by Tom Barber
‘Go tell him.’
‘So she’s pissed at me next?’
‘He’ll be even more pissed you didn’t warn him. Go.’
As the younger man peeled off and headed to the back, the waitress working the afternoon shift stopped, a drinks order on a tray supported by her hand. A few older men at a corner table watching the Yankees game and filling out old school baseball scorecards were the only other patrons. They too had turned to look at her.
The waitress eyed Carla warily as she approached, but said nothing.
‘Gino ain’t here, Carla,’ Lorenzo called out. ‘He stepped ou-’
Carla grabbed the waitress’ head and slammed her face first into the wooden bar, the tray and drinks smashing to the ground. The younger girl was stunned by the unexpected attack, and as Carla wrenched her head back up, both her hands gripping the girl’s hair, the men in the bar saw the waitress’ nose was broken, blood pouring out from both nostrils.
Carla dragged the girl down to the floor, onto the shattered glass and spilled booze, and started punching her repeatedly. ‘The hell you doin, you stupid goomah!’ Gino shouted, arriving from out back with the cugine who’d gone to warn him. ‘We need that girl!’
Stopping the beating for a moment, Carla looked up at him like a feral animal and before any of the mobsters could move, she whipped a small .38 revolver from the back of her jeans. The men at the tables swore and dropped down as she aimed the gun at her husband, her dark hair framing her face like a wild mane, her rage enough to make even the toughest among them hesitate.
She bent down, grabbed the waitress’ hair and pulled her face up before pistol-whipping the girl over the head several times with the gun, blood spattering onto the side of the lacquered bar and floor.
The girl went still, lying on the broken pieces of glass and foaming beer suds, unconscious; Carla took time to kick her several times hard in her stomach and after a final punt, she rose, panting, looking at her husband.
‘Just did you a favor, you cheating testa di cazzo. Now you won’t need to pay for an abortion.’
*
These days, Natalie Cortese looked more soccer mom than former Manhattan mob wife, but then again women with her background, now settled in areas like this, knew how to blend in. She was in her late forties or early fifties with thick dark wavy hair and was in decent shape, dressed in yoga pants and an athletic top, looking as if she’d just come from the gym.
But there was a wariness accompanying the measuring way she was looking at Vargas and Marquez which gave a clue to her past; as they faced the woman from across the living room in her Long Island home, the two NYPD detectives guessed the mobster’s wife would resurface very quickly if you got on the wrong side of her.
‘That was Carla. Ferocious,’ Natalie told the two female detectives. They were in a residential neighbourhood on the North Shore called Manhasset, only ten miles from the park where Isabel had almost taken a knife to the face five nights previously. The US Marshals had done Natalie a big favor relocating the Cortese family to this area once they’d returned to New York from their original repositioning spot in Ohio. A few years back, the Wall Street Journal had voted Manhasset the best place to raise a family in the NY Metropolitan area. It felt safe, which was a complete contrast to the feel of the previous few days for Vargas and Marquez.
‘Did Gino have the habit?’ Vargas asked.
‘Cheating? Yeah, I think he played around, but that girl was the only one he got pregnant. Carla got a tip-off from one of the other waitresses at the bar.’
‘Why’d this other chick sell her out like that?’
‘Gain favors, stop Gino’s side-piece from moving up in status, any reason. You have the kid of a mob boss, even if it’s illegitimate, you got power. Carla wasn’t gonna have that. She beat this girl mezza morta. Looked like she’d been in a wreck on the interstate when they got her to the hospital, and Carla got arrested after a doctor called the cops. But the foetus survived the beating, and Gino’s bastard was born half a year later. Lot of us thought Carla was gonna hire someone to whack the girl when she found out the waitress was gonna carry to term. Guess even she didn’t dare do that, knowing the cops would be straight on it.’
‘The girl keep working at the bar?’ Marquez asked.
‘She tried. Carla started coming down every night she was on shift with her friends and terrorised her. The waitress got scared and quit.’ Natalie held up the photo Vargas and Marquez had brought with them from the CT Bureau, the image where the mob wife was glaring off camera. ‘If I had to guess, that’s who Carla’s looking at in this.’
