Lonnie the Weasel had always been a weasel. That’s how he got the nickname. He was a pissant little turd, who sucked up to the right people, and pissed on the guys he no longer thought could advance him in the Romano clan.
Sal only kept him around because he would do the dirty jobs. If someone was needed to go through garbage to get a gun that had been thrown after a hit, Lonnie would do it. If someone had to make sure that a body that was rotting in woodland had been dug up by animals, Lonnie would be tasked with making sure the stinking corpse was put back in the ground deeper and covered better.
Only a weasel would take on the dirty jobs, and Lonnie was that weasel. Joey had used him a couple of times out in L.A. to clean up after him, and Lonnie had done a fair job. But it was clear that Lonnie was developing a habit for booze, and his lips were loosening.
“I didn’t say nuttin’, Joey! On my life!”
Joey slapped Lonnie around the chops and the grey-haired man’s head snapped back. Red fingermarks appeared in the pale skin of his cheek, the Miami skyline though the condo window blazed in the dying sun, the windows reflecting golden light. Cars moved thought the streets, as Joey could smell the salt in the air from the sea. Or was it Lonnie’s sweat?
He didn’t know, and he didn’t care.
“Don’t lie to me, Lonnie. You were overheard. You think when I called you down here, I wouldn’t want to keep tabs on you?”
“Honestly, Joey! I swear. I didn’t say nothing. This is all a mistake.”
“The only mistake here was the one I made when I trusted you not to shoot your mouth off in a Miami bar about how you were some big shot down from New York to clean up Joey Diamonds’ mess.”
Joey could see the recognition in Lonnie’s eyes, and his whole body seemed to collapse in on itself.
“We need someone who can take their liquor, Lonnie. Not weasels who are trying to impress women with their loose lips.”
Lonnie had forgotten that Joey had tied his hands behind his back in the chair, sitting in the middle of the warehouse, because he moved his shoulders as if to raise his hands up and placate Joey.
“Joey, please. Someone spiked my drink. I didn’t know what I was saying. The broad! It was her. She spiked my beer. I saw her, Joey. I saw her. After that I didn’t know what I was saying!”
“The broad spiked your beer?”
Lonnie nodded vigorously, his bloodshot eyes rattling like slot machine cherries. “Yeah. I bet she works for that bitch Reyes. I bet she was trying to get dirt on you, Joey. Let me go, I’ll find her. I’ll bring her here. I’ll get the truth out of her. You bet I will.”
Joey shook his head. “You’re pathetic, Lonnie.”
“It’s the truth!”
Joey punched Lonnie in his ample gut, sending the air rushing from his body like a punctured balloon. “It’s not the truth, Lonnie. It’s not even in the ballpark of truth. The girl you were with was Gail Rodriguez-Salento. She’s on the payroll, Lonnie. I sent her to the bar to hit on you to see if the weasel would squeal.”
Lonnie’s bleary eyes looked up, what color there was in his skin had left completely now. He was translucent. See through. And Joey was seeing all the way through him.
“No one spiked your drink. You spiked yourself with the drink, and you spilled your guts all over the table. If Gail hadn’t been one of ours, I’d hate to think what you may have given away, Lonnie.”
Lonnie began to cry. His lips trembled and fat tears grew in bulbs on the end of his hooked nose.
“I…I…”
“You’re a liability, Lonnie. You know that right?”
It took all of Lonnie to nod his own head.
“Enrico!” Joey shouted through the doorway into the bedroom.
Enrico appeared in the doorway with Gail. She was petite and raven-haired. She’d come to Joey’s operation from Sophia’s side of the deal, and she had proven to be a useful addition to his crew in Miami. She was trustworthy, hard-nosed, and knew how to get what she wanted from a man.
“Hello again, Lonnie,” she said as she and Enrico approached the sobbing man on the single chair, beneath the single light in the ceiling.
Lonnie’s crying was echoing off the walls. He knew it was the end, and he was going to face that end in exactly the way he’d lived his life. Like the weasel he was.
“Is there anything more pathetic than a crying man?” Gail asked as she and Enrico took positions on either side of Joey.
Joey shook his head. “So, who wants to get their hands dirty?”
Gail snorted, but Enrico said nothing. Exactly as Joey thought he would.
Joey turned to Enrico and looked at the man he thought he loved. He pulled a cold pistol from the shoulder holster inside his jacket. Joey held the silver weapon out in the palm of his hand. “Come on, Enrico. It’s about time we blooded you, don’tcha think?”
