Hot-Wired in Brooklyn (23 page)

“Spill,” I said when we got inside. “You first, Ang.”

“Me!” Tony insisted.

“Ang”
I said, staring him down.

“I get to be best man,” he said. “I asked first. Remember, when I was fixin’ the pane o’ glass?”

“Is
that
what this is about?! Jesus H. Christ!”

“Saw her first!” Tony chimed in, feeling that his turn had come.

“Big deal,” Angelo chimed back. “So, you gave her a little ride in your cab!”

“Two rides!”

“One!”

“Two! Took her to the church, didn’t I?”

“So what?”

“Two rides!”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “What’s this about church?”

“Ain’t nothin’!” argued Angelo. “Didn’t ask Eddie like I did!”

“Ang, shut up!” I snapped, staring hard to reinforce the thought. Then I turned my attention back to Tony.

“You took her to the church? What church?”

“St. Margaret’s. Where else’d you get hitched?”

“Keep talking.”

“She was waitin’ for me at the hack stand, see, like the first time when we just drove around and she said she wanted t’ know
everythin’ about ya, ’cuz you and her wuz gonna get married.”

“Okay, so?”

“Well, she gets in my cab, but this time she don’t want to know no more about you. She wants to go to church, she says, so
she can talk to Father Giacomo about the weddin’ and all.”

“She knew Father Giacomo’s name?”

“Naah, she just called him the priest, but she musta meant him. Who else would marry you and her ’cept him? Thing is, that
time o’ night, I figgered Father Giacomo was prob’ly asleep. I asked her how come she couldn’t wait till tomorrow, but she
said it was real important. She even gave me a’ extra tip for drivin’ through the snow and all.”

“When did all this happen?”

“Las’ week.”

“When last week?”

Tony scratched his head, closed his eyes and turned them, still closed, toward Heaven. It was a familiar gesture, one I’d
known since we were children. Whenever Tony couldn’t remember something, he simply closed his eyes, turned skyward, and waited
for God to tell him. The gesture usually made me smile, but not this time.

“Could it have been Thursday night?” I asked.

He looked at me as he might look at God. “Jeez, I think it
was,
Eddie.”

“How late? After midnight, maybe? That’d make it early Friday morning.”

“Yeah. She…”

“She asked you to drop her off across the street from the church, like maybe in front of Mr. and Mrs. DiPaulo’s place?”

“Yeah. How’d you know
that,
Eddie?”

I didn’t answer. I backed off, turned and paced the few steps to my easy chair. The weight of what I knew pushed me hard into
it and held me there. I suddenly had the solutions to three murders, but it was knowledge too unthinkable to accept. Three
young boys, one of them her own brother. My mind recoiled from it, and bile rose up into my throat.

“Jesus, Tony! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“She said it was a secret! I didn’t want t’ spoil your wed-din’ plans. Jeez, Eddie, I’m sorry.”

Tears were forming in Tony’s eyes, begging my forgiveness, but I was too helpless myself to offer comfort.

“Eddie?” he said again, and then started to cry.

“I can’t talk to you now, Tony. Maybe in a little while.” I motioned to Angelo to lead him away, but they froze in place.
I walked to the window and stared out at the street, trying to gather my thoughts and keep my emotions in check. When I turned
back, my
goombahs
were still there.

“It’s okay, Tony,” I said, attempting a smile. “You didn’t know. Do me a favor, though, from now on. Come and tell me. You,
too, Ang. Don’t keep secrets from me.”

They nodded. Tony wiped a final tear from his eye and asked, “You’re still gettin’ married, ain’t ya?”

“Not this time, and not ever to her. And you and Ang aren’t ever gonna have this fight again, because I made up my mind about
this best man business a long time ago. If and when I get married, you’re
both
gonna be best man. Okay?”

Tony and Angelo were smiling when they left, and I put on a good act at the door about Charlotte and what a kidder she was.
Substitute is for the ds, and I was right on the money.

I
solved my Scarpetti problem and my Charlotte problem in less than an hour. In my head, anyway. The Plan was supposed to start
with a phone call to big sister Caroline, so I was surprised when sweet little Charlotte picked up the telephone.