‘The waitress is dead now,’ Vargas said.
‘Yeah, the boy Mike’s gone too, so I heard,’ Natalie replied. ‘Carla got what she wanted in the end. Didn’t do her any good though, did it?’ During the conversation, they could all hear the sound of Natalie’s three kids in the back yard throwing a ball around and chasing each other. Children born of mobsters who seemed to have come out the other side unscathed and without any repercussions. Unlike Issy. Vargas listened to it, longing to hear her daughter’s laughter sound as carefree as that again.
‘Agent Edelman tells me you got a guy coming after you,’ Natalie said, glancing back at the Marshal who was sitting near the window, keeping an eye on the street and letting the women talk alone.
‘Not us. He killed an eleven year old girl.’
‘So I heard. If that’s true, you aware how much danger you’re putting me and my kids in by coming here?’
‘We know that,’ Vargas said.
‘So it don’t matter? This is my life and my kid’s safety. But it’s just another case for you.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Vargas replied. ‘She was my daughter.’
‘No, she wasn’t, she was Carla’s,’ Natalie snapped. A silence fell as she exhaled and looked away, and they saw her get a grip on her temper. ‘I apologise. That’s outta line. Edelman told me what you’ve done for this girl. You earned the right. I wish I’d had a mother who gave that much of a shit about me.’ She looked back at Vargas, who saw the shuttered expression in her eyes had disappeared. ‘And you’ll have done a better job than Carla would’ve, anyway. That’s for sure.’
‘I’ve been in Wit-Sec before,’ Vargas said. ‘Both as witness and protector. I know how it feels when someone wants you dead and will do anything to get to you. We’re not gonna let you and your kids get hurt. But we need to know more about Issy’s parents, to try and work out who wanted their daughter dead so bad they kept coming after her, even after the rest of her family were gone.’
‘So you’re gonna keep us safe? I’ve heard that before. No offense, chick, but you’re city police, with short memories. In the world me, Lorenzo and Issy’s parents came from, people never forget. Feuds get passed down through generations. After you’re dead and gone, guys will still be trying to find my sons and their kids if they think I ratted someone out. Dishing out punishment for things they had no part of.’
‘That was the story of my girl’s life.’ Vargas was choosing her words very carefully and beside her Marquez acknowledged the subconscious feeling-out process between the two women, a pair of protective mothers prowling around this conversation, circling each other, wondering if the other side could be trusted. Natalie seemed to be softening at moments, but then those shutters came down again. If this Carla theory was accurate, they really needed the insight this woman had.
At the window, Edelman suddenly rose to his feet to check something outside.
Vargas and Marquez tensed, but then he sat back down.
‘He told me you got a divorce once he got busted and went into hiding to protect your children,’ Vargas said, returning her attention to Natalie. ‘So you understand. Someone hired a killer to get Issy. Whoever he is, he’s taken brutality to a whole new degree.’
‘How bad we talking?’
‘He murdered a Chief ME in his home. Man was found with a dozen knives in him. He killed a butcher
by impaling him on a meat hook. He almost buried a knife in my girl’s face and wasted three other decent men while trying to get to her. And he did get her on the boardwalk on July 4th. You’d want this guy off the street as much as we do. We need to find him.’
Natalie picked up on Vargas’ unspoken meaning. Her choice of words had been a roll of the dice, especially to a woman who was wary to begin with, but Vargas had gambled on Natalie’s obvious concerns for her own kids. She gave Vargas and Marquez a long look, then rose from her seat and walked over to a mantelpiece. She reached for some water from a jug on a nearby table, but then changed her mind and opened a box resting on the mantelpiece in front of her, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit up and blew the smoke out slowly, watching it swirl and disappear into the air. She offered the pack to the detectives, who both declined. Edelman took one.
