i left the bastards alone, walked outside. damn! i was perfectly
confused now. i hated it, but ty ty could be right about law and the
military. i had not heard dad talk about a lot of terrible law suits in
the army, culprits were usually court marshalled for bad acts, and given
dishonorable discharges, then forgotten by the system. i wondered if
they would have done that to me for buying a stolen chemistry test?
damn!
my hotel was only a few blocks from gorman and gorman, the walk
would do me good. halfway home, joe tuned his fiat a few feet in front
of me. "hey beautiful," he said.
"go away, i don't want to talk with you." i was about to
cry.
"we didn't say anything to upset you, did we babe?" i
bent over and leaned my arms against joe's opened window.
"the whole fucking day has upset me, joe. i got up early, sat
there at the president's conference, not knowing what in the hell to
expect, then listened to you guys telling me how fucking sorry the
world is, and everybody in it. now i'm tired, confused and want a
moment to myself."
"please get in, carlee, at least let me drive you to your
hotel." i gave in. he was acting almost human. "we're
probably as confused and upset as you are honey, we really didn't know
what to expect this morning, either. we had banked on a generous
settlement, but lawyers are all conmen, maybe they were bluffing us,
maybe they weren't, it'll all work out. by the way, you looked awfully
nice up there, ty ty and i were both very proud of you." lawyers
are all conmen, and i was a sucker for a few kind words. i couldn't
help but smile. he stopped in front of my hotel. "now i'll call
you as soon as we learn anything new baby, just don't worry."
easy for you to say. i thought.
i waved at him as he pulled away. i walked through the lobby hoping
no one would speak to me. frankie lamont did. "i haven't seen you
for days carlee." frankie was from youngstown, ohio. he wore a
white suite and a black tie, his white fedora hat pulled down over his
right eye. his large black moustash stood brilliantly out. frankie
fancied himself as al capone, he was divorced, he was alone, he liked
to tell stories about his old mob days. he drew unemployment, and i
thought him very sad.
"hi frankie, i'm sorry, i've been very busy," i smiled.
"hey, i've got a job interview tomorrow."
"really, that's great frankie, a hit?" i smiled again.
"naaa, nothing that dramatic, honest work, at the pizza hut."
that saddened me.
"hey, ah, come up to my apartment and have a cup of coffee
with me, i've got something i want to show you." i was a sucker
for kind words, gosh, i needed some.
frankie lamont was in his early sixties, he had a room on the
ground floor with a kitchenette. it was cheesy, but other than his
white suit, it was all he had. he led me to his dining area, poured us
a cup of stale but hot coffee. "just wait until you see what i
received in the mail yesterday," he said, with pride. i was dying
for a nap and one of shorty's finest hamburgers, but i would indulge
this friend before i went to a funeral. frankie had daily maid
service, but his place still smelled bad. i would die before i told
him that though. he returned, all smiles, with a manila folder. "just
wait until you see, carlee. wait, you remember that job i told you
about in fifty seven?"
"the clancy arson job?" i asked.
"yeah, thats the one, lookee here." it was an ancient
newspaper clipping, brown with age. a full blown picture of a far
younger frankie lamont in a white suit, the caption read: "frank
'the hook' lamont, local gangster, found not guilty in the arson case
of dr. jamie clancey." the rest of the print was so faded, it was
impossible to read.
"gosh, frankie, how impressive, love the picture too." he
blushed.
"only a fair likeness," he said. "my mama liked that
picture as well as you though, carlee," he smiled. "mama
never did learn english too well, but she told me that i looked just
like jake lansky: 'the spittling image, francis, i so proud of you,'
she'd say.
"your mom loved you quite a lot, frankie," i said.
"yeah, she did. hey read the next?" he asked. "'youngstown
police chief vows to rid the city of la costra nostra---chief elton
presson declares war against organized crime in our city'" he
turned and smiled at me, then continued reading: 'people like zeb
quartel and frank lamont have dominated this town too long, we will
conduct an all out battle to rid youngstown of this type of vermin.'"
"huh," i said. "i'll bet he had a hell of a time
ridding youngstown of you, frankie." he laughed.
