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Almost every day from his seventh floor Grand Concourse apartment, Jimmy, with much time on his hands, sits at a window and relives memories of his childhood, when he helped his older brothers fly pigeons on the roof of their lower Manhattan tenement. He is enticed now watching an old man on the roof of a lower nearby building fly his flock of birds at precisely four PM every day from his neat little white-washed pigeon coop His routine does not vary. He chases all the birds out of the coop so that they're either on top of the pigeon enclosure or on the building roof, then yielding a twelve foot bamboo pole with a white rag tied to the end of it, he shoos them off the roof into the air where they all band together into a flying formation. Tip-lets, Flights, Tumblers and Rollers, circling, diving, tumbling and rolling, round and round up and down.
Occasionally a stray pigeon from another flock will wander into the old man's domain and he will send up his flock to intercept and entice the stray. Once it has joined his flock he will bring them all down by luring them with pigeon feed. He then captures the stray with a net and as is the custom-—Jimmy recalls—-he will either demands ransom from it's owner for it's return or sell it to eat.
This day, the old man's flock has become entangled with a neighboring rivals flock, so that the two flocks are flying as one. When this happens, as it occasionally does, each flock will gain new birds and lose old ones, when they separate. Jimmy is so totally engrossed watching this pigeon drama taking place, he almost foregoes answering his cell phone as it rings. He catches it on the last ring before going to voice mail.
“Yeah, who is it?” he asks.
“It's Melvin Hartley
“Who?” asks Jimmy.
“Is this Jimmy Provitera?” cautiously asks Hartley.
“Yeah, who's this?” asks Jimmy.
“Me, Melvin Hartley, your attorney.”
“Why didn't you say so. What's up?”
“I have some news you'll be glad to hear. I spoke to the judge and I've gotten you released from home confinement. You're free to go anywhere within the state of New York, however, we had to up the bail another hundred thousand.”
“That's great news, so who put up the dough for me, you?”
“No, you did. I had to put up some of your other properties as collateral.”
“Holy shit. You did this without asking me?
“Are you serious, sir? It's a decision I had to make while the door was open, I didn't have time to consult with you. Where did you think the bail money would come from? Did you expect me to put up the money? I thought you would be jubilant when I gave you the news. I don't know mister Provitera, I just can't figure you out.”
“Don't get all bent outta shape, counselor. I'm a little punchy from being holed up in this fuckin' apartment all this time, so let's get on with it. So you're tellin' me, that right now, today, I can take off this fuckin' bracelet and walk outta here?” asks Jimmy.
“That's what I'm trying to tell you, mister Provitera.”
“Melvin, you're the best fuckin' money I ever spent.”
“Speaking of money...,” says Melvin.
“I knew that was comin',” says Jimmy.
***
Jimmy concludes his phone conversation with Melvin Hartley and immediately makes a new call.
“Hello, Brancato Dairy,” answers Santo who is comfortably seated in Jimmy's office with his feet propped up on Jimmy's desk.
“Yeah, this is mister Provitera. I just wanted to let you know I won't be needing your deliveries anymore. I'll be coming down to your store to shop in person.”
There's a long pause on the line.
“I understand, sir. When are you coming down?” asks a very disappointed Santo.
“Very soon,” answers Jimmy and hangs up.
Suddenly depressed, Santo holsters his phone and gives a big sigh. He reluctantly removes his feet from Jimmy's desk, looks around Jimmy's office which is strewn with partially full and empty coffee containers, paper litter and ashtrays full of butts, murmurs “aw shit.” and begins cleaning up.
***
Jimmy steps through the door of the club for the first time in almost three years. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of stale smoke and beer. He pauses for a moment and calls out.
“Who's here? Santo, you here?”
From the area of the bathrooms comes an answer.
“Right here, Boss, I was just cleanin' up in here,” says Santo appearing from the rear of the club.
“It's good to see ya back in action,” he continues.
Jimmy cuts him short.
“Yeah, yeah, cut the shit, let's get back to work makin' some money. I wantcha to call all the guys ya hired and tell them to come in. I wanna look'em over, to see who to keep and who to dump,” says Jimmy.
“Whattia mean, Jimmy? I told all these guys that they was hired, they're gonna be pissed off at me if ya let some a them go,” laments Santo.
“Ask me if I care,” says Jimmy.
Santo is stunned at Jimmie's crassness. With a bang he drops the pail and mop he's been carrying, startling Jimmy.
