One Last Kill

by Spenser Warren

  Alfredo sat across from him and retrohaled his cigar, letting the smoke waft from his nostrils like a dragon. He looked at Vinnie as if he was waiting for something. Vinnie stood in recognition and poured drinks for the two of them. Once they’d taken a sip of their drinks, Alfredo set down his cigar on a coaster on the glass coffee table.

  “You talk with Meransky?”

  “Yeah, we talked. He didn’t have much to say about MacErlean, though. Other than the fact that he was a nosy prick. Says he drove Al around a few times.”

  “Let’s hope he didn’t hear nothing important. He was with us, what, four years ago?”

  Vinnie thought hard on when MacErlean had worked for them. There were so many names and faces over the years that he couldn’t recall. “Maybe. It’s hard to say for sure.”

  “Let’s just say four years. You remember what happened the year before that?”

  Vinnie didn’t need any more prompting. It was four years ago that his grandpa Louie, the last boss before his father, was poisoned. The autopsy said it was a drug overdose from pain medication, but Vinnie was convinced it was intentional. Anyone who was closely tied to his grandfather in his final hours, including the nurses and soldiers guarding his bedroom, were killed off for their incompetence. There were a lot of hot missing persons cases back then. Fortunately, no one had linked them to the mafia.

  “Anyway, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Alfredo continued. “About your grandpa’s death.”

  Vinnie shrugged. “Are you suggesting MacErlean knew about the poisoning?”

  “I have no clue, but that’s not the point. What I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone else. Not your mother, not anybody. You understand?”

  Vinnie gripped his drink tighter. The expression on his father’s face was frightening. He’d seen his father kill other men and yell at them so hard his face would turn purple. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared to hear what his father had to say.

  “If MacErlean told the mayor what I think he told him, then we could be in some serious trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Big fucking trouble. You know every major mafia family makes up the Commission, right? Chicago, New York, LA, Detroit, Miami, all of us. It’s like a big board of directors for organized crime. Me and all the New York families are the leaders, but we all have each other’s backs, even though we run our own thing.”

  Vinnie nodded. He knew about the Commission. He still wasn’t sure what this had to do with MacErlean and Ross Caruso.

  “Any time someone has a problem with a boss, you’ve got to go to the Commission first. We talk it out for a while and then make a decision about what to do. You can’t just take out a boss without permission. That’s asking for death. So, what would you do if you wanted a boss dead?”

  Vinnie raised his brow. “Why are you asking me this? You think I’m out to get you or something?”

  Alfredo laughed and took a drink, slamming the empty glass down on the coffee table as he finished. “I’m not talking about me. Though I’m glad to hear you’re not thinking of taking your old man out anytime soon. I’m talking about your grandpa.”

  “What? You mean someone wanted Grandpa dead? And the Commission didn’t know about it?”

  Alfredo pointed a finger at Vinnie. “Bingo.”

  Vinnie remembered his grandpa had been extremely ill, even before his death, and that his father was already making a lot of the decisions as underboss. But who would have wanted him dead?

  “Did someone want you to be the boss? It’s not like anyone would’ve opposed you.”

  Alfredo smiled again before setting his face as firm as stone. Vinnie could tell something was wrong. His father appeared uncomfortable yet seemed too happy, considering he was discussing his father’s death. Vinnie couldn’t think of anyone who would’ve wanted his grandfather murdered, until he saw Alfredo look down at his hands in shame.

  “Don’t tell me you ordered a hit on your own father.”

  Vinnie knew as soon as he said it that it was true. But why?

  Alfredo could only nod as he continued to stare at his hands. “You know how hard it is to acknowledge that? That I ordered the death of my eighty-year-old father?”

  Anger overtook Vinnie. His head was swimming in denial. He couldn’t believe a man they’d both loved had been senselessly killed. “But why? Why did you do it?”

