The Other Side of Bad (The Tucker Novels) (35 page)

I slid the phone over the desk top and motioned for Eddie to pick it up.

Eddie looked at it like I would look at a spider.

He finally picked it up and said, “Yeah.”

It was amazing how one word could sound so wise guyee.

After a full minute of him listening to what sounded to me like a chipmunk barking through the phone, he said, “I was just trying to take care of business, Sonny. I just wanted to make Uncle Frankie proud.”

After another full minute of barking, Eddie said, “I gotta do something Sonny, I gotta do something.”

More barking, then he pushed the phone back across the table.

I picked it up and said, “Yeah?”

“He ain’t gettin’ it, Tucker. I know him, and he just ain’t gettin’ it. Stay where you are for a few minutes, I’m going to have to call Frankie. I hope like hell he isn’t asleep. I’ll call you back in five.”

“Okay.”

After putting the phone down, I looked around, then said, “Eddie, go sit in the corner.”

“Whataya mean, go sit in the corner?” he asked disbelievingly.

With the muzzle, I pointed to the right-hand corner of the room behind the desk, about eight feet away from the desk chair.

“Go sit in the corner. I’m not going to tell you again.”

About that time, Pauly gurgled.

Eddie went and sat in the corner.

I walked around behind the desk and sat in the chair.

After a full minute of silence, I said, “Eddie, ya know, the name ‘The Men’s Room’, it sounds like the smell of urine. You should consider renaming it. It’s really quite nice out there, doesn’t smell like piss at all.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, that’s no good. That sounds more like an advertisement. You need something more subtle.”

He didn’t want to talk anymore. While he sat there thinking of a new name, I opened the top drawer of his desk.

Among the regular things one might find in a desk was a little .22 cal. derringer. I picked it up with my thumb and forefinger, like it was road kill.

I scrunched my face like I’d just smelled a skunk and said, “Damn, Eddie, you really
are
a bad ass. Evidently you’re not afraid to just piss somebody off.”

Unless you put a round directly in a man’s eye, you couldn’t be sure to stop someone with one of these. And you had to be close…very close.

He still didn’t want to converse with me. I’d get over it.

The phone rang. I answered it.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Tucker?”

“It’s me.”

“Go ahead and call Frankie, he’s waiting.”

“Okay.”

“And Tucker?”

“Yeah.”

“Frankie Tumanello comes from the old school.”

“Yeah?”

“Respect goes a long way. Think you could fake it? It might help.”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

“Bad choice of words.”

I remembered why I liked Sonny.

“I’ll give him a call.”

“Right,” he said.

I hung up the phone and looked at Eddie.

“Who ya gonna call?” he asked, looking scared for the first time.

“Ghostbusters.”

I punched in the number, and it was answered on the first ring.

“Mr. Tucker?” The voice was smoker deep and resonated from his chest.

“Mr. Tumanello?”

“Yes.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie whispered from the corner.

I waited.

“Mr. Tucker, Sonny has spoken highly of you.”

“As he has of you, Mr. Tumanello.”
Won’t hurt to schmooze.

“As I understand it, you have my nephew at gunpoint; is that correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“In his own office?”

“Correct again.”

“And just what is it you want?”

“Not to have to worry about your nephew sending someone to my house, again, to kill me or my son if he happens to be home, because I did the job I was hired to do.”

“You’re putting me in an awkward position, Mr. Tucker. It is not good that you are holding a gun on my nephew while we
 negotiate.”

I put the gun on the desk.

“I’m not doing that now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tucker. Now, what can I do for you? Oh, by the way, that was an impressive piece of business you attended to in Nashville. Now, again what can I do for you?”

I deduced he was referring to me killing two of his men. His voice sounded genuinely impressed and not at all angry.

I said, “It’s not just what you can do for me. But what you can do for us, all three of us.”

“How so?”

“Mr. Tumanello, no disrespect to you sir, but, your nephew is confused.”

“Confused?”

“Yes, sir. His issue is with Mr. Bench, not me. It seems Mr. Bench is too hard for your nephew to find, so I believe he is taking his frustrations out on me. I was just doing my job. In fact, if I didn’t do my job, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”

“I see,” he said.

I believed him.

“I have a family, sir, I love my family. Eddie sent people to my home to do me harm. He had people try to kill me in my car.”

“What?” Eddie said quickly from the corner. “I didn’t do that.”

Ignoring him for the moment, I continued, “I don’t know what interest you have here in Nashville and it is of no concern of mine, but with all respect, Mr. Tumanello, I cannot and will not live my life in fear that Eddie will hurt my family.”

I was trying to make sure it didn’t sound like a threat.

“I can understand that, Mr. Tucker.”

I must have done good.

I said, “Thank you, sir. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Sonny has told me you are a man of honor, Mr. Tucker.”

“I try.”

“Yes, as do I,” he replied with a sigh.

It must be harder for him.

“Mr. Tucker, if I give you my word of honor that my nephew will make no further attempts to harm you or yours, would that suffice?”

“Of course, Mr. Tumanello,” I replied without hesitation. Thinking about it wouldn’t earn me any Brownie points.

“Please, call me Frankie.”

Oh goodie, I have a new friend.

“Of course, Frankie, and I’m just Tucker,” I said, grinning at Eddie, who looked back with disbelief.