“Geez, what the fuck, Jimmy?” he says. “I think I've worked pretty hard for ya while you had that bracelet on your leg. You're gonna make all these guys pissed at me if you let them go after I hired them for ya. At least keep them for a little while before you let them go, that way they wont blame me.”
Jimmy considers for a second.
“Yeah, you're right, ya did do a pretty good job for me. I'll do it your way. I'll let them all work for me for awhile until I figure out who to dump.”
“Thanks boss, ya wont regret it,” says Santo.
“I hope not. Where's the list of people ya hired?” asks Jimmy.
“I left everything on your desk,” says Santo.
“Okay, good. Now leave me alone for awhile, I'm gonna start callin' these guys so I can meet with them personally.”
Jimmy goes to his desk and there finds the list which is complete with addresses and phone numbers. He goes down the sheet calling each name and inviting them one by one to appointments spaced about an hour apart. After interviewing five of the eight prospects, Jimmy is thus-far unimpressed by any of the recruits. The sixth interview enters the office; a rough-looking six foot something, with massive, muscular arms covered with numerous tattoo's. One outstanding tattoo is of a hula girl that wiggles when he flexes. Jimmy is impressed.
“Sit down, sit down. What's your name? Jimmy asks, as he checks his list.
“Rossi,” says the recruit.
CHAPTER 24
The Kozy Korner has become Peggy and Frankie's go to place. Nothing fancy, in fact a little seedy, however it's familiar and homey. When available, they take the same corner table, mainly because it's the furthest from the jukebox. This night they've been sitting there for almost a half hour, saying very little. Peggy nurses a cosmo and Frankie a vodka martini on the rocks. They contemplate their drinks, not speaking for an uncomfortably long time until Frankie breaks the silence.
“What's happening, Peg?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you and me. Let me just say it—-Do ya give a shit anymore?”
“Yes, of course. I love you,” says Peggy.
“Then, what's the problem, why d'ya act the way you do?”
“I don't know, it's...” Peggy leaves the thought unfinished.
“It's, what?” persists Frankie.
“I—-I just can't get used to your lifestyle—-the way you live—-the coarse way you talk,” says Peggy.
“I don't get you. I've always been good to you, never hurt you. How many years did you live with Carl? Can ya say that about him? A guy that always put ya down and beat the shit out of you. I think I've changed a lot since I first met you and I'm still changin'—-but things don't happen overnight, and you know I'm tryin' Peg, I'm tryin'.”
Peggy makes slow circles in her drink with her swizzle stick, avoiding eye contact and not answering immediately, then barely audibly, she says, “Maybe we should take a break from each other.”
Frankie shakes his head and stares at his feet for several moments, then takes a deep breath before responding in a low plaintive voice. “God dammit, Peggy, how come I knew you were gonna say that, how come I just knew it. The least fuckin' thing goes wrong and boom, for you it's the fuckin' end of the world.”
Frankie waves the waitress over and pays the check. On the drive home, neither of them utter a word.
***
“He's out of jail and now not under house arrest anymore,” These are the words Frankie hears as he picks up his ringing phone. Frankie doesn't immediately recognize the voice.
“Who is this?” he asks.
“It's me, Ray, and I just got word that the court increased Jimmy Provitera's bail and released him from house arrest. That means he's as free as the breeze until he faces a new trial. As soon as I heard, I called you.”
Frankie doesn't answer. He can feel his stomach begin to churn with the bile of anger, and also of fear. The anger reaching deep, all the way to his bowels. Anger for the man he had at one time thought of as family, the man that had baptized him. A man of who he has since learned, is so cold and vicious as to order Louie Fiore, his childhood friend, Frankie's father, to be beaten savagely nearly to death. Beaten so badly his face had to be totally reconstructed to the point he was no longer recognizable as the same person.
“Frankie. Are you there?” asks Ray.
“Yeah, I'm here.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don't know yet, I don't know,” says Frankie.
***
Frankie waits several minutes before the line on the other end comes alive.
“Jerry Leonard,” the voice says, “Who is this?” he asks.
“It's Frankie Fiore,” Frankie says. “I don't know if you remember, I was a state's witness in the trial you were prosecuting against Jimmy Provitera.”
“How would I forget. How're doing, Frankie?”
“I could be better. I guess you heard Jimmy's out on bail waiting for a new trial.”
“Of course I heard. It's amazing what dumb decisions people make sometimes. Those stupid investigators really screwed up. The sad thing is they didn't have to fudge that search warrant, they could have just as easily gotten a legitimate paper,” says Leonard.
