CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

Ginny stood somewhere. He was dressed in a suit. He tried to wait. Waiting always helped the fog to clear from his head. He was confused totally, but at least had the advantage of understanding that’s what was happening to him.

He found it hard to verbalize. A proud, old-school man like Ginny didn’t feel like talking about himself at the best of times.

This was not the best of times.

He waited for some familiarity to come back to him. Something to latch onto and make his anxiety pass and leave him.

“Sir?” boomed a voice from the other side of the door. 

That voice wouldn’t go away. It was in fact getting more impatient. 

“NYPD. Open the door,” demanded the voice outside before knocking on the door aggressively again. 

 

For six hours Ginny lay on the floor. He remembered and forgot just why he was there. For a man as tough and as strong as he used to be, Ginny never felt quite as scared in his whole life. He was lying on the floor of someone’s house for no reason, with no memory of how he got there. He was lying on the floor of his house for no reason, and with no memory of how he got there. The overbearing feeling of horror and not knowing what he was afraid of. The anger at finding himself afraid of nothing. The shame of not being able to do anything about it.

He lay there just wishing for Ricky to come. He lay there not knowing if anyone loved him. He lay there like a child lies quiet in their bed.

All he knew to do was just lie there. A scared stranger – in his own apartment.

 

Ricky Plick walked on West 42nd and stopped at a mid-sized, familiar building. The sun was high in the sky over the Island and Ricky had a long day ahead of him. He knew Danno’s eye was off the ball so it was up to him to erase all the incriminating breadcrumbs leading back their way. Especially after Danno’s announcement at Annie’s wake.

If the bosses weren’t out to get him before, they sure as fuck were now. No single owner can put out a bounty on the whereabouts of another without it raising eyebrows. Regardless of what happened. 

He crossed the doorway of the building and pulled his collar nice and high on his face. He took the elevator to the third floor and walked the corridor littered with offices. He stopped at a door he rarely entered.

New York Booking Agency. 

Danno’s office.

Ricky moved the key he took from Danno’s very slowly and quietly around in the lock and checked his back before entering.

After what Danno had done to Proctor, and how recklessly he had done it, Ricky needed to make sure that he disappeared anything that could catch them out. Anything that could lead anyone back to Danno. 

That was his job. That was who he was as a person. Ricky was loyal and was looking after his boss’s best interests even when his boss wasn’t. 

He opened the office door and navigated the room. He would have preferred to do this type of thing under the cover of darkness, but he didn’t have that luxury. 

Even though Ricky visited this office before, he never did so with an empty bag on his back and a stolen key in his pocket. He was certainly Danno’s number two – but he stayed far away from ‘the paperwork’.

This office was the place that made Danno officially who he was. To exist in New York, and stay under the radar, Danno had to run a real company. He had to have the papers to say that he owned what he owned. He had contracts with TV companies, wrestlers and the venues. He had to prove he paid taxes. That he had employees. His company was listed to this address, under his name.

That was the official bit. The front.

Then, behind that, was the actual business. The cash money, under-the-table business that he ran with the other bosses. The actual business fixed matches and bribed anyone who could make that pursuit easier. Wrestlers got cash under the table as well as fellow bosses, local TV owners, the guys that ran the buildings, some newspaper guys, a fire chief or two and a couple of cops from Danno’s father’s day.

That was a lot of money moving backwards and forwards. Everyone in the wrestling business was connected through a web of paper, IOU’s, contracts and deals.

The phone rang and an answering machine kicked straight in. “Hello, you have reached the New York Booking Agency, the home of the world’s greatest wrestling attractions. We are unable to come to the phone right now so please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.”

Beep.

The caller hung up. 

Another thing Ricky learned down through the years was how to pay close attention from the side of his eye. 

Danno’s office was at the end of the room. Ricky pushed the door open, entered and quickly knelt down at the side of the huge desk. He took a paranoid little look before pulling back a thin rug. He then popped his finger down the inconspicuous hole in the floorboard and gently pulled. A perfect square lifted with him and exposed a built-in safe. 

Ricky turned the numbered dial in a few different directions and opened the thick metal door. Danno trusted Ricky and never tried to hide the code from him. 

