Toughs Read online

  "But nobody's coming after him," Maria said. "They're leaving him alone, right?"

  "For the time being," Gina said, and then suddenly she was as worried as Maria.

  After a while, Maria said, "I heard Sally went to live with her grandparents. Someplace in Minnesota."

  Gina had heard the same thing from Mike. He'd spent Thanksgiving with the family. "Mike thinks Frank was supporting her and her mother. Without him around to pay the bills . . ."

  "She was sweet enough," Maria said and then turned to Gina with wide eyes. "But dumb?"

  Gina laughed and said, "Probably best for her, going back to the sticks."

  Maria said, "I should be leaving."

  "Take some cookies with you." Gina started for the kitchen. "I'll wrap some in wax paper."

  "Nah." Maria placed a hand on the flat of her belly. "I got to keep my figure." She went to the closet to retrieve her coat and hat.

  In the kitchen, wrapping a half-dozen cookies, Gina said, "You've got a figure would make Fay Wray jealous."

  "Patsy's always saying I look like her." Maria slipped into her coat. "I tell him, flattery will get him everywhere."

  "That coat is so darling." Gina met Maria at the door, handed her the cookies, then took her by the shoulders and looked over her full-length black wool coat with white fur collar and cuffs.

  "Patsy got it for me." Maria extended her arms and turned a full circle.

  "You're gorgeous," Gina said. "Patsy's lucky."

  "I know!" Maria gave Gina a hug, kissed her on the cheek, and then hesitated before leaving, as if debating what she was about to say. Finally she spit out, "I hope Vince gets convicted. I know he's one of the boys, but, I'm sorry—if he gets convicted, I feel like I can get Patsy out of it."

  "I wouldn't be so sure."

  "But I am," Maria insisted. "They're all scared of Vince. With Vince out of the picture, we could make a new start, me and Patsy. I'm sure of it, Gina."

  "And your husband?"

  "I'll divorce him. I've already seen a lawyer. He says between the prostitutes and his never being home, it'll be easy."

  Gina took Maria by the hands. "Vince deserves to get the chair for killing the Vengelli boy, and if he gets out, I'm worried about what he might do to Loretto."

  "And there's your brother Mike," Maria added. "Maybe without Vince around . . ."

  "I don't think so," Gina said. "I think Mike likes being a big shot too much."

  "Anyway," Maria started to open the door, "probably we shouldn't repeat this to anyone, even Patsy or Loretto."

  Gina agreed. "The boys," she said.

  "Sure," Maria added before leaving, "the whole dumb lot of 'em." She gave Gina another hug before pulling the door closed.

  Gina went to the window and waited until she saw Maria on the street. She watched her walk to the corner, get into her car, and drive away. This was one of the many times she wished she could afford a phone so she could call Loretto and check up on him. She wondered how he did at work. He wasn't used to hard physical labor, and she guessed he'd be in need of a long, hot bath. She considered pulling the Epsom salt down from the cupboard and bringing it to him—but Mama had Epsom salt, and she'd probably had a hot bath waiting for him as soon as he got in from work. Gina shook her head at the thought of it: Loretto in Mama's house, eating dinner with Freddie and Augie while Mama worked at the stove or put up coffee for them. Truth was, she wished she was there—but they wanted her at the theater in the morning to help with the cleanup, so she found the latest copy of Vogue in the kitchen, where she'd left a story about Joan Crawford half read when she'd started baking cookies for Maria's visit. She took the magazine into the living room and flopped down on the couch with it. She'd read till she fell asleep, and she'd see Loretto tomorrow.

  10:30 p.m.

  On the toilet seat, next to an empty whiskey glass, a picture of Lottie and Vince floated over a Mirror story about Vince's upcoming trial. Lottie in the picture was holding a handkerchief to her mouth and Vince had the collar of his coat turned up to hide his face. In the bathtub next to the toilet, Lottie's head alone was visible, the rest of her hidden under foamy dunes of bubbles. She'd been sipping bourbon most of the evening, hoping to bring herself around to a place where she might be able to fall asleep. Since Frank and Tuffy had been sentenced to the chair, she hadn't slept more than a couple of hours at a time. She was staying in Florence's dump of an apartment while Florence was with Joe upstate, where Joe was working with Diamond's boys. Three times a week she'd visit Vince in the Tombs, let him know what was going on outside, and then bring word of what he said back to Mike and Patsy, who were busy making a mess of things while Vince was in jail. By the time she'd settled in her bubble bath with the Mirror, all the bourbon had managed to do was give her a headache, and now she lay in the bath with her head on the porcelain rim, looking up at a cracked plaster ceiling.

  Earlier in the day she had called Jake's mother to check on Klara, and the witch wouldn't even put her on the phone. She said Klara didn't need to be hearing from Lottie, what with all the publicity. Leave her out of it, she said. Leave her be. What if the newspapers found out about Klara? What if Vince's enemies found out about her? And on and on until Lottie relented and hung up the phone.

