CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

Jerry McMurry stood five feet eight inches, weighed a buck twenty, and had two miserable kids and an awful wife. He liked to gamble. It was hard to tell if he lost more at the track or at life, but, whichever was worse, it was clear he never caught a break. Nor did he really deserve one.

Tommy 'The Knife' made a point of knowing these kinds of particulars about his customers. A little bit of knowledge helped persuasion go more smoothly. Many a man would take a beating but crumble at the thought of something happening to the wife and kids. Tommy was different than the other bosses as he wouldn't hesitate to kill a guy's wife just to make a point. To the other families, this meant he lacked honor, and honor was everything.

The problem today, though, was that Tommy was sure threatening Jerry's family would be pointless. He could kill them, but he didn't think Jerry would care. It might even be doing him a favor. He flashed a cold smile at Jerry.

"I'm gonna pay, Tommy, I just need a little more time."

"Where you gonna find fifteen large?"

"I'll get it. Just give me a few more weeks."

"Jerry, you are a stupid mick and a degenerate gambler. You couldn't pick a trifecta box in a three horse race. Furthermore..."

"But, but, Tommy..."

"Don't interrupt!" Tommy calmed down and said, "I would normally explain to you the terrible accident which might befall your family, but I have seen your family, and I don't feel like doing you any favors."

Jerry shrugged.

A couple of large guys standing by the door laughed. Tommy smiled at their chuckles.

"This guy," pointing at Jerry, "The only thing Jerry is worse at picking than horses is broads."

They all roared. The phone rang. Tommy answered and listened briefly, then gave a short list of instructions and hung up.

Jerry began to shake.

"See, the problem is that I know you can't pay. In fact, the whole world knows you can't pay. You might even take off, and I would have to hunt you down like the dog you are. My first inclination is to dump you in the East River and be done with it."

"Come on, Tommy, we've known each other since the neighborhood," Jerry pleaded.

"You were a punk back then, and you still are. Now you made me lose my train of thought..."

"Boss, you'z was saying we should dump his no good, broke, loser ass in the East River."

"Ah, yes, that was it. I like the idea. I like it a lot, but I am a businessman. If you're dead, you're no good to me."

Jerry, sensing a break, said, "Thanks, Tommy, I just need a little longer to get straight."

Tommy walked around Jerry and patted him on the shoulder. "What we are going to do is work out a little advertising campaign. The best part is you are da star."

Jerry looked a little worried. He might have been dumb, but he wasn't stupid. He knew this wasn't good news.

Tommy waved his hand at the two thugs by the door, "My business associates are going to fix you up with some bruises and broken bones. Then they're gonna take you down to Aqueduct and leave you to spread the word about what happens when you don't pay."

The thugs cracked their knuckles.

Jerry went white as a sheet as the two men placed their hands on his shoulders.

"There is good news, Jerry. While you are in the hospital, I am going to waive the vig."

One thug said, "That is very generous of the boss, isn't it Jerry?" then smacked Jerry in the head. "He must really like you."

Tommy, "Now that you mention it, I don't like him. The vig stands. That is $3000 per week plus the $15,000. Now, get this piece of shit out of here. He is stinking up the place."

Over the next two hours, Jerry, who was not religious at all, prayed for death. Tommy's men were professionals, though, and they simply broke bones and pounded his face until one eye was swollen shut and the other was nearly closed. They dumped him in the parking lot just as the crowd was coming out after the last race. The regulars who knew Jerry barely recognized him. Somebody called an ambulance. Word about Tommy 'The Knife' spread quickly.