Ricky’s bag was already open and waiting. He removed five thousand dollars and placed it in the bag. Even with the money removed, Ricky saw that there was plenty more waiting in there. He figured maybe seventy or eighty thousand. 

He quietly returned everything back to where it was and fixed the thin rug back in place. Ricky then stood and walked lightly out of Danno’s dark office with a short stack of Danno’s money for insurance. 

If Ricky couldn’t talk Danno off the road he was on, he was at least going to try and cover the tracks he was leaving behind. 

 

Nevada.

Lenny guided his children, Luke and James Henry, across the parking lot of their motel. Luke had the ability to wander but James Henry still needed carrying over distances. Lenny also had a third item that needed careful attention – his wrestling magazine. 

A couple of days previously, Bree was coming to California to live with her folks. She and Lenny were done. She had enough of his job. Lenny was a father to two young boys who barely knew him. The wrestling business kept him on the road for weeks at a time – while his wife waited for him to come home. Sometimes she wouldn’t even know where he was, if he was dead or alive. At the beginning that used to tear her up – at the end she didn’t care one way or another. Nothing creates apathy like distance and rejection. 

Bree began to plan her exit. She took some of the money that was hidden in their shed and stashed it for herself. She had been at home with the kids while Lenny worked. She had nothing of her own to use to move out. So she used what she thought was their money.

But Lenny begged to come with them.

Bree Long was the only woman in history who ran away from her marriage and collected her husband along the way. 

But Lenny was determined to make it work with his family. So he packed up the job he loved as a bottom rung driver to come to California with his family. He was just too full of pride to stay with his wife’s folks. So in the motel they were until Lenny figured something else out.

He put the brown bag between his teeth and he rifled in his pockets for the motel door key – but the door was already open.

“Hello?” Lenny said as he slowly entered.

Bree was sitting on the bed in her casino uniform. She was only at her new job for a couple of hours and not meant to be ‘home’ ‘til later. She had her head in her hands and was sobbing.

“What’s wrong?” Lenny asked as he quickly knelt down in front of her. “Honey?” Lenny asked again, trying to get her to lift her head from her hands.

“It’s my father,” Bree replied through her tears. 

Lenny picked up on the fact that she was reluctant to continue with the children right there listening.

“Kids, go and wait in the car,” Lenny said as he passed the two-year-old into the arms of the seven-year-old. They both struggled to stay upright.

Bree interrupted. “You can’t send them outside, Lenny. Jesus.” 

She wiped her face, got up and turned on the TV, cracked open the candy and had them both distracted and quiet in seconds.

Lenny tried to rub her back as she moved but only ended up in her way. “What’s the matter with your father?” Lenny whispered.

“Mom said he’s had a stroke. I rang them on my break and she was just home to get some of his things.”

“Jesus, that’s terrible,” Lenny said as he tried to embrace her. Bree was already throwing things into a bag.

“I’ve got to go,” she said.

“Where?”

“To my folks, Lenny.”

This could be perfect timing. Lenny could surprise Bree when she came back with the plan he was formulating. 

“Okay,” Lenny replied.

Bree stopped and looked at her husband. “I’ve got a friend who said she would watch the kids.”

“They can’t go with you?” Lenny asked.

“I can’t bring the kids to see their grandfather like that.”

Lenny muttered, “Has he got the face thing?”

Bree nodded. “Yes, he’s got the face thing. I’d have to drive a couple of hundred miles out of my way to get to her first.”

Bree wished Lenny was capable enough to step up and be a man. 

“You should go,” Lenny said. “You should do the right thing here. I could … I could watch the kids.”

Bree wasn’t sure at all. She hadn’t seen her friend since high school and she wasn’t sure what kind of person she was now. On the other hand, Lenny had no experience of being a father.

Lenny slowed Bree down and looked her directly in the eyes. “Do you want time with your folks or not? I can follow you with the kids in a week or so. No big deal. It’ll give you time, and your Dad time, and your Mom time, to focus on recovery.” 

Bree just wanted to go. If she left now she could be there in a couple hours. “You sure?”

Lenny nodded. “Of course. Jesus. Just go and … help him.”