“Do you think you'll be prosecuting if there's a new trial?” asks Frankie.
“I wont know until the time comes. Is that what you're calling about?” asks Leonard.
“No. The reason I'm calling is... I'm trying to find out if you know anything about Sing Sing?
Sing Sing? What do you want to know about Sing Sing?” asks Leonard.
“Well mainly I wanna know if they have a surveillance recording system in any part of the prison and especially in the prison hospital. If they do, who I should see or how can I get somebody to let me see the recordings.”
“What's this about?” asks Leonard.
Frankie explains to mister Leonard his suspicion about the way Biff died.
'It sounds rather far-fetched, because if it were true, the perpetrator would have to be someone in corrections and I just don't see that... However, I'll look into it for you and get back to you on it. Give me your phone number.” he says.
CHAPTER 25
Tim turns into Frankie's driveway and gives a beep of his horn. As he steps from his car, he makes a cursory inspection of the yard and the outside of the cottage to see if any maintenance might be necessary. Formerly his mother's home until she passed, he rented the cottage to Frankie when he first arrived in Dunnville, two years prior.
He notes that everything is in good condition.
Frankie has a couple of pizzas and a six pack of beer waiting in the living room when Tim comes in. He has carefully covered the coffee table with a tablecloth, knowing that Tim is very sensitive in how his mother's cottage is treated, mainly since all the furnishings and decorations are exactly as they were at the time of his Mom's death.
“The house and yard look good,” says Tim.
“I have a good landscaper and maintenance man taking care of the place. I don't wanna get on your Mama's bad side.”
“I'm sure she's happy the way it looks,” says Tim.
Frankie breaks out the the pizza and beer and they sit around the coffee table eating while watching a DVR'd episode of Justified.
Afterward Tim pulls some folded sheets from an envelope he carried in with him,
“Before I forget,” he says. I want you to look over these and see if you think it's something you wanna do. If it is, then fill out the application and we'll take it from there.”
“What is it,” Frankie asks and takes and examines the papers. “Oh shit are you still on this sheriff kick?” he asks.
“Just put those away for now and look 'em over, before you say no,”
“Okay, but I think it's something that wont fly even if I wanted to do it and I don't.”
“Just look at it.—-In the meantime, what am I doin' here today?” asks Tim as he helps Frankie get rid of the pizza remnants and boxes . “I know it wasn't just to have pizza and watch TV,” he says.
Frankie drags out two large cardboard boxes filled with papers and notebooks and plops them on the floor next to the dining room table..
“What are we looking for?” asks Tim.
“Anything with Biff's signature. I know a guy from my previous life, his name is Hooker, a master forger. He is so good at copying signatures that he can even make the writer he copies believe it's his own handwriting, The main reason I got you here is to look at the signatures and, uh... what's the word—-corroborate that the signatures were finding are the same as this original signature that's on Biff's, letter,” says Frankie, waving Biff's prison note.
“After that, what?” asks Tim.
“It's like I says. We figured out that Biff's safe deposit box is at that bank near his house on Staten Island. The plan is to get Hooker to study and practice Biff's signature until even Biff would think he wrote it. When he's got it down, we're gonna send him into the bank and clean out the box.”
“Don't he also need ID or something?” asks Tim.
“Yeah. So what's your question?” asks Frankie.
Tim nods, understanding that ID will be provided.
“And he'll do this because he's your friend?” asks Tim.
“Are you serious?” scoffs Frankie. “He'll do this because he gets paid. So, will ya help me go through these papers?”
“Sure. It's the least I can do to pay for the pizza.”
After several hours of sorting, a large stack of papers are on the floor beside the table. On the table, Frankie sorts through a small bundle that were grouped because they contain Biff's authentic handwriting and signature.
“I think I probably have enough here to bring to Hooker when I go up to Brooklyn again. Are you gonna make this trip with us?” asks Frankie.
“When're ya goin'?” asks Tim
“I figure in about a week or so,” says Frankie.
“Nah. Too soon. I've already taken too much time away from my shop. My customers are getting pissed at me.”
“Ya gotta do what ya gotta do” says Frankie. “You already put in a lotta time with us and I really appreciate it.-—Listen, while you're here and we have a few minutes to talk, let me ask ya somethin'. You're a middle-class American kinda guy, right?”
“Yeah, I guess you can say that. Is that good or bad?” asks Tim.
“I don't know, I guess it's good. It looks like almost everybody likes ya, so they must think it's good,” says Frankie.
