Your Trunk is Leaking

“Roll the carpet to your left… Your other left…”

“This guy’s a real porker, Johnny, who is he?”

“Pasquale Pappalardi, also known as Fat Pat. One of Salvatore Manera’s top enforcers.”

“We bagged him too easy.”

“Most men don’t carry guns in the shower, Dante.”

“So, the war over control of the Bronx has begun and we drew first blood. Nice.”

“Did you pick up the spent shells?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you wipe down the bathroom, the front door, and any place else we may have touched?”

“Yeah. I know what to do, Johnny.”

“Is this the first man you’ve killed?”

 “Well… Yeah…”

“Then you need to follow the checklist I told you about whenever you do an extermination. Got it?”

“Yeah, sure, old man. How long have you been doin’ this?”

“Thirty-two years. I started when I was twenty, just like you.”

“So, you were around durin’ the glory years when John Gotti was boss.”

“Pick up your end of the carpet, Dante… Gotti nearly got us all thrown in jail. He wasn’t somebody to mess with, that’s for sure. But he loved the spotlight too much. His assassination of Paul Castellano turned the heat up on everybody You want to make it to thirty years? Stay in the shadows.”

“Gotti did things right. No sneakin’ around pluggin’ naked fat men in showers. They shot it out mano a mano in the old days. Guys like Gotti and Albert Anastasia rocked.”

“Albert Anastasia was a sociopath, Dante. If he wasn’t the head executioner for the mob, he would have been a serial killer. And he died as viciously as he lived. Is that what you want? Glory and a short life?”

“Uh-uh. But I wanna be a made man, a boss, and I’ll never make my bones if I try to talk my way to the top.”

“You ever hear of Frank Costello?”

“Sure.”

“He was boss for twenty years. He did some time, but he died from a heart attack at eighty-two, not in a hail of bullets. He talked the people who wanted him dead out of killing him, and most importantly, they honored the deal he made.”

“Which included him steppin’ down.”

“But he walked away. He didn’t crawl, and he wasn’t carried away like our fat friend here. Let’s put Pasquale down for a second. I’ll open the trunk and we’ll stuff him in.”

“Will he fit?”

“We may have to make a few alterations. I’ve got a saw in the trunk.”

“Is it my imagination or are we movin’ slower because we’ve got Peter Potamus in the trunk?”

“Don’t be disrespectful. Pasquale was as deadly as your precious Albert Anastasia.”

“Even Albert couldn’t hold a candle to Frank McErlane. You ever hear of him?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“He was a gang leader. McErlane was called the most brutal gunman who ever pulled a trigger in Chicago in the 1920s. He was the first gangster to use a submachine gun. He came up with the idea of the ‘one-way ride’ and he gunned at least four men in a week.”

“And you idolize that animal? C’mon, Dante. Did he die young?”

“He was thirty-eight. He drank too much of his own bootleg hootch and lost his marbles. Died from pneumonia. You know that scene in the Godfather when Don Corleone is in the hospital bed, and they try to kill him?

“That’s a movie, Dante.”

“But it’s based on fact. Three guys tried to kill McErlane while he was in the hospital with his leg up in the air. He wounded all three.”

“I’ve got a question for you, mister mob historian. Do you know how old Dean O’Banion was when he was murdered?”

“Thirty-Two.”

“And his successor, Hymie Weiss, who was cut to ribbons in a machine gun crossfire?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“How about Mad Dog Coll?”

“Twenty-three. What’s your point?”

“My point, Dante, is most hoods don’t make it to thirty-five.”

“You’ve made it fifty-two.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been wounded twice, cut once, beat up half a dozen times, and I’ve been threatened almost daily. But the toughest hit I had to take was having the love of my life walk out on me not once, but twice, because I wouldn’t listen to common sense and quit.”

“You tryin’ to get me to quit before I even get started? It’s not happenin’, Johnny. I wanna be a made man… Why do you keep lookin’ in the mirror? Is somethin’ wrong?”

