Toughs Page 11

  "What's the matter?" Vince said. "You don't recognize your old friend?"

  Lottie popped her head out the window. She was wearing a shallow hat with a bright red bow and holding an open gold cigarette case in the palm of her hand. "Don't he look swell?"

  Vince bent to the window and kissed Lottie on the lips, a lingering deep kiss. When he was finished, he looked up to Loretto. "Ain't she a beauty?"

  "She's a doll."

  "Come here and give me a kiss," Lottie said. She took a cigarette and tossed the case onto the seat beside her.

  Loretto bent to the car window and gave Lottie a quick peck on the lips. He noticed Tuffy in the back seat. "Is he dead or alive?"

  "I don't know," Lottie said. "I ain't checked in a while."

  Vince said to Lottie, "We're takin' a walk around the block. There's a gat under the seat if there's any trouble."

  "I won't have no trouble." She blew Loretto a kiss. "Don't keep him too long. We got to hit the road."

  Vince put his arm around Loretto's shoulders and drew him away from the car. "So where's Mike?" he asked again.

  "Gina was with me. He stayed behind to talk to her."

  "Gina Baronti? What are you doing with Gina? She's married, right?"

  "Not anymore," Loretto said. "We went on a date."

  "Yeah?" Vince thought about that for a second before he moved on. "So the word on the street is you put a knife to the Dutchman's throat. Is that what happened?" Before Loretto could answer, he added, "You should have cut the bastard's gizzard for me, Loretto. I'd put twenty-five grand in your pocket just to hear you tell me what it felt like."

  "It happened fast," Loretto said. "I wasn't thinking."

  "Ain't that the truth," Vince said. They were approaching the corner

  and a pool of light around a lamppost. With the heel of his hand, Vince pushed the back of the boater up so that the front brim came down low on his forehead, just above the round glasses. "I'm glad you didn't kill him," he added. "Anybody kills him before I do, I'm gonna be mad. I been dreamin' about putting one between the eyes of that cheap son of a bitch ever since Pete got it."

  "Can't say I like the guy much myself." The night was still clear and bright with stars, though a few long wisps of cloud had appeared and were floating beneath a sliver of moon. Loretto shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. He was tired all of sudden. "Want to sit a minute?" he asked, and he pointed to a rough concrete stoop smothered by shadows.

  Vince pinched the creases of his pants, hiked them slightly, and took a seat. Loretto sat beside him. It was late enough that there was no one left out on the street. Vince said, "So I heard you seen the car and who did the shootin' killed the Vengelli kid. That true?"

  "I didn't tell the cops nothin', Vince. How long you known me?"

  "That's not the question." Vince leaned back, putting a little more distance between himself and Loretto. "So you saw who was doing the shooting?" he asked again.

  "All I saw's Frank doing the driving," Loretto said. "I couldn't identify no one else positively with a Bible under my hand."

  "Yeah?" Vince said. "That's good. I'm glad to hear that."

  "But I know it was you," Loretto said, and the blood rushed to his face as he spoke. "Who else would be a head taller than anyone in the car, with Frank at the wheel?" He flicked the brim of Vince's hat back off his forehead so he could see his eyes. "What the hell was going through your head, Vince? You shot five kids and killed one of them. What was he, five years old?"

  Vince straightened out the boater. "I ought to plug you, you know that? The boys think I should put one in you just to be sure."

  "Yeah, well, what's stoppin' you?" He opened his jacket. "I ain't heeled."

  "Tough guy," Vince said. "Go on, get up." He stood and snapped his pants at the creases. "Let's keep walking."

  Loretto's heart, pounding a second earlier, mysteriously calmed and quieted. Walking alongside Vince now, along a darkened city street, felt like walking with him when they were kids, only Pete was missing. The three of them side by side through the schoolyard together, or down a city street, or running neck and neck like they were racing, which they liked to do, though Vince always pulled away at will and won easily. He understood that it was possible Vince might put a bullet in him—but he wasn't thinking about it. He was thinking about the kids Vince shot.

  "You say you won't talk," Vince said, and he sounded like he was arguing with himself, "but once they get you in the sweatbox and start breaking your ribs, you might change your tune. You might sing, and that could be big trouble."

  "I already told you," Loretto said, "there's nothing I could swear to. All I saw's a guy in a hat in the back seat. Besides," Loretto stopped and stepped in front of Vince, "it ain't like the whole damn city don't know it was you and the boys doing the shootin' that day. Don't you read the papers?"

  "They can't prove it without a witness can identify me."

  "They won't need to prove it. Mulrooney put out a shoot-to-kill order on you. 'Put one in him above the waist.' That's what the papers said he told the whole police force. 'If I see him, that's what I'll do.' That's what Mulrooney said."

  "Not if I see the fat pig first." Vince pushed Loretto. "Go on, walk," he said. "I ain't got all night."

  Loretto walked a way in silence, past empty stoops and garbage pails at the curb, before he asked again, "How'd it happen, Vince? Were you that drunk, the lot of you, that you didn't know what you were doing? That's all I can figure makes any sense."

