Toni looked worried and tired.
She was rattled, but then, so was I. For a while we rode in silence.
“Is that the first time you’ve seen a dead body?” I asked.
“Yes, Johnny, that was the first time,” she answered, a little sarcastically.
“I wish I could say it gets easier,” I said, “but it doesn’t”
Toni looked at me. “I’m a lawyer, Johnny, not a cop, she said, “I’m hoping I never have to see what I saw this morning again.”
I tried to look re-assuring, but probably just looked like I had a stomach ache. The cabbie was waiting for the light to turn on to Center Street when I told him to stop the car.
He turned toward the backseat, “We ain’t in Brooklyn yet buddy.”
“Stop on the corner, by that phone booth. I’ve got to make a call.”
Toni just looked at me with a what now expression. I jumped out before he came to a dead stop. I opened the folding door of the telephone booth, got in and pulled out the phone book. I found the M page and followed the names down with my finger, Mathew, Maher, Mayer, Mendelson, S.A
MU 8 9292 …
55 East 55th street, Apt 4.
“Gotcha!” I said out loud.
I jumped back in the car. Toni’s look had changed from What now to what the hell????”
“Driver,” I said, “change of plans. Take us to 55 east 55th street.”
“Okay bud, it’s your meter.”
“Johnny,” Toni wasn’t smiling, “what are you doing?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a set of keys. I dangled them in front of Toni like I was showing a toddler a shiny object.
“I kinda stole these from Mendelson’s pocket,” I confessed.
“You mean you took these off of a dead body? That’s disgusting,” said Toni.
“Five dead bodies is disgusting,” I said. “Now we have a chance to search his apartment before the cops,” I said. I could see Toni got the message.
“What are we looking for, Johnny? She asked.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll know when I see it.
The cab dropped us off in front of the non-descript, grey concrete building. The small lobby was elegant, with a marble floor and green silk wall coverings. There were two large vases filled with fresh flowers; definitely a well-kept building. We got in the elevator. I pushed the button for the sixth floor.
Toni gave me a confused look, “I thought you said he was on the fifth floor.”
When the elevator doors opened up and we got out Toni asked, “Which way?
I pointed to the red EXIT sign and said, “That way.”
That earned me another of Toni’s famous, “Huh?”
“I’m not sure what or who we’re going to find hanging around Mendelson’s apartment,” I told her, “I didn’t want to find a fist waiting for me when the elevator doors opened up.”
We went down the stairs as silently as we could. I could tell Toni was scared. I knew that I was. I opened the door to the hallway, reached down near my shoe and pulled out my 32 caliber Smith and Western.
“Stay back until I get in the apartment.”
Toni looked at me, “Not a problem,” she said.
The hallway was empty. I found the apartment, got the keys out and opened the door.
The lights were off, I felt for a light, found it and flipped the switch. The light came on a second before a large fist hit the side of my head. I was dazed but managed to duck before the guy swung a roundhouse punch that would have sent me straight to la la land. The mystery man was a few inches shorter than me but twice as wide. He had a head as large as a watermelon and hands the size of a catcher’s mitt. He was very close in. I could smell his breath; it was bad, really bad. My body was pinned to the back of the front door, so I did the only thing I could think of at the moment and kneed him in the balls. He staggered back but didn’t go down. He was large but without much muscle and I managed a couple of quick jabs and then a right cross to chin that connected. As the expression goes, he went down like a ton of bricks. I pulled him up by his suit collar.
“Who are you?” I asked. I was met by silence. I slapped him hard on both sides of his face. “I’ll ask you again, who are you?”
The answer came in the same package as I had given him; this time he kneed me in the balls. I saw stars, maybe even a planet or two. By the time my head cleared he was less than a foot away from me, knife in hand, blood in his eyes. I didn’t have a next move. Suddenly he went down again, but this time he didn’t get up. He was out cold. Toni stood, looking dazed. She was still holding one of the giant vases, with half of it missing, in her hand. I pulled her inside and locked the door.
