Toughs Read online

  "I'm taking him down to the docks with me," Augie said. "I'm introducing him to some people."

  "People who might have work for him?"

  "Hey, Gina," Freddie said, "eat your pancakes."

  "I'm just asking what you're doing."

  "Well, don't." Freddie took the syrup from the center of the table, held it high over his plate, and let it drizzle down in circles. When he looked up and saw that everyone was watching him, he smiled.

  Augie said to Loretto, "That's how he always does it. Like he's a pancake artist or something."

  "Mangia!" Mama yelled again, and she delivered a second stack of pancakes to the table.

  Gina stretched and said, "Gee, I'm tired this morning."

  Mama wagged her finger at her. "Maybe you should spend less time up on the roof."

  "Who's up on the roof?" Augie asked. To Gina he said, "What are you doing up on the roof?"

  Mama smacked Augie gently. "Eat," she said. "You'll be late for work."

  Augie looked to Loretto. "I'm the punching bag around here." Behind him, Mama left the kitchen and went to her bedroom.

  Loretto asked, "Isn't Mama eating breakfast?"

  "First she says her rosary," Gina explained.

  "Then later when she cleans up," Augie said, making a circle in the air with his fork, "she eats what's leftover."

  Gina said, "That's the way she is. She won't have it any other way. Believe me."

  Freddie said, "I'm getting dressed," and left the table. He had eaten only a few bites of his pancake.

  Gina glanced at Freddie's plate and then to Augie.

  Augie speared Freddie's pancake with his fork and dropped it on his plate. To Loretto he said, "Kid's hardly eaten anything since he's back. Mama's getting sick over it." He chopped off a hunk of Freddie's pancake and ate it dutifully.

  Gina said, "Maybe we should take him to see Dr. Esposito."

  "Sure. Who's gonna tie him up and drag him?"

  Loretto checked to see that the door to the back bedroom was closed. "He probably just needs some time to adjust," he said to Gina.

  "That's probably it," Gina said, though she didn't sound like she believed it.

  Augie said, "He's got too much time to think."

  Loretto asked, "Can you get him work on the docks?"

  "Haven't you heard?" Augie said. "It's a depression."

  Gina said, "Yeah, but you're introducing him around, right?"

  Augie started to answer Gina when a knock at the door startled him. "Who the hell's that?"

  Gina opened the front door slightly, peeked out, and then pulled it open and returned to the table as Dominic stepped into the room carrying a pair of newspapers under his arm.

  "Mornin', Gina." Dominic took off his fedora and hung it from a peg on the back of the kitchen door. "Mornin', fellas." He groaned as he fell into Freddie's seat at the table.

  "What are you doing here so early?" Augie asked.

  Dominic ignored the question and slid the newspapers onto the table. The Mirror's headline read, "MULROONEY VOWS TO GET MAD DOG COLL!" and the American's screamed, "VENGELLI CHILD DIES!" and in slightly smaller type under it "City Searches for Mad Dog Coll!" Both papers had the same front page picture of Police Chief Mulrooney looking furious.

  Loretto and Augie snatched up the papers. Gina got up from the table as if she was angry and left the kitchen without a word.

  Dominic said, "I heard the mayor on the radio again this morning. Everybody's calling Vince a mad dog and a baby killer."

  Augie said, not looking up from the paper, "They think the other Vengelli boy might die, too."

  Loretto tossed his paper onto the table. "Jesus Christ," he said. "They're playin' this off the boards." He thought about it another second, fingered the newspaper as if he might read some more, and then flicked it away.

  "They had to be drunk or something," Dominic said. "That's the only thing I can figure."

  "Yeah, and that's an excuse?" Augie's face was screwed up in an expression that looked both angry and exasperated.

  Loretto said, "Come on, Augie. You know Vince. He ain't a guy would shoot kids."

