Red Baker (21 page)

I worked on my smile and dug in, but my stomach was tied in knots.

“I can tell you this, Red, not one cent of your share is going to them. Let me put it this way. They all owe me favors, and on this job I collect. Does that put your mind to rest?”

“Maybe.”

“Look, Red, here’s how it works. I came up with this plan. I cased it, and for that I get a third. You and the other guy get a third each. Like I told you before, you should take maybe fifteen thousand dollars out of this. That’s five for each of us. And it’s a lock. Nothing to it at all. The whole job is going to take maybe an hour.”

“Where are you while it’s going down?”

“Playing poker with you and the others,” Choo Choo said. “Goddamn these stewed tomatoes are the best. You know I actually got the recipe out of old man Hausner, went home and cooked them up, but they just didn’t taste the same. They’ve got a touch here, Red. Real class. Have another drink.”

“Sure.”

We ordered a couple more whiskeys, but I sipped mine slowly. I didn’t want to fog over what was left of my judgment.

“Now before I tell you about it, I want to ask you, as my partner, about a couple guys who are candidates to go into this with you. You know them all, and I want you to choose the one you’d feel best with.”

“No,” I said. “Don’t name anybody. I already know who the other guy is going to be.”

This set him back a little. He raised his thick eyebrows and cleared his throat and then took a long drag on his smoke.

“Okay, Red. I usually hire all the men, but tell me who you had in mind.”

“Dog,” I said.

He didn’t say anything but ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth and tapped his fingers on the table.

“I don’t know, Red. If you would have mentioned his name this time last year, I’d been behind you, one hundred percent, but he’s been slipping, supping bad in the past six months. Every time I see him he’s drunk, falling down.”

“Dog and me go way back, Choo Choo,” I said. “It’s him or nobody.”

“Don’t push me, Red, okay? I just want you to think this over a little. I know he’s your best buddy. I know he
used
to be good. Hell, remember the shit we used to pull as kids? Great times. The best. But people change, Red. Dog might not have the nerve for this stuff anymore. You sure you don’t want him just for old time’s sake?”

“I want him because I know if anything goes wrong, he’s there. I’m the one taking the risk here, Choo Choo, and there’s nobody you could name who is half the man Dog is.”

He nodded and sighed deeply.

“Red, have you approached Dog about this yet?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know he’ll want in?”

“I know Dog. He’ll want in.”

“I hope so, Red. All right. I’m going to give you your way on this. I’ll tell you why. Because it’s so fucking easy. I’m still not sold on Dog, but the way I figure it, all he has to do is keep lookout and drive. And the one thing I know for certain is that he can drive like a son of a bitch.”

“Good,” I said. “Now what’s the job?”

“Mona Lisa Pizza,” Choo Choo said, giving me a great big grin, and when I heard that, I couldn’t help but smile back.

“I thought you’d like that. I know you and Vinnie aren’t exactly asshole buddies.”

“You got that right. But that brings up another question. I know Vinnie is selling a lot of pizza dough at that joint, but fifteen thousand dollars seems about seven thousand off. You wouldn’t be bullshitting me on the take?”

Choo Choo laughed out loud and held up his drink to salute me.

“I knew I was getting the right man when I asked you. The other guys I had in mind wouldn’t even have thought of that. Okay, here’s the deal. Vinnie’s average take from selling beer and pizza on a good Sunday is about five to seven thousand dollars. The rest of it is bookie money. You see, he’s got a lock on the football pool. That’s his take, and that’s where we make our bread. In fact, that’s the beauty of it. He can’t come running down to the police complaining about a dime of that shit. He’s got nowhere to go.”

“Nowhere except to his private army of goons,” I said. “You know he’ll be breaking down doors.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I kind of doubt it. Vinnie’s hands are into a lot of pies, and if he starts screaming and bringing down pressure on innocent citizens, he could end up in a lot of trouble. A couple of phone calls and we shut him up fast.”

“You son of a bitch, you got it all figured,” I said. I knew it was wrong, but I could feel the fear leaking out of me and the excitement and expectation pouring in.

“There’s one more problem,” I said. “I been laid off for quite a while now, and I’m not sure what the hell to do with that much money. I sure as hell can’t stuff it into my bank account.”

“No problem,” Choo Choo said. “I got a lawyer friend down at Charles Center. Used to be very close with the governor. He’s very good at hiding money. Knows how to put it to work for you too. You want, I’ll set up a meeting, and in no time at all you’re a member of the investment class.”

“Hey, next I’ll be in the fucking country club.”

Choo Choo grinned and blew smoke from his nose.

“Yeah, and why not, Red. Look, I know you’re a good guy, but what you don’t understand is that when you get right down to it, everybody in this country is into crime. It’s the American way, you know?”