‘I was sad when I’d heard Carla died,’ Natalie said, after giving the US Marshal a light. ‘Even though it kinda meant with them all gone, we could come back to New York. Guess it’s bad I felt like that, considering who and what she was.’
‘Were you friends?’ Vargas asked.
‘Thought we were.’ She poured herself a glass of water from the jug and sat down opposite the two women again. ‘After Lorenzo ratted, I never saw her again.’
‘How long back did you know her?’ Marquez followed.
‘Since we were twenty. We met at the gym in the city; used to do workout classes together. Step aerobics, Tae Bo, all the shit that was popular back then.’ Natalie’s eyes flicked outside, as a car sped past down the street. ‘She came from nothing. Her father worked at the Fulton fish market almost his whole life. It’s how she learned about the mob scene. Some of the crime families did business down there, but Carla said her dad didn’t bite the hook. Turned them down the times they asked if he wanted a job.’
‘Stood his ground.’
‘Carla hated him for it. She saw other families who’d taken the bait able to afford nice shit. Her family had struggled her whole life up to the point we met, and she had ambition like I never seen. Once she and Gino hooked up, I know she never spoke to her mother or father again. Cut them outta her life. She was ruthless like that. And if anyone ever mentioned her past, they got hurt, bad. One young kid cugine made some crude joke one night about her and fish at the club, trying to impress the more senior guys. Carla heard later what he said. He disappeared a few days after and I never saw him again. Like I told you. Ruthless.’
‘Did she know who you were married to when you met?’ Vargas asked.
She nodded. ‘We weren’t husband and wife then, but other girls in the class knew we were together. But I think she decided I was the one who could help her out.’
‘Why?’
‘I was the closest one to Gino. He and I grew up a few blocks from each other, and Lorenzo was tight with him. But G ended up becoming head of the organisation and my POS husband ended up folding laundry upstate doing fifteen years without parole.’ She dragged on the cigarette. ‘Always knew I picked wrong.’
‘Gino’s dead,’ Marquez reminded her. ‘And your husband escaped being shot that day.’
‘Hell of a lifestyle G gave his family before he died, though.’
‘How’d Carla and Gino meet?’ Vargas asked.
‘She saw him outside the bar one night and decided he was gonna be hers. Just hers.’
‘Her file said she was arrested multiple times for assaulting other women.’
‘There’s a reason why Carla was so territorial, and did what she did to girls like that waitress,’ Natalie replied, taking another long drag on the cigarette before drinking some water to clear her throat. ‘She didn’t want history repeating itself.’
‘What do you mean?’ Vargas asked.
‘She stole Gino from another woman.’
TWENTY TWO
‘Need a ride, baby?’ the man in the car called out, keeping pace with Carla as she walked down a street in Little Italy, her high heels clicking out a staccato rhythm on the sidewalk. She ignored him but it was easy to see why she’d attracted his attention tonight, with her tight white dress, her long hair loose around her shoulders and her features enhanced with carefully applied makeup.
Her date at a restaurant and subsequent trip to a club nearby had been a disaster; the wannabe tough guy she’d let take her out had gotten into an altercation at the bar almost as soon as they’d arrived and it hadn’t gone well for him. He’d been punched once and knocked out cold before he could even buy Carla a drink; she’d turned and walked out on the spot, leaving him on the floor, ashamed and humiliated in equal measure. Being seen with losers wasn’t part of her life plan.
Now she had this new stalker asshole to deal with. ‘C’mon, jump in,’ the guy said, trailing her in his car. ‘I’ll give you a ride.’
‘Go take one yourself. Sure it’ll only take twenty seconds.’
‘Whoa, she got attitude!’ he laughed. ‘Where you goin?’
‘Where are the taxis in this goddamn city when you need one,’ she muttered, stopping at a street corner, chewing a stick of gum angrily. As she looked left and right, the man in the car behind her kept talking but she tuned out what he was saying, her attention caught by what she saw outside a club further down the street.