  “It was just his time to go. He wasn’t about to retire, not while he held such a powerful position. I was the one doing most of the boss work, but he got all the glory. Heck, I was already in my fifties and had been underboss for over a decade. It was time for a new direction. Time for me to take over. Believe me, son, when it’s your turn, I’ll know when to get out of the way.”

  Vinnie stood up and threw his full glass of vodka soda across the room, the glass shattering on the floor.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You couldn’t have waited a few more years to take power and let Grandpa die in peace? I thought you were all about family. How could you kill your own father?”

  Vinnie bent down, his face only inches away from Alfredo’s. He’d never been angrier in his life. He’d inherited his mother’s sense of calm and preferred to negotiate conflict with peaceful discourse. Yelling at his father, he knew how the other half lived.

  Alfredo’s expression was blank. Vinnie swore he could see a tear making its way out of his father’s eye. Before he could react, his father’s massive hand struck the side of his face, staggering him. Alfredo stood up and loomed over Vinnie, his face shifting from sadness to rage.

  “You listen to me, goddamnit. If you weren’t my son, I’d have you strung up by the balls and killed right now. I wasn’t the one who killed your grandpa. I may have had it done, but I’m not the one losing sleep for killing a senior citizen.”

  Vinnie shook so violently he thought he would enter a shivering frenzy. Part of him wanted to stand up to his father, but he knew that would end poorly. Alfredo had a few inches and over forty pounds on him. He’d never survive a fight against the old man.

  Alfredo took a deep breath and put his hand on Vinnie’s shoulder. “Look, if Caruso knows about this, not only does he hold this secret over us, which could shut down our operations, but he can use it to go to the Commission. Imagine if the Commission knew I ordered a hit on my own father. You know what that would mean for both of us? We’d be fucking dead. Now get your head on straight for a second.”

  Vinnie backed away from his father and went to the kitchen. He grabbed another glass from the cupboard and poured himself a fresh drink, straight whiskey. He took a long drink of the sweet liquid and poured another. Returning to the living room, he sat back down on the sofa.

  “So why are you having Cal do surveillance?” Vinnie asked. “If you know what MacErlean told the mayor, we’re gonna have to take Caruso out anyway.”

  “I want this to appear civil at first, provide some misdirection. Besides, this affects Cal too.”

  Vinnie took another drink, wondering what his father meant. How could his adopted brother be involved?

  “Why? Why does this affect him?”

  Alfredo frowned. “Cal killed Grandpa Louie.”

  10

  Cal and Tony took off down the alley, running even as the shouts of pedestrians echoed behind them. Cal needed to find a good hiding spot until they could escape. Going back to the car wasn’t an option.

  They emerged from the alley onto Wells Street and entered a public parking garage. They ascended the stairs to the top floor and stood near a parked Prius, panting from the rapid escape.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Cal shouted. Tony bent forward, placing both hands on his knees. “You could’ve gotten us both killed back there. If Alfredo hears about this, it’ll be both of our asses.”

  Tony remained still, breathing heavily. After a minute, Tony lifted his head to face Cal, fighting back tears. “Are you kidding? I just saved your ass. Plus, I planted tha
t bug onto Superintendent Walker’s shoe. We can hear whatever he’s saying to the mayor right now.”

  Cal couldn’t care less what Walker and the mayor were discussing. He wanted to scold Tony for his actions and the trouble they’d caused. Though Cal was incensed inside, they were probably fine as long as they laid low.

  “Do you have the receiver?” Tony asked. “Have a listen. I know it will be worth it.”

  Cal reached for the earpiece and switched it on.

  “Crime is a major issue in this city. Always has been. We’ve got to do our part to nip this in the bud before it affects people’s perceptions of the city. Companies won’t want to do business here, people will stop moving here. It’ll be bad for the economy.”

  Superintendent Walker gave a gruff laugh. “Alright, Mayor. How do you suppose the Chicago PD gets the funding to shut down all this crime? My men are working too much overtime as it is. We’ve got to hire more officers, it’s as simple as that.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get the funding,” Caruso said. “Besides, I think it’s time we put a clamp on a particular sector of crime. Crime will always be around, but it’s the organized sort we need to stop. Send the mafia to their graves.”

