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Potenza Family Home
Sunday morning
April 2, 2012
10:15 p.m.
Momma Potenza’s house already smelled of fresh home-made bread when her son John turned his car up the street and parked in front of his old home. The windows were open and the smell of new bread wafted out into the yard. John put his head up as if in an old cartoon and let the warm smell fill his nostrils. Gee, he loved Sundays.
He could hear his mom singing from the kitchen while the sound of Frank Sinatra was in the background. Angela loved Sinatra ever since she heard him sing when she first came to this country. There was something about the smooth voice and the stern never smile look which reassured Italian Americans they could make it big as Sinatra did. There was pride in one of their own.
Often momma would be playing the music of the great opera stars but this morning it was Sinatra. Italians love opera, but Italian Americans identify with Frankie. “Come Fly With Me,” “The Lady is a Tramp” or “My Way,” whatever generation of songs the Thin Singer sang, it didn’t matter. It was Sinatra, the Chairman of the Board, and he was momma’s favorite.
A glance to his right and the officer noticed he was not the first one to come home this Sunday. Maria’s car was parked in the driveway which was unusual since she often showed up a little later or about the same time. His curiosity was aroused when he saw the car. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Johnny,” Maria exclaimed as she burst through the screen door and down the steps to greet her brother with a large hug. “You’re okay, Johnny, you’re okay.”
As she hugged him even tighter, he got a whiff something was amiss. He held his little sister tight then held her at arms length.
“I’m fine, but what’s wrong?” He asked with an inquisitive but worried look in his eye.
“Nothing, nothing, now you’re here,” she replied. “I’ll tell you later but for now I don’t want to worry momma and poppa. Just hang loose.”
He assured her he would because the sound in her voice told him whatever it was could wait and more importantly there was no need to worry his parents.
While Henry Potenza was proud of his son working on the police force, Angela didn’t like it. Henry knew from his time in Korea that a man must have a moment in his life when danger threatened his very being, his very soul. It is what makes him a man, or at least what he thinks makes him a man, a complete man. Every man must face a situation in his life where it’s him facing death. Whether it’s the elements like a fisherman in a storm or a trucker losing his brakes down a steep grade, and while for most men it’s the military, some face it as law enforcement officers. It was a prerequisite for a man. Once in his life he had to face death. For some, indeed for most, once is enough. For others like John Potenza, it could be a daily occurrence.
Police officers traditionally have the highest suicide rate of any profession. A large number of cops “eat a bullet” to use their own industry term. It’s a silly phrase and overused in movies and by people who don’t understand, but it tells the story. Cops get frustrated because their job is to uphold the law and put bad guys in prison. Then they see the bad guys they put in prison get out early because the politicians won’t build enough jails or whatever and the bad guys are none the worse for it.
Nearly every Stingray and Bull Dog was in jail for some crime. They are all out on the streets now. Some paid their debt to society and others were let out early for another reason. It didn’t make sense and Henry Potenza knew this frustrated every cop. Other cops were more frustrated by this than his son because John had learned early on to roll with the flow. Do what you can do and don’t worry about the rest. Yes, he was proud of his son the cop and John knew it. And knowing it really helped.
As for Angela she was a mother, and no mother wants her son to be facing danger day in and day out. Ventura was a small town and she always said thank the Good Lord for small favors. There wasn’t as much crime in Ventura as Los Angeles or even Oxnard and with that she consoled herself her Johnny was okay where he was. It didn’t stop her from worrying. She slept well most nights unless she knew her son was working a murder case or a drug case. John knew this and kept as much from her. The newspapers had picked up the murder story and again. Small town Ventura spoke again. A murder is big news, and he couldn’t stop his parents from reading the newspaper.
As they walked up the steps arm in arm the Potenza children greeted their Italian mom who was standing at the door.
“How’s my best girl,” John asked giving his mother a huge kiss and hug.
“She’s a okay Johnny, she’s a okay,” came the thick accented reply.
Momma gave her daughter a huge hug as well and the three of them moved into the front room where Henry was reading his comic pages.
“Hey pop, what’s up?” The detective greeted his father.
Before the old man had the chance to answer his daughter was hugging him around the neck from behind. Her big red lips planting a huge kiss on his right cheek.
“Hey to what do I owe this?” He laughed out loud looking at his daughter as she swung her tiny body around to sit on his lap.
“I just wanted you to know I love you daddy,” Maria exclaimed with a big smile and the old man assured her he was happy, and he loved her too.
John was beginning to see what his sister was up to. She was distracting her mother and father. She got there early before John because she had heard about the drive by shooting from Mary and wanted to make sure her parents didn’t know and if they did, she would console them her brother was just fine.