  Now, in the bath, she tried to put Klara out of her mind. She was always putting Klara out of her mind. It bothered her too much to dwell on. She saw Vince in his miserable cell at the Tombs and her in Florence's squalid apartment and all she wanted was for Vince to get out. Diamond's upstate organization was still ripe for the taking. Dutch Schultz was a pig and no match for Vince once Vince had the foothold he needed. That was how Lottie saw it, saw the whole situation. All they needed was a foothold and they'd climb over everybody to the top, and then things would work out with Klara, the hell with that witch telling Lottie what was best for her own daughter. She closed her eyes. The apartment was quiet and the heat from the bath water was soothing, as was the lemony fragrance of the bubbles— and then just when she felt a hint of sleep coming on, there was a noise at the door and she sat up quick and alert and reached for the little snubnose on the toilet seat, under the newspaper.

  From the front of the apartment, Lottie heard the lock turn followed by the opening and closing of the door. She figured it had to be either Patsy or Mike, since they both had keys, but she waited silently until Mike called out her name, and then she answered and said she was in the bath and would be right out. She put the pistol back on the toilet seat. A second later, Mike opened the bathroom door and walked in on her. He watched her from the doorway, looking cocky in a new tweed suit with his tie loosened, the scar over his eyebrow like a tough-guy badge.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Lottie sank down deeper under the bubbles.

  Mike glanced at the gun resting on top of the Mirror. "What are you gonna do, shoot me?"

  "I'm not," Lottie said, "but Vince might if I tell him you're barging in on me in the bath."

  "Yeah?" Mike sat on the edge of the bathtub and played with the bubbles. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Mike's only answer was a smirk. He took Lottie's robe from the back of the bathroom door and held it up for her. "Come on, get out," he said. "We need to talk."

  "In a pig's eye," Lottie said. "Put the robe back and get out of here. I'll be out in a minute."

  When Mike shook his head, Lottie snatched the pistol from the toilet seat and cocked the hammer.

  Mike winked at her, a big smile on his face. In leaning out of the tub to grab the pistol, Lottie had exposed herself from the waist up. "Vince has good taste," he said. He took his time putting the robe back on the door. "We'll talk in the kitchen. We got a problem." When he exited the bathroom, he left the door open behind him.

  Lottie got out of the tub, slammed the door closed, and put on her silk pajamas. She took the robe down, slipped it on over the pajamas, and dropped the snubnose into a pocket. In the kitchen, she
found Mike seated at the table with his chair pushed back and his legs stretched out. She sat across from him. "What's the big idea?" she said. "I thought you were Vince's friend."

  "Listen," Mike said, "we got trouble with that big Polack, Jablonski. Some of Madden's boys came around to see him."

  "So now he doesn't want to pay us," Lottie said.

  "Or buy our hooch." Mike tapped a cigarette out of his pack and lit up. He offered one to Lottie and she took it.

  Lottie tapped the cigarette on the table. "You need to convince him otherwise," she said. "Isn't that what you do?"

  "Two of Madden's guys were sitting at the bar. They were both heeled." Mike went to the sink and brought back a cut-glass ashtray. He put it on the table between them and lit Lottie's cigarette for her.

  "Where's Patsy?"

  "He's with Maria at her place."

  "So go get him and go back."

  "Nah," Mike said. "Me and Patsy's not enough. We need one more guy, at least, to hold a gun on the place while we take care of Big Owney's men."

  "Jesus." Lottie blew a line of smoke up to the ceiling. "You can't find some mug looking to make a buck for a couple of hours' work? It's the depression, ain't it?"

  "Not this kind of work. We need somebody knows what he's doing and we can trust."

  "You know what?" Lottie tapped ashes off her cigarette into the ashtray. "I think it's time Loretto's little vacation came to an end."

  "Yeah?" Mike cocked his head, like Lottie might have a point. "Vince won't like it," he said. "He doesn't trust Loretto. He said to leave him be till he got out."

  "I'll square it with Vince," Lottie said. "We need him."

  "My brothers are watchin' out for him," Mike added, noting another problem with the idea.

  "We got to have Jablonski and his speaks," Lottie said, "if there's gonna be anything left for Vince to salvage when he gets out."

  Mike pulled his chair closer to the table. "You considered yet what to do if Vince don't get off?"

  "No, I haven't given it a thought. I'm telling you, he's getting off."

  "That's what Frank and Tuffy thought."

  "That's not Vince." Lottie tapped the end of her cigarette against the ashtray so hard that the burning head fell off. "They had witnesses against Frank and Tuffy."

  "Word is they got a witness seen Vince shoot the Vengelli kid."

  "Who?" Lottie bent to the ashtray and relit her cigarette off the burning head of ash. "Vince says this witness talk is a bunch of palaver. He says there's no one can positively identify him."

  "Listen," Mike said, "all I'm saying is, hypothetical: if we've got to go it without Vince, that don't change the way things are with Diamond. He's still weak. The mug's hanging on by his teeth."

