by William Cain
Addie’s first thought is, that’s what nosy people say, and Addie smiles back and tells her, “I like your son, too. Is Frank here?” she asks cautiously.
Reggi’s grinning, her eyes dancing, and she asks, “Would you like him to be?”
Addie surprises herself with her answer, “Yes.” And then, catching herself falling like lovesick schoolgirls do, “I mean, if he’s here, it would be nice to see him, of course.” She’s giving Reggi her “I’m caught” look.
Reggi simply replies, “uh huh.”
“But that’s not what I came for. I have a few questions. Would it be ok if I ask you a couple of things?”
“Of course, Adelaide, you’re the detective. I know you’re here on business,” she says accusingly.
Addie’s thinking inwardly, what is with this family? Call me Addie, Jesus, but she outwardly says, “I am. Let me show you a photograph,” and she holds up a frame shot from camera two.
Reggi looks at it and studies it for a while. Addie studies her face while she examines the camera still. She’s looking for changes in expression, like guilt or sadness or confusion. But Reggi’s a smooth operator and there is no change. “Who is it?” she asks.
“It’s you,” Addie answers. “It’s you, and you’re looking at a house, back in July. Do you know whose house it is?”
“Me? Why would you have a photograph of me looking at a house?” And now Reggi is becoming flustered. Stammering, she adds, “Are you following me?”
Addie tells her quickly, “No. The house is under surveillance, not you.” Reggi immediately calms down.
“Well that’s a relief,” Reggi murmurs. “I thought you were here over the grapes I popped in my mouth at the Fresh Market,” she giggles.
“Now Reggi, let’s have some tea and we’ll get into this a little more in a moment. I think you might be able to help me.” Reggi looks more relieved, and intrigued, as she reaches for the teacups.
◆◆◆
“The tea is very good, thank you, Reggi,” Addie tells her soothingly, adding, “I can’t eat too many cookies. We girls have to keep our shape.”
They both laugh a little. Reggi looks over at Addie and asks, “you said I can maybe help you. How?”
“Well, that house you were looking at is owned by a man where a crime was committed on July 18th. A felony. And, since you are walking Ginger every day here and you pass the same spot, I think you’ve seen something that you didn’t think was important, but I think it might be. Everything is important. It’s a big case.”
And Reggi tells her, “I don’t know, it was long ago, my memory isn’t so good.”
Bullshit, Addie’s thinking.
Then Reggi adds, “however, when you came to see me, I remember that. And I do remember July more clearly because of it. Your visit made me think about it a lot.”
“Anything is important?” Reggi asks.
“Yes, anything. Take a look at my calendar. The day of the week might help. It was a Wednesday.”
“I did see something, maybe. It might have been on that day. It was sunny, but cool in the morning, and it may have rained a little earlier.”
Addie’s ready to leap out of her chair and trying to hold herself back, trying not to look too anxious, “And what might have you seen?” she asks as sweetly as she can.
“Well I think I was passing by that house you have in that picture. My Ginger likes to use that spot for her business, and that’s when I gave her a few biscuits. Which is probably why you have a photograph of me there. That’s the Jones’s home. His wife died last year. Is that what this is about?”
“Yes. It’s about the Joneses.” Inside, Addie is screaming, what did you see!!???
With as much calm as she can muster, Addie asks, “Did you see something?”
To which Reggi replies, “Yes, I think I did. It’s really nothing.”
“Ok, what is it?” Reggi can hear the tension in Addie’s voice, and she becomes a little upset.
“I’m sorry, Adelaide. I didn’t think much of it, but I can see now it’s important to you. Please forgive me. Don’t be angry.”
At this, Addie curses herself for almost losing control. “I’m sorry, Reggi, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
After a pause, Addie asks softly, “so what did you see?”
Reggi reflects for a moment and then tells her,
“There was another woman when I walked by the Jones’s home, on that day.”
