Murder Takes Time (12 page)

“Nothing wrong, but there’s a new crop of brats waiting to take your place.” Doggs looked around the room. “Besides, I got things you can do to make more money.”

Tony stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom. “Like what?”

Doggs stared at both of us through narrowed eyes. “One fuckin’ word…”

“Doggs, holy shit, man, we’ve been working for you for eight, nine years now. You can trust us.”

He shrugged. “All you gotta do is pick up a few things. Deliver a few things. Like I said, nothing much.”

“You talking numbers and payoffs, or are you talking drugs?” Tony looked at Doggs and raised his eyes. “If it’s drugs it’ll cost you a lot more.”

Doggs smacked him across the head, hard. “What the fuck’s the matter with you, asking me a question like that?” He smacked me, too, but not as hard. “I’m a legitimate fuckin’ business man. No fuckin’ drugs.”

“All right,” Tony said. “Don’t get so worked up. I had to ask, right?”

It was obvious that Doggs’ patience went out with his last utterance of
fuck.
“So what is it, you in or out?”

“I’m in,” Tony said.

“Count me out.”

“Nicky, what the hell? Why not?”

“Just count me out, that’s all.” I wanted nothing to do with Tony’s schemes anymore. He was getting way too involved with shit that could put us away.

“It’s Angie, isn’t it? You shit. You’re probably not even getting any of that, and you’re letting her control your life. Go fuck Sally Jenkins if you need to get it off, or let me have a shot at Angie. I guarantee she’ll put out for me.”

I shoved Tony against the bar, then punched his face, drawing blood. He came after me, but Doggs smacked a cue across my back and whacked Tony in the head with the broom. “Cut the shit or I’ll kick both your asses.”

I pointed a finger at Tony. “Shut up about Angie, or I swear I’ll beat your fuckin’ brains out.” It was the first time in my life I was ever really pissed at Tony. We had gotten in fights before, even fist fights, but I had never been pissed like this.

Tony stared at me, but I stared him right back. “Fuck you,” he said, then turned to Doggs. “I’m in, and you can count on Bugs. Suit, too, if you got enough work for three.”

Doggs nodded. “I got enough,” he said, then stared at me. “You keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, Fusco. Hear me. I don’t give a shit who your father is.”

“You know I will, Doggs, but I don’t want your work anymore. Not if Tony’s involved.” I put the broom up then headed for the door. As I walked home I kept hearing what Doggs said in my mind. ‘
I don’t give a shit who your father is.’ What the hell did he mean by that?

T
HAT MARKED THE START
of the real split from the group. I was out, and Suit was in, which was fine by me. For a long time, Tony had acted different. I think it started because of Angie, but it soon snowballed into everything else. He was jealous of my relationship with Mamma Rosa, with the other guys, but mostly Angie.

Several years went by, and though I ate dinner at Tony’s house, it was only because Mamma Rosa insisted on it. She knew something was wrong between us, but she never asked, and we never said anything. Angie still came over on Tuesdays and Fridays to cook with Rosa. She’d long since gotten to be an excellent cook; now she came just to perfect her skills, and, of course, to see me.

One day, when Angie and I were out walking, Tony caught up to us at the park. “Hey, Nicky, what’s going on?”

I was surprised to see him. “Just hanging out with Angie.”

“Let’s go to my house. Got some stuff to show you.”

He grabbed my arm, but I shook it off. “I’m gonna hang out here.”

“Come on. Bring Angie with you.”

I stared at Tony. I didn’t know what was going on, but he was acting strange. “I’ll see it later.”

Tony turned his head. Shook it. Seemed to be losing control. “You
need
to come with me. Really.”

“Why? What the hell is going on?” I was getting pissed.

He turned to Angela. “Tell him to come.”

She looked worried. “Nicky, maybe you better.”

“Tony, tell me. Goddamnit.”