A group of men in white shirts, red jackets and black dress pants were crowded around another guy similarly dressed. The difference was this man’s shirt was untucked and he was wearing a goofy grin on his face, his legs like those of a cut puppet as two of his friends tried to keep him standing straight and another worked on putting a tie on him. Unlike her, wherever this guy had been tonight, he’d managed to get a drink. Or ten.
‘…to him?’ another man was asking, dressed in a sharp suit, his black hair combed back. He had a couple of rings on his fingers, a stud in his right ear glinting in the streetlight and looked well put-together, like he was somebody. Carla heard most of their exchange from her position on the sidewalk.
‘-through shit with his girl….’
‘-tonight is?’ the man asked the drunk guy, who was being held upright. ‘-mess it up?’
‘He won’t….can play drunk.’
‘He ain’t drunk, he’s halfway to Ireland!’
Behind the group, the back door to a bar opened and another man walked out.
With it, Carla’s world changed.
He was in a suit just as expensive as the man talking to the guys in the red jackets, but had no earrings and had shorter hair that a barber had taken good care of.
His sheer presence was what changed the situation, and then it was his action.
He grabbed the drunk man by the collar and slapped him in the face hard, proceeding to do it again with his back hand, whapwhap. He leaned in close, saying something to him quietly, and whatever it was had an immediate effect. When the drunk leaned back, the stupid smile had been replaced by placatory, nervous nodding. Once free, he finished fixing his tie, one of the others helping him; when it was in place, another gave him a bottle of water, the man drinking from it quickly, his eyes not leaving the newcomer in the suit.
The others took out musical instruments from a van parked on the sidewalk and carried them in through the back door as the drunk staggered in after them, carrying what looked like a saxophone case. The man who’d set him straight shared some quiet words with the guy with the earring, then they both followed the band back into the joint, the door closing behind them.
‘…with me,’ Carla heard the driver of the car who’d been following her say, finally becoming aware of him again. He’d gotten out of his car while she’d been watching the band attempting to fix up their drunk sax player and she suddenly felt his hands touch her hips, the guy coming in close behind her.
She didn’t hesitate, stamping her stilettos on each foot in turn in quick succession, one for each foot, and he went from groping her to yowling in agony on the sidewalk as he fell, clutching both feet. She looked up at the name of the joint
, then turned and walked over to the man’s car.
‘Hey!’ he called, as she got in behind the wheel, the doorman to the club and other people queuing to get in seeing what had just happened and laughing as she stole his vehicle.
‘Thanks for the ride,’ she shouted through the window as she drove off.
‘You hang out in there, right?’ Carla asked Natalie two days later, the two women leaving a step aerobics class in lower Midtown.
She nodded. ‘Sure. Lorenzo works for the guy who owns it.’
‘I saw a man outside the place the other night. A member of the band was drunk. He came out and set the guy straight.’
‘What he look like?’
‘Clean cut. Black hair.’
Natalie laughed. ‘Most of them look like that.’
‘He was big, but not fat. He had a gold ring on his little finger-’
Natalie smiled. ‘Sounds like Gino. When he talks, you listen.’
‘What’s his deal?’
‘We grew up on the same block. He drove for the boys before he was a cugine. He’s capo now, same as my Lorenzo.’ She lowered her voice. ‘From what I’ve seen and heard, they’re taking looks at Gino as the future boss.’
‘He got a woman?’
Natalie chuckled. ‘Had a feelin’ that’s where you were headed. He’s got plenty.’
Carla gripped her arm. The aggression in the sudden movement surprised Natalie. ‘Forget the skanks at the club and side-piece whores. Does he have a woman?’
‘Yeah, they’ve been together since I’ve known him,’ Natalie replied, extricating her arm carefully from Carla’s grip. ‘She had the same thought process you’re havin’. Some men you can just tell are made for bigger things. She’s been sticking her finger in his chest about putting a ring on it.’
‘What’s her deal?’
‘She’s Sicilian, from Ozone Park. Blonde, average height, good chest, OK ass.’
‘She tough?’
‘I wouldn’t wanna get on her bad side. She’s with him for a reason. But she’s a smokeshow, no doubt.’