  Augie picked up the American, made a show of reading the headline, and then dropped it in front of Loretto. "Yeah," he said. "Looks to me like he is." Dominic started to speak, but Augie cut him off. "Listen," he said, "I been telling you guys since back when I first heard what Vince did to Joe Rock. Stay away from him." He leaned down lower to the table and almost whispered, "Anybody beats a guy so bad he blinds him. Anybody does what Vince did to Joe Rock—" He stopped and shook his head as if there was nothing more to say.

  Dominic said, "He only blinded him in one eye," as if that made things better.

  "That was a while ago," Loretto said.

  "Sure," Augie said, "and now he's graduated to killing babies." When neither Loretto nor Dominic replied, Augie took another sip of his coffee and then brought his cup to the sink. "Look," he said, "I got to get ready for work." He gestured toward the coffee pot on the stove. "Dominic," he said, "pour yourself some coffee."

  "Okay," Dominic said, "think I will." He went to the stove and turned on the water to rinse out Augie's cup.

  Augie started out of the kitchen slowly. In the hallway, he stopped and pinched his Adam's apple as if he might pluck it out, and a moment later he returned to crouch beside Loretto, his hand on the back of Loretto's chair. "Listen," he said, "I don't want Freddie makin' his livin' on the wrong side of the law." He glanced up to Dominic. "I'm not getting all holier-than-thou about this, either. You know I've done the same work you're doing and still do at times if I need it. But Freddie . . ." He lowered his voice. "He ain't built for it. I don't think he could do another bit in Elmira." He glanced back to the closed bedroom door. "He ain't right," he said. "I'm worried about him."

  "Sure," Loretto said, "but what's that got to do with me and Dominic?"

  "Work's scarce everywhere." Augie stood up and touched his back. He made a sound like he was an old man, though he was only a few years older than Loretto. "Dock work," he said, explaining himself. "Kills ya."

  "So work's scarce everywhere," Loretto said, repeating Augie's words. He made a gesture like he was still confused.

  "'Cept what you mugs are doing," Augie said. "Plenty of that kind of work around." He tapped his finger on the table. "If Freddie comes to you—" he said to Loretto, and then he looked up to Dominic, "or to you or your uncle," he added. "I don't want there to be anything for him." Without waiting for a reply, he pointed to the front door. "Pull it closed when you leave. You gotta give it a little jiggle or it won't lock." Before he disappeared down the hall and joined Freddie behind the closed bedroom door, he added, "Take your time. Finish your coffee."

  Dominic raised his eyebrows as if to say, What's his beef?

  Loretto gestured toward the door and Dominic finished off his coffee in a couple of gulps while Loretto quickly threw on the rest of his clothes.

  Out in the hall, Dominic made a joke out of jiggling the door to be sure it was locked.

  "Did you see your uncle?" Loretto asked. "Can I go home now?"

  "Yeah, sure. That's what I'm here for: to take you home so you can get dressed up all pretty before we go into the city to see Don Maranzano."

  "I got to see Don Maranzano?" Loretto stopped and waited while Dominic descended another couple of steps. "What do I have to see the don for?"

  "Because I told you," Dominic spoke in a harsh whisper, "Cabo wants to blow our brains out!"

  "Both of us?"

  "Yeah, both of us. Cabo went to Dutch to okay it."

  "Okay what? Killin' us?"

  "Yeah—what do you think?—blowin' our brains out."

  "How do you know this?"

  "Because Dutch knows Gaspar's my uncle and he can't bump me off without trouble from my family, so he got word to Don Maranzano that Cabo wants his blessing, and now they're meeting"—Dominic checked his wrist watch—"in about an hour to have a nice, reasonable dis
cussion about smearin' our brains all over the sidewalk."

  "Dutch and Maranzano are meeting?"

  "Isn't that what I just said?"

  "And we got to be there?"

  "Madon!" Dominic threw up his hands and continued down the stairs muttering to himself in Italian.

  On the street, Loretto caught up with Dominic as he put a foot up on the running board of his Packard.

