Gulliver Dowd was shocked to see the man standing in the doorway, but he acted like he didn’t care. He didn’t like this man very much. That was fair enough, because the man liked Gulliver even less than Gulliver liked him. But they had a kind of respect for each other. The kind of respect an enemy has for his toughest foe.
“Good morning, Tony,” Gulliver said.
“Morning to you, Bug,” said Tony.
Tony was a tough guy. Thick-necked. Barrel-chested. Good with his fists. And mean. He carried a 9mm Beretta in a shoulder holster. Gulliver knew this because he had once taken it away from him. He had disarmed Tony and beaten him up in front of his boss. Gulliver had to do things like that all the time because of his size and misshapen body. People never took him seriously. They turned away. They whispered. They laughed. Gulliver hated the laughing. But he hated most of all people pitying him. So he always had to battle to prove his worth to people. To prove that he too could be a dangerous man. A man to be taken seriously.
Gulliver was unhappy to see Tony because the big man was a living, breathing reminder of the one person Gulliver never wanted to think about again. That person was Tony’s boss, Joey “Dollar Menu” Vespucci.
Joey Vespucci was the only Mafia don who’d been left standing after the Justice Department wiped out most of the old New York City mob. And it was Joey Vespucci who had made Gulliver choose between Keisha and Mia. He was the man who had handed Gulliver the envelope with the answers to Keisha’s murder. He was the man who would have threatened Mia if Gulliver had chosen to see what was in the envelope. Joey Vespucci was the man who’d given Gulliver the lighter with which to set the envelope on fire.
“Come on in. You want coffee? I just made some,” Gulliver said, then turned and hobbled back into the office.
“Sure, Bug.” Tony always called him Bug. “Milk and sugar.”
Gulliver spun around on his heel. “This is my turf, Tony. My office. In here, you call me Gulliver or Dowd or Sir.”
Tony puffed out his chest. He looked like he was going to give Gulliver a hard time. But instead he gave in. “Okay, Dowd. You’re right. On your turf you deserve respect.”
Gulliver shook his head at the big man.
“What is it, Bug—I mean, Dowd?” Tony asked. “Didn’t I just say a man deserves respect on his own turf ?”
“People deserve respect period, Tony. All people. They shouldn’t have to earn it or be on their own turf to get it.”
“That ain’t how my world operates.”
Gulliver nodded. “I know.” He handed Tony his coffee.
“Good stuff, Dowd. Thanks.”
Gulliver sipped his coffee and waited for Tony to get to the point. Gulliver was in no rush. He had finished his most recent case a few days ago and had nothing to do. That was the worst thing for Gulliver these days. When he was busy he could focus on the job at hand. It didn’t matter whether it was finding a runaway kid or a runaway dog. The important thing was keeping himself busy. Keeping his mind busy. When he wasn’t busy, all he could think about was how much he missed Mia.
Tony looked around the office. His eyes landed on the couch, on the blankets and pillows. It was obvious it had been slept on. “You and that girlfriend of yours split up or something?” he said.
Gulliver got a sick look on his face, like he’d been kicked in the stomach. That was answer enough for Tony. He was a tough guy but not a stupid one.
“That’s too bad, Dowd. She was pretty, and she seemed to really love you.” Tony shook his head and smiled.
“What?” Gulliver asked.
“Not for nothing, Dowd, but how do you do it? No disrespect or nothing—you got a nice face and all, but the rest of you ain’t much to look at.”
“That’s not disrespecting me. It’s telling the truth. I’m short and disfigured. But I’m not blind. I see who looks back at me from the mirror.”
“And still you land women like that Mia and Nina. Nina was smoking hot. How do you do it?”
Gulliver thought of many answers to that question. One even made him laugh. But what he said was, “You know how women love wounded animals and strays? It’s like that. Women love wounded men too. It appeals to their mothering natures. And you don’t even have to look at me twice to see I got all kinds of wounds. Inside and out.”
Tony lifted his coffee cup to salute Gulliver. “You ain’t gonna hear no argument from me on that.”
Gulliver lifted his cup too. He smiled.
He let some time pass, then said, “Okay, Tony. This has been nice. We’ve spoken to each other for a few minutes without throwing a punch or pulling our weapons. We haven’t insulted each other too bad, and we’ve shared a cup of coffee. Now how about telling me why you’re here.”
Tony’s face flushed. His mouth opened and closed a few times. The words seemed not to want to come out. He just couldn’t seem to say what he wanted to say. Gulliver helped him.
“Come on, Tony. You came this far. It must be pretty important for you to swallow your pride and come see me this way. Just say it.”
“It’s the boss,” Tony said. His voice was strained.
“Joey Vespucci?”
Tony nodded.
“What about him?” Gulliver asked.
Again Tony hesitated.
“Tony, come on already. Don’t make this like pulling teeth. Just say it.”
“The boss needs your help.”
“Fuck him!” Gulliver said.
“You owe him. He helped you before. I know he did. For what Nina did to him, she should’ve gotten whacked. You know it and I know it, but he let her walk away because he likes you. He respects you. And I know he helped you with that thing last year. You know, when your cop buddy got killed on the boardwalk in Coney Island.”
Gulliver clenched his fists. “I owe him nothing.”
“I think you do.”
“Did he send you?”
Tony shook his head. “No way. He’s got too much pride for that. He’d probably kill me with his own hands if he knew I was here asking for your help.”
“Sorry, Tony. If it was for you, I might help. But Joey…nope. Not after what he did to me.”
Tony looked panicked. “But it ain’t really about the boss.”
Gulliver looked at his watch. “I’m listening. Tick…tick…tick.”
“It’s about his youngest daughter, Bella.”
“What about her?”
“She’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Gone,” Tony repeated.
“How do you mean? Did she run away? Was she abducted? What?”
“I don’t think she was abducted,” Tony said. “It would take a big set of stones to kidnap Joey Vespucci’s kid.”
Gulliver plopped himself down in his desk chair. He rubbed his unshaven cheeks. He remembered his trips to Vespucci’s mansion in the Todt Hill area of Staten Island. He remembered Joey proudly showing him the photos of his daughters on the mantelpiece. He pictured their faces. They were all pretty. Though Joey had never named them, Gulliver thought he knew which one was the youngest. He recalled that she had a full, pleasant face. Sparkling green eyes and dark brown hair. A distant stare. There was a beautiful sadness about her. Sadness was something Gulliver Dowd knew about no matter how it showed itself. Bella’s older sisters were prettier by most standards but with less depth.
He thought on Tony’s request for a long time. It wasn’t Bella’s fault she was Joey Vespucci’s daughter. Her father’s sins weren’t hers to bear or pay for. She hadn’t been part of Keisha’s murder. She hadn’t given Gulliver the impossible choice. Still, he could not bring himself to do this for Vespucci. After all Gulliver had done to dig himself out of his misery, the man had ruined his life.
“No,” Gulliver finally said. “I can’t do it, Tony. Like I said, if it was for anybody else, I would do it in a second. But after what your boss did to me, I can’t. I can recommend—”
Before Gulliver could finish, Tony had put his head into his hands and started sobbing. Sobbing loudly. His thick body shaking.
“Then do it for me, Dowd,” he said through his tears.
“Why? Look, I know you must be close to Joey’s kids, but—”
“She ain’t his, Dowd.” Tony thumped his chest. “Bella is mine! She’s mine.”