Enrico’s face was draining of color almost as fast as Lonnie’s had. “I…I…thought…we…” he stammered.
“You thought we were just going to rough Lonnie up, give him a slapping and send him back to Sal?”
“Yeah…I mean…come on…we don’t need to…”
“Don’t we? But he’s betrayed me, Enrico. He’s said things to people out loud that he shouldn’t have. I need men around me I can trust. If I don’t have that trust around me, how can I operate? How can I make the life for myself and you that we want?”
Enrico took a step back, but Joey caught his hand and pulled him back. He put the weapon in Enrico’s palm and closed his fingers gently around the grip. Then he lifted Enrico’s hand so that the gun was pointing at Lonnie’s head.
“Please…” Lonnie whined.
“I…can’t…I….” Enrico said.
“Yes you can, my love. You can put a bullet through the weasel’s skull and then, when you’ve done that, you’ll be exactly the man I want you to be.”
“But…but…” the gun was shaking in Enrico’s hand. His face was white; there were tears in the corners of his eyes.
“Christ, not another crying guy,” said Gail.
Enrico held the gun away from him like it was a venomous snake, which Joey thought was more than appropriate. “You see, what I’m seeing here is confusing me,” Joey began, keeping his eyes tight on Enrico. “You’re a Honduran bad boy. You ran guns for the Sandinistas, and you’ve taken to me like you didn’t have a care in the world.”
Enrico’s hand was shaking so much that Joey was convinced the gun was going to fall from his fingers at any moment. Gail huffed like she was bored and Lonnie sobbed.
The sobbing was getting on Joey’s nerves now. “And here you are, unwilling to off this weasel piece of shit. You know what? That makes me wonder why you’ve become squeamish all of a sudden, Enrico. Is there something you feel you oughta be telling me right now?”
Enrico let the gun slip from his fingers as the terror blossomed in his eyes.
A dark patch of urine appeared on the front of his pants as Joey called behind him. “Paul, you’re welcome to come out whenever you want.”
Paul—Enrico’s Paul, who Joey knew as Mancuso Puglia, one of Sal’s most trusted Cleveland Lieutenants—stepped out from a door that led to the condo’s balcony.
He was calm and cool in his Armani suit, his shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and Joey admired the glimpse of a powerful physique behind the material. When they were finished here tonight, he planned to take Manny to his bed and get the bad taste of Enrico’s betrayal out of his mouth.
Enrico sank to his knees.
“You wearing that wire now?” Joey asked, stepping forward to pick up the gun from where it lay on the dusty concrete.
Enrico didn’t answer. He was already saying as many Hail Mary’s as he could cram into his lying mouth.
Lonnie, picking up that things were getting to a climax, sobbed loudly now—not trying to suppress the sound, and so Joey shot the top of his head off.
Lonnie’s body slumped in the chair, his brains drooling out of his destroyed skull and slipping past his ear. His eyes were moving, but they were sightless. His shoulders twitched, and his left foot shivered. Like an unwound clock running out of ticks, Lonnie’s body eventually came to a stop, and the only sound in the room was the whisper of prayer coming from Enrico’s mouth.
Joey went over to the man who had sold him out to the cops. He touched his face gently, and then ran fingers through his hair.
“Like Gail was for Lonnie, Paul was for you Enrico,” Joey sighed. “I knew you were pissed about Bianca, but you should have worked harder to get over that. The rewards I would have given you eventually would have made anything else you agreed to with the Feds, pale into insignificance.”
Joey looked up to the ceiling, still cradling Enrico’s head. “You see, the cops you spoke to… They’re my cops. They cost me a lot, but they’re worth every penny to test out those of whom I am suspicious. I wanted to think you were a safe bet, Enrico, I really did. But, like Lonnie the Weasel there with his loose mouth, your loose balls have been your downfall. Right up to the end there, I wanted to believe that you wouldn’t have really gone through with it. But there’s no way you could commit murder, even if you weren’t wearing that wire, huh? That’s the one sure way of me finding out where your heart truly lies.”
Enrico’s whispered prayer ended, and he hissed a tearful “Amen.”
Joey didn’t look down as he broke Enrico’s neck with one savage twist of his hands. The crack of neck bones shattering added a final and defining closure to the sounds in the room.
If Joey listened hard enough, he could hear the cars shushing by on the freeway as the night finally reached the city.
He could still smell the salt in the air.