A Case of Mistaken Identity Ch. 01
Author's Note: In the Dark of Night introduced Gerry, followed by A Widow's Burden, and this is the third story featuring Gerry.
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There was a cute dame behind the counter at the bus station. Nineteen, I figured, with long yellow hair and eyes so blue a guy could get lost in them... but as inept at her job as a dame possibly could be. But everything else made up for that, or so someone had decided when hiring her.
The older dame, a brunette at the window beside her, appeared to be assisting in the younger dame's training. But then the older one made a motion and disappeared just before I stepped up. To my right was another guy all dressed in black, and looking as intimidating as hell. He was trouble spelled with capital letters, way out of my league. I did my best to not take notice.
"A ticket was left for me," he told the blonde dame just loud enough for me to overhear.
She searched for an envelope, then got sidetracked and asked what I needed, which I repeated. The dame looked frazzled, confused, befuddled... you choose the word. She tried to work the two windows while not even being capable of tending to one.
When she reached for a ticket book everything dropped onto the floor. Bending down to retrieve things the dame finally resurfaced. When I finally got a ticket I anxiously stepped away, eager to put some distance between me and that guy in black. He wasn't far behind. We both sat down across from one another on long, uncomfortable wooden bench seats appearing much like church pews.
I grew up in a rough neighborhood where kid gangs ruled the streets and I had to act tough to survive. Afterwards, unable to find work, I served four years in the army, so I didn't scare easy. But the thug across from me chilled my blood.
This guy was tough in a different kind of way. I had him figured as a mobster, a soldier maybe, an assassin possibly -- but definitely not kind... unless torture and cold-blooded murder could be construed as compassionate traits.
Several announcements came over a speaker system and we both rose. I sure as hell hoped we weren't both heading for the same place. I hit the door first and politely held it open. Ali I received in thanks was a cold glare.
We both walked towards the same bus but when the driver, who was standing outside, directed me to another, I breathed a sigh of relief. This was before I knew the real truth.
After seeing that guy I couldn't help but keep from thinking back on my days in New York City after I got back after leaving the army. Guys like that ran the town, which was split up between the five families -- the Lucchese, Bonanno, Gambino, Colombo, and the Genovese.
Names like "Lucky" Luciano and Bugsy Siegel had become household terms. Talk about rackets, those guys had their fingers in every kind of pie imaginable.
I was smart enough not to stick my nose in their business. Steered clear of them big boys and ran my own scams with two other guys a little older than me, until I turned greedy and found myself caught in between -- couldn't handle the heat I'd brought down on myself yet couldn't go running to the law for help, either.
Out in the cold was not a good place to be, not in that town. Seeing no other way out I did the smart thing and skipped out... Drifted, working my scams in smaller towns where a guy could show up one day and be gone the next a few dollars richer.
Then I'd somehow been called to drift into Weathely by some pint-sized dame who went by the name of Rochelle to save her aunt's business. And the rest, as the saying goes, was history. But that all seemed like a lifetime ago, and this was now.
Feeling the comforting weight of the shoulder holster under my left arm I boarded the bus that I thought would be taking me home to Daisy and took a seat in back so I could keep an eye on things.
Some others joined me -- a mother with two small kids, a couple of cute dames with long legs a guy could easily imagine wrapping around his waist as he pounded his best part into theirs, and thankfully no goons. This was a good thing.
Lowering the brim of my hat to cover my eyes I closed them as the vibration of the motor lulled me into a semi-conscious state. I glanced up from time to time like an alligator surfacing to check out the surroundings.
It was during one of these times when I happened to observe a passing road sign announcing the approaching town of Crystal Canyon, which sounded familiar for some reason. It took a few moments before it crystallized in my mind, which quickly set me to thinking about Amber.
I also realized I wasn't heading back to Daisy. Fate had interceded once more, but for what reason I was yet again left to ponder. It would be revealed to me at some point just as it had on previous occasions, but why me? Why was I the one being played like a pawn in someone's game of chess? And more importantly, which side would ultimately win?
More questions... my life seemed to always be full of them. I watched as the bus left the highway to turn onto a local road. An hour or so later I found myself in another town looking so much like the others with some mission waiting to be discovered, unless it found me first; like Alice had.