“Don’t bullshit me,” I said, pissed off suddenly. “I’m doing this on my own. And I know it ain’t right.”

“Okay,” Choo Choo smiled. “Here’s how it goes down. On Sunday night at exactly twelve o’clock Frankie Delvecchio comes walking out of the Mona Lisa with the receipts. What he does is walk out the door, turn right, and go into the parking lot. He gets into his car and drives directly to the First National Bank, where he puts the dough in the night deposit slot. Only this weekend he doesn’t get past the parking lot. You and Dog park just around the other side of it. You know that little woods there?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay. I’m giving you both ski masks, but only one of you walks up. You come right at him with your gun out, take the money, and blink your flashlight to Dog, who comes around and picks you up. Then you ride away.”

“What about Frankie?”

“You got a choice there. You can wait until he’s unlocking his car door and bash him on the head, or you can shoot him in the leg. I can get a silencer for you for that. Personally, it’s all the same to me, but as a matter of sentiment, I’d like to see the bastard on crutches.”

“No shooting,” I said. “No way. I can get up behind him.”

“Yeah, that’s the way I figure it myself. There’s trash cans there, big green dumpsters. You come out from behind, whack him, grab the dough, and split. The whole thing should take twenty seconds.”

“What if Joey or one of the other boys are there backing him up?”

“They won’t be. Vinnie’s such a cheap fuck he doesn’t like to pay more than one guy for working late Sunday night.”

We both had a laugh at that one.

“But what if they are?” I asked.

“Look, nothing is a hundred percent certain,” Choo Choo said. “But I’ve been casing this place for five months, and they’ve done it this way every single time. One guy, that’s it. Look, Frankie’s a macho fuck and probably tells Vinnie he can handle it all by himself. Plus Vinnie thinks he’s such a king shit that nobody would dare fuck with him. He’s never been hit either there or at the Paradise or any of his card games. Never. He’s gotten soft and careless.

“He always was soft,” I said.

“Yeah, and we’re going to hit him right in his nuts. Now, after you and Dog get the money, you drop the car off over on the Edison Highway at Lane’s Used Car Lot. Just leave it there. I’ll be there to pick it up. We go back to the apartment, split up the dough, and that’s it.”

“You’re there alone, right?”

“Yeah, forget Blazek and the others. I already got rid of them.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

“Hey, it
is
good. It’s going to work like a Swiss watch. You want some dessert?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Aww, come on. Let’s have an amaretto and some peach pie.

Goddamn, I love this place, Red. They keep up the standards, you know?”

• • •

The night after I talked to Vinnie I went home and sat alone in the living room for a long time. I wanted to think it through, be straight about it all, come to some kind of logical decision. I even got out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote “Pros” on one side and “Cons” on the other, the way Wanda does when she’s trying to make up her mind on something important.

But I didn’t write one word pro or con.

I just sat there, feeling the loss. Ace and Wanda and Crystal, and Dog too almost as gone as Billy Bramdowski.

I kept thinking of going up for a jump shot over some defender’s head, the ball arching out of my fingers and me knowing, knowing it was going to go in.

I thought of picking up trash down at Harborplace—trash thrown away by people with money, who could afford to splurge on the fast food they served down there or who bought those “New Baltimore” souvenirs, like the red pillows that said “Maryland is for Crabs!” on them.

And I remembered the parking garage, swirling down deeper and deeper, the breath being sucked out of me.

I knew there was more to it all than this. It wasn’t enough to just let these pictures flash through me. I had to think about what I was doing, but after a few more whiskeys it was just all one long blur.

The bottom line was I had to have money, or we could never start again.

Choo Choo was a sleaze, but he wasn’t any dummy. He had it figured, he’d done his homework.

I started talking out loud to myself, the way I used to do before tip-offs in basketball games. “You got it. It’s going to work. It’s like Choo Choo said. A walk.”

Pretty soon I had myself pumped up. Maybe there’d even be more than fifteen in there. And Vinnie. Taking off Vinnie.

That was nice. Very nice.

I sipped my drink. I felt a calm come over me. I wasn’t shaking at all when I picked up the phone and dialed Dog.

T
hrough the snow-covered trees we could see the lights of Mona Lisa Pizza glowing under the black sky.

I sucked in my breath and looked over at Dog, who sat behind the steering wheel, his  .38 lying in his lap and both hands holding his blue ski mask. He had on his black leather jacket, levis, and black rubber boots.

I looked down at my watch.

“Five minutes,” I said. “I got to get behind those trash cans. You all right?”

“The Dog is in an excellent mood,” he said. “Your flashlight battery working?”