Chapter 31 Frank
December
Turn your wounds into wisdom. Oprah Winfrey
Just as Addie is recovering from her overdose of wow! from the revelation that Reggi saw someone else there the day of the murder, the door opens, and both women turn their heads toward it to see who it is.
It’s Frank, and he’s practically running into the living room, “Adelaide!” he shouts when he sees her, his smile broadening, “I saw your car at the top of the drive.”
“Hello, Frank,” Addie says demurely. “It’s really good to see you.” She stands up as he reaches down to kiss her on the cheek. That feels good, she’s thinking.
Behind them, Reggi says, “Hello, Francis. Remember me, your mother?”
Still staring at Addie and making her blush, he replies, “Hi, Mom.”
After breaking his attention on Addie, he briefly kisses his mother’s cheek and then turns to Addie, “Are you here on business? What’s the tea and cookies for? Are you done or just getting started? How have you been?” He realizes he’s making an ass out of himself, so he adds, while the two girls are giggling, “Sorry, it’s just that it’s been a while,” and he leans in close to her ear and whispers, “since you dumped me.”
Addie smiles and shakes her head slowly. “Come with me,” she says and, turning to Reggi, “Thank you for your time, Reggi. Will it be ok if we continue this conversation later? Let’s take a break.” Then she suddenly, guiltily, realizes that’s what she said to Reggi’s son not too long ago.
Reggi calls out as they’re leaving, “Yes, Adelaide. Call me. In the meantime, I’ll concentrate on the day and try and remember more.”
Outside, Frank turns to her, “I haven’t seen or heard from you in a long time.”
“It hasn’t been that long, Frank. Don’t be a drama queen.”
“It’s been a long time for me. I miss you,” he says.
“I miss you, too.”
“I don’t want my ex-wife back. I wanted to end it all with me being the better person. It’s over and I’ve moved on,” Frank says, laying it out there.
Addie stares at him. She knows he doesn’t want her back, but stranger things have happened. Frédérica is very attractive, and women have their ways.
Frank just blurts out, “I don’t lie to people I care about.”
“So, you lie to other people?”
“All the time. I mean, sometimes it’s easier to bend the truth and tell people what they want to hear.”
Addie’s thinking, I can see the value in that, as she looks up at Frank, “Would you ever lie to me?”
Frank gives her an odd look and reaches to embrace her, but she’s not ready. She knows he has feelings for her. Their eyes meet. It’s the same excitement as always. It never fades.
“Just a while longer, Frank,” she says, “then we’ll both know for sure.”
He’s not going to push it. He knows if he does, he’ll lose her. He tells her, “On a first-name basis with the old lady now? She’s coming to stay with me for a week in January. I’ll take her to a show, stuff like that.”
Addie’s not surprised, but she needs Reggi now, so she replies, “She has useful information. Don’t keep her bottled up too long? Would you feel strongly one way or the other if we hypnotized her to get her to tell us more about that day in July? She knows something and hasn’t told us until today.”
Frank looks at her disapprovingly. “She’s seventy-nine. I’ll ask her, but I’m pretty sure she’ll say no.”
He opens the car doo
r for her, she settles in, and looks up, “By the way, was your mother up to see you in New York last July?”
“Yes, for the July fourth Macy’s fireworks display. She was with me around a week.”
Addie smiles at Frank, thinking, that explains the gap when she wasn’t caught on film in front of Gennarro’s home. She reflects for a moment while he looks at her, and she speaks just loudly enough for him to hear, “I care for you, Frank.” And he’s left empty-handed, watching her drive away.
As she’s leaving, she sees Battaglia walking along the road by himself, deep in thought, and she stops the car. He looks over, and a slight smile crosses his lips, “Hello, Detective. You make any progress? It’s been five months. Those guys in the house across from me show you anything you can use?” He knows they’re watching.
You couldn’t be safer than when you’re being followed by the FBI.