As I disembarked the large vehicle I saw the open door of a small bus station waiting just ahead. A clock inside, visible to me from where I stood established the time at nearly seven. The sun was lowering in the western sky and its rays were weakening.
My eyes glanced from left to right when I spotted a black Packard four-door sedan sitting at a curb a few car lengths behind the bus. When they saw me looking in their direction the horn honked in greeting. It was clear I wouldn't have long to wait.
So, it appeared that the ditzy dame with the hot body had managed to replace me with the goon I'd traded a brief glance with, the one that looked like trouble spelled with capital letters. It was time to start bluffing and thinking fast on my feet.
The goons waiting in the car obviously didn't know the guy they were expecting. And since a purchased ticket had been waiting for him, which I ended up with, then I felt confident he hadn't known where he was heading. He'd likely been told to show up at the station and take the ticket he was given, and that he'd be met when the bus arrived, wherever that might be.
I had to wonder what would happen when he showed up in Weatherly to find nobody waiting. A professional wouldn't stir up any unnecessary trouble, that would quickly attract the wrong kind of attention. But he'd be upset and looking for a phone to use to learn what went wrong. How long would it take for "them", whoever "them" was, to put two-and-two together and plug me a few times to make up for the dame's mistake?
I had to go on instinct and hope for the best, put on my most convincing act -- and pray like hell it might be enough to get me through this and back to Daisy. Okay, it was showtime, and if I didn't play my cards right this could be my last hand.
The first thing I needed to do was to show the goons who was boss by keeping them waiting, so I fished a cigarette from the pack in my pocket and bummed a light from a passerby. They impatiently honked once but I stood my ground and finished it off before flicking it to the ground and grinding it out under the toe of one foot. Then I casually walked in their direction.
Once I got close the back passenger door opened and a soldier got out, motioning for me to join him, which I did.
"What are you, some kind of a wise guy keeping us waiting like this?" the driver impatiently remarked.
I gave him a cold glare in the rear-view mirror just as I'd been given by the real guy they were waiting for. The driver saw it before cracking a respectful smile.
"Hey, no hard feelings, right? I was just kidding around is all."
"Yeah, BJ kids around a lot," the younger goon sitting beside me said.
"What's BJ stand for, Blow Job?" I asked, kidding right back, but with a serious expression on my face.
"Big Johnny," I was curtly told, my attempt at humor underappreciated.
First Big Lou, now Big Johnny... what was this about? Maybe it was less about physical size and more about egos.
"I'm Little Nicky," the one beside me offered. "How about you?"
I asked, "What about me?"
"What's your name?"
"You already know... you contacted me, remember?"
Little Nicky was coming off as a little too eager in my opinion, so I deduced he must have been new to this line of work. This was no family, not in the criminal sense, just a few local thugs trying for their best impersonation of one. At least this was my initial impression... and it was rare when I was wrong.
The enthusiasm was toned down when it became apparent that I wasn't interested in sharing a conversation. So while BJ did the driving, Nicky kept his trap shut and looked out the window.
From the bus station we'd proceeded north past a few businesses before climbing a hill, following the road around a bend to the west, past a collection of wood and brick homes, several pastures, and then after a narrow band of forest a large structure came into view off to the left.
As we drew closer I could make out a brightly colored sign advertising "Fine Italian Dining". A floodlight low to the ground shone up to ensure its visibility. The structure was set back about three hundred feet from the road, with a large parking lot in front. The restaurant was a single story with an attached two-story building that looked for all intents and purposes like a modest home.
After getting out I stretched my stiff body while wondering who and what was waiting for me inside beyond the red brick walls. I couldn't help but notice how innocuous the place seemed, just another family-run business on the outskirts of a small, quiet town... how fucking quaint. But it was all a little too quiet for my liking.
"Come on inside, the boss is waiting for you," BJ announced.
Okay, here we go, I thought to myself a little nervously.
There were maybe eight cars in the large parking lot that could've accomodated forty, along with a driveway that led into a thicket of dense trees on the right side of the attached house before disappearing from view.
