“Frankie here tonight, Vinny?”
Vinny didn’t say a word. He just glanced over to his right. I followed his gaze and caught sight of Frankie Newman standing over a table full of wise guys. He was slender and tall, with a smooth persona that made men comfortable and ladies swoon. The group was all drunken laughs and friendly backslaps. Frankie knew a lot of mobsters because he sang in their prestigious nightclubs. Far as they knew he was just a harmless crooner, so they tended to get loose lips around him. As a result he knew a lot more than he should have about sensitive info around New Haven.
He looked up and caught my eye. Without skipping a beat he nodded toward the dressing rooms. I finished my bourbon and headed that way.
His dressing room was the largest one. Lots of mirrors and lights for him to fall in love with himself. I was only in there a couple of minutes before he joined me. His face was completely different than out in the dining room. His expression was sharp as tacks, his eyes full of knowing.
I’m pretty sure Frankie knew more about why I ended up in the river than he let on. But he was the sort of mug who wouldn’t give up something for nothing. So far I hadn’t been able to find something that he needed badly enough to exchange the info. He was more than happy to sell anyone else’s dirty laundry for a nominal fee, however. Usually I hit him up for small fries. This time I needed the whole deluxe meal, with trimmings.
He casually lounged in the opposite seat. “I figured I’d see you days ago. What happened to your face?”
“Had a little run-in with a bruno named Joey.”
“I know. That was a rhetorical question. Now you’re coming to me for info on the third party involved in that bum casino deal.”
“Looks like you got all the answers, Ace.”
“I always do. But now I have a question.”
“Shoot. Just not literally.”
He smiled at my weak attempt at humor. “Why get involved, Mick? You don’t owe Mr. Luzzatti anything. So why the interest in his welfare? Let me guess. That raven-haired lovely girl of his, no doubt?”
“I’m not sweet on his daughter, Frankie. Luzzatti’s done right by me. I don’t wanna see him tossed to the dogs.”
Frankie pulled a gasper out of a silver trimmed case on the table and lit it. “I’m rather surprised. I didn’t take you as the type for such… sentimentality.”
I bummed one of his expensive smokes. “Yeah, I’m full of surprises. You gonna give me the wire or what?”
For a second I thought Frankie was about to refuse. He studied me as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. I didn’t like the calculating look in his eyes. The way that he weighed things out in his mind as though tabulating possible outcomes. The look quickly vanished, replaced by the guise of an easy grin.
“The man you’re looking for is Alonzo Pickens. You might know him by his more notorious moniker.”
“Pike.”
“Precisely. Which might tell you that you need to let this one pass, Mick. The Pike is a deadly creature. Especially when in his element. You’re just a small fish in a big pond. This… this is deep water that you’re swimming in.”
I shrugged. “Mug’s gotta graduate sometime, Newman. How much do I owe you?”
I couldn’t tell through the screen of gasper smoke, but he still seemed to have a knowing grin on his face. “Nothing. Consider this a favor. You’ve… intrigued me with this one, Mick. I’ll see how it plays out.”
I stood up and put my hand on the door handle.
“Mick.”
I turned. Frankie seemed almost bored as he dropped the news. “You should know that Pike and Big Louie conned your boy from the start.”
“Say what?”
“Big Louie runs scams like that from time to time. Sets up a fake deal to hook the mark and lets if fall through. Uses the fallout to put pressure on the mark to pay up on money that was never really loaned. Pike owns the casino through ghost accounts and never stood to lose a dime.”
“So why do it at all? I don’t see the point.”
“Because by blaming Luzzatti for a deal gone sour then they can squeeze him for what they want.”
“What do they want? Luzzatti ain’t exactly loaded. The only thing of value he has is…” I trailed off as it hit me.
Frankie smiled. “Yes. The Luzzatti. They want the real estate. It’s a prime location for Big Louie’s operation. He’s looking to expand beyond sharking loans and small time smuggling. Pike is bankrolling the move. Luzzatti didn’t grift anyone. He’s just in the way, and they’re taking him out of the picture.”
I crushed the gasper in the ashtray. “That’s not gonna happen.”
Newman raised an eyebrow. “You have an army hidden somewhere, Mick? Last time I checked, you weren’t exactly big enough to take on an operation like Pike’s.” He looked at my wrist. “You’re glowing.”
I felt the vibration at that exact moment, and looked at my holoband. My heart dropped as it showed exactly what I didn’t wanna see.
Natasha’s emergency signal flashed. The pulse seemed to vibrate through my body and explode in my skull like a silent scream for help.
The hit was going down. Right then, and I wasn’t anywhere close by to do a thing about it.
Chapter 6: Scene Of the Crime
It took me a minute to run out of The Gaiden. Twenty seconds to flag a cabbie. Fifteen long, agonizing minutes to get to The Luzzatti even at top speed.
I knew it was too late when I got there.
The avenue was filled with flashing lights. Button boys crawled around the joint like disturbed ants and newsbots hovered around, shutter bugging the scene. Tenants were questioned outside, some of them with tears streaming down their faces. I skipped the scene and went around the back. A copper that I knew allowed me to pass through the barricade. I caught the lift to the Luzzatti’s floor and dashed into the hall. It was filled with boys in black. Their faces were grim. One of them looked my way.
“Who let this clown in? Sir, this is a crime scene. Head back down immediately.”
I swallowed hard. It was hard to find my voice. “I’m… I was a friend. Of the family.”
A gravelly voice spoke from inside the room. “Let him in.”
They parted and I went inside. It took all of my resolve not to turn right back around.
Mrs. Luzzatti was pinned to the wall with stakes through both shoulders. Her eyes and mouth were still wide open in a dead scream and her throat had been slashed, staining her blouse with crimson streams. Some macabre bastard had twisted her head so that she stared directly at the bed.
Where Mr. Luzzatti was propped on the bedside. His hands rested under his severed head as though holding it for safekeeping.
The coppers muttered uneasily behind me. I knew how they felt. It took a special kind of psycho to do something that demented. My heart pounded as I frantically searched the room for Natasha.
She was nowhere in sight.
“You must be Mick Trubble.”
The speaker was a hard-looking mug in a police captain’s uniform. I hadn’t met Captain Graves before but I knew him by reputation. He kept the balances checked in New Haven. Corrupt as anyone else, but he could come down hard when circumstances called for it. I didn’t like the fact that he was there on the scene. It spoke volumes, enough for me to focus somewhat through my haze of revulsion and cold fury and concentrate on the game that played out in front of me.
Graves went on. “Heard a few things about you. You want to tell me where you were when this happened?”
“On my way here. I got an emergency call from Natasha.” I pulled up the record on the holographic display from my holoband. No point in being disagreeable. Graves would get that info from me one way or the other, and I didn’t have the time to cool my heels in a holding tank.