“Why are you asking?” asks Tim.
“I got nobody close here in Dunnville to bounce stuff off and I trust your opinions.”
“Whattia mean you have nobody? You have Peggy.”
“Not for this, I don't. The advice I need has to do with me and Peggy.”
“Shit, Frankie, I don't wanna get in the middle of somethin' like that. I like you and I like Peggy,” drawls Tim.
“You're not gonna get in the middle of anything. I'm not gonna knock her or anything like that. The fact is, I'm crazy about her and... It's just that I don't know how to act around her, she always gettin' pissed at me and sayin' I'm coarse and that I curse alot and shit like that. You know, no matter how much you love somebody, always being ragged on, gets to ya after awhile. What'dya think I should do?”
“That's a tough one,” Tim says as he strokes his chin in serious thought. “That's really a tough one but I think I have a good solution.”
“What?” asks Frankie
“Just don't act coarse or curse around her, that might do the trick!”
Frankie shakes his head and gives Tim a disgusted look.
“Did you say you had some haircuts to give?” asks Frankie.
***
In the four days since he last talked to Peggy. Frankie has picked up the phone at least a dozen times to dial her number, sometimes getting as close as the last number before hanging up.
He sits in his car in front of his house now, sipping coffee. He checks his watch; seven twenty eight AM. He looks toward Peggy's house and waits for Jana to appear. He hopes he has the timing right. Someone, either Peggy or Jana commented about Jana leaving for school at about this time.
Jana appears at the door, books in hand and walks toward Main street to where she usually catches the school bus. Frankie places the coffee in the cup holder, starts the engine and begins rolling down the street. Just then his cell phone rings; checking the phone, he recognizes Jerry Leonard's number. Steering with one hand, he answers.
“Hello mister Leonard,” he says.
“Hello Frankie—-call me Jerry,” says Leonard.
“Thanks, I will.”
Frankie slowly drives down the street until he comes abreast of Jana who is unaware of his presence until he gives a short beep on the horn. Jana stops and looks toward Frankie not recognizing him immediately, then seeing who it is, walks to the car—-Frankie waves her in and continues his phone conversation.
Jana buckles herself in as Frankie proceeds talking with Jerry Leonard.
“Are you someplace where you can talk?” asks Leonard.
“Yeah...uh, yes,” says Frankie, correcting himself. “We're you able to find out anything?”
“Yes, I have a couple of friends at Sing Sing that I've gotten to know pretty well over the years and through them I found out that there is a surveillance system in parts of the prison and the hospital is one of the parts.”
“Great, that's great. Now how can I get to see it ” says Frankie.
“That's a question I can't answer right now, but I'm going to talk further with those people and see if there's any way we can examine the recordings. As soon as I know anything more, I'll get back to you.”
“I really appreciate this, mister... uh, Jerry,” says Frankie.
“Not a problem, Frankie. I'm also curious to see how this turns out. Talk to you soon.” says Jerry.
Frankie hangs up and turns his attention to Jana.
“How are you doin' young lady. How's school?” asks Frankie putting the car in drive.
“School's good, but it hasn't changed much since you asked me last week. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” asks Jana.
“Uh, no, no,” Frankie fibs. “I was just driving down the street and I saw you leaving to go to school and since I'm going that way, I thought I'd save you from a bus trip.”
“Oh, I see. Thank you.”
They travel along in silence for several blocks. Frankie looks over at Jana several times contemplating when to break the silence with the question he is itching to ask.
“How's Mom?” he finally asks.
“Why do you ask, haven't you seen her lately?”
“Uh, -—no. I've been kinda busy these last few days and so has your mother.” he says, unconvincingly.
“Aside from working, she's hasn't been doing anything, she's been moping at home. You can stop this baloney, Frankie, because I know something is wrong between you two,” says Jana coming to the point.
“Why? Has she says something?” asks Frankie.
“She doesn't have to, I know my mother.”
“So—-what do you think I should do?” asks Frankie,
“Mom has a lot of problems—-and except for you, she's been in mostly bad relationships and has a tough time trusting. I'm not saying you can't be trusted, in fact I know the opposite is true. It's just that she needs someone who is willing to put up with her suspicions and mistrust.”
“How old are you, for real? It's impossible that you're only fifteen,” says Frankie. “I love your mother, but I'm not sure I can be that guy that can put up with not being trusted and all that, but like I told her, I'm willin' to give it a try, in fact I'm willing to put my freedom where my mouth is.”