  “I wondered why you mentioned them in your speech a few months ago. Have an extra vendetta against the mafia?”

  “I sure do. Don’t repeat this, Walker, but my grandfather used to be in the mob. He wanted to be a legitimate businessman and run his little bakeshop, but those bastards sucked him in. They wanted the shop as a front for cocaine back in the early seventies when they were experimenting with the drug trade. That led to heroin and all the bad stuff. It was awful business, and my grandpa saw the effect it was having on the neighborhood.”

  “So, what did he do?”

  “He went to Alfredo Petrocelli’s old man and said enough is enough. They wouldn’t be able to use his bakery as a front for drugs anymore. The allure of the money to keep the place afloat and provide the life he wanted wasn’t enough. Business was so good that he could keep the place open without their help. They eventually beat him so bad that he couldn’t run the business anymore. He ended up losing everything, got dementia, Parkinson’s, the whole nine yards. He was never the same after that.”

  “So you want revenge for Gramps? Even though the Chicago mafia is as weak and underground as it’s ever been?”

  “I’m sure Alfredo Petrocelli would deny that, but yes, that’s what I want. Imagine this, Walker, if we could reduce our crime rate the way New York was able to in the early part of the century, what do you think that would do for the both of us, huh? We’d be fucking heroes.”

  “Yeah, you’ve got that right. You’ve already got your eye on the next gig?”

  Caruso laughed. “Don’t worry about that yet. For now, just have all your best officers in every area where we think the mob is doing business. If we can’t get ’em all behind bars, at least we’ll dwindle their bank accounts. We’ll make ’em so weak that we’ll eventually eliminate all of the power they have. I can see poor Alfredo quaking in his boots.”

  Cal switched off the earpiece and handed it to Tony. He didn’t want to be caught with the device if the police managed to corner him. It sounded like Caruso was out for revenge. But the police had always been after the mafia. Maybe not with this kind of vengeance, but the threat of incarceration and death was ever-present for every mobster.

  Why was Alfredo cracking beneath the pressure this time? Why was he having Cal follow MacErlean and now Caruso? What was he so worried about?

  “Alright, kid, good work,” Cal said to Tony. “I’m sure Alfredo will be pleased to know he was right about Caruso being a threat. Next time, though, don’t run off. We can’t have close calls like this again.”

  “I won’t. What do we do now?”

  “Get out of here and ditch that earpiece. You can worry about the car later. Get home and stay out of sight for a while. I’ll have to tell Frankie about what Caruso said, but for now, I need to clear up a few things.”

  Tony protested, wanting to follow Cal around some more, until Cal warned him off. Something about Caruso’s story bothered Cal, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. Maybe Fonzie would be able to shed some light on it.

  A few minutes after Tony left the parking garage, Cal followed, ensuring he exited in a different location in case anyone was following and wanted to connect them.

  Cal pulled out his cell and called Fonzie. While Cal knew he wasn’t a made man and would never be let in the inner circle of the mafia’s activities, Cal found Alfredo’s recent behavior rather peculiar and inconsistent with his typical calculated planning.

  Fonzie answered on the second ring. “What’s shakin’?”

  Cal told him about the run-in with the mayor’s men and his suspicions of Alfredo’s motives after listening in on Caruso and Walker’s conversation.

  “What makes you so suspicious?”

  “I get why Caruso wants to crack down on crime. He’s got constituents to worry about, and he wants to prove popular since he’s freshly elected. Cleaning up the streets of Chicago would go a long way to secure his future political ambitions. But why protect a rat like MacErlean? Why is Alfredo so worried about some extra police pressure?”

  “Man, what makes you think I’m gonna know anything about that shit?”

  “Get downtown and have a drink with me. I sure could use one after this morning.”

