“So we must find additional ways of earning money before it gets taken away by the Feds. They are proving way too successful at getting stool pigeons to squawk.”
“And what have you come up with?”
“Us? Nothing. We‘ve been around too long. We need someone new to the game to introduce a touch of zing.”
“Get Irma to mix me a cosmo. It‘ll be a very long night.”
ALICE LEFT OAKCREST at six in the morning. By midnight the cosmos weren‘t cutting it for her so she moved over to vodka tonics. This made her chatty and giggly but nothing more. Mama and Bobby gave up by two because her conversation was slurring too much for anything to make any sense. So she flipped around the cable channels in search of inspiration. Three hours later, Irma came downstairs to find Alice dribbling on an armchair and called her a taxi.
When she woke up in the Palace, her eyes widened like a spark had been lit inside her. She rummaged round the apartment until she found a phone and dialed as shakily as her still-drunk finger would allow.
“Mama, I‘ve got it. We‘ll reinvent the numbers racket.”
“Don‘t say another word. Go back to bed - you‘ve only had an hour‘s sleep - and come over this afternoon to talk this through.”
The line went dead and Alice checked her watch. Mama was right. She got out of her clothes and sloped into bed. Within two minutes of closing her eyes, she was sleeping like a baby, albeit a loud snoring infant that reeked of booze.
“YOU CAN BET your bottom dollar that everyone loves to gamble.”
Mary Lou and Bobby sat in the summerhouse while Alice paced up and down taking occasional sips from her orange juice.
“The Lady Fortune proves that‘s true. Hell, Las Vegas proves I‘m right. Americans will gamble on anything. That‘s why before the war, they‘d even bet on a number. That was all the numbers game was, right?”
“Yes, but you know they rigged it?”
“Of course. Arnold Rothstein was behind all that, yeah?”
“Love the history lesson. This trip down memory lane is fabulous but...”
“Don’t you see? Haven‘t you been watching the news?”
Bobby and Mary Lou looked blankly at each other. Had they been so caught up in their own little world to have missed a life-changing event? Alice waited as patiently as she was able for the penny to drop. When the two turned back to stare at her eager for a clue, she knew she‘d have to wait until hell froze over before any flicker of recognition from her audience.
“California State is starting a lottery. Ordinary Joes will slap greens down on the counter of their local convenience store hoping to win millions. Instead of a shady dude writing their lucky number in a ledger, they‘ll walk round with a shiny piece of paper printed by us with the digits neatly circled.“
The expressions remained the same: abject incomprehension why Alice was so excited.
“There‘s a load of security around printing the tickets but the store owners won‘t care if the pieces of paper are real or not. They get paid by the Joes. Having real looking lottery cards would be fantastic and we must have sufficient cash to grease enough palms in the right places. It‘ll be like we‘re printing our own money, only we do it through a network of retailers.”
Everyone was quiet for a spell until Mary Lou punctured the silence.
“What if someone wins using one of our tickets?”
“Either the fake is good in which case the Joe gets his cash. Or it‘s not and the storekeeper takes the heat.”
“And then word goes round they bought the cards from us and...”
“... and nothing. I‘m talking about looking and acting like a wholesaler here. They won‘t know the difference. We charge the same as the real guys only our costs are lower because we're not using high tech printing presses or having to pay union rates.”
“It‘s so simple, why didn‘t we think of it?”
“You‘ve been doing this too long and don‘t drink enough cosmos.”
“She has a point.”
“About the cosmos anyway.”
For the first time since entering the room, Alice slumped down on an easy chair. She drained her juice and slammed the glass down on a nearby table.
“Oops, misjudged the height of that.”
Mama sent Bobby to the kitchen for more juice and a large pot of coffee.
“And cookies.”
When both he and Irma returned with a bountiful supplier of drinks and munch, they worked through the fine detail. Planning a successful new venture was down to the small print. Alice‘s big picture made perfect sense but the little gotcha details would send them to jail.
Four hours and two plates of cookies later, they thought the master plan was sound. No, they knew the scheme was one hundred per cent bullet proof.
“Let‘s sleep on it and go through everything again tomorrow. Do you want to stay for dinner?”
“No, I‘ve got stuff to do. Thanks Mama.”
“It‘ll only be a bowl of pasta.”
“I mean for wanting me to be in on this with you.”
“Silly. Apart from Bobby who else could I turn to in my hour of need?”
Alice shrugged then kissed her mother on the cheek before she left. Mama could have called Frank. That was the answer to Mary Lou‘s question that Alice didn‘t want to hear. And Mama hadn‘t said.
At home, Alice stepped out of her jeans-blouse combo and went back to bed. She so needed more sleep. Before she allowed herself to close her eyes, she put a call through to Sam.
“I‘ve missed you.”
“Me too.”
“Would you like me to hop over to Boston this weekend instead of making you fly over here?”
“No. My house share isn‘t as cozy - or private - as your penthouse. Besides, I get a chance of glimpsing a cavorting A-lister at yours.”
“That‘s the nicest way anyone‘s said you live over a whorehouse I‘ve ever heard.”
