Find Big Fat Fanny Fast (24 page)

Blusterman stared at her back for a moment, then he looked both ways and walked past the entrance to the New York State Supreme Court Building. He stopped at the far left-hand corner of the building, turned right and slipped behind a huge statue, which was covered by pigeon droppings dating back to when Teddy Roosevelt was New York City's Chief of Police. From this vantage point, Blusterman could see people walking up the steep steps, but they could not see him.

Blusterman checked the cheap knockoff Rolex wristwatch he had just bought from a Canal Street vendor. It said it was exactly 2 pm, the time he had told Hung Far Low to arrive for this important meeting.

Less than a minute later, Blusterman spotted the bulky figure of Hung Far Low ascending the courthouse steps. Hung Far Low traced Blusterman's route and soon he was behind the statue standing next to him.

“Good, you're almost on time,” Blusterman said.

Hung Far Low crinkled his nose. “You stink. No take bath this morning?”

“No take bath. That goes with my disguise.”

Blusterman patted down Hung Far Low, looking for either a weapon, or a tape recorder.

Hung Far Low giggled, “Stop. You tickle me.”

“Let me have your wristwatch,” Blusterman said.

“I no wear wristwatch. I have pocket watch.” Hung Far Low removed a pocket watch from his pants pocket. “See.”

Blusterman snatched the pocket watch from Hung Far Low. “I'll give this back to you later. After I have it checked for bugs.”

“Do I get a receipt for the watch?”

“No receipt. Just my word, which you know is good.”

“If you say so, Mr. Police Commissioner of New York City”

Blusterman cleared his throat. “Look, I know it's not seven days yet, but you need to make a decision right away.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the word out on the streets is that Tony B has declared an all-out war against all the Chinese Triads. And that the big target is squarely on your back.”

“I find that hard to believe. The Chinese in New York City outnumber the Italians twenty to one. Tony B is not that stupid to start a war he cannot possible win.”

“Well, be that as it may. But Tony B ain't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer either. And my information is concrete. It comes from several sources and they all say the same thing. Tony B is looking to put one right between your eyes.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“I suggest you leave all the dirty work to me. Like I said before, I'll take care of Tony B for you and I meant what I said. That Guinea bastard is going down and I'm going to be the one taking him down.”

Hung Far Low rubbed his chubby chin. “So let me be clear. By you saying you're taking Tony B down, you mean you're going to have him arrested, right?”

Blusterman's eyes flashed. He put his forefinger under Hung Far Low's nose. “No. I am not going to arrest Tony B. I am going to have him killed. Whacked. Eliminated from the face of the earth. Am I clear to you now? You stupid Chinaman bastard.”

Hung Far Low smiled. “Now Mr. Police Commissioner, is that any way to speak to your business partner?”

Blusterman scratched his wig. “So, I assume you're going for the deal?”

“Of course. I don't see that I have any choice.”

“You don't.”

“Now let me see if I have the details correctly. You kill Tony B, I give you one hundred thousand dollars in cash. Then for the fee of ten thousand dollars per month, you give me complete protection in all my endeavors. Is that correct?”

“You've got it right, baby.”

“I'm no baby. I'm grown man.”

Blusterman shrugged. “Whatever. Now let me give you the details of how I'm going to kill Tony B. And I'll need your cooperation.”

“My cooperation?”

“Yes, I want you to set up a meeting with you and Tony B. Tell him you want to make peace. At that meeting, I'll make sure Tony B is no more.”

“I don't know if Tony B would agree to such a meeting. And even if he did, he'd insist it would be on his own turf.”

A loony grin spread across Blusterman's face. “I'll have the meeting on his turf. I can whack Tony B anywhere. Even in Little Italy. I'm the police commissioner of New York City. I can do whatever I want.”

Hung Far Low's face erupted into a huge grin.
“If you say so, Mr. Police Commissioner. If you say so.”