As Maria moved quickly about the house John felt his parents did not know and he wasn’t going to tell them. They didn’t need to know this, and the fact Maria did and was holding her own, made him feel good about his decision.
John chose to move into the kitchen where he quickly started up the conversation with his mother again. He grabbed a piece of homemade bread, took the top off the sauce pot and dipped the bread into the hot bubbling red liquid. Putting it into his mouth he could only savor the taste as it crossed his lips and was quickly devoured. His hands waving in front of his mouth to signify it was hotter than he expected.
“What do you expect, it’s a on a stove, it’s hot Johnny!” His mother firmly shot back to him.
“I know momma but its soooo good.”
He walked over and grabbed her around the waste from behind.
“When you gonna open a restaurant momma so I don’t have to share what you give me with the guys at the station?” He asked jokingly. “Let the world eat your cooking, open a Pizzeria, we’ll call it Potenza’s Pizzeria Palace!”
“Oh Johnny, go away,” she brushed him off with a smile and a blush. “I maka agood food for you and your poppa and a you sister, nobody else.”
“Sure, sure momma, I understand but the world should share this goodness.”
“The world? The world a take cara itself, me I taka cara of you,” then she muttered something unintelligible in Italian and walked away.
Within moments she was singing along with Sinatra. Angela was proud this way. She had no ambitions of opening a restaurant or anything else. She lived for her family and her Henry, her Enrico as she called him. She loved to cook, she cleaned, and she washed and she was content. More than that she was happy. She lived a good life and she liked it this way. No illusions of grandeur and no high ambitions. She liked what she did, and she did it.
John wandered back into the front room and began watching the ball game on television with his father and sister. The Dodgers of course were on the tube on a Sunday as they played in New York against Maria’s beloved Yankees. It had only been a few years since the two major leagues decided to open the league to interleague play. Now during the regular season teams in the American and National Leagues would play each other a dozen times or so in meaningful games. It might be several years before they squared off against the same teams again but this time it was the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Yankees in a three-game series. Maria was glued to the television but still seemed a bit uneasy. This was unusual for his Yankee loving sister.
For his part Henry was just enjoying the game. He was a Dodger fan by region. He really didn’t have a team he grew up with and loved. He had grown up in the east but never decided on a team to root for. There were so many, and he just didn’t care enough. Some kids were die-hard Pittsburgh or Philadelphia fans but not Henry. He moved near Los Angeles and adopted the Dodgers probably because it was easier since the guys he worked with were all Dodger fans.
Young John liked baseball, but football was his forte. He hated the Raiders and had a fondness for the Pittsburgh Steelers. He had never lived in the Steel City but there just wasn’t a team which personified the heart of working Americans, especially Italian Americans the way the Steelers did. Even their name “Steelers” was hard core. It meant hard working stiffs enjoying life in this country and he identified with that, even as a surfer. It just did the right thing to him.
“How is that case coming, son?” Henry broke the silence of the conversation.
John knew he was going to ask but he really didn’t have much of an answer. He was hoping his father didn’t know about the drive by at this point and now was a little nervous about his father’s question.
“It’s difficult dad,” he said. “You know it’s got some twists and turns and it is pulling me in lots of directions. You’d think a murder like this would be simple, a guy gets killed and you find who did it, but it’s not.”
“You got a motive yet?”
“No and that is the problem,” said the officer. “In most murder cases it’s a family thing, or a love triangle. Someone gets angry and goes too far. Or a hit, which is unusual especially if you can’t find a reason for the deceased to be dead.”
The father glanced back at the television and then turned back to his son.
“It sounds like a problem you haven’t encountered before?”
The son thought about his father’s statement and realized he couldn’t recall a case like this in his repertoire. He understood what his father was saying.
“Yeh, I guess you could say this is new ground for me, anyway,” the officer said matter of factly. “There are some things which really have me worried which I can’t discuss at the moment but I’m working on them.”
“You just be careful,” said his dad with a fatherly look. “Things are easier when you have experienced them before, but new ground is always dangerous because you haven’t trod on it before.”
John knew his father’s wisdom. While he wouldn’t say where his wisdom came from John knew there were things which happened in Korea the father never told the son. Things were done, people driven to do things by masters with only one goal; dominance through death and destruction. While his father never talked about the war he used his knowledge of what he saw to teach his children the truth about life and John understood this all too well. In the same manner John never talked about his war experiences either. Perhaps he learned this from his father. Soldiers have secrets no matter what war they fought in. The deep dark secrets they hide often define their lives afterwards. Both men knew this all too well.
Just then a knock came to the door and outside stood a very large man.
“Luigi, come ona in,” Angela exclaimed as she welcomed Louie Sanchez at the door. “It’s a been a long time Luigi.”