  They hung up and Cal kept walking. He dialed Maria’s number. He felt even worse about their argument and unresolved apology after his close call with the mayor’s goons. Cal wondered if he was still cut out for this kind of work. His last two jobs had been far too messy for his liking. The excitement was there, but the execution was lacking.

  “What? I’m off to class,” Maria snapped.

  Cal was surprised she’d even picked up. He wanted to yell in response to her hasty reaction but knew that wasn’t the way to go.

  “I promise I’ll make this quick. I realize how big of a jerk I was at dinner. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to tell you that they love you and share the most intimate details about their life. I love you, Maria. I can’t believe it’s taken me a year to say those words, but I needed to tell you.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone was louder than the pounding in his heart as he waited for Maria to respond.

  Had he gone too far? Or not far enough? Should he mention the dress he’d bought her? Was she even in the mood to reconcile right now?

  “Maria, say something.”

  “Cal, this is completely unlike you. What’s going on?”

  “I feel really bad about last night. I can’t stop thinking about how upset you looked when I left. Nearly getting shot sort of puts things in perspective.”

  “Oh my God, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He didn’t want to tell her that it wasn’t the first time. Eventually, he wanted to explain everything. She deserved to know. Even if it meant he’d lose her.

  11

  Cal had intended to cook for Maria that night, but Susan Petrocelli called to invite him for dinner. When Cal initially declined, Susan, ever the inquisitive one, asked if his plans involved the girlfriend that she had heard about but hadn’t met. As much as he tried, Cal couldn’t refuse Susan, and she urged him to invite Maria to dinner as well, after she insisted Alfredo wouldn’t talk about the business.

  They arrived at the Petrocelli compound a little after six. Only one other car was in the driveway, a shiny new olive-green Mercedes-Benz. Melissa Ranieri and her husband, Paul, stepped out.

  “Callahan! Who’s the lovely lady?”

  Cal’s heart drummed in fury and he felt a jabbing pain in his chest as he introduced Maria to Melissa. He hoped the happiness that came from finally acknowledging his true feelings for Maria would last and wouldn’t be destroyed by the family.

  “Well, aren’t you one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met?” Melissa said. “I must say, th
at’s such a lovely dress. Where did you get it?”

  Maria blushed and glanced down at her new dress. She looked absolutely ravishing in it. Cal was extra pleased that he’d called the store and promised a fat tip after his run-in with the mayor’s goons to have them personally deliver the dress to Maria late that afternoon.

  She’d jumped into his arms and cried when he’d picked her up, telling him how much she loved the dress and what it meant to her and their relationship.

  “Oh, thank you. Cal got this for me from Saks.”

  “Oh my,” Melissa said. She began fanning herself and batted her eyes at Cal. “Looks like someone’s a high roller. You know, that purse is an interesting color. Coach isn’t quite Saks, but it looks great on you.”

  Melissa laughed and flipped her bleached-blonde hair back over her shoulder and adjusted her fake breasts beneath her dress. Cal could smell vodka on her breath.

  Cal saw Maria’s eyes flash and her fists clench as Melissa turned her back and reached for her husband’s arm. He reached over to his girlfriend and grabbed her hand, assuring her it would be alright. He suddenly felt inadequate for buying Maria a less-luxurious purse as a present a few months ago. He could only hope that the family wouldn’t do anything else that pissed Maria off.

  Paul Ranieri was a highly successful day trader in the city and supported the mafia when business was tough. Given Mayor Caruso’s pressure, Cal wasn’t surprised Melissa had brought her husband to dinner. Alfredo would probably squeeze the poor man for as much money as he could after Susan served some of her famous dessert.

  Paul gave Cal a manly nod, linked arms with his wife, and lumbered slowly toward the house. Cal gathered Maria in a similar fashion and they followed the couple inside where they were greeted by Vinnie and his girlfriend, Stephanie, serving as host and hostess while Susan finished the meal preparations.