“Yeah, and as soon as you see it, get your ass around there, all right? I don’t want to freeze to death with all that cash in my hand.”

“Hey, don’t worry, compadre. You know I’ll be there.”

I reached over and gripped his arm, and he smiled and nodded to me.

“Red, I owe you for this.”

“Cut the shit. I wouldn’t be here with anybody else.”

“You got nothing to worry about. This here car runs like a top.”

“It’s going to be a walk,” I said, slipping the mask over my head.

Dog did the same, and we looked at each other and almost lost it.

“Got to get those eyeholes straight,” I said. “Been practicing all week.”

“You look like one of them skiers on ‘Wide World of Sports,’” Dog laughed.

“Three minutes, man. Just be there.”

“Move it, Red. See you soon.”

I held the gun in my right hand and got out of the car and made it through the ten feet of trees that cut us off from the parking lot. I took my time getting through there, remembering that three minutes is a long time. We’d done a practice run only one night ago, and it took less than a minute to set up behind the garbage cans.

Dog and I had discussed all that for four days, and both of us had decided that the longer we had to wait, the more chance for bad nerves to set in.

Do it, and do it fast. Don’t wait, and don’t think too much. Like popping in a twenty footer. Nothing to it.

I had my black wool sweater and dark pants on and black high-top basketball shoes, my old Celtics models. I knew the path and stayed away from the slushy spots and the low-hanging branches, which could cut up my face. In forty seconds I was out there, crouching low behind the dumpster, which gave off the rotten odor of sausage, rank pepperonis, and day-old anchovies. That was another reason for cutting it close. I didn’t want to blow lunch as Frankie came out the door.

Two minutes left, and I looked at the Mona Lisa, with its big electric imitation sign of that strange smiling lady. Vinnie Toriano, art lover.

I looked back through the woods and couldn’t see Dog’s car, and yet I felt cool as could be expected because I knew he was there. The same night I told him about the job, he’d looked physically better, like old times. I know it was partially my imagination, but just having this, knowing he was trusted with it, had brought the color and the life back into him like nothing since the day we’d been laid off.

He’d be all right. He’d be there. That was good to know.

But I still had to pull it off, and I looked at Frankie’s car, not four feet away from me. That was the tough part. Coming up behind him, on the fucking ice, and not slipping and falling on my ass.

And not crunching it up either, which was why I’d worn the sneakers.

I crouched, looking at the watch. Forty seconds to go, and Christ let him be on time. The wind whipped across the parking lot, and I adjusted the ski mask again and looked at my gun, the   .38 special that Choo Choo had copped for me.

“Let it go smooth, Lord,” I said. “Let it go smooth.”

Then I saw the light go out in front. And heard the big oak door open, and I knew he was coming out; I sucked in the cold air and took a step forward, just a small one, so I could see around the trash can.

There was the sound of his footsteps coming across the gravel, and I ran my tongue around my freezing lips, forgetting that I had on the ski mask and getting a mouthful of lint for my effort.

He was walking toward the car now, I could see him plainly, and I prayed to God he didn’t look straight ahead because I was in his line of sight.

But it was all right. He didn’t look worried or cautious at all. He came around to the driver’s side and reached in his overcoat pocket for his keys, and as he stuck them in the door I made my move.

The footing was better than I had any reason to hope for, and in a second I was on him. He heard me though, started to turn around, and said, “Hey, what the fuck?” But what with his keys and the money sack in his hand, he was in no position to fight back.

I smashed him on the back of his head with the gun, and he sagged to his knees. I hit him again, and he grunted and went over on his side.

I reached down and grabbed the canvas money bag from his left hand and his keys from his right and threw the keys into the woods. There wasn’t much chance he was going to get up for any movie chase heroics, but I wanted to be sure.

Then I reached into my pocket for the flash, aimed it at the trees, and gave two quick blinks.

I heard Dog start the engine, and then from behind me there was a voice I knew as well as my own.

“All right,” Henry said in his high-pitched squeal. “Drop the gun and don’t move.”

I turned and looked at him standing there, dressed in his court jester outfit, royal purple cotton bloomers that billowed like two sails in the wind.

“Well, well,” he said. “Old Vinnie is going to give me quite a raise for this.”

He moved toward me, holding his shotgun right at my stomach.

“Let’s just see who’s under that mask, pal.”

He didn’t get a chance to say much else. Dog came screaming around the woods and pulled into the parking lot.

Henry’s fat face went white with panic, and he turned the shotgun on the car.

I could have shot him dead right then. I should have. I know it. I should have put a bullet right in his head.

But it was fucking Henry, whom I’d known almost as long as Dog.

