauren King interrupted. “I thought that was you! How are you? It’s been too long!”
Anthony Magnetti gnawed on his bottom lip as he stood up and held out his hand. “Well, hello there! I’m Tony, and you are?”
Lauren swayed past him and put her hands on Matt’s shoulders almost protectively. Matt turned his head so he could read the detective’s lips. “Lauren King, I’m an old friend of Matt and his family. And how do you know Matthew, Tony? I overheard you say you recognized him. So am I to assume that you’ve met before?”
Magnetti held out a chair so Lauren could join them. “I was just saying to young Matthew here that I thought I recognized him, but I couldn’t place his face. It was driving me crazy. You see, he came over to my table for an autograph before, and I had the strangest feeling that we had met before.”
Lauren put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on the back of her hands. “An autograph? Are you famous, Tony?”
Magnetti shook his head. “Not really. I’m just a coach for the team Peter Mason is putting together if his stadium deal goes through. We get fans asking for autographs all the time.”
Lauren nodded dimwittedly. “I know nothing about football. Brutal game.”
Magnetti half-smiled. “It’s baseball actually. I coach baseball.”
The detective fluttered her eyes. “And just what does a baseball coach do?”
Magnetti shrugged. If she hadn’t been so hot, he would have dismissed her as he did the geriatrics. “A little of this, a little of that. I’m the batting coach actually.”
Lauren sighed and brushed her hair away from her face unimpressed. “So you teach those players over there how to swing the bat?”
Magnetti looked perturbed. “That’s it in a nutshell, I guess.”
“Hmmm…” she replied distastefully, placing one hand on Matt’s shoulder.
“And what does an attractive woman like you do, if I may ask?” Magnetti inquired.
Lauren smirked. “A little of this, a little of that.”
“Ahh…”
Lauren turned her attention to Matt. “You’re looking so well, Matt. How is your grandfather doing? It’s been months since we’ve spoken.”
Matt wasn’t sure what she was up to or what exactly Simone had told her. “Okay,” he managed.
The detective looked back at the batting coach. “Matt’s grandfather is an amazing man. Have you ever met him?”
Magnetti shook his head. “No, I haven’t. I just met Matt a few minutes ago.”
“His grandfather raised Matthew since he was a child.” She covered the side of her mouth so Matt couldn’t read her lips. “His parent’s were murdered in their sleep. Such a tragedy,” she chagrined.
“That is tragic,” Magnetti repeated.
Lauren pretended that the subject was too much for her and she shook it off with a wave of her hand. “So, you said you recognized Matt. From where? He’s deaf you know.”
The batting coach cringed a little at how ditzy this woman was. It’s always brains or beauty. Why are the ones he meets never both? “Yes, I’m very aware Matt can’t hear, but he seems to read lips very well.”
Lauren rubbed Matt’s shoulder. “Yes, it’s one of Matt’s varied talents.”
Now Magnetti understood. But how did a kid with only four of his senses hook up with the two hottest women on the boat? It wasn’t fair.
“So where did you think you knew Matthew from?”
“I’m not sure, but I came over here to ask him.”
The detective turned Matt’s face toward her. “Tony says, he knows you from somewhere. Do you recognize him?” Her eyes never blinked. It was a one-man lineup, and she was waiting for an acknowledgment from the only witness.
Matt shook his head slowly. “I just met him.”
Magnetti interrupted. “He wouldn’t know me. I think I know who he is though. I might be mistaken, but I think he’s the kid who ran out onto the ball field the other day. Am I right?”
Matt could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. He felt like he was sitting between a shark and a bigger shark, he just didn’t know which one was which. He nodded his head.
The killer banged his open hand on the table. Neither Matt or Lauren flinched, but for entirely different reasons. “I knew it!” he announced excitedly. “I told my guys that I knew him from somewhere, but I wasn’t sure. Then it came to me! You were the kid on the field. Damn, son, what were you thinking?”
Matt was about to make something up when Simone returned to the table with a beer for Magnetti and a ginger ale for him.
The batting coach took the bottle and held it up in appreciation. “Well, if two’s company, and three’s a crowd, then four is an orgy. So good evening ladies, I think I’m going to get back to my team now, but Matt, “ he said, standing to leave. “I promise we’ll finish our conversation before I leave this ship tonight. I don’t like leaving loose ends.”
Matt didn’t interpret what Magnetti said, but Simone didn’t need a translator. She could feel his menace from where she stood. Simone bent over and wrapped her arms around Matt’s neck from behind. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then looked at Lauren. Simone needed to be understood, so she actually spoke the words aloud in the best voice she could muster. “It’s him.”
The detective smiled back reassuringly. “I know.”
57
Two bells rang, and throughout the ship, a man’s vo
ice came over the public address system asking all guests to return to the dining room. The tours had ground to a halt, and the passengers were all guided back to their tables by employees in white tuxedoes or long, black gowns. Almost every seat was filled.
Ten minutes later, two more bells sounded as the room filled with subdued laughter and idle chatter and the lights began to dim. The orchestra finished their version of Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration,” and put down their instruments. A lone spotlight lit the stage, but the guests were surprised by the sudden change of hosts.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen; let me take a moment to introduce myself to those here tonight that may not know me. I’m Gerald Banks of the Mason Cruise Line Corporation, and I would like to officially welcome you to the maiden voyage of the luxury hydrofoil slash cruise ship, The Hydra.”
A round of applause, hoots, and whistles filled the room.
Gerald Banks took a half-bow. “Thank you all very much. That long description, like the name of Peter Mason’s new baseball team, is a work in progress.”
The passengers laughed and moaned at Peter Mason’s expense.
“Too soon?” Banks asked.
The crowd was delighted by the host’s honesty. The name given to the ball club had been soundly repudiated throughout the city and all over the media.
Banks pointed across the room. “Well, if any of you have suggestions, I’ll be leaving a box by the back entrance, and you can drop some names in as you disembark. Just please, keep them family-friendly.”
The guests continued to laugh.
“So, are you all enjoying the trip so far?” He called out.
The response was a rousing affirmation.
“That’s terrific! For those of you who are wondering just who I am, and why Pete is not officially welcoming you, let me answer the second question first. Pete’s been fighting off a stomach bug for the last week or so, and it’s finally won the battle. So he’s resting in his cabin, but he wanted me to assure all of you that he’ll be just fine, and there is nothing he would wish more in this world than to be standing in front of you live.”