Tony looked like he didn’t know what to do. He grabbed hold of me, and I could tell something big was wrong. “It’s your Pops, man. He’s dead.” He started bawling, hugging me as he did. “I’m sorry I had to tell you like this.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I ran down the street, tears already forming. “No.” I ran all the way down Clayton Street until I hit our block. Rosa was waiting to intercept me. I should have known she’d never let me see Pops by myself.

I took the concrete steps from the street two at a time then raced up the walk. She grabbed me before I hit the door, wrapped her arms around me. “Nicky. Oh, Nicky. I’m so sorry.”

“Let me go, Mamma. I gotta see Pops.”

She opened the door, letting me inside. He lay there on the floor. Blank. Dead.

I ran to him, but it wasn’t Pops. It was just a lifeless body. I hugged him, but felt nothing. Kissed his forehead, but felt no warmth. After that, I cried. And cried.

I felt a presence. A hand on my back. When I turned, Rosa was there with tears in her eyes. I hugged her. “Mamma Rosa, what happened?”

“I was out back, and Dante called to me, but by the time I got in here, he was almost gone. He had a heart attack, Nicky.”

I couldn’t say anything. All I could do was cry.

The ambulance came and took him away. I kissed him goodbye as they loaded him on the stretcher. I wanted to ride with them, but they wouldn’t let me.

“It is time, Little Nicky. Come with me. We’ll call Jimmy.”

“Jimmy” was Jimmy Maldonaddo, the last of four boys who had inherited their father’s funeral business. They buried damn near everyone in the neighborhood, no matter what the nationality. I couldn’t let go, but Rosa insisted. Finally, I stood and walked out the door with her help.

By the time we got to her house, Tony and Angela were there. I hugged and cried with both of them. My two best friends. As I struggled with emotions, I heard Rosa in the background.

“Grief is the pain the heart needs to heal.” She was praying on a rosary as she said it.

I hugged her again. “What am I gonna do? Pops is gone.”

CHAPTER 18

A GATHERING OF FRIENDS

Wilmington—15 Years Ago

I
stayed at Rosa’s house the first night, not wanting to be by myself. The next day, though, I went home. The furniture was still there, nothing had moved, but the house felt…empty. I shivered as I walked across the living room.

This was more than empty. Or maybe it was less than empty. It was lonely.

I noticed new things for the first time: the echoes of my shoes on the hardwood floor, how dark the rooms were when the lights went out, how deathly silent it was with the television off. I wondered what Pops must have felt like all those nights I spent at Tony’s. Pops here by himself, without mom. Loneliness must be the worst thing there was.

By two in the morning I still wasn’t sleeping, so I got dressed and went out. As I walked the hill a window opened in Bugs’ house. “Yo. Nicky. Hang on.”

A few minutes later, Bugs crept out the front door, lighting a smoke by the time he hit the street. He dragged hard on it, like he always did, then handed me one. “Sorry about your Pops, Nicky. Shit, that’s bad.”

Bugs wasn’t the best at offering condolences, but I knew he meant it, and he was a good friend. “Feel like walking?” I asked.

“I don’t care. I hate that house.”

We walked for a half a block in silence, then Bugs said, “Let’s see if Mick’s up.”

“You interested in Mick, or Patti?”

Bugs hit me. “Maybe the three of us could do something. You know, take your mind off things.”

“It’s two in the morning.” It was so ridiculous I almost laughed. Regardless, we went to Mick’s, tossed a few rocks at his window and eventually got him out.

The three of us roamed the streets for hours. Didn’t do shit. Just talked. Reminisced. Smoked. When we saw the Connor brothers delivering the morning papers, we knew it was time to go home. Damn near daylight anyway. As I walked in the house I realized that this was what having friends was about.

Friendship and honor,
I thought.
Just like Tony says.

I
GOT UP AT
eight. Showered and dressed, then went to Tony’s house. Arrangements had to be made for Pops. It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I knew I’d have help. The smell of Rosa’s meatballs hit me as I climbed the steps to her house. I hated to think of something nice on a day like this, but Rosa’s spaghetti and meatballs seemed to help any situation. As I opened the screen door, I thought about Mamma Rosa. She had simple solutions for everything, and most of them had a root in food.