“I believe you are more than
just
anything,” he said.

“Thank you, sir, you are too kind.”
Schmooze, schmooze.

“Tucker, would you be so kind as to hand the phone to Eddie?”

“My pleasure, sir.”

I covered the mouthpiece, held the phone out to Eddie and said, “Frankie wants to talk to you.”

Eddie got up and walked over to me, looking like he was going to tear up.

He took the phone, “It’s me, Uncle Frankie.”

For the next minute, he listened without uttering a word. I couldn’t hear Frankie Tumanello’s voice at all, so I assumed he wasn’t raising his voice.

After talking to him, I’d bet the softer he spoke, the more dangerous he was. I also had the impression he was a well-educated man, kind of reminded me of Armando Miranda. I wondered what had become of the Miranda brothers.

Finally Eddie spoke, “But, Uncle Frankie, Pauly’s laying on the floor and he’s really fucked up, needs to go to the hospital, his teeth . . .  yes sir, sorry . . . yes sir. Yes sir.

This went on for another minute or so, plenty of yes sir’s, and I’m sorry’s.

While Eddie was studying his shoes, I put my .45 back in it’s holster.

He finally looked up, handed the phone to me and said, “He wants to talk to you again.”

I took the phone and said, “Yes?”

“Mr. Tucker, Sonny didn’t apprise me of Pauly’s condition. Did he know?”

Uh-oh, back to
Mr.
again.

“I told him.”

“I see. Mr. Tucker, Pauly is also a relative
(that must be why they call it ‘The Family’),
and he was just doing what he was told. I hope you won’t take it as personal.”

“I don’t. That’s why he’s still alive.”

“Yes, of course.”

I could hear him breathing.

Just when I thought I had angered him and he was going to hang up on me without another word, he says, “Tucker, how would you like to go to work for me?”

Uh-oh, a change-up.

“Excuse me?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice.

He made a sound I was sure was a laugh.

“Eddie is my little brother’s boy. My brother was killed when Eddie was only 5. It was his wish that I keep Eddie out of the business. I have done my best. We changed his name, moved him down to Nashville and set him up in a legitimate business. It seems he is reluctant to be legitimate. I’m not talking about that Bench business. Mr. Bench not only had an agreement with my nephew, but me as well. Rest assured, Mr. Bench will hear from me sooner or later. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not as long as I’m not working for him at the time,” I said, feeling all rested and assured.

“Yes, of course. Now, getting back to business. I would like to hire you to keep an eye on Eddie for me.”

For Eddie’s benefit, I said, “You want me to keep an eye on Eddie?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, shook his head and groaned.

Frankie Tumanello said, “Yes. Just to make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble. Keep me apprised of his standing in the community.”

“I have a client at this time, Mr. Tumanello.” I was getting the hang of this
Mr.
thing, to use it when talking business.   

“You couldn’t have more than one client?”

“This is going to take me out of town for an undetermined time.”

“Yes, of course. I see.”

“But, when I come back, it would be my pleasure to drop in on Eddie from time to time to see how he is doing. As a favor to you,” I said, showing Eddie my teeth.

Frankie Tumanello’s laugh seized the irony of the situation.

“Tucker, I don’t get much humor in my life these days. Thank you. I may take you up on that. And, if you ever come to the northeast, it would be my honor and pleasure to entertain you.”

“I would be delighted,” I said. I wondered if he had some kind of talent, like telling jokes, or playing the guitar. I doubted it.

A loud groaning gurgle came from Pauly.

Frankie Tumanello asked, “What’s that?”

“Pauly,” I said.

“How bad is he?”

“He’s going to need an oral surgeon, an orthopedic surgeon, and maybe a plastic surgeon, and maybe a chest surgeon,” I answered truthfully.

“Pauly is a very capable man, Mr. Tucker. Just what did you do to him?”

“ I never learned to play fair.”

“Of course. May I please speak to my nephew again, so he can get Pauly to the hospital? He’s my cousin Sylvia’s boy.”

“Yes, sir. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Tucker, and please call me when you return from your business. I think having you look in on Eddie might be a good idea.”

So did I.

“Here’s Eddie, Mr. Tumanello.”

“Frankie,” he said.

“Frankie,” I said.

Just when I thought I was getting the hang of the
Mr.
thing.

I held out the phone to Eddie.

“Yes sir,” started and continued for another minute. Eddie ended the conversation with something different, “Yes, sir, Uncle Frankie.”

He put the phone down on the desk, looked at me and said, “I’m supposed to apologize to you and say it won’t happen again. Give you my word and all that.”

I crossed my arms and waited.

He walked over to Pauly, who was starting to make a lot more noise, looked down at him and said, “God damn it! We’ve got to get him to the hospital. Give me the phone, I’ll call an ambulance.”

I picked the phone up and held it as I crossed my arms again, waiting.

He stared at me for a full ten seconds, then said, “Okay, okay, I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

“You don’t sound sincere,” I said.

“Well, that’s all you’re getting.”

“What about your word?”

He looked down at Pauly. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He said, “You’ve got my word.”

Now, that sounded sincere.

I tossed him the phone.

While he was punching in 911, there was a knock on the door, along with, “Hey, boss, open up, it’s me, Tony.”

Just who I wanted to talk to next.

“Where’s the button for the door, Eddie?”