  "Yeah, we were drunk," Vince said, and his voice got quiet and familiar, the Vince at Mount Loretto talking in the dorms at night after lights out, quiet so the nuns wouldn't hear. "Tell you the God's honest truth," he said, "I don't know what happened. We were gunnin' for Cabo. We were gonna hit his club, blast him—and then there he was on the street and he seen us. After that, it was like you just said, everything happened fast." He stopped and took Loretto by the arm. "This is the God's honest truth, too. I don't remember shootin' no kids, and we weren't the only ones doin' the shootin'—so there's no way anybody can say it was me or one of the boys killed that kid. I ain't sayin' it's not possible. I'm sayin' I don't know who shot him and neither does anyone else."

  "Who else was shooting?" Loretto asked when Vince let him loose. "I didn't see Cabo get off a shot. Him or anyone."

  "Some of Cabo's guys was across the street in one of the apartments facing the club. Cops found guns and ammunition, but they ain't puttin' it in the papers."

  "Yeah? Then how do you know about it?"

  Vince's body went tight the way it did when he was angry. He shrugged his shoulders as if trying to get something off his back. Calmly, he said, "We got our connections," and then he pulled Loretto so close he was practically whispering in his ear. "I ought to plug you if I was being smart, but I'm not. You know why? Because I figure guys like us stick together." He loosened his grip so that Loretto could walk straight. "But you can't push me too far," he went on, "especially if somebody else is around. You hear what I'm telling you?" As he spoke, Vince watched the street and the stoops and the shadows. He was talking softly again. "In case you didn't notice, there's no real law around here. I plan on makin' millions, me and Lottie. Ask Dutch. He's so scared of me, he don't even hardly leave his place at night anymore. Big Owney is scared of me. Ciro Terranova, the feckin' artichoke king, is scared of me. Legs Diamond, Richie Cabo, the whole feckin' city of New York, they're all scared of me."

  They were rounding a corner again, coming up on Loretto's building. Across the avenue, a couple of guys in work shirts and knit caps exited a doorway together, glanced at Vince and Loretto, and then quickly continued down the steps and to the street. Vince was quiet until they disappeared around a corner. "Listen, Loretto," he said, "how much is Gaspar paying you? Hundred a week?"

  "Fifty."

  Vince spit on the sidewalk. "Fifty," he repeated as if he could hardly believe it. "Come to work for me and I'll give you a fair cut
of everything we make, just like I do with all the boys. You'll have more money in your pocket after a week with me than you'll make in a year with Gaspar."

  "No, thanks." Loretto told himself not to say anything more and then immediately did. "Every cop in the city is gunnin' for you, Vince. When the Vengelli kid died, the newspapers put up a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward for whoever brings you in, dead or alive. You know all this, right?"

  "Sure," Vince said. "And now I hear Dutch added another twenty-five thousand to the twenty-five grand Big Owney put on my head since I snatched Frenchy."

  "That's what I hear, too."

  "See?" Vince slapped Loretto on the back. "That's what I was just telling you. They're scared to death of me. You think all the boys on the street don't see that? You think they don't see that I got Dutch shakin' in his boots? When I eventually get to feckin' Flegenheimer—and I swear by everything holy that I will get to him—who's going against me?"

  "I don't think you understand," Loretto said.

  Again Vince slapped him on the back, only this time not so friendly. "You're the one who don't get it," he said, "working like a slob for fifty a week while Gaspar and Maranzano get filthy rich. The whole feckin' country's like that now. Ain't you been lookin' up at somebody's boot heel since they turned on the lights?"

  Loretto said, "I'm not doin' so bad."

  "Yeah, you are," Vince answered. "You just don't see it." He was breathing hard and when they reached the last corner before arriving back at his car, he stopped and took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "Listen, don't forget what I said. It's a standing offer." He put his arm around Loretto's shoulders. Ahead of them, Lottie rolled down the driver's window and waved, watching them in the rearview. "We got big plans, me and Lottie."

  "If you can manage," Loretto said, "to stay alive."

  "We'll manage." They were nearing the car and Vince let Loretto loose. "Just remember," he said, "when you're tired of doing all the work so somebody else can get all the money."

  Loretto didn't say anything more. At the car, Lottie was waiting with a smile, her arms crossed in the open window and her chin resting on her hands. You wouldn't have guessed she had a trouble in the world, a beauty with a flirty smile and a twinkle in her eyes looking like someone was about to show her a good time. "Hey, boys," she said, "what's the rumpus?"

  Vince got into the car and slid behind the wheel. Loretto crouched to look in the window. To Lottie, he said, "You're getting him out of the city, I hope."

  Vince said, "You worry too much, Loretto."

  "Sure," Lottie said. "We're takin' us a little vacation."

  Loretto knocked twice on the car door and stood to leave but then leaned into the window a last time. "Watch out for yourself," he said to Vince.

  "Like I said," Vince answered, "you worry too much." He winked and a moment later Loretto was alone on the street, watching the roadster pull away. At the corner, the car stopped and Lottie climbed half out the window, one hand holding on to her hat and the other waving. She yelled, "Abyssinia, Loretto!"