Chapter 32 Gangi
January
Proper Planning and Preparation Prevent Piss Poor Performance. Military adage
The smells from the kitchen are making the guys hungry, and they think the girls do it on purpose, but they don’t. There are just a lot of guys in the Glencoe mansion, like there usually is, and they all need to eat. Their typically large noses tell them that dinner will be soon, around four, and it’ll be a time to laugh and tell stories and pat they’re lovers on the butt while they serve what they’ve made. The women still do the cooking, not leaving it to the staff, and they hum and they sing while they’re at it, with wafting smells rising from the stoves and oven tops, making Sunday Sauce on Saturday, with meatballs, hot sausages, broccoli rabe, braciola, garlic bread…lots of garlic in use here. It permeates the home, makes it come alive.
Gangi and his buddy Michael are in a well-appointed study on the main floor of the home, and before them on a wide round table are maps of Miami and the surrounding area. These are topographical and marine maps, detailed studies of the everglades and the waters off the coast of Florida, showing deep holes, private waters, places where you dump things you don’t want found. Like bodies. As the two of them look over the maps, their serious nature takes center stage, and they’re all business planning the murder of Joey Riggoti.
“Vincent has ok’d the hit, but he’s ready to put an end to this witch-hunt. This is big, and it’s going to cause a few problems. It’s bad for business. Gen knows he needs to end his crusade,” Gangi tells Michael. “I’m a little worried, too. But if we pull this off without problems, then it’ll be neatly tucked away and we can all move on.”
Michael nods in agreement. He knows Gangi wants to be briefed and fully understand how this will go down, that it needs to happen fast and be over in one evening; eight hours tops. In his deeply accented Italian he replies, “Understood. Here’s the plan. We dupe Riggoti to our little house by the bay and after we extract his confession, we do the job. Half of him goes to the everglades, here,” pointing to the map, “and the other half, the identifiable half, goes to the deep trench here, around ten miles offshore.”
Michael’s an experienced button man, and he knows the waters around Miami and has a few connections for the Everglades run. He’s a tall heavily muscled Sicilian with an odor of sweat following him everywhere he goes, his dark curly hair well greased. As a former Navy Seal, he’s a calculating killing machine, and he can be depended on. He never misses. Gangi likes working with him. He has confidence about the operation because Michael’s involved, and he appreciates his proficiency, his skill.
Michael, continuing, “He arrives around eight in the evening, and after Biggie gets his licks in I take him to see Junior. I’ve already sent Junior to Florida. You can’t really take that on a plane, even a private one. It’s a little too much to deal with, personally transporting him,” he says, referring to his torture machine. Junior’s half electric chair, half operating table. Michael custom created it a while ago, and Gangi knows it’s the quickest way from point A to point B to have Riggoti confess. “We’ll be recording the, uh, discussion, and it should be over in half an hour. The house is isolated so he can scream all he wants, but I’ll use a ball gag most of the time since my ears are a little sensitive.”
“Just to be clear, we’ll remove all the teeth and cut his fingers off, shave his head. That goes into a plastic bag and that bag goes into another bag. We take the air out of it and that goes into the high seas. As for the body, we get some acid and apply here and there, but for sure on the face and any moles, tattoos or birthmarks. The body goes into a burlap bag to make the alligator’s life a little easier. That place on the map was picked because it has a lot of juveniles there. The adults don’t eat as much, they’re not growing that much anymore. We all know kids need to eat, so a burlap bag with food in it will disappear pretty fast. In the Everglades, we have an Indian guide. He’ll do the job, he’s done it before, he’ll go deep. Ever been on a fanboat?”
Gangi shakes his head over the fanboat, but he’s satisfied that the two of them are ready and asks, “What’s the word out there on Elsie’s killer? You hear anything?”
“Nah. We don’t talk about our jobs. It’s taboo. We don’t know who the triggerman is that Riggoti used. That’s the first thing you learn when you start this line of work,” Michael replies, then, changing the subject, “How’s your dad, Al? How’s Gianni been since your mother passed?”