“It has Mrs. P,” Louie said hugging the old woman and showing her the respect of a mom. This was important in the Mexican culture.
John, surprised, hurriedly walked over to greet his old friend and the pair hugged as well.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was just driving by and smelled the fresh bread, so what else was I gonna do,” said Sanchez. “Besides I always like the way your mom called me Luigi.”
Angela gave him another kiss on the cheek and announced they had a guest for dinner.
“You gonna stay for dinner, right Luigi?”
“I haven’t had a better offer all day, Mrs. P,” he said with a smile.
The rest of the family greeted the large man they treated as their guest and friend as they all moved into the dining room. Louie just looked at John with a quirky smile. John knew there was more to the visit than bread and spaghetti, but that would wait. Now it was time to eat.
The ball game was still on the television as the three men sat down in the living room of the Potenza household. The meal had been good. It was the seventh inning, and the Dodgers were leading the Yankees 7-4. Maria was helping her mother with the dishes and no one had the heart to tell her the team she followed so closely was taking a pasting and probably was going to lose. The men didn’t care so much and Louie was getting anxious to tell John what he knew would be new information for the detective. He motioned with a head nod he wanted to talk to him outside.
“Excuse us dad,” John said to his father. “I have to talk to Louie about something.”
Henry Potenza nodded politely and went right back to his ball game. He understood if the two men needed to talk it wasn’t that they were being impolite but rather it was something he didn’t need to know. He understood his son was a police officer and he knew too on occasion that Sanchez helped provide information to the cop. He would stand lookout so to speak to make sure the women didn’t disturb the friends as they talked outside.
Walking into the garden the two men paused for a moment. They each knew something was coming.
“I found out something I think you should know, bro,” Louie began.
“I’m all ears man,” the officer listened anxiously.
“Well at first it didn’t seem to be a big deal but then I started asking around and something very unusual has happened,” Louie started in. “It could be coincidence, or it could be nothing, but bro, this could be really something.”
The officer listened more intently now than before. He began munching on a home-made Italian cookie he brought with him from inside. John seemed to listen better with food in his mouth. Especially sweets and momma made the best cookies around.
“Go on.”
“Well, a couple months ago one of the older Stingrays passed away suddenly. He was an older guy, say 60 or so and he’d lived a hard life, so no one really got upset about it,” Louie began to tell his story.
Potenza had not heard of this but that wouldn’t surprise anyone. Common every day obits were something which occurred commonly and well, every day. No big deal even if it was a notorious biker. The Rays gave him a traditional send off followed by a women and booze party and that was that. Or so they thought.
“About a month later a second Stingray just up and died,” added Louie. “Again, a guy from the old gang somewhere in his early 60’s.”
“Again, no big deal because of the age and due to the hard life and lots of drugs over the years, right?” Asked the detective.
“Right,” was Louie’s answer.
These guys ingested a lot of drugs in their day and while many of the gang from the 1960’s were gone there were still some from the 1970’s and these guys still held sway with the outlaw biker world. They were old guys now but still into pushing drugs, tattoo parlor cash and insurance schemes. You know the “if you pay weekly for insurance for your business, nothing will happen to it. If you refuse to pay, then it might burn down.” Better known as extortion. The Rays were still big dealers in that, especially the older group.
“Yeh so now we have two old guys dropping dead in a month, so what?”
“Even a third old guy wouldn’t raise suspicion bro, but what if the next month a 30-year-old Stingray dropped dead the same way the other two did?” Louie asked. “Just out of the clear blue sky.”
“I’d say that was suspicious enough to warrant some further investigation my friend!”
Louie nodded his approval.
“Motive,” the detective said coolly reassuring himself out loud. He finally had the beginnings of a motive or at least a theory.
Louie realized too if three members of the same biker gang all died in a 90-day window something was amiss. Like Louie suggested the older guys dropping off in that manner could be written off as nothing to write home about or nothing to investigate either. Natural causes no big deal. Throw in a third guy half the age of the other two and now you have a conspiracy theory.
Counting the death of Rodriguez this makes four Stingrays dead in three months and Rodriguez wasn’t actually a Ray, he was a Bull Dog killed by the Stingrays.
“Maybe this Rodriguez found a way to off the others somehow and got caught,” said the detective. “Grister figures it out, has him killed not knowing he’s a Bull Dog until it’s too late. Now he’s got a gang war on his hands and it’s one he can’t win but he can’t avoid either.”
“My thoughts exactly bro,” said Louie.
“Hey what you guys talking about out here in the garden?” Came the excited yet inquisitive voice of Maria as she came through the back door to the spot where the two men were talking.
“Oh nothing, nothing that you need to know about,” the detective reassured his sister.
