Pete Genaro was at the end of his rope. A delivery truck servicing the casino restaurants had broken down, and six hundred pounds of prime meat, bought and paid for, had spoiled on the highway when the refrigeration unit also proved to have failed. Truly frustrating was that none of these “accidents” could be traced back to Sammy Candelosi, but everyone knew who was responsible. On top of everything else, Pete Genaro was becoming a laughingstock.
Pete called in Luke Fritz. He didn’t want to do it. Luke was a scuzzy son of a bitch, the type of guy you didn’t want to be seen with. Genaro didn’t bring Luke into his office, lest he be spotted. He met him at an out-of-the-way diner where nobody he knew ever went.
Luke didn’t want to be wined and dined at a fine restaurant, he just wanted the job. He ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. It was all he ever had.
“What you got?” Luke said.
“What do you charge these days?”
“Twenty-five grand, ten up front. No guarantees.”
“Are you shitting me?”
Luke shrugged. “What can I tell you? Inflation.”
“How soon can you do the job?”
“That depends what it is.”
“Sammy Candelosi.”
“No way.”
“I figure it should be easy. It’s not like it’s out of town.”
“Easy to say no,” Luke said. “You know who Sammy Candelosi is?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be talking to you.”
“If you did, you wouldn’t be talking to me. Sammy Candelosi’s connected. And when I say connected, I mean horse-head-in-your-bed connected. No way I mess with those guys.”
“He’s just one man.”
“Bullshit. He never goes anywhere without his bodyguard, and he is one sick motherfucker. The type of guy whose pulse never rises while he cuts your throat.”
“Are you trying to drive the price up?”
“Hell, no. All this meeting’s costin’ you is one sandwich. If Sammy Candelosi’s buggin’ you, just ignore him and hope he goes away. Because I won’t mess with him, and I can’t think of anyone who will.”
Luke stood up. “Thanks for the sandwich.”
Pete got back to his office in a foul mood. His curvy secretary tried to soothe him, but he was having none of it. She gave up and went back to manning the desk.
When Jake came in, she headed him off. “I don’t think he wants to see you.”
It was the type of response Jake had been getting lately, which was making it easier for him to shift his loyalties to Sammy Candelosi. Sammy had promised him big things, a role in running the casino—the kind of gig Jake had long since earned from Pete Genaro, as far as he was concerned. Unfortunately Sammy wanted information, and Pete didn’t want to give him any. At least that was the way it seemed. Pete never came out and said he didn’t want to bring Jake into the loop. Jake was just nervous about asking, and his broad hints were often so oblique as to go unnoticed.
Jake bit the bullet. “He sent for me,” he said, and pushed his way in.
Pete Genaro clearly didn’t want to see him. “What do you want?” he snarled.
“I thought you wanted to see me.”
“Who told you that?”
Jake shrugged. “Got a message.”
“Aw, fuck.”
“What’s the matter?” Jake said.
Pete leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I’ve been running this place for fifteen years. I do a good job, everything’s going great. And then some asshole moves in and blows it all to hell.”
“What are you gonna do?” Jake said.
“I’m working on it. There will be a brief delay.” That was the euphemism Pete had come up with to explain the fact that he was in over his head and didn’t know what to do. “What’s Sammy up to?” Pete asked.
Jake realized he was supposed to be spying on Sammy for Pete. He often lost sight of that in the shuffle. “Oh,” Jake said, “he sabotaged your meat truck.” Sammy had told Jake to reveal that to Pete.
“No shit,” Pete said. “I could have told you that myself.”
“Now you know for sure.” Jake fidgeted. He had to push for information. “I thought you were bringing in outside help.”
Pete glared up at him. “I told you there will be a delay.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Jake muttered.
Pete’s blood pressure was boiling over. “Get out of here, willya?” It occurred to him he was particularly stressed. He called after Jake, “Send in Sherry.”