She asked, “Hello?” and “Who is this?” twice before I announced myself.

“Caroline’s not here,” she said when she was through cursing me.

“You want to make a lot of money, Charlotte?”

“Look, asshole, my sister’s not
here”

“But
you’re
the one I want. You’ve got a certain file from the D.A.’s office, and you don’t know how to cash it in without getting killed,
right?” She went silent, so I kept talking. “I can help you get those papers to Scarpetti and get back alive. Alberto’ll pay
ten grand. You and I do a fifty-fifty split. Interested?”

“You’re fulla shit, Lombardi.”

“Am I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t you?”

“Ten thousand, huh?”

“Five for you, five for me.”

“You’re nuts, Lombardi.”

“So much money, so little time. Think about it. You’ve got the papers, and I’ve got the offer, from Alberto Scarpetti personally.
I’m the only one who can get you there and bring you out alive, Charlotte. I’m your protection and your only hope to cash
in. Right now.”

“I don’t know what papers you’re talkin’ about.”

“Oh, come on, now, Charlotte. Just because you don’t like me doesn’t make me stupid. And just because I don’t like you doesn’t
mean we can’t work together.
You
know, for a common goal.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Lombardi.”

“Sure you do. I can help you get rid of the gun, too.”

“What gun?”

“You
know. The .45 automatic. The big gun that makes bigger holes in people.”

“I’m hangin’ up, Lombardi.”

“Okay, Charlotte, you do that. But I’ll be at the hideout near the bridge tonight. Eight o’clock. You bring those papers,
and we’ll make some money together.”

I hung up first.

It was one-thirty, later than I normally eat lunch, and I was hungry. I thought about the Plan as I ate and watched a light,
steady snow descend. I was sure that Charlotte had the
files well hidden, and just as sure that Scarpetti and his goons hadn’t yet connected Charlotte with the theft of the D.A.’s
car. I recalled Alberto complaining about the puny thousand-dollar extortion demand. A frightened young voice demanding the
money, another voice in the background telling the kid to hang up when Scarpetti tried to set too obvious a trap. Not a woman’s
voice. Another young man. So Chick and Teddy had been the stalking horses. Theirs were the only voices that Scarpetti had
been allowed to hear, not sweet little Charlotte’s. Only that .45 automatic had given her away, and only to me.

The Scarpetti file was worthless to Charlotte without a payoff that was both guaranteed and relatively safe. So the Plan was
simple: let her consuming greed and fear lead her into making a monumental mistake, which was trusting me.

I passed the rest of the afternoon and early evening listening to the radio and cleaning my gun. The light snowfall had turned
heavy. Three or four inches lay on 16th Avenue, and it just kept coming, looking more and more like a reprise of the blizzard
of ’46—’47. The Barracuda Brothers were still across the street, running the motor of the hearse and trying to keep warm.
I admired their persistence and sense of duty as only an ex-soldier can. I was counting on both qualities as part of the Plan,
staking the success of the mission on it.

And my life.

I called Watusi. His leg was mending nicely, with no sign of infection and only a slight limp, which would pass. I didn’t
tell him about the Plan, but I promised Desiree a visit over the weekend.

At seven-thirty, I shoveled off the car. I considered putting
chains on the rear wheels, but I didn’t want to be late. Charlotte might not wait much beyond eight o’clock, if she showed
up at all. My loaded .38 was tucked comfortably under my right arm, and my oversize topcoat hid the bulge. I let the engine
run a few minutes, defrosted the windshield, and made sure that my two chaperones were awake when I drove away. I turned my
headlights on, pulled away from the curb, and held my breath until the hearse followed a half a block behind me.

I tried to sort through Charlotte’s motives as I drove, but beyond greed and pure evil, there wasn’t much to sort. Besides,
I needed all my attention just to keep the Chevy on the road. Nobody else’d been dumb enough to go out in weather like this,
not even the snowplow drivers. Both sides of the street belonged exclusively to me and the Barracuda Brothers, who followed
slip-sliding in my wake.