“Yeah. That flashing light means something is about to be very wrong.”

“Don’t pull over! Hit the gas!”

“We’re not outrunning a police car in an Audi, Dante. Just relax. Don’t roll down your window or talk to the officer unless he tells you to. I’ll handle this.”

“Do you know how many laws you’ve broken?”

“Why no, officer. Dallas Jackson! You son of a… You got me good this time!”

“I saw you pass by and thought I’d say hello. How’s Vera and your son?”

“Good. Gerrard had me concerned for a while, but he’s straightened out.”

“Like father, like son. What are you lookin’ at, kid? Who’s this pup, Gent?”

“Officer Dallas Jackson, this is Dante D’Agostino.”

“Breakin’ him in?”

“You could say that.”

“You can learn a lot from Johnny the Gentleman, kid. I know you’re wonderin’ how a black cop can be so friendly with you wise guys. I got three daughters, one’s at Dartmouth, another’s at U.C.L.A. Fortunately, they got their mother’s brains. Our third girl’s more like me, a dope. She’s poppin’ kids like a Pez dispenser. And they’re not exactly handin’ out promotions to people of color. You understand now, kid?”

“Yeah, sure. You’ve got a family to look after.”

“But there’s a bigger reason, and that’s Johnny Janney. He’s respectful of people, includin’ cops. That’s why we call him Johnny the Gentleman. So, we respect him, which is why instead of arresting you guys I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.”

“What’s that, old friend?”

“Your trunk is leakin’, and that ain’t ketchup drippin’ on the ground.”

“Thanks.”

“Who is it?”

“Pasquale Pappalardi.”

“Fat Pat? You bagged yourself some big game. How’d you get him in the trunk?”

“In sections.”

“Yuk. You know kid when Johnny and me went to grade school he swore he was gonna be a big man.”

“I don’t feel like one right now.”

“You stick with Johnny the Gent, kid. He’s the one thug in the Bronx with an I.Q. above plant life. Well, duty calls. Your boss is wipin’ out Manera’s men all over the Bronx, so we’re pretty busy. If you’re in the neighborhood, Johnny, stop in. Josephine and the kids would love to see ya. And put a tarp somethin’ around Fat Pat, will ya?”

“Who’re we waitin’ for?”

“The cleanup crew. They’re magicians. They can make a three-hundred fifty-pound triggerman disappear.”

“So, what’s your headcount, Johnny?”

“Excuse me?”

“How many men have you killed?”

“Around twenty-five.”

“Around?”

“Maybe more. But they all deserved it.”

“Who was your best kill?”

“You’re treating something serious like a music top forty list. All right, Cesare Terranova. He was a real beast. He was trying to take over Enzo’s numbers racket. Unlike most bosses who let their men do their killing, Cesare enjoyed doing it himself. He pulled out fingernails, knocked out teeth. He even scalped some of his victims, and he had a talent for dismembering bodies. I gave Cesare a taste of his own bitter medicine,”

“If you were Italian, the Council would have promoted you to a made man for that act alone.”

“Made men wind up in the trunks of people's cars. Don’t get me wrong, many soldiers, friends, and acquaintances have wound up in landfills in New Jersey or have just vanished. But because I’m a soldier, guys like Salvatore Manera don’t think I’m worth the trouble.”

“And you keep on racking up the kills. I see now why they call you Johnny the Gent. You’re slick and smart. Is this the cleanup crew comin’ or are we in for a fight?”

“It’s the crew. The grubby-looking man on the left is Captain Quint Whalen. The other guy is Flint Matuszak. He doesn’t speak.”

“He looks like his face got scrambled by a rudder.”

“Easy, Dante. Flint is really sensitive about his looks. He got hit with shrapnel while he was in Iraq. He came home and tried to be a wrestler, but they made him wear a mask, so he quit. I think he’s proud of the way he looks. It scares the crap out of people.”