She stared at me in disbelief. I carefully took what was left of the vase out of her hand and said, “Thanks Honey.” I looked around the apartment. It was sparse, very modern. A large living room led to kitchen so large it could accommodate a small army. Toni was still standing in the same position, her hands still holding the now non-existent vase. I found the bedroom and began my search. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I knew I would know when I found it. I went through the drawers, found nothing. I searched through the small desk near the windows, again nothing. There was a telephone and a writing pad on the night table next to the bed. I sat on the bed, picked up the pad, grabbed the pencil that was lying on the night table and began to fill in the indentations made by a heavy writing hand. I held the paper up to the lamp, just like I’d seen in the movies. thinking that this only worked in the movies. It actually worked! I read the message; McCormick, Friday, 2am. Tobias was right. Something was coming in by the Moore line and it wasn’t sugar; I was sure of that. I left the bedroom, Toni still by the door, hands in the air. I bent down, felt the mug’s pulse, found his wallet and keys and slipped it in my back pocket. I grabbed Toni and locked the door behind me.
****
It took a stiff shot of whiskey to finally stop Toni from shaking. My hands were steady, but women shouldn’t drink alone, so I had Angie pour me a double.
“You guys look like you’ve both been mugged,” Angie said as she set my drink in front of me. “You could say that,” I said.
Angie said, “So give.”
“Well,” I told her, “If you really want to know, it all started at Katz’s deli.”
“What happened, did they put too much cream cheese on your bagel? Was the Pastrami too fatty?”
“Nothing that earth shattering,” I said, “just the guy we were supposed to meet this morning was already there, but he was dead.”
Angie had been cleaning the wine glasses but stopped mid clean.
“Who was the dead guy?” asked Angie.
“Wait,” I said, “I’ll get to that. Anyway, the cops were on the scene only a minute or two after we found him, alone, in a booth in the back of the restaurant.”
I took a sip of my drink, “Ah, that’s good.”
Angie gave me a dirty look, “Never mind the whiskey. What happened then?
“Same stuff that always happens after a murder,” I told her, “What was your relationship with the deceased? What was your business with him?”
Angie asked, “What was your business with this guy?”
She looked at Toni but asked me, “Why was she there?” she laid both her hands on the bar, “C’mon Johnny, stop jerking me around.”
I swigged down the last of my whiskey.
“The cops asked me about a hundred more questions, Why was I there? Who was I working for? Maybe we should take this downtown. I showed him my PD license and told him I had some questions for the dead guy.
Angie had both elbows on the counter.
I pointed at Toni, “Then my excellent lawyer over here started talking lawyer-eze to the detectives that had arrived pretty soon after the patrolmen.”
“What did she say?” asked Angie.
“I don’t know, I don’t speak Lawyer-eze,” I said.
“I told him that since the guy was obviously dead before we got there—the waiter attested to that,” Toni explained, “they had no legal right.”
We both stared at Toni.
“She speaks!” said Angie.
“Yes,” I said. “But she left out the part where she played the Ace up her sleeve.”
Angie said, “What Ace?”
Toni looked up, “That my father is Captain Farentino of the 25th in Brooklyn.”
Toni shrugged, “What’s the use of having a cop for a not so good dad, if I can’t play the ‘get out of jail free’ card?”
“So,” I continued, “after we talked to the nice policeman, we took a taxi to Brooklyn,”.
“But it’s five pm now,” said Angie, “that’s a pretty slow cab ride.”
“Have some patience, I’m telling you the story,” I reminded her.
“We were just about to turn on to the Brooklyn Bridge when I remembered I’d taken the keys out of the man’s pocket.”
Angie stopped wiping again, threw the rag down and crossed her arms.
I said, “So I played Superman and ran to the first phone booth I spotted to look through the phone book for the address.”
I waited for Angie to interject, but she did not.
“It was an apartment on the upper east side.”
I looked down at my glass, it was empty. Angie poured me another.
“When I opened the door to the apartment some bruiser greeted me with a knuckle sandwich. Well, to make a long story short he was about to stab me when Toni here,” I flopped my arm around her shoulder, “hit the mug over the head with a giant vase. He was out cold. Then we took off.”
Angie asked., “Who was the guy?”
I pulled out the guy’s wallet and said, “His name is Chester Pumpernickel,”
476 Grand Avenue, Bronx NY.”
“Pumpernickel? Are you kidding?
“I kid you not,” I said.
“Jesus, Johnny. How do you manage to get into so much trouble in so little time?” said Angie.
“Practice, my dear, lots of practice,” I said.
She considered that. Then she asked, “Are you gonna tell me the dead guy’s name?”
“Sam Mendelson,” Toni said suddenly.
Angie asked Toni, “Albert Anastatia’s Sam Mendelson?”
Toni gulped down the last of her drink.
“Yup.”
Angie just looked at the both of us and said, “Holy Shit.”