  "I'll be seeing you, too," Loretto answered quietly and then watched as the roadster sped away around a corner with Lottie climbing into its dark interior.

  At his apartment, he found Mike waiting for him outside the door. "I can't talk to her," he said, meaning Gina.

  "She's worried about you," Loretto said.

  Mike looked back at the door, shook his head. "You all square with Vince?"

  "I'm still breathin'."

  "That's what I figured," Mike said. "You hear the papers are callin' him Mad Dog Coll?"

  "Me and the whole country. Yeah, I heard it."

  Mike glanced back at the closed apartment door again. "You're treating my sister with respect, right?"

  "Hey, Mike," Loretto said, "Gina's all grown up."

  Mike shoved Loretto back into the wall and put a finger in his face. "You treat my sister with respect," he said, "or you'll answer to me or one of my brothers. You got it?"

  "Sure," Loretto said. "I didn't mean I wasn't treating her with respect."

  "Good," Mike said, and he backed off. "How's she getting home?"

  "I got Dom's Packard. I'm driving her."

  "But first you brought her back to your place."

  "Sure," Loretto said. "For a drink."

  "Okay," Mike said, "you had your drink. Now take her home." He ft his hat on his head, brim practically to his nose, and started down the stairs.

  "What about you?" Loretto called after him. "Where are you going? The others left already."

  "I'm meeting Frank," Mike answered and then hurried down the steps.

  Loretto waited until he heard the front door open and close, and then he went back into his apartment, where Gina was standing at the window with her back to him. When she turned around, her eyes were puffy, and she had a tissue in her hand. "He says he didn't have nothing to do with the shooting. He wasn't even in the car."

  Loretto found his drink on the floor by the couch where he'd left it. He belted it down and went into the kitchen to pour himself another.

  "Is that true?" Gina asked. She followed him into the kitchen. "Is it true he wasn't in the car?"

  "If he says so." Loretto held the bottle of whiskey out, offering her another drink.

  "Did you see him in the car or not?"

  "I didn't see him," Loretto said. "Only person I could swear to seeing in that car was Frank Guarracie."

  Gina kept her eyes on Loretto's as if hoping to see something there. When she didn't, it was clear in her own eyes, and she walked away, back into the living room. "What am I asking you for?" she said. "You and Mike both, you're a couple of small-time gangsters." She found her purse and started for the door. "I don't know what I was thinking seein' you, Loretto. Mike was in that car, and you know it." She looked like she might slap him, her hand cocked at her side. Instead, she turned abruptly and walked out the door.

  Loretto grabbed his hat and followed her. "Where are you going?" Gina held the wooden banister in one hand and her purse in the other as she hurried down the stairs. "Your place is miles from here."

  "I can walk it." She threw open the front door and then stopped with Loretto right behind her. "Leave me be," she said. "Go on."

  Loretto took the keys to Dom's car out of his pocket and dangled them in front of her. "At least let me drive you."

  "No." She went out to the street and started walking.

  Loretto caught up to her and tried to press the car keys in her hand. "Then take the car."

  "No," she said again. "You've probably got guns stuffed under the seats."

  "There are no guns under the seat." As soon as Loretto said this, he realized it wasn't true. Dominic kept a pistol under the driver's seat.

  "I want to walk," Gina said. "Clear my head."

  "Then I guess I'm walking with you." Loretto put his hands in his pockets and walked alongside Gina, matching her pace. She lived, he figured, at least two miles away, maybe farther. He settled in for a walk. The night, thankfully, was warm and the weather was beautiful, the sky still full of stars, though there were more clouds now, high wispy ones drifting lazily over chimneys and pigeon coops and water towers. They walked together, side by side, for more than a mile before Gina broke the silence. They were on a block of garages and industrial buildings, the streets littered with trash and assorted junk. They stepped over a flattened hunk of metal that looked like it might have once been part of a car and walked around a dusting of metal flings near a tall garage door. "Look," Gina said, and she glanced alongside her to Loretto for the first time since leaving his building, "all I ever wanted with you was a fling. I don't know how I got from there to here. A fling, up on the roof in the middle of the night. That's all I wanted."

  "Sure," Loretto said, "but it's not all you want now."

  "Who said that?" She stopped and then immediately started again, and at a quicker pace. "I didn't say that. I just got rid of one guy. I don't need another."r />
  "I'm not like him."

  "That's true," Gina said. "You're a small-time gangster. You and Mike both, a couple of tough guys, like Freddie was and wound up in Elmira, breakin' everybody's heart. Even my big brother, Augie. He's not clean as a whistle, either. You think I don't know it?"

  "You might have missed the news," Loretto said. "There's not a lot of honest work around for guys like Augie."

  "And what kind of guy is that?"

  They had left the industrial block and were back on a street of tenements and cold-water flats. "Guys that grew up in neighborhoods like this," Loretto said, and then added, "if they were lucky." Meaning if they hadn't grown up in an orphanage or on the streets, like him. And like Vince and Pete.