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The holding cell in the 45th Precinct was cluttered with the day’s trash who didn’t make bail. Being rudely deposited in the space was not unusual but tonight Pete Tomasso and Larry Alessi felt like they had been tossed into a dumpster behind a store that specialized in dead animals. One of the denizens, covered with a ratty gray overcoat, lay in the fetal position on one of the three benches lining the cell, his head propped on a bedpan. The other, a bearded, older man smiled a toothless grin in welcome while retreating for fear that the grin, as decrepit as it was, might give Pete or Larry the wrong impression.
“What time is it, Larry?” Pete asked anxiously, pacing and snapping his fingers in a rhythmic fashion. Any time spent behind bars was too much time. Pete brushed past the toothless one and sat on a bench. Before Larry could answer, Pete continued. “Dominic needs to know. He needs to know! How long was it last time? Three, four hours before he sprang us? I don’t want to wait that long, Larry. I got things to do.”
Larry settled in next to Pete and put his arm around him. “Pete, relax, you’re going to end up with achita. It’ll burn a hole in your gut. Besides, it’s only about midnight. We’re going to have company before we see Dom, trust me. Hey, I like that guy’s coat, I mean if it was new...” Larry stood to finger the material.
Pete turned his head to look and then swung it back as he punched Larry in the arm. “Shut up, you asshole. I need to concentrate.” Pete was more frustrated than angry especially since it was his lack of foresight that put them here. He wasn’t a perfectionist by any stretch of the imagination, but to make a stupid mistake like not investigating an unknown face, that was inexcusable. He would have much rather ended up in the psych ward to delve into his mental misery than stuck in a holding cell with the dregs of society. Why couldn’t anyone see his anguish?
He jumped to his feet, grabbing the cell bars in front of him. “Hey, one of you cops get in here. When do we get a call? When do we get a lawyer?” Pete shouted.
“Sit down, you piece of shit,” came the reply. “You got a date or something? Give her time to shave her legs and then we’ll let you out so you got time to buy her some dog biscuits.” A hearty laugh followed.
“Yeah, you’re quite a comedian for someone whose mother almost discarded your ugly ass because she thought you were the after-birth.” Pete could feel his blood boiling.
He grasped the bars tighter and pushed forward against them. He smiled and started to laugh. He hated being out of control when some jerk pushed his buttons. A person of repute and a degree of pedigree, OK, but not a dumb flatfoot!
Two more derelicts were tossed into the cell, both staying prone on the floor where they were thrown since the urge to rise was squelched by their inebriation. Larry had stretched his feet forward as he sat on the bench to sleep. Pete paced back and forth, snapping his fingers intermittently as if, by doing so, a solution would emerge. Finally, he sat next to Larry, and fell asleep.
2
Few moments in life could be more humiliating than waking up in a jail cell with a friend’s snoring mouth in your ear, a derelict at your feet drenched in his own urine, and a stupid-faced cop smiling and shaking his head in smug humor while rattling the cell bars with his nightstick.
Yet, there it was, the ultimate Kodak moment staring Pete right in the kisser.
By 5 AM, Pete was getting nervous. At 6 AM, thirty minutes after he had contacted the Scialessi family’s attorney, he was mad. All the times he spent agonizing over details so Dominic would get the best deal and not be jeopardized in the process; catching the big scores and being content with being in the family, not pressing the advancement issue though he itched to handle bigger deals and a broader scope of activity; and serving loyally without question for over seven years and this was the thanks he got! Granted, Dominic had delivered in the past and kept food on his table. Yet, wasn’t getting him out of jams and jail part of the package?
“OK, boys, rise and shine,” the cop blurted with little authority, probably spitting out the same idiotic phrase he started his day with for the last 25 years. “Got some breakfast and coffee here for your enjoyment. Any hygiene issues, you’re on your own.”
Pete got up to make his way to the stinking toilet, causing Larry to fall sideways, hit his head on the bench and fall to the floor. Larry rubbed his eyes, stretched with a yawn and bellow and followed Pete to the commode.
“How about a little privacy,” Pete said with a laugh. He completed the process at hand, shook off the dribble, and let Larry pursue the same.
“I might have to shit,” Larry grimaced as much from stomach cramps as the condition of the commode.
Pete was not sympathetic. “Squeeze your cheeks, stupid. You gonna sit on that mess, plus there’s nothing to wipe with. Dominic can’t be far off.”
“What, are you living in a dream world, Jack? Come on, it’s six AM, he’s only on his second erection.” Larry smiled but didn’t want to laugh as he subdued flatulence that could emerge as crap in his pants.
“Dominic knows, buddy. Oh, yeah, he knows,” Pete emphasized nodding his head while pointing two fingers toward Larry who was pissing a steady stream. “You don’t lose two mil and not know about it. Good piss, huh pal!” Pete laughed.
“A good piss is better than a bad piece of ass,” Larry retorted as he shook off the last drop. A couple of the other cell dwellers lined up for their morning void as both Pete and Larry walked back and forth anxiously by the front of the cell. Morning movement in the cell area appeared chaotic and bothersome to Pete, who was disturbed by the fact he had to endure such an environment for what he judged as an inordinate period of time. Noisy, senseless blather from cops changing shift, the clattering of breakfast plates and utensils, and the leftover moans of the drunks only served to aggravate the situation. Larry handed him a cup of coffee.
“Drink up, Jack. I still think we have a wait. What do you think they’ll get us for?” Larry asked after taking a sip of his coffee then spitting it on the floor in disgust.
Pete thought about the interactions that had taken place between the two sides. How much had they been able to capture? He always made it a habit not to use Dominic in any conversation. Did he slip up this time? Is that why he and Larry were still locked up? “Possession with intent to sell will be one charge,” Pete answered like he was reciting lines from a script. “I’m sure they’ll try to trump up some other charges . We both know the drill – ‘not guilty, I want to speak with my lawyer.’ A myriad of possible slip-ups during the deal continued to race through Pete’s mind even as he spoke.
A familiar, stupid voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Officer Fat Ass. “Hey, you two – Dumb and Dumber – someone’s here to see you. Almost seems to be human. Let’s go.” He stood eyeing the pair while unlocking the cell. “The rest of you degenerates stay put and maybe a kind family will adopt you.” Two Officers entered the cell as two others stood as backup. Pete and Larry were handcuffed, led out of the holding area past several cluttered desks clustered around a bank of filing cabinets, and down a corridor. They were shuffled down a back wooden staircase framed by walls with paint peeling and wire-covered windows that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the last rainfall. Not far from the bottom of the stairwell, Pete was steered into a room as Larry was directed ahead. It was about time! He was tired of this place and the unpleasant stench of accusation. He would be glad to see the Scialessi attorney, Tony Andolina. As much as Pete didn’t like the little slime bucket, he was his ticket out of here. When Pete was yanked into an adjoining room by the fat ass cop, he was confused and halted in his tracks. It was not what he expected.
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