Jana gives Frankie a puzzled look.
“What does that mean?” she asks.
Frankie pops open the glove compartment and reaches in.
“This is what I mean,” he says handing Jana a box.
Jana is bewildered as she gingerly takes the box and opens it to discover a small jewelry case. Confounded, she looks at Frankie.
“Can I open it?” she asks.
“Of course. Whyd'ya think I'm showin' it to you?” he asks.
She flips the lid open to reveal a handsome blue-white diamond ring. There is a stunned look on Jana's face as she looks from the ring to Frankie and back to the ring. With her free hand she wipes her cheeks of the tears streaming down her face.
“Really, Frankie, really?” is all she's able to say.
“Geez, don't cry kid, this is supposed to be a happy thing. Do ya think she'll say yes?” he asks.
“Oh, God, yes” says Jana, trying to sound convincing.
***
Frankie hadn't expected to hear from Jerry Leonard so soon.
“I have a good contact in the prison office, Frankie. He was very skeptical that he would find anything suspicious on any of the surveillance videos. He thought it was just a waste of time, but as a favor to me and on his own time he went through the recordings, narrowing in on the days before mister Rollo died and he found... nothing,” says Jerry.
Frankie is disappointed, “Nothing suspicious?” he asks.
“No, nothing, nothing at all. What I'm saying is: The recording for that period of time has been totally deleted,” says Jerry.
“I knew it, I knew it, somebody in that prison had it in for Biff. I don't know why, but I'm gonna find out why and I'm gonna find out, who,” Frankie shouts into the phone..
“Calm down, Frankie. There may be a way to find out who did it. Now that we know somebody was trying to cover up something, we can request to examine the back up recording which is kept on a cloud by an outside company.”
“Really? That's great. How soon can ya do that? Asks Frankie.
“It's already done. I'm waiting to hear back from them.”
“I can't thank you enough, Jerry. Is there anything I owe ya? Is there something I can do for you?”asks Frankie.
“No. Just hang tight. If we can ferret out any bad eggs that work in the prison, for me that's reward enough,” says Jerry.
CHAPTER 26
Frankie makes the drive from Dunnville to New York to meet with Hooker and try to finally get to Biff's safe deposit box to learn what Biff has left him and his son, Marcus. On the drive up he calls Reno and arranges to get together while he is in New York. His first stop is Brooklyn, to his parent's home, where he will spend the weekend, arrange to meet with Hooker and get to the bank before the week is out. Frankie has arranged with Hooker to meet him at Biff's house on Victory Boulevard in Staten Island.
It is Saturday morning and Frankie and Hooker sit at the desk going through the pile of bills and correspondence bearing Biff's signature.
“So whattia think, easy or hard?” asks Frankie, as Hooker, wearing a jeweler's loupe, carefully studies paper after paper bearing Biff's signature.
“I can do it, but I want you to know it's not a piece of cake,” says the forger.
Frankie has previously examined Biff's signature and knows it is relatively simple for an expert forger of Hooker's caliber to replicate. He also understands Hooker's motivation in inflating the difficulty quotient to have a reason to jack up his fee.
“So, what's this gonna cost me?” asks Frankie.
“For the signature and to go into the bank and empty out the box. -—Ten thousand,” says Hooker.
“What! What've you been smokin? You're not serious, are ya?” asks Frankie.
“Actually I was going to ask fifteen grand. It's going to be risky you know,” says Hooker.
“Whattia mean, risky? Nobody at the bank knows Biff from Adam and besides, I'm gonna supply you with a picture ID driver's license with Biff's name. -—By the way, technically, except for the ID, this is all legal. Biff legally left whatever is in that box to me and to his son—-the problem is, if we hafta go through the legal bullshit, with all the red tape involved, it might be a coupla years before we could open the box. I'm just takin' a shortcut and speeding things up,” says Frankie.
“Alright, I'll settle for seventy five hundred,” says Hooker.
“You'll settle for thirty five hundred or you'll end up with zero. End of story,” says Frankie.
“That's unacceptable,” says Hooker.
Frankie shakes his head and shrugs. Hooker looks at him for a moment, picks up his belongings and slowly walks out the door slamming it behind him. Frankie begins collecting the papers on the desk and stacking them into a pile to return to a safe place. He's interrupted by a knock at the door. Opening it, Frankie finds Hooker sheepishly standing there.
“Okay, thirty five hundred,” he says.