Bree dried her eyes and hugged her husband tightly. Because of his previous job his kids barely knew him. She thought that was a good thing and she thought that was a bad thing.

“It’ll be for the best. We’ll follow you when you’re all up to it,” Lenny said.

“Lenny?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m kinda afraid that you’re going to leave them on a bus or something.”

Lenny kissed his wife. “I promise not to bring them on a bus.”

Bree continued to pack for home. She wasn’t the only one going home.

 

January 21st 1969. 

Three years before the murder.  

Memphis. 

Today was the day. Curt Magee was going to get him some. He worked out a provisional fifty-fifty split with Shane Montrose, with a hundred and fifty grand upfront for his services as the top draw in his territory. Mrs. Magee didn’t agree with putting their house on the line. But fuck her. It’s not like they were together anymore anyways.

For once in his life, Curt felt smarter than all the other bosses. Danno may have the champion but he can’t go out there and wrestle himself. All Curt had to do was remove his biggest obstacle, Merv Schiller, and the challenger in waiting was his. 

So he waited at the end of Thomas Street. He wasn’t quite sure how the plan was going to go. He was meeting a man his cousin put him onto for the first time. Thomas Street was a bad part of town and he had to meet a stranger with a pocket full of money. 

Most of the other bosses were former wrestlers or college football stars. Curt, like Danno Garland had no such pedigree. That’s why he brought along a handgun for company in case this all went to shit.

He watched his side mirror for anyone approaching. There was that silence that you can only get from an empty street. He waited as his bladder played games with him. He’d been for a piss twice. 

The eventual sound of metal tapping on glass nearly made him shit his pants.

“Are you the guy?” a voice asked from the outside.

He composed himself and rolled down the passenger window a little. “Yeah, I’m the guy,” Curt answered with his hand over his face.

“Gimme the money.”

Curt watched Merv step out from the American Sound Studio. He took a bag of cash from his glove box and pushed it through the small crack in the window. “The old guy. Up there.”

“Him outside the studio?” 

“Yeah.”

Curt and the hired hand looked up the street at the little old guy hanging off the end of his huge cigar. He looked frail and harmless and no trouble to anyone. 

“You don’t know him. He’s a fucking … asshole,” Curt said.

The man outside began to laugh. “Man, I don’t give a shit. You say he’s the guy, then he’s the guy.”

The man moved away from the car and reached inside his coat as he approached an unsuspecting Merv.

Merv flicked the cigar butt and turned toward his driver who had just taken the corner at the end of the street. He clasped his hands under his armpits and danced on the spot until his head was cracked open by a tire iron from behind.

“Holy fuck,” Curt muttered to himself. He knew what was going to happen but he was still shocked to see it actually happen.

Merv’s car stuttered to a stop and his driver ran towards his boss. His fresh, plentiful blood surged along the ground and pooled beside his gloved hand.

Curt sat in darkness a few hundred feet away. He turned on the ignition calmly and rolled his car back without any lights on. He didn’t think of prison or he didn’t think of Merv’s family. He drove towards the other end of Thomas Street in Memphis, Tennessee and he thought about money. 

 

Four days after Annie’s murder. 

New York.

Ricky covertly took Danno’s used .38 Special from his pocket. Ginny had told him that cops came knocking but he couldn’t remember why. And he didn’t know when. It sounded close. Too close. So Ricky threw Danno’s used gun into the dark waters of the Hudson in front of him. 

Gone was one piece of evidence from the night Ricky wanted to never remember again. He only had one more piece left to get rid of. And he was holding five grand cash in his car to make sure that large piece of evidence was taken care of too.

He rested his forearms on the railing and filled his lungs with air and his eyes with the city. He liked it best at a distance, so he could appreciate the sight without the noise. Each window made him think of someone working late or a deal being done. Money changing hands. People running for the elevator with the straps of their briefcases in their mouths and papers falling out from under their arms. 

The buildings, the lapping water and the muted mayhem across the river. Brooklyn Promenade gave him a sense of perspective on Manhattan and other, more personal things.

“How much higher can they build those fucking things?” Joe Lapine asked as he stood beside Ricky and looked at the city across the water. 