“Yeah, it’s workin’. He’s only got a hole where his mouth should be and one eye. He’s a cyclops.”

“Who’ve you got, Johnny?”

“Pasquale Pappalardi.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. So, it really is the start of another turf war.”

“I’m afraid so, Captain Quint.”

“Your boss, Enzo, already sent us two other bodies to dump.”

“Where are you dumpin’ them?”

“Who’s askin’?”

“This is Dante D’Agostino, Captain. He just started this week. You two might be seeing a lot of each other in the future.”

“Sure. Judging from his scrawny Fonzie look he should wind up in a rug real soon. Well, kid, if you must know, we’re gonna take Fat Pat about five miles out to sea, say a few unpleasant words, and all that fat’s gonna disappear. You know who else we’re takin’ out, Johnny? Tax Time Renko.”

“Aw, man, I loved Tax Time. He was a real wit. How’d he get mixed up in this? He was just a tax preparer for H & R Block.”

“Turns out that for the past few years, he was also helpin’ Manera hide a lot of cash and build his empire. One of your boys slit his throat while he was at his desk. You think there might be anyone else gift-wrapped tonight?”

“Call the boss. I was hoping we’d be through for the night after this.”

“Still early. Only eight o’clock. Pick him up, Flint.”

“Maybe we should give you guys a hand. I may look scrawny but…”

“No thanks, Fonzie. Flint can bench press seven hundred pounds. The only help he needs is with eatin’ his meals. Nice seein’ you, Johnny. Good luck, Fonzie.”

“Any advice before you go, Captain Quint?”

“Start wearin’ a bulletproof vest.”

“I should tell you about the little woman. First off, Vera’s not so little. She's tall like me, an Amazon at five foot ten. Don’t let that intimidate you though, she’s a sweetheart.”

“I’ll tell you what’s intimidatin’ me, Johnny. This four-flight walkup. Is this how you get your workout?”

“Yeah, this and keeping the criminal element away from our building. Why are you laughing?”

“Pot callin’ the kettle black, Johnny.”

“Things have changed around here the past few years. A bunch of mooks sprung up on the corner selling drugs. That attracts an element even lower than us. I can’t have that. But they know not to sell their poison in front of this building.”

“You must have a pretty good nest egg, Johnny. I mean you don’t gamble, you barely drink, and I imagine your wife has kept you from cattin’ around. Why don’t you move?”

“Vera’s sister lives down the hall. Her uncle and two cousins are around the corner along with her church.”

“Wait a minute, Johnny. Are you one of those guys who kills six days a week and then goes to church on Sunday to pray for forgiveness?”

“I’m amazed that you can laugh like a donkey and walk at the same time.”

“I’m not judging you, Monsignor Janney.”

“When we get inside, it’s the same deal as before, Dante, let me do the talking. I just want you to say hello, then you can split. You ready? Hello, hon.”

“Hello, sweetheart. Is this another one of your associates?”

“This is Dante D’Agostino.”

“I might know you long enough to memorize your name, Dante. Everyone who works with Johnny winds up dead.”

“…That gives me confidence…”

“I’m going to midnight mass later with my sister. We’ll say a few prayers for the kid who looks like he stepped out of the 1950s.”

“I appreciate it, Mrs. Janney. I need all the blessings I can get.”

“Put this envelope with the others, Vera.”

“How much is it?”

“Forty grand.”

“That’s a lot more than usual. You must’ve had to kill somebody pretty high up on the food chain.”

“I can tell you who, but I’ll have to kill you.”

“That’s funny, John. Should I start carrying my gun with me again?”

“Might be a good idea, hon.”

“Imagine that, Dante. I’m going into a sacred place, the house of the Lord, carrying a gun. Are you married?”

“No ma’am.”