“Awright, let's get to work. I wanna get this done this week, so tomorrow you got to go to a friend of mine in Brooklyn to get the driver's license. After you get the ID, call me so we can set a day to go to the bank,” says Frankie, giving Hooker the address in Brooklyn.
***
That night at his parent's home, after a dinner of linguini aglia e olio with melted anchovies and a wedge of Boston Cream pie, Frankie sits at the dinner table with Louie and Connie, enjoying a cup of black coffee laced with a splash of Sambucca.
“Ma, you haven't lost your touch, in fact you get better with age. That was great,” says Frankie.
“Are you saying I'm getting old, Frankie?” asks Connie.
“No, never, Ma. In fact, you look younger every time I see you.”
“Speaking of young. How is Jana doing?” asks Connie.
“She's doin' real good. Sometimes I can't believe the know-how that comes out of that kid's mouth.”
“How about her mother?” asks Connie, unable or unwilling to call Peggy by name.
“You mean, Peggy?” purposely asks Frankie.
“Yeah, how's she doing?”
“She's doin' okay, but we're not doin' so hot,” says Frankie.
“What d'ya mean, Frankie?” asks Louie, who has been quiet until now.
“I mean we haven't been hittin' it off lately. For a while it looked like it might be the end. It seems like almost everything I do or wanna do, rubs her the wrong way and she can't seem to get over my past with Jimmy and my goin' to prison. I really like her a lot, Pop and I don't know what to do,”
Unusual for Frankie, he chokes up and flicks away a tear in the corner of his eye.
“That woman makes my son cry?” interjects Connie. “That putana—-Why? Is she so pure? How many men has she lived with since her husband died and what kind of men has she picked? You're too good for her,” rants Connie.
“Leave him alone, Connie. He feels bad enough, you're only makin' it worse. Besides, I like the girl,” says Louie.
“See, Ma, that's why I don't wanna tell you anything. I don't want you to not like her. Peggy's really a good woman who's had some bad breaks and I'm one of them. I can't blame her for the way she feels. I'm trying to be the kinda man she wants, but I don't know if I'm gonna make it.”
“I hope you don't, Frankie, I hope you don't. I don't think she's the right one for you. I don't think she's good enough for you. There are so many nice girls right here in this neighborhood that would make wonderful wives and mothers, why are you looking to lead a life of misery with a woman who has—-who has slept around, who has a child and is already making your life miserable. It makes me cry when I look at what she's doing to you,” says Connie.
Frankie shakes his head as he listens to his mother's harangue for as long as he can. When he's had his fill, he stands and faces his parents.
“Ma—-Pop. I wasn't gonna tell ya this today, but I see I hafta. I thought about this for a long time, so I don't want you to think it's something I just made up—-Ma, I understand where you're comin' from, I'm your son and I know you want the best for me and that's good, that's okay, but ya gotta understand, I'm an adult and I gotta live my life the way I see fit. I know the way you feel about Peggy and I hope that's gonna change in the future as you get to know her like I do. Anyway...”
Frankie hesitates, then blurts out.
“I decided I'm gonna ask her to marry me.”
Connie says nothing, but her face slowly contorts as she fights back tears. She rises and quickly walks from the room. Louie shakes his head and shrugs.
“I don't know what to say, Frankie,” he says.
“I know, Pop,” says Frankie.
Connie does not bring up the subject again, during Frankie's stay in Brooklyn.
***
Louie wakes Frankie Sunday morning.
“Get dressed and come out to the kitchen, there's some people waiting for ya,” he says.
“Who is it, Pop?” asks Frankie, still half asleep.
“Get dressed and come out and you'll find out,” says Louie.
“Thanks a lot, Pop,” grumbles Frankie, as he slowly rises and dresses.
Reno, Rossi and Clem are waiting for him when he comes out to the kitchen. Connie has breakfast almost ready and has been conversing with the men while Frankie dressed.
“What are you guys doing here so early?” asks Frankie.
“Early?” exclaims Reno “It's almost ten o clock, we've already been on the road for an hour to get here, and you're just rolling out of bed.”
“Well, sit, sit,” orders Connie as she places a full pot of steaming coffee on the table. Everyone digs in to overflowing plates of toasted bagels and Lox with cream cheese and sliced onion and tomato.
I see we're goin' Jewish today,” jokes Rossi.
“Every once in a while I like to have something different, I hope everybody likes Lox,” says Connie.
No one answers. It's difficult to speak with full mouths.