“If it’s about that tattoo guy-slash biker getting killed you better let me in on it,” was her answer.
Potenza knew now what he feared most. Somehow his little sister was involved in this. The one thing he never wanted was a member of his family to be involved in a case of his, especially one like this. He understood the time had come for them to talk and having Louie alongside him helped.
“All right what happened, I know there is something on your mind, now out with it,” he told his sister sternly.
“Well first of all are you okay?” She asked
“Yes, I’m fine, they missed and I think it was just a warning anyway.”
Louie looked somewhat surprised.
“Bro that was you last night?” He shot in quickly. “I heard there was a drive by man, but I didn’t know it was you. Did you get a look?”
“Not a good enough one,” the officer replied.
He then went on to tell them what happened but quickly came back to his sister.
“Now tell me little girl what happened?”
She paused. Her fists clenched as she changed right before her brother’s eyes. He could see the glib girl becoming a frightened one with a story to tell. Her eyes told him there was much more to this than he imagined, and he wasn’t going to like what he heard.
“Are you all right, Maria?”
“I’m fine now but last night as I was closing someone was in the shop and I think it was that Slash guy from the tattoo place,” she said pushing the words out as best she could, now obviously on the verge of tears.
Sensing her trauma her brother took her in his arms.
“It’s okay sis, tell me what happened. Did he hurt you?”
“No, I’m just a little sore from where he pushed me, but he didn’t hurt me, just trying to scare me. He said you were getting too close and if you wanted me to, not get harmed, you’d back off the case.”
Potenza held his sister even more firmly now, taking her to his chest knowing he had put her life in danger just by doing his job.
“Did he hurt you?’
“No, I’m okay he just threatened me then pushed me against the wall and then he left,” she said wiping the tears from her eyes.
Louie offered her a large handkerchief.
“Oh, Johnny I’m so scared.”
He pulled her in even more and kissed her forehead to try to calm her down.
“Don’t worry I’ll take care of this even if we have to put out a few plainclothes guys to keep you safe, we’ll do it,” he began talking like a cop. “Did he say anything else anything at all?”
She paused for a moment and remembered the words he used.
“He said for you to back off unless you wanted to see your little sister ‘ending up in the ocean if I caught his drift.’”
Potenza knew the play on words well. Slash wasn’t clever enough to think things up on his own. Grister was. Somewhere in a conversation Grister had used the aquatic terms to turn a phrase about Billy Rodriguez ending up dead in the ocean. Slash was taking his cues from Grister, and the officer was ready to pay them both another visit.
Potenza grew angry as he held his sister. The gall of these guys to step outside and threaten the family of a police officer. Grister was smart and unless he felt there was no other way, he wouldn’t be pushing this unless Slash was doing it on his own which was not smart and the officer felt this was out of the young biker’s league. He wasn’t intelligent enough to pull this on his own.
“What are you going to do bro?” Louie asked.
“Tomorrow I’m going to pay Mr. Grister a visit and I’m going to ask him about his colleagues and a few other things,” the detective countered. “Things are beginning to look a lot clearer now.”
“C’mon let’s go back inside or momma will begin wondering what’s going on,” John pointed out. “I don’t want her to worry about her kids at this point.”
He handed his sister his own handkerchief and she used it to wipe her eyes. The men entered the house and headed for the kitchen. Maria headed for the safety of the bathroom. When all else fails she would go to the bathroom. What she did in there only other women know. It was a woman’s sanctuary, a safe place, a haven for only women. It was if God invented indoor plumbing just for women.
As for the men, momma had made dessert and it was as if just about everything talked about in the last ten minutes was behind them, at least for the moment. Zabaglione was a traditional favorite in the Potenza household and momma didn’t make it all the time. It is special custard served with fresh figs on the side and only when the weather was cooler would Angela make this delicious dish. The weather was a little cooler and she knew how much her Johnny loved this sweet dessert laced with liqueur. Sometimes she’d make it with a little wine, other times it was cognac. Either way it was delicious.
Louie just smiled. Even a man, who knew he was not supposed to eat these types of things because of his diabetes, would step off the diet for a moment.
“Luigi, you like?” Asked Angela.
“Mrs. P, the word is ‘love,’” he answered.
She only smiled, grabbed his big cheeks with two hands and gave him a kiss on one of them.
“You a welcome anytime, Luigi, any a time,” she said with a big smile.
The rest of the afternoon would go as usual but with a little bit of uneasiness due to the fact three of the people in the room knew of the terrible tale which was unfolding before them, and none could speak out loud about it. Henry wished to know but he wouldn’t push it. He knew he was on a need-to-know basis and at the moment John felt more comfortable not letting his father in on the case. Tomorrow would bring a new day and tomorrow at least one confrontation.