“Don’t do it. At least not while you’re in the game. I’ve seen too many marriages that didn’t last because the man tried to lead two lives – one with his wife and one with the mob. Our marriage has survived because I knew what I was getting into, and John has never lied to me. In the beginning, when we were in our twenties, it was exciting, like we were Bonnie and Clyde. But now we’re in our fifties and we’ve got other people to worry about.”

“Speaking of which, maybe you should go visit Gerrard for a few weeks.”

“Don’t you dare say that to me, John Janney. I’m no coward, no quitter.”

“That’s my favorite Amazon. Bold as brass…I just got a text, from Enzo, Dante. We need to go.”

“At least we’re going down the stairs this time. But so much for goin’ home.”

“After this job, we may never be able to go home again.”

“It’s that serious?”

“Mario Messina. Manera’s second in command. You might make your bones after your first week.”

“Where are we goin’?”

“Back to City Island. Amalfi’s.”

“So, we get to be guests at Mario Messina’s last supper.”

“How much longer do you intend to throw up, Dante?”

“His head exploded like a watermelon hit by an atomic bomb!”

“You think real wise guys die the way they do in the movies? You wanted the big hit that would put you on the fast track toward being a made man. It comes with a price, Dante.”

“I need a drink. I need a lot of drinks. I didn’t want to make my name this way.”

“Of course not. But think about the cash. Maybe that’ll calm your stomach. Now get back in the car. We’re in with the local cops, but if the highway patrol spots us, we’re screwed.”

“…It seemed too easy…”

“A lot of people got paid to look the other way so we could hit Messina while he was eating - the bus boys, the waiters, Messina’s bodyguards. So long as nobody talks, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Until our boss treats us to a dinner.”

“Are you still seeing Messina’s death?”

“Over and over. And I’m awake. I can’t imagine what my dreams are gonna be like. How do you cope with the gore, Johnny?”

“Liquid therapy. Cheers. Let me get you another drink. Hey, Arnie, two more.”

“Your son looks like he’s had enough.”

“This isn’t Gerrard, nimrod. But I guess Dante is like a second son when he’s with me.”

“Hey, Johnny, did you hear what happened to Mario Messina? A couple of triggermen blasted him right in the middle of his cannoli.”

“Must have hurt.”

“Nearly blew his head off. Say, nobody’s gonna come lookin’ for you, are they?”

“We’re just two low-level schmucks. Just keep the drinks coming, Arnie.”

“Swell. Next round is on me.”

“We’ll have one more, kid, then head home and get some sleep.”

“Not if the phone call you’re getting is another job.”

“It is… Yeah, boss. Maury Accetta... Up in Riverdale... Got it…”

“What does Enzo think we are, a travelin’ shootin’ gallery?”

“You’ll feel better when you get some air. He wants us to take care of the chooch who runs Manera’s brothels.”

“I’m beginning to feel like I’m living the same nightmare over and over.”

“Wait until you’ve done this for thirty years.”

“Hands In the air, lady!”

“Easy, Dante. Where’s your husband?”

“He’s not home.”

“He’s probably hidin’ somewhere in the house, Johnny.”

“I’ll take a look around. You sit down on the couch. Miss. And you keep an eye on her, Dante.”

“Who are you?”

“We’re a couple of Maury’s friends.”

“I doubt it. Friends don’t show up past midnight waving guns. I have to say you’re better looking than most of the men who come here. They all look like the first guy, tired and worn out.”

“There’s nobody on this floor, Dante. I’m going to look upstairs. Don’t look at me! Look at her!”

“Stop squirmin’, lady.”

“This cushion is uncomfortable. Do you mind if I move it a bit?”

“Sure.”

“Hello, boss? Sorry to be calling you so late. It’s Johnny. I’ve looked through the Accetta’s house. There’s a suitcase on the bed, but this Maury fella is long gone… What? Maury’s a woman? I have to go downstairs; I just heard a gun go off.”

“Dante? You killed him!”

“One shot between the eyes, just the way my brother, Salvatore Manera taught me.”

“Put the gun down, Maury! Put it down!”