*****

Cafe Finito, owned by a neighborhood character named Calogero, is located on Mulberry Street in the heart the Italian mob. By 1985, the neighborhood was still mostly Italian, but a few Chinese had started to trickle west onto Mulberry from Mott Street, the heart of Chinatown, just one small block east.

When you enter Cafe Finito, there's a dessert counter on the left and a few tables splattered about inside. Just past the counter and to the right, are the two smallest bathrooms known to humanity. Standing up to urinate is barely manageable, but if you have to do number two, good luck trying to fit your bottom on the toilet seat without your legs being jammed up against the wall in front of you.

Yet the charm of Cafe Finito is outside the back glass door, which opens into a wondrous backyard cafe, where you can mangia home made gelato, holy cannolis, zabaglione and Cafe Finito's World Famous Tiramisu. The only problem with the ambiance of the backyard cafe is that it is surrounded by firescapes, resplendent with the neighbor's wet clothes hanging from clotheslines. After a few Sambucas, Anisettes or Gallianos, all this visual mayhem evaporates in the minds of people seated in Cafe Finito's backyard Garden of Eden, which is a good thing indeed, especially for Calogero.

At noon sharp, before the place was open to the public, Calogero unlocked the front door and Police Commissioner Keyshawn Blusterman strode into Cafe Finito. With him was Detective Clarice Jackson, who was now permanently assigned to guard Blusterman's body, whether it had clothes on or not. This arrangement seemed to be working well for both parties.

“Is Tony B here?” Blusterman asked Calogero, a short, stout man, with a large mustache, highlighting a moon-like face.

“Out back,” Calogero said, jerking his thumb towards the backyard. He re-locked the front door behind him.

Blusterman grunted. “You stay here,” he told Clarice. “And don't let anyone get past you into the backyard.”

“Yes sir,” Clarice said. She took a seat at an inside table, just opposite the tiny bathrooms.

“Can I get you something?” Calogero asked Clarice.

“Double espresso,” she said.

“Same for me,” Blusterman said. “But I'll have mine outside.”

Blusterman headed towards the backyard seating. When he got outside, he spotted Tony B and Junior seated at a back table. Both were sipping espresso from tiny porcelain cups and a bottle of Anis Gorilla anisette sat half empty on the table.

Blusterman stopped at Tony B's table.

“Have a seat,” Tony B said.

“First, I need to frisk you both” Blusterman said. “Now stand up so I can do my job.”

Junior and Tony B obeyed.

After running his hands all over both men's bodies, Blusterman was satisfied neither man had a gun, or a wire. “OK, be seated,” Blusterman said.

Junior and Tony B sat down in their chairs and Blusterman sat opposite them.

Almost immediately, Calogero put a cup of double espresso in front of Blusterman.

“Help yourself to the Anisette,” Calogero told Blusterman.

“No thank you,” Blusterman said. “I never drink on duty.”

Calogero shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And he walked back inside the cafe.

“Where's Hung Far Low?” Tony B said.

“He'll be a little late,” Blusterman said. “But what I have to say to you, I can say before he arrives.”

*****

Detective Clarice Jackson sat inside Cafe Finito and sipped the double espresso. She was not used to this type of strong Italian coffee and in seconds her stomach began to churn. The front door was locked, and she and Calogero were the only people in the place.

“Do you have a ladies room?” she asked Calogero.

Calogero pointed to two small doors opposite the counter. “Use the men's room. The ladies room is out of order.”

She glanced at her wristwatch and knew she had to hurry.

She dashed across to the men's room door, opened it and slipped inside. It was the tiniest bathroom she had ever seen. There was a small sink and an even smaller toilet bowl. And when she sat on the bowl, her legs touched the wall in front of her.

“
No wonder the ladies room is out of order
,” she thought.
“One of those fat Italian cows in the neighborhood must have broken the bowl when she sat on it.”