After passing through the double heavy wood front doors with frosted glass inlays I was immediately met by the most amaazing smell of cooking food that I'd ever before encountered. My stomach began grumbling nearly instantaneously. One praise a guy could always lavish on the Italians was their outstanding ability to create some of the best-tasting dishes ever eaten.
The dining room was dimly lit and traditional Italian music played on a phonograph while sounding a bit scratchy. I didn't understand Italian the singer was singing in but it made for a nice, authentic atmosphere.
It was a big place, could have probably accommodated eighty or so hungry patrons at any given time. I guessed if the food was as good as it smelled this place probably drew in patrons from several surrounding communities.
A few tables back and off to the left I saw a large guy leaning over conversing with an old man and a blue-haired dame. He had a hand on each of their shoulders and the trio was quietly laughing. We stood there near the front door until he finished and took notice. His smile widened as he approached.
"Tommaso," he heartily called out in greeting as if we were the best of friends.
We shook hands and briefly embraced. He was easily fifty pounds overweight, no doubt a lover of fine Italian food, and in his middle fifties.
"I'm Giuseppe," he offered. "Come, let's talk in private. I hope you brought an appetite with you because my momma and sweet wife Carmela can cook like no other," he spoke as he led me back to the far right. "You have already met my youngest boy Nicky and his older cousin Johnny, but what's important now is to eat."
We sat down at a table draped by a red and white checked cloth when he gave me a long, measured look. "To be honest, I just don't see it. You, Italian? And based on your reputation I was expecting, well, somebody bigger, you know? More intimidating."
That was when I noticed a sealed envelope in his shirt breast pocket thick... filled with with cash, I suspected. Since he was waiting for my reaction I gave him one.
"Just hand over the envelope to compensate me for my time and I'll be gone in the morning, no hard feelings."
When he stared into my eyes I made a point of staring back, emotionless, making sure I wasn't the one to look away first. After more than a minute he looked down and began to heartily laugh before looking back up.
"Maybe I was wrong about you," Giuseppe decided as he reached for the envelope, placed it on the table, and slid it across to me.
"Half up front, as agreed."
I picked it up and tucked it inside my inner coat pocket.
He appeared surprised. "What, you're not going to count it?"
He seemed to be caught off-guard by my display of trust. Little did he know that I had no idea what half would be, making counting the dough not only a waste of my time but also placing my mistaken identity at risk of exposure. Besides, it was better to use this lack of knowledge as a show of faith, of good blood.
"Either it's all there, or you'll be getting a surprise visit that will leave your wife Carmela a widow," I sternly fired back. "Neither one of us wants that, Giuseppe, right? Did you want to double check, just to be on the safe side?"
This seemed to shake him up as I discerned a slight flinch. Seconds later my eyes observed beads of perspiration forming on his brow that caused the skin to glisten. He thought I was big-time. I likely would be feeling the same if our positions were reversed; only I knew the truth.
He tried to keep his cool with a fake laugh. "It's all there. Counted it twice myself, just to be sure there weren't any... misunderstandings."
I offered a slight nod in agreement. "Yeah, misunderstandings in our line of work get people killed. So why am I here?"
When the sound of a door opening caught his attention Giuseppe glanced away and his face immediately brightened.
Returning his gaze to mine he announced, "We'll talk business later. Right now it's time to indulge, my friend."
And indulge we did, on the best caponata and risotto I'd ever had the significant pleasure of tasting. Delicious wasn't good enough to describe how incredible the food was, and I immediately understood how this place managed to draw the crowds the restaurant was built to handle. It was all washed down with wine and topped off by gelato.
Afterward I was led to an office in the back where we enjoyed complete privacy and sat down, him behind a cluttered desk and me in front of it. He gave me a measured look, remaining suspicious of my identity, and then finally sighed.
"I'm still not seeing it," he hesitantly admitted, "but you're here and I need the kind of help you can offer a businessman like me."
I nodded. "What kind of help?"
He opened a drawer, flipped through some hanging files, and then placed a large manila folder on the desk. I reached across and opened it to notice a photo of a guy who looked about my age, maybe a little younger, with dark hair, from the waist up.