“I know you‘re embarrassed about it, but I think it‘s hot. All those people naked beneath us humping away. Bestial - that‘s what it is.”
“Tell me, what are you wearing right now...”
10
ONE INDUSTRIAL PARK is much like the next. Vast buildings made of concrete with no attempt by the architect to inject any beauty in the affair. Once constructed the block is surrounded by a car lot big enough to house the vehicles of all the poor saps working inside the gray walls.
The only planning that takes place is to ensure all the roads are straight - to maximize real-estate usage within each plot. No spare land is wasted on making space for a tree or even a small shrub. Nothing to make a human feel alive.
Another touch to alienate the worker ants is to encase the entire experience in barbed-wire fencing. Keeps uninvited guests out and prevents workers from escaping.
Such an enterprise was the Bakersfield Industrial Park, situated as its name hinted at the intersection of the two highways where a community had grown called... Bakersfield. The park lay at the dirtier end of the tracks where no-one wanted to live but when you lived in a nowhere town, you took any job under any circumstances that was going. This provided the best explanation why anyone worked at the concrete block with the name Bakersfield Printing on the awning nailed to the right of the main entrance.
Monroe Linwood spent twelve years at the plant before he met anybody associated with the Lagotti family. He was yet another guy propped up at the bar or playing the odd game of poker with the boys on a Thursday night. The first thing that made him unusual was the clever way he‘d got all the local loan sharks to hold markers on him. Cards were not his passion but baseball kept him alive despite the anchors weighing him down like his dutiful wife and four adoring children.
A hop, skip and a jump later and Mary Lou held those markers and was able to make Monroe an offer, much as her step uncle had done decades before. Only on this occasion she wasn‘t intending to rob a bank.
“Thank you for taking the time to see me.”<
br />
Monroe, Mary Lou and Alice sat around a motel room bed while Bobby and Naldo stood near the door. The place was packed and Monroe was nervous.
“SO‘S WE‘RE CLEAR: you owe me a lot of money. All the debt you have amassed with local operators has been bought up by me. This means I‘ve paid off all you owe.”
“Thank you ma‘am.”
“You are most welcome. That was your good news for the day. Now you need to come to terms knowing that every red cent you owe to me.”
Monroe gulped because what Mary Lou said made him scared and everyone staring at him had made him feel nervous from the moment he entered the motel.
“Do you know how much you have gambled away?”
He shook his head. If Monroe knew the amount, he wasn‘t going to utter it here. This woman knew the number. It represented a five or six figure value. A big number.
“Over one hundred and twenty thousand dollars plus chump change. Out of interest, do you have that sort of money to repay me?”
Another shake of the head.
“I thought not because if you did, I‘d have expected you to pay some of it back to open a line of credit... Do you have a life insurance policy by any chance?”
“No ma‘am.”
“So you‘re not even worth anything dead to me.”
Monroe‘s eyes lifted from the floor and opened wide in Mary Lou‘s direction. She let the idea of his death hang in the air for five seconds until the notion ran out of energy and landed on the carpet, soaking into the stained geometric pattern.
Mary Lou turned to Alice and Monroe shifted his attention accordingly. Alice‘s soft voice forced Monroe to strain to hear her words.
“Do you have fifty bucks spare each month?”
“Huh? No, ma‘am.”
“You see, if you paid fifty dollars a month, it would take you two hundred years to pay us back. And you can‘t even offer us fifty bucks.”
A tear departed Monroe‘s left eye and traveled down his cheek to drop onto the carpet and join the idea of his death.
“I sure am in a fine predicament and no mistake.”
Alice offered him a cigarette from her pack. With a shaking hand, he removed one and put it between his lips. By instinct, he fumbled for a box of matches in his pants pocket, but found diddly squat. She picked up her lighter from the bed, flicked it on with her thumb and held the flame near the end of his smoke. Monroe inhaled and the tobacco caught fire.
“You have a way of sorting out this mess you‘ve got yourself into. You must listen to what I have to say and decide what you will do.”
She outlined the plan for Monroe to use his access to the printing shop to borrow a template for the State lottery cards just for one night. He had to walk out to his car with it and drive home on a particular day. Then not lock the car overnight, drive back to work the next day and return the template.
“Do you understand what we expect you to do?”
“Yes I do.”
“Will you help us and clear off your debts for the sake of less than an hour‘s effort?”
“Well ma‘am. You‘ve told me you will not kill me and what you‘re asking is mighty dangerous. One hour or no. So why don‘t we agree that I never place a bet again and leave it at that?”
Mary Lou responded without hesitation.
“You are worth nothing to us dead and maybe your family will shed a tear. But I promise you this: if you choose not to help then one by one your children and your wife will find out the many miserable ways to die. And I guarantee you will shed a tear because their deaths will be on your hands. Each and every one.”
The guy swallowed hard, took a long drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray lying on the bed. Then he wiped his nose on his sleeve, cleared his throat and spoke with all that his dignity would muster - which wasn‘t much.
“Let me know when you want us to rip off the California State lottery.”