Both men focused on the two new identical structures which now dominated the cityscape. 

“They’re done. The tallest in the world,” Ricky said and bit into his homemade sandwich. “A hundred and ten stories.”

“Who the fuck needs a hundred and ten stories?” Joe asked like the visitor he was.

Ricky watched Joe survey the area. 

“He’s not here,” Ricky said of Danno. “And we’re taping our TV shows in a couple of hours so I have to get out of here soon.”

No one else was there. Both men had the place to themselves, to speak openly. 

“How is he doing?” Joe asked about Danno.

“He’s good,” Ricky said, lying through his teeth.

He walked back from the railing and sat on one of the wooden benches near the bushes. Joe sauntered across too.

“How’s business?” Joe asked.

On that one, Ricky couldn’t lie. “Not great.”

Joe Lapine was appointed Chair of the NWC by Danno when Merv got killed. Danno wanted the belt, money and extra territories - but taking The Chair after Merv expired would have put Danno in the frame as the man who ordered the kill. So, Danno asked Joe, the seemingly level-headed boss in Memphis, to keep the seat warm until things calmed down.

But things never calmed down. 

It was a deal that suited both men. Joe ran the meetings and took the collective business while Danno had the power and money of being the boss with the champion. 

“There are concerns for everyone involved. The other bosses are still over there,” Joe said nodding to the city. “And nobody is happy.”

“He’s the man, Joe. He’s got the belt and he’s got the territories. The rest of you are going to have to give him time to get back on his feet.”

Ricky stood up. “Do you mind walking?”

Ginny was waiting for Ricky in their car and Ricky didn’t want to leave him too long. Both men began to stroll.

“They’ve called a meeting at twelve tonight. They want to hear your plans. We even have the foreign bosses asking what’s going on. In a chain like ours, one of us could pull the rest down with him. You know this as well as anyone.”

“I understand.”

“There’s a trust issue forming,” Joe said.

Ricky stopped and laughed at the suggestion. These bosses trusted each other not a single inch for a single second. They all knew the business. They sat in a tight circle and every one of them had a bare neck and a sharp blade. 

“Danno’s got it under control,” Ricky dutifully lied.

Joe blew into his hands and slapped them together. “I’m not like Merv. You should probably know that. I take being Chairman of the National Wrestling Council very serious. Now, I know Danno has got the most turf and he has the champion. But my job is to make this thing we have fair and equitable for all involved. Your business is a mess right now. And Danno’s thing is at the heart of that.”

“His thing?”

“His personal matters. It’s all drawing a lot of attention our way. He’s making accusations and threats against the other bosses. He should have never done the deal under the table with Proctor. The riot in Shea, the senator getting knifed … Danno’s wife. It’s all coming from your territory.”

How could Ricky argue? “We’ll fix it.”

Joe was adamant that Ricky hear everything he had to say. “We can’t do our jobs if people employed by the government are looking too closely at us. Senators, The Athletic Commission, cops. We need this to go quiet. Let this all pass without any more fucking incidents.”

“Is that what you’d do?” Ricky asked. “Your wife comes up dead somewhere and you’d just drop it for the good of the business?”

“He got his peace. We all made sure of that,” Joe said, reminding Ricky of Proctor’s demise only the night before. “He has used up all his rope on this matter. You’d be wise to let him know that.”

Ricky listened carefully. He couldn’t argue with anything that Joe, as Chairman of the NWC, was saying. He just had a feeling that Joe mightn’t have anyone else’s best interests at heart.

“He’s got this Joe.”

Joe had heard enough. He buttoned his long overcoat up to his neck.

“How much longer do you think the other bosses are going to allow this to go on?” Joe asked. “For a hundred years we’ve tip-toed around, made our money and kept to ourselves. We’re fucking promoters. We’re not in the killing business. If someone has an issue with someone then they need to sort it outside of our deal. If someone needs to be taught some manners or something, we do it amongst ourselves and we do it for the good of the business. Danno is intent on placing a powder keg in the middle of our livelihoods and he don’t care what the outcome is. If he doesn’t pull back it’s going to arrive at all of our doors. Don’t make me do something about this.”

 Joe walked away.