***
It is a beautiful, calm, sunny day and after breakfast, Frankie suggests to his guests a walk down to the harbor. He pointedly doesn't invite his parents to come along.
“You boys go on down to the waterfront and enjoy the day,” says Connie.
“Ain't you comin?” asks Clem not realizing Frankie hadn't invited his parents.
“No. We would just slow you down, you walk too fast for us,” says Louie, winking at Frankie.
Frankie trails behind as the men trundle down the stairs. He kisses his mother on the cheek and squeezes his father's arm.
“Thanks, Ma, Pop. I have some things about Biff and Marcus I gotta talk to the guys about. I don't think you'd be interested.”
“Don't get in anymore trouble, Frankie. Please,” says Connie.
“No, I wont, Ma,” says Frankie.
***
It is a busy Saturday on the waterfront, the weather is sunny and gorgeous. A parade of boats, both commercial and private, ply the waters of New York harbor causing blinding sunbursts to reflect off the waves and ripples made by the wake of the passing watercraft, sunglasses are the order of the day. The four men lean against the rail of the boardwalk taking in the view and inhaling the fresh sea air.
“Too bad your parents didn't want to come down, they're missin' out on some beautiful weather,” says Reno.
“I actually asked them not to come,” says Frankie.
“Really, how come?” asks Reno.
“I wanted to be free to talk about things I don't think they should hear.”
“Yeah, I guess you're right. So whattia wanna talk about?” asks Reno
“Well for instance, that scumbag, Jimmy Provitera, he's out on bail waiting for a new trial,” says Frankie.
“And you wanna... what?” asks Reno.
“I wanna even the score for what he did to my Pop.”
“Well let me bring you up to date on some news you might not have heard yet.”
“Whattia talkin' about?” asks Frankie.
“Tell him,” says Reno turning to Rossi.
“As of two days ago I'm working for Jimmy Provitera,” says Rossi.
“You're what?” asks Frankie, incredulously.
“Yeah, he put it out on the street that he was lookin' for new people to work for him. Reno thought it would be a good idea to go for an interview. He knew you might be interested in knowing what's goin' on with him,” says Rossi.
Frankie is dumbfounded into complete silence by Rossi's pronouncement. He looks from Rossi to Reno, trying to assimilate the significance of what he just heard.
“Why didn't you tell me this was goin' on?” he asks Reno, sounding a bit annoyed.
Reno shrugs. “I just did. What're ya pissed about? I didn't think a couple a days mattered.”
Frankie, seeing he raised the big man's ire, tones it down. “Yeah, I guess you're right—-so what's my big nose friend doin'?” he asks Rossi.
“His old mob broke up when he went away. He tried to get them back, but I think they feel he's done as a mob boss. I think they're lookin' for new blood.”
“So, why did you, join?” asks Frankie.
“I did what Reno asked me, I guess it had something to do with you.”
“Yeah, you told me about the problem you have with him, so when I heard on the street that he was recruiting, I figured this was a good way to get some information for you about what's goin' on with Provitera,” says Reno.
“And did you?” asks Frankie.
“Oh yeah, Jimmy has a big problem with you. Tell Frankie,” Reno enjoins Rossi.
“You shoulda heard the line a shit I handed Jimmy. All the jobs I done, the hits. He ate it all up. Then he opened up like a dead clam; and yeah, has he got a hard-on for you! That's all he talked about. The first thing he want's to do is to get you and then the money he thinks Biff stole from him,” says Rossi.
“Fuck him. Biff didn't steal anything from him, he wasn't that kind a guy. I'm not sure where he got the money and I won't find out until I open that safe deposit box, but I know sure as shit, he didn't steal it from Jimmy,” says Frankie.
“So, where do we go from here, Frankie?” asks Reno.
“I've got it set up with Hooker to do the safe deposit thing this week. I'm gonna be there with him. Then I wanna work out a plan to get even with Jimmy for what he put me and my family through and I would like you guys to help me.
***
Several days later Rossi returns to the Bayridge Rod and Gun Club, Jimmy Provitera's office. Entering he finds several men loitering and a few playing cards. He asks a character sitting close to the back room if Jimmy's in. He answers in the affirmative and Rossi knocks and waits for a response.
“Yeah who is it?” Jimmy's raspy voice asks.
“It's me, Rossi.”
“Come in, come in. I was waiting for ya to come back,” says Jimmy as Rossi enters the office and closes the door behind him.