  "Jesus," Lottie said, "you'd think we'd all learn by now not to underestimate that guy." The way she said it, though, acknowledged Mike's point. Diamond was weak. It was exactly what she'd been saying all along. Diamond's organization: that was the foothold they needed.

  "Just think about it," Mike said. "All I'm sayin' is, we need a backup plan. That's all." He picked up his hat from where he'd left it on the kitchen counter, blocked it, and put it on.

  "Are you getting Loretto?"

  "I got to get him past my brothers first."

  "I'm sure you can manage it." Lottie got up and maneuvered around the table to open the kitchen door. "Listen, Mike," she said when he was halfway out of the apartment, "I'm Vince's woman, and Vince is my guy."

  "Yeah?" Mike said. "Are you sure?"

  "I just told you, didn't I?"

  "I think you're your own woman," Mike said, and he winked at her. "I think you'll do whatever the smart thing is—for you."

  Lottie said, "What do you think you know about me?"

  "Enough," Mike answered, and he pulled the door closed.

  11:45 p.m.

  Loretto woke to the sound of someone coming up the stairs. He'd been

  mostly awake anyway, stretched out on the couch under a pile of blankets, watching the ceiling, the muscles in his arms and legs sore from a day spent dragging cut-up tree limbs and piles of brush from trails to waiting trucks. In Mama's bedroom, the steady rhythm of her snoring rose up and punctuated the silence. From Augie and Freddie's room, nothing. Gina was right. They slept like the dead.

  It was late for someone to be coming up the stairs, and Loretto listened with his whole body, leaning into the soft footfall. Whoever was on the stairs, he was making an effort to be quiet. When the footsteps stopped at their landing, Loretto retrieved his gun from under the couch cushions and tiptoed into the kitchen. He was in his boxers and undershirt, and he shivered a little in the cold. When he didn't hear any more noises from the landing, he considered the possibility that he'd been mistaken, that what he had thought were footsteps on the stairs were something else, some other set of sounds. He considered it for a second and then overruled it. With the gun in his right hand, he moved to open the door with his left—but before he even touched the doorknob, a key was slipped into the lock and the door opened on Mike Baronti, who looked at the gun first and then at Loretto. He put one finger to his lips, telling Loretto to be quiet, and then whispered, "Get dressed and meet me on the street."

  Loretto checked the door to Mama's bedroom, and when he turned back to the landing, Mike was already on his way down the stairs. He went back to the couch, got dressed as quietly as he could manage, and then left the apartment, taking care to be sure the door was closed and locked behind him. He'd taken his gun. It was in the pocket of his overcoat. In the dimly lit space between the bottom of the stairs and the building's front door, Mike was waiting, leaning against the wall with his feet crossed and one hand in his pants pocket. Loretto opened his hands in a gesture that posed the obvious question: What's this all about? Mike opened the door for him, and once they were out of the building, he said, "We need you for a job." He pointed across the street, where Patsy was waiting behind the wheel of a new Chevy.

  "What kind of a job?" Loretto asked, though he didn't hesitate to follow Mike to the car. "And why do you need me?"

  "We're short-handed." He opened the back door for Loretto, as if he were the chauffeur, before he got in himself beside Patsy.

  Patsy twisted around and leaned over the seat to slap Loretto on the shoulder. "How you been? You look good."

  Mike said, "Come on, drive," and Patsy started the car and drove off.

  "Where we going?" Loretto leaned over the backrest into the front seat. "What's the big deal?"

  Mike reached under the seat and came up with a .45 automatic. He handed it to Loretto.

  Loretto placed it on the floor beside him. "What do I need that for? Where we going?"

  "One of Jablonski's speaks." Mike took a blackjack out of his coat pocket and tested the heft of it. "He's forgotten who to pay off. We need to remind him."

  "You need me for that?"

  Patsy said, "It's a little more complicated."

  "And how's that?"

  "Big Owney's got a couple of his boys on the premises."

  Mike said, "They're meant to persuade us to stay away."

  "Yeah? So? What's your plan? You want to go in there and shoot it out?"

  Mike twisted around to face Loretto. "You don't have to do nothin' but look tough. Patsy and me will take care of Big Owney's boys."

  "What's the angle?"

  "Don't know yet," Mike said. "We'll figure it out once we're there."

  "So how come the big change?" Loretto asked. "I was under the impression I wasn't on Vince's invite list anymore."

  "You're not," Mike said.

  "Yeah? So? What am I doing here?"

  "Like I said, we're short-handed."

  Patsy slowed down for a red light, checked for cars, and then ran it. Outside, the weather was clear and cold, with a crust of grimy snow along the sidewalks, the lingering remains of the last storm.

  "Does Vince know you're bringing me in on this?" Loretto asked Mike.

 
"Nah," Mike said. "I don't think he'd like it."

  "So you're calling the shots now?"

  "When I need to."

  Patsy seemed surprised to hear this piece of news. "Lottie's gonna square it with Vince," he said. "Ain't that right, Mike?"

  "That's right." Mike turned to Loretto. "Like I said. We need you."