Clarice finished her business quickly. Then she bolted out of the bathroom and returned to her seat by the counter.

She peeked at her wristwatch. It was almost time.

*****

The sniper lying on his stomach was dressed entirely in black, with a black ski mask covering his face. He was in position on the roof of a Mulberry Street tenement, right next door to Cafe Finito. The site of his rifle was locked-in on his target, sitting in Cafe Finito's backyard garden. He was waiting for a signal from his boss. Then it was curtains for Tony B and then Junior, if he had the time to shoot both.

Blusterman had made it clear, Tony B had to go first. If he could get Junior too, that was an added bonus. But Tony B was the main target.

The sniper wiped a drop of sweat from above his lips. It shouldn't be long.

*****

Blusterman sipped his espresso, then poured himself his second anisette.

“I thought you didn't drink on duty,” Tony B said.

“I had a rough night last night,” Blusterman said. “I need this mud to wake me up.”

He then continued to lay down the law to Tony B and Junior.

“So in summation,” Blusterman said, “Hung Far Low has agreed to a truce with you Italians. The only catch is this. As a fee for me organizing this truce, I want ten thousand dollars a month from the both of you. For my continued services of course.”

“And what may those services be again?” Tony B said.

“I will give you complete protection from the New York City Police Department with anything you do, except murder,” Blusterman said. “If you kill someone and get caught, you're on your own. Or maybe, if the circumstances are right, we could negotiate further payment for further services.”

Tony B rubbed his chin. “OK, I need time to think this over. And by the way, where is Hung Far Low? I want to hear that he agrees to this truce from his own mouth.”

“He should be here any minute,” Blusterman said. “Is there a men's room inside?”

“Yeah,” Tony B said. “Calogero will show you where it is.”

Blusterman rose from his seat at exactly 12:15 pm. Just as he neared the door to the inside of the cafe, he heard a loud gunshot. Followed quickly by another.

He turned around, expecting to see Tony B dead and maybe Junior dead too, but instead, a body dressed entirely in black fell from the roof and landed half way between where Blusterman was standing and Tony B's table. The body bounced twice, then stopped dead, face down.

Tony B looked up towards the roof. He spotted Shorty Stitchhead and Bobby the Beak, both holding smoking guns.

“Good work boys,” Tony B yelled up to them.

Blusterman rushed into the cafe. “Come on,” he yelled to Clarice. We've got to go! NOW!”

Before Clarice could rise from her chair, Big Fat Fanny, with a mean 38-caliber revolver in each hand, burst from inside the ladies room. Not by opening the locked door, but like a mad bull, smashing right through the door, knocking it completely off its hinges. The splintered door hit Blusterman as he flashed by and he toppled to the floor, as Calogero ducked behind the counter.

Clarice started to draw her gun. But before she could, Big Fat Fanny shot her three times in the torso. Clarice barreled backwards and banged her head against the wall. Her bullet proof vest took the brunt of the three shots and she reached for her service revolver again. The gun came out of her shoulder holster, but before he could fire, Big Fat Fanny dotted her forehead three times with 38-caliber bullets. Clarice slid to the floor, now totally dead.

Blusterman scrambled to his feet and tried to sprint through the narrow corridor to the street outside. Unfortunately, he ran smack into Big Fat Fanny's chest and he bounced off her like he had run into a brick wall.

Before he could say, “Please don't shoot me, you big fat bastard,” she did just that. Six times. Blusterman spun around, fell face forward and landed on top of the dead body of Detective Clarice Jackson, his nose nestled right between her two large breasts.

Tony B and Junior rushed inside the cafe from the backyard garden. Tony B glanced at his wristwatch. He barked at Junior and Big Fat Fanny, “Let's go!”

As Big Fat Fanny and Junior rushed to the front door, Tony B flipped a wad of hundred dollar bills wrapped with rubber bands at Calogero, who had now just peeked up from behind the counter. Calogero caught the wad against his chest.