"you said it sis, yeah really had his work cut out for him."
he laughed again. that was good, i hadn't heard frankie laugh much in
the two or three years i'de known him. "hey, it ain't so bad
little one."
"huh?" i asked.
"the pizza hut, jake guzzic worked at restaurants, 'greasy
fingers' was his middle name, like mine, the 'hook', he worked with
the lansky brothers in 'hell's kitchen', made it big."
"well, you will too, frankie, everyone's got to do something
until the real action comes around." then, frankie did a curious
thing. he held me, held me tightly.
"thank you, carlee, you make life so much better." i
almost cried.
"hey, your mama may have been proud of you, but i'm prouder."
i said.
i think he was crying when i left. gosh, how could a person get so
lost. i had seen his scrap book, he was nicknamed "the hook"
because the cops caught him hanging up some dead bodies on meat hooks
in a cold storage box after a mob massacre in youngstown, in nineteen
fifty eight. frankie was arrested, but he was seen in a restaurant
thirty minutes before and after the violence. apparantly he was
summoned to do the next "dirty work." he did a month in
detention at young county jail, and was released on parole. he told me
that he had a good "mouthpiece." i acted as if i believed
him. frankie died what hair he had left and his moustash, weekly. his
shoes were always polished highly, spit shined. most people didn't
like frankie lamont, i did.
i slept for three hours. woke up semi-comatose. i remembered
dreaming about frankie's laywer, then of mine. confusion rolled in. i
changed clothes, washed my face and put my hair back in a pony tail. i
was famished. it was four o'clock, and i hurried to the lobby.
"hey!"
"hey yourself, connie, feelin' better?"
"some, got a minute?"
"a second, going to get a bite to eat."
"you be back?"
"sure, in a half an hour or so."
"see ya then," he said.
"shorty's" was empty, i opened the door and took a seat
at the bar. "anybody home?" i called. this really
distinguished looking gentleman appeared from the back. he was tall,
dark, was wearing a starched long sleeved white shirt with gold cuff
links, he had on a paisley tie, a clean white apron over his clothes,
and a white paper hat in his hand.
"how may i help you, miss?" he was delightful.
"actually," i said, "i was looking for shorty,"
i replied.
"sorry, i'll have to do, i'm his brother, reginald, thomas was
called away suddenly."
"arrested, or drunk?" i asked.
"oh, you're familiar with thomas' favor for demon rum,"
he replied.
"yes, and demon whiskey and demon hair oil." reginald
smiled.
"he really needs an exorcism you know."
"oh, shorty's alright, so, you're filling in for a while?"
"for a brief while, unfortunately, if all the customers look
like you." reginald donned his paper hat. "now, what is your
desire, my dear?"
"a hamburger with everything and an order of onion rings,"
i said. reginald grabbed an onion and a knife.
"raw or grilled?" he asked.
"grilled." i answered. this was a change. he whacked off
three thin slices of onion directly on the grill. then he poured a
generous amount of cooking oil on them, salt and pepper. they smelled
delicious. shorty made his own ground beef patties, bought the meat
from a friend who i was sure the fda had never heard of. then he
secretly made them into patties, maybe by pressing them in his arm
pit, who knows, then froze them. they were always good, bigger than
the bun, i always looked for underarm hair, never found any though.
reginald placed one on the grill, dispensed some of the oil from the
onions under it, then dropped an order of onion rings into the deep
frier.
"don't over cook those, reginald."
"of course not," he answered. he flipped the onions on
the grill over, then asked me: "wanna see a trick i learned?"
"sure," i said. he put the spatula into his left hand,
placed it under the burger, and flipped it high into the air, halfway
to the ceiling. it flipped precisely three times on its descent, and
landed on its uncooked side, inches away from where it was. "a
triple, impressed?"
"cool reginald, where'd you learn that?"
"i used to be a professional knife thrower in a carnival."
alright, good enough. i thought. he then buttered both side of a fresh
hamburger bun, and placed them on the grill. when the butter melted,
he removed them and placed them on a plate, dressed them and put the
burger on. he retrieved the onion rings from the frier, and asked me
what i'd like to drink.