Dog saw the situation clearly, and he didn’t hesitate for more than a second. He got out of the car and kept his gun out of sight.

“Both of you don’t move,” Henry said. “Vinnie warned me about you boys. The Carruchi brothers, huh? We seen you casing this place. But you boys can’t outsmart Vinnie. Now we’re going right back inside the Mona Lisa, and I’m calling the boss. Move!”

I looked over at Dog, who shrugged as if this was okay with him.

“Henry,” I said. “It’s not the Carruchi brothers. It’s me, Red.”

“Red?” Henry’s voice went up about two octaves.

“Yeah. Look, Henry, you can’t turn us over to Vinnie. He’ll crucify us. You let us walk out of here, we split with you.”

Dog took a step closer. I could see the gun in his right hand, held just down behind his leg. He was still a good fifteen yards away.

“Red Baker?” Henry said.

“Yeah, you asshole. Red Baker. Look, we got to get out of here. You turn around, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I can’t do that, Red,” Henry said. “I’m working for Vinnie. I told you the other night. I’m his new security guard.”

I thought of what Choo Choo said. Vinnie was probably paying him half of what Joey would have gotten. The cheap fuck.

Dog took another step closer, and Henry aimed his gun at him.

“Who’s that under there? Who is it, Red?”

“Don’t matter,” I said. “You just got to turn around and walk back in there. I’ll give you a little tap on the head, and you can say we ambushed you, just like we did Frankie. Vinnie can’t hold that against you.”

Henry kept swinging the gun back from Dog to me. His legs were trembling, and his pants looked like they might float him away.

“I can’t do that, Red. I’d lose my job. What the fuck else am I going to do?”

“You won’t lose your job, Henry,” I said.

I looked down at the ground. Frankie wasn’t moving, but he’d come around soon.

“We’re leaving, Henry,” I said. I took a step toward Henry, still holding my gun at my side. “There are some heavy people behind this, Henry. You say anything and you’re in deep shit, you hear me?”

“I got to take you in, Red. Wait, I know who’s under there. That’s Dog? That you, Doggie?”

“Yeah,” Dog said. “Let us give you a little tap on your head, Henry. It won’t hurt much. You won’t need the job when we split with you.”

“I can’t do it,” Henry said. “Vinnie trusted me.”

“Vinnie wouldn’t trust his fucking mother,” I said, taking another step toward him. “Come on, now. Before Frankie wakes up.”

“No way, Red. You got to come inside. I got to call Vinnie.”

“Henry,” I said. “Listen—”

But it was too late. Dog had lifted his gun from his hip and aimed it at Henry. Just as Henry swung the shotgun back toward him.

“No,” I screamed. “Wait—”

The sound was strange. Dog’s revolver, like a pop, with the silencer on it, and Henry’s shotgun blasting away, a huge red spark blowing from its barrels. I saw them both fall, Henry staggering and then falling down on his face while Dog was blown back onto the hood of the Chevy.

“Jesus God.”

I ran to Dog, who lay in front of the Chevrolet. Quickly I opened his coat, and there inside was leather and strips of plaid wool and this huge fucking hole where his stomach should have been. He was moaning and clung to me tight.

“Help me, Red.”

“Don’t worry, Dog,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

I grabbed him and started dragging him to the car, but the blood and his stomach were trailing out behind him, and I reached down and tried to stuff it all back in.

“Dog, Dog,” I said.

“Fucked up, man. Oh, Red … It shoulda been Vinnie.”

“It’s going to be all right, Doggie,” I said, opening the door.

“No, Red,” he said, grabbing me. His eyes were huge, and blood poured from his mouth. “Never lie to the Dog, babe. Get the fuck out of here, man.”

“No way. Help me. You got to help me get you in the car.”

But then he started to jerk and spasm, and he grabbed onto my neck and hugged me tight, and I said his name over and over again, I don’t know why, until he was still.

“Dog,” I said. “No, no …”

I held him close to me, cuddling his great, battered head in my arms, and I wanted to take his gun and put it in my own mouth, I swear it.

Instead, I ran over and took my gun butt and bashed Frankie on the head again and picked up the money bag as lights came on down the street. I ran from Frankie to Henry, who lay on his back, his purple jester’s pants blowing around his waist.

Dog’s aim had been true.

The bullet had gone straight into his head, just above the right eye.

Then I picked up the money bag and ran to the Chevy. I wanted to take Dog with me, but there was no time now, and I only looked down on him lying there with his arms spread open on the asphalt.

“Good-bye, Dog,” I said. Then I jumped behind the wheel, peeled out of the parking lot, turned the car down Fort Avenue, and headed out toward the Edison Highway to meet Choo Choo at the lot.