  "Get in the car." Dominic started to get in himself and then stopped and cursed when he noticed a white smear of bird droppings on the glistening blue hood. He found a garbage pail under a nearby stoop and rummaged through it for a brown paper bag, which he used to scrape the spot away.

  Loretto watched from the passenger seat as Dominic returned the soiled paper to the garbage pail before getting in the car and straightening himself out behind the wheel.

  "You know you're a lunatic," Loretto said, "you and this car."

  Dominic adjusted the outside rearview mirror, which was positioned near the car's roof. "Sun's in my eyes," he said. He got out, tilted the visor down over the front window, and then got back in the car and straightened himself out again. He said, "This car's a work of art," before he stepped on the starter and then went rigid with tension when the engine turned over several times without starting. "Give it a minute!" he shouted as if Loretto had hurried him, though he hadn't said a word. He waited a few seconds, shook off his tension, then hit the starter again— and every time the engine turned over without starting his body tensed. By the time he gave up he was red in the face and muttering curses to himself.

  "What time's this meeting?" Loretto asked.

  "Sta'zitt'!" Dominic prepared himself to hit the starter again.

  Loretto was already out of the car at the back bumper when the battery went dead. "You ready?" he called.

  Dominic waved for him to go ahead and Loretto put his shoulder into the bumper and pushed the car until it started rolling downhill on its own. He ran alongside as Dominic popped it into gear and the engine roared to life.

  Back in the passenger seat, Loretto acted as if nothing had happened. "How come you don't look worried about this meeting?"

  Dominic tugged at his collar and stroked his cheeks, trying to rub the redness away. He cleared his throat. "Don Maranzano won't let Dutch or anybody else put a finger on me."

  "Yeah?" Loretto fiddled with his hat. "You think the don can push around Dutch and Cabo?"

  "What are you talking about?" Dominic said. "We're Sicilians—"

  "You're all Sicilians."

  "If Dutch kills me, Don Maranzano'll burn him to the ground. I'm Castellammarese. And Richie Cabo? That cafon'? He wouldn't dare. They'll be findin' pieces of him all over the Bronx."

  Loretto pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes. The sun was brilliant on the street and it glittered off the hood of the Packard. "And what about me?" he asked. "I might not even be Italian."

  "Oh, you?" Dominic said. "Too bad about you." He hunched over the wheel and laughed like he'd just said the funniest thing in the world.

  At the apartment, Loretto cleaned up and got dressed quickly, and then he and Dom were back in the car and on their way into Manhattan and Maranzano's offices in Grand Central Station. On the Willis Avenue Bridge, Dominic pointed down through the metal truss work to the sun glittering on the gray water of the Harlem River. "I went swimmin' down there once when I was a kid."

  Loretto only grunted in reply and then found himself imagining a man dressed in a tux wavering on the bottom of the river, his feet encased in concrete, his body's gases pulling the torso and arms up as if reaching for the surface. He could almost see the man's figure, the black of the tux, its tails rippling in the current, his hair fluttering around his head, the river water swirling around him. He asked Dominic, "How long you think it takes a body to decompose in the water?"

  "Decom-what?"

  "Fall apart till it's gone."

  "You're asking me?" Dominic said. "You're the smart one."

  "Maybe a few weeks," Loretto guessed, "before there's nothing but bones."

  For a moment, Dominic seemed revolted at the thought. Then he laughed. "Hey, Loretto," he said, "Don Maranzano ain't gonna let Dutch or Cabo or anybody else dump you in the river. You're family," he said. "You're not Castellammarese—we don't leave our bambinos in no orphanages—but we forgive you for that."