Gangi looks at Michael, thinking, he’s got respect, and tells him as he puts his hand on the big man’s shoulder in a brotherly way, “Thank you for asking, Michael. Dad’s good, spending time in his garden. He doesn’t see any of the ladies anymore, he misses my mom. But he’s over the mourning phase. It’s been a few years. I’m thinking about heading out to Arizona in a while to spend some time with him. You want to come?”
“Sure, sounds good, at least to just get out of the winter here for a while. Count me in. We can all get a few laughs sharing stories, like the night Biggie met Gianni, with the house on fire in the background. Your dad told the story a million times. I never get tired of hearing it, how scared Biggie was. Your old man’s puss must have made him pee his pants.”
And they both share a laugh, knowing that Gianni’s face was a brutal one. Nobody really knew him like his son did, never really knew the kind man behind the mean, hard face. Alberto Gangi’s old man is a legend, and that night cemented Gianni’s place in the DiCaprio Family as underboss. It brought Gennarro Battaglia into the business. Around that time is when Al, as a five-year-old, met Gennarro. Battaglia’s rise in the Family is also legend, and he took Al with him all the way. It’s been half a century of adventure, narrow escapes, women by the scores, with the business adapting to change as it grew under the highly intelligent mind and analytical guidance of Gennarro, with him anticipating what others couldn’t.
Still, Biggie couldn’t save Elsie, and as the door opens to the study, and they’re summoned for dinner by a trusted butler, Michael looks at Gangi and asks to say a prayer for her soul. They bow their heads, and Michael repeats his altar boy prayers for the departed. He ends with another short prayer and hopes for the success of the job they’ll do soon on Riggoti. They utter their amens and head through the door towards the great dining hall.
As they walk along, they’re solemn, and Gangi is the first to speak. “Gen’s sad. Elsie’s murder was very brutal. He’s ready to do this, and so are we.”
Michael doesn’t say anything as they enter the room and go to a couple of open seats, nodding and waving to familiar faces, hugging old friends they’ve known for years, decades. A waiter asks if they’d like some wine and Gangi tells him to bring some Barbera; it’s his favorite. The waiter snaps his fingers, and a servant appears with a bottle on hand from their cellar. The mood in the room is high spirited, the air charged with loud voices and explosive laughter as the men eat and drink.
Soon it’s over, and Al and Michael head upstairs. They have adjoining, opulent rooms, large and spacious. Gangi makes a phone call and looks over at Michael, “They’re on their way.
Might as well enjoy this because the job ahead is going to take all our focus, and it’ll be intense. I’m nervous already. Look at my hand shake, Michael. Damn.”
There’s a knock at the door and the girls are invited in. Behind them is a butler, and on his tray is a jar and Gangi can see it’s nearly full with cocaine. The man leaves, closing the door. Gangi welcomes his new friends and, as they’re talking to Michael, he goes over to a panel. Opening it, he reveals an assortment of bondage chains, straps, whips, vibrators, plugs, masks, and outfits. The girls giggle, and the men are eagerly anticipating a long evening. They begin to do some lines, and soon the fun begins.
The next day, after the girls leave, Gangi and Michael are casually walking down the long hallway towards the staircase. They’re on the way to breakfast, hungry, and need to be fed. It was a wild night, and they have smiles that will be worn a long, long time.
Michael looks over at Gangi, “You know what that little Russian chick said to me last night, before we really got into it?” And Gangi shakes his head as Michael tells him, “She had a thick accent, but she spoke English ok. She leans over to me and says, slowly, ‘I am top girl,’ which I don’t know what she meant, whether she wanted to be on top or she wanted to be number one. I didn’t know, I didn’t care, but I was totally fine with it. So, I stared right into her beautiful blue eyes and said, ‘you are top girl’ with a Russian accent, like I was in a trance. She loved it.” Gangi bursts out laughing. He’s a funny guy.
Continuing to walk down the stairs, Michael utters out loud, talking to the ceiling, his voice booming, “I love my job.”
Chapter 33 Reggi
January
When I had money, everyone called me brother. Polish proverb