Sands Street looked peaceful, almost beautiful under its thick blanket of snow. I parked in front of the hideout and looked
around. There’d been a few people on the sidewalk within the last hour, but no one now, and no other cars. I waited a minute
for the Barracuda Brothers to turn the corner, but they didn’t, so I trudged around to the cellar door where Watusi and I’d
gone in before. There were no other tracks leading in, which meant I was first. It could also mean that I was first and only,
but I had to figure she’d show, just like I figured the Barracuda Brothers wouldn’t lose me in the storm.

The key was in its usual place, so I opened the cellar door and stepped inside. I shook off the snow, careful to leave a clear
trail upstairs, and went up to the first floor. Charlotte
Hutchinson was standing behind the front desk, between the cobwebbed counter and the warren of room key slots.

“Surprise, surprise,” I said.

“That’s not the only way in,” she answered, pointing toward the cellar stairs. She smiled as she raised her right hand from
below the counter. The .45 automatic was pointed casually at my heart.

“Take your coat off,” she said. “Get comfortable.”

“It’s kind of cold.”

“Take off the coat, Lombardi.”

I pulled my arm through the left sleeve and let the topcoat fall partly open. I tried to move my hand casually to the lapel,
precious inches from my .38, but she stopped me with a quick wave of the automatic.

“Uh uh,” she said with a teasing smile. “Just let the coat fall off.”

I kept reaching, offering a smile of my own, as she took aim.

“Just let the coat drop, Lombardi. You know I can use this.”

“Five times already, I figure. Three hits, two misses. That’s a .600 killing average. Of course, they were all at close range.”

“Just like now. Let the coat drop.”

“Okay,” I said. I started to pull out the .38, but she stopped me again.

“Use two fingers,” she said. “By the butt. Put it on the counter.”

“You’ve been watching too many detective movies. They’ll warp you.”

“On the counter, Lombardi.”

I put the gun down, draped the coat over my arm, and stepped back. She slid the .38 under the counter and brought out a manila
envelope several inches thick, plus a smaller file that looked like part of Shork’s collection. She opened that file and held
up a photograph of a glassy-eyed Sissy with her legs splayed.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“You tell me. Princess Elizabeth?”

“Who, Lombardi?”

“I’ve got no idea.”

“I didn’t know the D.A. went in for dirty pictures,” she added, and laughed. “Hell, I got more’n this babe in every department.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know all about it.”

“No you don’t. You lost your chance, Lombardi, your one big chance to know the
inner
Charlotte.” She laughed at that, too. I waited until she stopped.

“Three out of five, Charlotte. Two from behind at close range, and the third one was runnin’ right at you. You’re one hell
of a shot.”

“Almost got you, too.”

“You weren’t even close.”

“I am now,” she said with a grin, moving the pistol in a small arc that centered on my chest.

“You didn’t stick around after Chick. What about the other two? Did you gloat over Teddy after you put the bullet in his back?
And did you have a good look at your brother Jimmy’s brains splattered all over the pavement? Did you watch the steam rise
out of them?”

“No.”

“They found him a couple of alleys from here. Did it take you that long to get your nerve up?”

“He was gonna tell Caroline.”

“And you couldn’t let him do that, could you?”

“No.”

“And Teddy?”

“He got scared. He wanted out.”

“And nobody backs out on Charlotte, right?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“So you lured him somehow to that empty lot, lured him out of hiding with a promise of safety. A friend of yours who lived
out of town, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

“And you did the same with Chick outside St. Margaret’s.”

“He wanted out, too. They had him scared. But they don’t have
me
scared. You said ten thousand, right?”

“That’s what Scarpetti said. So, are you ready to go?”

“Where?”

I wanted to say, “Straight to Hell,” but I didn’t. “Scarpetti’s place, in Bay Ridge.”

“You first,” she said, waving the automatic.

“Do I get my gun back?”

“No.”

“Can I put my coat on, then? It’s cold out there. Almost as cold as you, Charlotte.”

“Sure.”

I hefted my overcoat on and she followed me out the way I’d come in, keeping her little secret about the other
entrance. She shut the cellar door, hid the key, and waved the gun at me again.

“What kind of a business relationship is this, Charlotte?” I needled. “We’re partners now. We gotta trust each other. Fifty-fifty.
Everything straight up.” She didn’t answer, so I turned my head and gave her the kind of grin Gino says’ll get me killed one
day.