  "Thanks," Loretto said

  For the rest of the trip into midtown, Dominic concentrated on driving in traffic while Loretto looked out the window at the soaring buildings and the crowds on the streets. When they passed by the Commodore Hotel and the elaborate columns of Grand Central with its towering statuary, he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He pushed his hat back on his forehead and straightened his tie. This gleaming part of the city always made him a little nervous: it was more like another country than another borough, with its felds of glass and metal and concrete, so unlike the dingy tenement walls of Brooklyn and the Bronx, where he and Dominic did their usual business for Gaspar, hauling crates on and off trucks, riding shotgun on shipments, pushing around some dumb mug who didn't want to buy their hooch.

  "You about ready, handsome?" Dominic pulled into a parking spot on a side street, took a snub-nosed Colt out of his pocket, and slid it under the driver's seat. "You're not heeled, are you?"

  "You told me no guns," Loretto answered, and he got out of the car. On the sidewalk, a tall, thin, middle-aged woman in a blue dress walked by with a black umbrella over her head to shield her from the sun. Loretto had never seen such a thing, and apparently neither had Dominic, who watched her from the other side of the Packard.

  "I don't like that," Dom said. When they met on the sidewalk, he twisted around and watched the woman with the black umbrella turn a corner and disappear. "Who carries an umbrella in the sun?"

  Loretto looked to the sky and shielded his face with his forearm. "Sun's murder."

  Dominic repeated, "I don't like it." As they entered the glass doors to Maranzano's building, he shook himself like a wet dog. "It's just a black umbrella," he said, talking to himself.

  "I feel like I'm going to see a judge or something," Loretto whispered. All around him were high ceilings and marble inlays, broad stairways and polished banisters. He shrugged, meaning What kind of a place is this to have an office?

  "It's not Mulberry Street," Dominic said, also in a whisper. "I hear Rockefeller's got offices around here."

  At the top of the stairs, Henry LaSalla, one of Maranzano's men, was waiting outside a closed door. He was a big guy, older, maybe in his fifties, with a bulb of a nose that made him look clownish. Dom and Loretto both knew him, and they exchanged a few words before he opened the door and ushered them into a fancy waiting room with plush carpeting and a bench against one wall, a long table in front of it stacked with copies of National Geographic and Time. The two torpedoes who had been with Cabo at his club were seated on the bench, and they both jumped up when Henry opened the door.

  "Sit down," Henry told them. Behind him, Vic Cinquemanni, another of Maranzano's men, came in. He was buckling his belt as if he'd left the bathroom in a hurry.

  "They been frisked?" one of Cabo's guys asked.

  "Yeah," Henry said, "I took care of it."

  On the far side of the room, a rosewood desk was unattended. It held

  a black telephone and a silver serving tray with a coffee pot, a milk carton, and a sugar dispenser. To the right of the desk was another door, and behind it men were talking. "The don said I should bring you in soon as you got here," Henry said, and he stood with his back to the door and pushed it open.

  Inside, seated around a glass conference table, were Dutch Schultz, Bo Weinberg, Richie Cabo, Don Maranzano, Charlie Luciano, and Gaspar Caporinno. The don was at the head of the table, Dutch was at the opposite end, Cabo and Weinberg were on one side, and Luciano and Caporinno were seated across from them. At the center of the table were two big wooden bowls, one with fresh fruit and the other with
a variety of nuts. Each of the men had a white coffee cup and saucer in front of him. Cabo held a nutcracker in one hand and a walnut in the other. He jumped to his feet as Henry pulled the door closed behind Loretto and Dominic. "V'fancul' !" he yelled. He turned to Don Maranzano. "What are these two doing here?"

  Maranzano calmly gestured for Cabo to sit down. In halting English, he said, "I invite them to join us. We should hear what they say, no?"

  Dutch said, "I don't like surprises, Sal."

  Don Maranzano smiled at the impertinence of being called Sal. He'd had only a few dealings with Dutch directly, and he was still taking the man's measure. "Arthur," he said, "Gaspar says they're good boys." He waved a hand toward Loretto and Dom, who were still standing behind Gaspar and Charlie with their hats in their hands. "I think we hear their side of the story."