"He got himself into a heap of trouble in a town called Crystal Springs. It's a fair piece down the road, southeast of here. It's commonly known that I'm a standup kind of guy who is always ready to help with financial problems like these when they creep up."
In other words he was telling me he ran a loan-sharking business out of the restaurant. His boys made the collections, only this time they couldn't find the guy they needed to collect from and were seeking my assistance in helping to recover the dough.
But I wasn't wet behind the ears. I'd been around guys like Giuseppe for long enough to know he hadn't dished out a large loan without some collateral, just in case of a problem like this... unless the guy took the collateral with him. That was when I thought of Amber.
"He put his daughters up, didn't he?" I made an educated guess.
A disgusted expression appeared on his face as his head shook. "You know, I don't begrudge a guy from earning a living, even if it's not within the limits set by the laws. What I provide is a service that really helps most of the people we deal with. But what that gang does goes way beyond everything.
"They run a bar, a brothel, and there's a room in back where gambling goes on," Giuseppe continued spilling the beans. "But it's all rigged. Innocent folk down on their luck wander inside, and all of a sudden they're leaving with fat wallets. But their luck goes south in a week or two, can't pay up, so they take the daughters. That's just plain wrong in my mind."
"So this guy shows up in a bad way, desperate to save his girl," I guessed.
He nodded. "Twins. Drop-dead gorgeous, nineteen years old, bodies made for loving, long dark hair. Of course it had all been set up, and he took the bait. What could I do? I had to loan him the money to save those girls, which he promised to pay back no matter what it took to get it. But then he disappeared on me."
I pointed out, "That makes the girls yours."
"Yeah, if I was junkyard-dog-mean like those others, but I'm not, I do have some morals. The only reason I made the deal was to save them from the hell they would've been put through, so I'm not about to turn around and put them right back in the same fucking place!"
Giuseppe's large fists slammed down hard on the desk, the power of his anger shaking the walls. His face changed from smiling to stern, cheeks reddened by the turbulent emotions he was dealing with under the surface.
It took only a few seconds before there was an urgent tapping on the door. "Pop, you okay in there?"
"Everything's fine, don't worry," the man quickly answered back.
He took a few moments to regain his composure before continuing. In the meantime I picked up the photo and gave it a long look, then at a slip of paper with the man's personal information and what looked like a quasi-legal backroom promise to repay the amount borrowed.
"This leaves me in a bad spot," Giuseppe admitted. "If it gets around that somebody can skip town without repaying a loan and get away with it, that'll send the wrong kind of message that could be very bad for a businessman like me. But I won't touch his daughters. I won't do what those bastards had planned for them."
"Why'd you agree to take them as collateral?" I asked, curious.
He frowned and shook his head as if at his own stupidity borne from kindness in a business where kindness had no right to be. "He has nothing else."
I considered this curious case thoughtfully. "He promised he'd pay you back no matter what it took."
Giuseppe looked directly into my eyes. "He did... what are you thinking?"
I leaned forward. "Maybe he's fulfilling his promise as we speak."
Giuseppe shook his head uncertainly. "Then why not call? A loan extension could be worked out here, would help me save face. His family claims they have no idea where he is, but I'm not buying it. He loves his girls so much he comes to me for help, why drop out of sight and not let them know something?"
I could see his point, and in all likelihood he was right. Nothing made sense. And this was where I came in, to help put things right.
"Your boys never saw me, and you only know me from my having eaten here," I instructed. "Nobody knows who I am yet, and my connection with you has to be our little secret. I need room to maneuver when I start sniffing, and I don't need his family clamming up thinking I'm out to hurt them. You okay with this?"
He nodded his agreement. "But how do I know you're doing what you're supposed to be? I need certain assurances... progress reports, if you will."
I grinned widely. "Are you kidding me? I love Italian food, your wife's especially. I'll be back soon, you can count on that."
He smiled while breathing a sigh of relief and stood up. I got up too, keeping the file he'd afforded me, and we both walked toward the closed door.
Gripping my shoulder he said, "I feel much better about all this. Thank you, Tommaso. Whenever you're here, it's on the house, whatever you like."
"I'll get started right now."