Rosa blamed air conditioners for half of the woes of the world. Said they kept people inside, made them stop socializing. “Once you stop talking with your neighbors you find things wrong with them,” she said. “And if you keep the windows closed at night, people holler more at each other, or worse—at their kids. If half the neighborhood is listening, people will be more careful with their words.”

Worst of all though, she blamed those vile air conditioners for blocking the sweet smell of food being prepared. There was something magical about the smell of sauce and garlic from a whole neighborhood, Rosa always said. Tony and I used to laugh about it all the time, but Mick disagreed. “That’s okay for you dagos; tomato sauce smells good. But over by my house all that’s getting cooked is potatoes. And let me tell you, potatoes smell like shit when they’re cooking.” We used to laugh our asses off about that.

I stopped, took a final whiff of the sweet-smelling sauce, then walked in. “Morning, Mamma Rosa. Sure smells good in here.” Angie stood behind her, white-and-green apron covered in sauce. I didn’t think she would have been here this early.

Rosa’s face lit up. She set the big wooden spoon down, the same versatile spoon that both stirred the sauce and beat our asses, and then she ran for me, arms open wide. She squeezed me a few more times than necessary, then shoved me toward the table and into a chair. “Sit, Nicky. You need breakfast.”

As she stirred the sauce, she yelled upstairs. “Tony. Carlo. Get down here and have breakfast with Nicky.” She turned to Angie. “Make some espresso for the boys.”

I jumped up from the table. “I can get that, Mamma—”

The spoon wagged at me, and her eyes slapped me back into the chair. “Sit down. Angie will get it.” She brought a meatball over, skewered on a fork. “Taste this. See what you think.”

As I nibbled on it, she kept talking. “I called Jimmy Maldonaddo.” She looked my way, made sure I saw her face. “He said to tell you how sorry he was. Said to tell you your father was a good man.”

I nodded. Nobody had much to say about Pops when he was alive, but now people were coming out of the woodwork to sing his praises.

“Jimmy will take care of everything,” Rosa said. The wake will be tomorrow night, and the funeral the next day. Father Dimitri will do the ceremony.” She looked at me again, but this time with business eyes. “He’ll be put next to your mother.”

“Of course,” I said, but then the embarrassment hit. “Mamma Rosa, I…”

“What?”

“I don’t…how am I gonna bury Pops? I can’t pay for any of it.”

She let her spoon fall into the sauce—a cardinal sin—and then she reached for me. “Nicky.
Mio bambino.
Don’t worry about things like that.”

I pushed away. Looked into her eyes. “I can’t ignore it. Pops needs to be buried, and I’ve got nothing.”

She smothered me in her arms. I felt her crying. “Don’t you worry, Little Nicky. I’ll take care of your Pops. A lot of people owe your Mamma Rosa favors. And it’s time they paid.”

R
OSA TOOK OFF HER
apron, told Angie to finish the sauce, then went upstairs to dress. She put on her finest checkerboard dress, her best pair of nylons, and her black walking shoes. She grabbed her purse from the dining room table and walked up the street toward the funeral home. Dominic, her husband, had been sick for a long time and could no longer drive. It didn’t matter much; Rosa loved to walk. Before long she was knocking on Jimmy Maldonaddo’s side door.

He greeted her warmly, but before he could say anything else she started in on him. “I won’t have Dante Fusco buried in shame. Nicky’s a good boy, and he needs to see his father buried right.” She wagged her finger at him as if it were her wooden spoon. “You owe me, Jimmy Maldonaddo.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Rosa, please. Dante took care of everything before he went. Everything is paid for.”

Rosa looked at him, then mumbled, “Where the hell did he get the money?” It puzzled her, but Rosa was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She moved on to the cemetery. She found the same situation every place she went. Dante had paid for the cemetery, the wake, the flowers, had even paid the priest.

She walked home from the church, shaking her head as she came in the back door. She walked straight to Nicky. “Everything is taken care of.”