“I'm glad you're back. I'm getting so sick of talking to those fuckin' losers out there. Holy shit, I haven't found one decent recruit from about twenty guys I talked to, today. I tell ya what, Rossi, I'm so impressed by you compared to those giambroni's, that right off the bat I'm gonna make you my lieutenant. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good, what does it pay?” asks Rossi.
“It pays good. Listen to this. You get first crack at any new business coming through the door, plus you get two percent of whatever any of the other guys bring in. Sounds pretty good, huh?”
“I don't know yet, I'll let ya know if I want that job. What else ya got?” asks Rossi.
“I got somethin' right now as a matter of fact. It's a personal matter I want ya to handle and I'm gonna pay ya a grand for this one.
“Yeah, what do I hafta do?”
“You heard me talk about Fiore, Frankie Fiore, haven't ya? Well—-I need you to take some of the boys and pick him up. When I get the information I want out of him, I want him taken care of,” says Jimmy,
“For a grand?” asks Rossi, making a sour face.
“Yeah. Somethin' wrong?” asks Jimmy.
“You're jokin', right?” asks Rossi.
“No, I'm not jokin', why?” asks Jimmy.
“Because it's insulting that you want me to kill somebody for a thousand dollars, that's why. I wouldn't slap his face for a grand.”
“Alright. Then, whattia think it's worth?” asks Jimmy.
“You wouldn't pay what I think it's worth, so get somebody else,” says Rossi.
***
“So what did he say to that, did he dump you?” asks Reno later that day, when Rossi fills him in on his meeting with Jimmy,
“Nah, he didn't dump me and he didn't say nothin', he just sat there with his mouth open.”
“We gotta let Frankie know that soon there's gonna be a contract out on him.” says Reno.
“I don't think he'll have much to worry about, Jimmy's got a bunch of fuckin' amateurs workin' for him, they'll probably end up shootin' each other,” says Rossi.
CHAPTER 27
The potential recruits Jimmy has been interviewing to this point are not working out. He is frustrated with the caliber of men that have been coming in and now having very few choices after Rossi turned him down, he calls Santo back to his office.
“Boss you wanted to see me?” asks Santo as he takes a seat in Jimmy's office.
“Yeah. You know, Santo, I haven't really appreciated you until now. You're a good man and you're reliable. You know I wanted to give that asshole Rossi the opportunity to make a name for himself, but he turned it down. Can you imagine that?”
“No shit. What did ya ask him to do?” asks Santo.
“I asked him to take care of that mother... Frankie Fiore. I want him and I want the money that fucker Biff Rollo stole from me,” says Jimmy.
“Why did he turn ya down?” asks Santo.
“I don't know, he gave me some bullshit story about havin' to lay low,” Jimmy lies.
“What does the job pay?” asks Santo.
“It pays in brownie points toward getting your button,” says Jimmy.
“What else?” asks Santo.
“What else could ya want? I'm givin' ya a chance to be made, a chance to make big money in the future.”
“Yeah, that's nice, Jimmy, but I gotta eat now and I gotta pay the rent. Ya gotta gimme some way to earn right now. I ain't worried about bein' made, I'm worryin about makin a livin'.”
“I'm givin' ya the chance to be a big earner down the line—-I'll tell ya what, though, because I wanna do right by ya, I'm gonna give ya five big ones for this job.”
“Five thousand? I can live with that.”
“What five thousand?”-—Whattia fuckin' nuts?-—Five hundred, ya banana—-and I'm bein' generous,” says Jimmy.
“Five hundred to find and snuff a guy?—-You're the one who's nuts. I knew I shouldn'ta come back. Thanks, but no thanks, Jimmy. Keep your fuckin' job,” says Santo as he pushes his chair back and gets up to leave.
Jimmy sits dumbfounded as Santo's words begin to register with him. He suddenly comes to life and clutches the edge of his desk as his face becomes a raging crimson mask and the veins in his huge nose turn eggplant purple. He jumps out of his chair and races around the room like a crazy man, searching for a weapon he can use to maim or kill Santo, all the meanwhile shouting incoherent obscenities.
Santo, now fearing for his life makes a quick dash from the office as Jimmy frantically opens a cabinet and grabs hold of a Smith and Wesson automatic he has stashed there. He chases Santo out into the street waving it in the air and screaming, “You can't talk to me like that you fuckin' weasel, I'll kill you—-you know who I am?—-I'm Jimmy Provitera.”
Suddenly realizing he is in the middle of the busy avenue, he sheepishly hides the gun in his belt and quickly walks back to his office as Santo hightails it down the street.