11
ALICE AND BOBBY were working together just like the first week at the Lady Fortune, only this time Alice wasn‘t so green around the gills. She was pleased Mama was entrusting her with the project and happy to be collaborating instead of running everything herself. It was good to have a trusted soul with whom to bounce ideas.
The lottery wouldn‘t launch until much later in the year which meant they had enough time to get everything ready. The biggest hurdles were to prepare the printing presses and to pull together a team of hustlers.
Alice scouted suitable locations to print vast quantities of fake lottery tickets and Bobby used his connections to find guys who could persuade without breaking bones. Any fool can threaten a storekeeper with a gun. It took brains to achieve the same wearing only a smile - and a three-piece suit.
While she traveled around the state, Alice also checked out various towns to live in. Sam might enjoy the sizzle of living in the Palace, but Alice thought she'd find more comfortable surroundings: Sunset Boulevard had seen better days. When she looked at Malibu for light industrial parks, she headed into the center of town to see if there were any condos of interest.
After two weeks on the road, she and Bobby met up in the summerhouse. Mary Lou sat in on the conversation so she could keep abreast of how things were progressing.
“The crew is forming slowly. Too many guys only know how to crack heads.”
“I blame the violence on TV and video games.”
“Hilarious. Is there anywhere to print the tickets?”
“Agoura Hills. It‘s on a main road route for our trucks - you do have trucks, right? - and I could oversee the operation easily from Malibu, the other side of the Santa Monica Mountains.”
“Say what?”
“I‘m thinking of moving there.”
“Let‘s come to that later. My memory of the place was that it‘s a sleepy hick town.”
“Hick town? Yes. Sleepy? Not so much. Perhaps when you were a boy but I don‘t remember the moon landings, so who am I to say?”
Alice winked at Bobby, who smiled back.
“There‘s an industrial park away from the residential area. It‘s not exactly built up near there for sure, but its main street has a certain buzz about it. I mean a bunch of fellas wouldn‘t stand out in the local diner. They are enough out-of-towners waltzing around for them to pay no nevermind.”
“Security?”
“Usual deal. We‘d have to make our own inside any building so we didn‘t stand out on the street. If you want no-one within a thousand feet then we can buy farmland and station rancheros at the gate.”
“Good work darling. Why don‘t you show me and Bobby the sights of Agoura Hills tomorrow and we can run with it or rule it out?”
“Okay, Mama.”
“That‘s settled. Now tell me about Malibu.”
“It‘s a cool place to hang out and it‘d be somewhere I can call my own.”
“Don‘t you like living rent free?”
“Of course it‘s been lovely and I am truly grateful. Only...”
“... you don‘t want to hang onto your mother‘s apron strings forever.”
“Right. And as fabulous as being on top of a cathouse can be...”
“... you‘ve had enough consorting with prostitutes on your doorstep. I understand. You realize we can‘t protect you as well outside our premises.”
“True, but I‘m sure Naldo will put together a crack protection detail.”
“Sure, but at your expense as you are choosing to create the problem.”
“Understood. And it‘s not a problem. It‘s an opportunity for me to have my own bricks and mortar.”
AFTER THE FAMILY trip to Agoura Hills, Mary Lou signed off the venue. Then they popped by Malibu so Alice could show them the real-estate she was seeking. Nothing much in the scheme of things: beach-side residence with a pool, an untold number of bedrooms and sufficient space for live-in help.
Like she was reconstructing her childhood but relocating it for a sea view. With her success at the Lady Fort
une behind her, Alice could afford to pay for this indulgence. Mary Lou and Bobby agreed to help her fulfill her dream. She might have run a casino but she‘d never had the pleasure of dealing with realtors before.
That night, Alice returned to the Palace and found Frank in the main lobby. Up in the penthouse, she offered him a glass of champagne.
“Mighty kind, sis‘.”
“You‘re lucky to catch me in. I‘ve been on the road these past few weeks.”
“So I hear.”
“Oh? Keeping tabs on me?”
“Nah. I spoke with Mama a day or two ago. That‘s all.”
Although the pair were far from friends nowadays, Alice was pleased to see her brother. He reminded her of times gone by. Of messing around in the Oakdrive pool and playing in the park. The time before High School and the death rattle of puberty when the twins found they‘d lost whatever special connection had been hard-wired into them at birth.
Deep down, Alice knew this pit of nostalgia was a displacement emotion for Sam. But warmish feelings about Frank were the best she had in the absence of her girlfriend in her bed.
“Anything in particular bring you to LA? I thought you had a casino to run now I‘m not in Vegas to look after it.”
She couldn‘t resist turning the knife in his side - it came so naturally to her as a reaction.
“Don‘t be like that, sis‘. The Lady Fortune isn‘t much fun without you hanging around. So I was wondering if there was anything you were up to that I could help.”
“Nope. I‘m good thanks.”
“Word on the street is that you‘re setting up a nice lottery scam. Certain I can‘t dip my beak?”
“Absolutely sure. And you mean Mama told you what we are planning, right?”
“Yeah, just messing with you. I‘d love to be in on any new deal going down. For once I want to build something that the family can be proud of. Contribute. You know?”
Mama’s Gone Page 6