"a coke, with a lot of ice," i said. the meal was
delicious, really delicious. shorty could use his brother here, just
to fancy the place up. "reginald, that was very good, and the
entertainment was too, you're a very nice person, i wish you could
work with shorty, i really think you all could make a go of this, even
become famous," and i smiled at him.
"thank you miss, i may give that some thought."
that was a rather fun experience, compared with the last few days.
i thought. conny was on the switchboard when i got to the desk. i
started to walk up to my room, but he "psssssst" at me.
"what?" i said. he held up his hand, indicating that i
should wait until he was free. i walked over to the desk. "am i
in trouble?" i asked. he rang a room, then turned to me.
"probably. listen, why do you fuck with that bum?"
"who?" i asked.
"lamont, that's who." he was angry.
"frankie lamont isn't a bum conny, he's just a lonely old man
and you shouldn't call him a bum."
"he never done a fuckin' thing in his life worth shit. shook
down old ladies and thieved, he's a low life, and nobody likes him. he
prisses around here, trying to act better than us, and we pay his way."
"oh conny, he draws unemployment, we don't contribute to that."
"your ass little girl, he's on welfare, you don't draw
unemployment if you never done a decent day's work in your life, and
we do pay for welfare."
"he has a job interview tomorrow morning, conny, give him a
break, i just feel sorry for him, that's all."
"shit," he said. "there's a lawyer up in your room."
"gee, thanks conny, i'll have to tell mr. gott how much i
appreciate your kindness."
"smart ass," he said.
"is it a gorman and gorman lawyer?"
"no, he's from the college, dr. sericca."
"oh shit, conny, i can't believe you let him in, i'm not even
suppose to talk with him."
"oh what tangled webs we weave, when....." i ran up the
stairs. when i unlocked the door, dr. sericca was sitting in my chair,
smoking a cigarette, like he owned the place. judge judy was on the
tv.
"is that who you want to be when you grow up?" i asked.
the doctor smiled.
"jake sericca, miss mccord, i hope you don't mind my being
here." he was pleasant. "i'm chief counsel for the
university, and i was a federal judge before i took this job, not near
as smart as judy though." his smile was nice. i sat down on the
bed. he held out his hand and shook mine. "this is quite off the
record miss mccord."
"excuse me. off the record, after this morning?"
"this morning was not my idea, miss mccord, i'm not even sure
why it happened. maybe just to keep your lawyers on their toes."
"perhaps," i said.
"miss mccord...."
"please, call me carlee." he smiled.
"carlee, when i say off the record, and unofficial, it means
that nothing either myself or you say can be used officially, in a nut
shell, when i leave, this conversation never took place. do you
understand?"
"i understand, but i don't know if i'll contribute anything or
not."
"you don't have to, carlee, i just want to share a few facts
with you, if you run to your lawyers with them, then you will have
broken a confidence with me, but it's not unlawful for you to do so, i
just hope you won't." i nodded my head. "first of all, we
know who stole the tests from professor wilkerson's office, who sold
them and who distributed them, and it wasn't you." i nodded,
again. "secondly, the visit from riley cravens, and his offer,
was not only unethical, it was illegal. it was only designed to avert
a law suit. the unfortunate encounter in president thompson's office
and the leak to the papers of your guilt, are worthy of punitive
damages. you were a victim of circumstances that should never had
occured. you were approached by mr. gorman because he easily
recognized some bad mistakes were made. does all this seem correct?"
i just looked at him. "i can appreciate your silence, carlee, i
know this hasn't been a picnic for you."
"there's been a lot said to me, dr. sericca, more than i ever
wanted to hear, it's all been a nightmare i didn't need or want."
"i understand that, carlee, i really do."
"i bought a stupid test because i didn't wan't to go through
logarithms again, and look where it got me."
"i know that, carlee, victims of circumstances, and i feel for
you too. my office has gone over all of your records since junior
high, no arrests, no trouble, an a-b student, your father's a general
in the army, with an excellent record, i don't want you hurt any more,
carlee, i really don't. please, come on back to school, get your life
in order and accept our apologies."
"it's not that easy, dr. sericca," i said.
"well," he smiled. "i just wanted you to know where
i stood. the university will make a generous offer to your attorneys
this week, maybe that will end things. can we be friends?"
"of course we can sir. of course."
|