 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
By the way, all material on this site is copyrighted James Ciano over the years |
|||||
|
I came across the pictures below a short time ago and they brought back some great memories. |
|||||
|
Chapter Twenty Six
Rocky’s contract had him working Wednesday to Saturday, 8:00 pm to midnight. We set up the third floor with spotlights a little stage and a piano, I even put a nice rug on the stage and he was in heaven. We advertised in the Boston Herald and Boston Globe newspapers and on the 25th we were mobbed. Rocky’s crowd were younger than our usual customers, but a happy group overall and willing to wait in line, on the stairs, in between shows. The crowd Rocky drew was also less affluent than our regulars. Most of Rocky’s people paid cash and were careful with their money. Rocky is in his early forties and a very distinguished looking fellow. He runs One hundred Sixty Five pounds at Five foot Eleven inches and he definitely works out. His face is clean shaven and pale, thin skin, very Down Easterner looking from northern Maine or Vermont. Rocky’s one blemish is his red veined nose, the badge of the drinker, which Rocky constantly powders to hide the red veins. But, in his profession, he is constantly receiving and drinking cocktails.
Rocky started out with a few songs, after all this was his group and they were familiar with his work. He told a joke that set the tone for his jokes from now on. Rocky affected this down east accent and would switch between characters. Most of his basic characters were from Northern VT or Northern Maine. However, this first joke had a Texan and Rocky’s Texas drawl was perfect. It seems a visitor from the great state of Texas was having a problem and went to see the local druggist. The Texan explained that he was very irregular and needed something to help him out. Are any of the patent medicines here good for constipation? The druggist explained that he made his own medicine. At that the Texan asked if the druggist could make him a dose. In preparation, the druggist asked him: “Are you stopping at the local hotel (near by) or the bed and breakfast at the edge of town?” (Far away) The Texan replied: “The bed and breakfast” and the Druggist took some liquid out of the concoction he was making. He then asked the Texan “are you wearing your summer tidy whitey’s or your winter long John’s”? The Texan answered “my winter long john’s.” The druggist took some more liquid out of the bottle. The druggist then asked him if he was a fast walker or does he take his time? The Texan answered that he walks very briskly thank you very much. The druggist put back some of the concoction. The druggist handed him the mixture and told him to drink it right down, and said “You’d best be getting to your bed and breakfast. Well, the very next day the Texan was back in the drug store. He went back to see the druggist and told him. “You ought to be a surveyor, brother”. The druggist asked “Why is that?” The Texan (holding his hands about a foot apart) answered: “Because you missed it by that much.” The crowd roared. Rocky was on his way. At first Rocky did one long show, but so many people showed up to see him, we had to break it up into two shows with a half hour break in between. During one of Rocky’s shows my former girl friend Jennifer Dandridge came in to see the show. Rocky was doing a magic act where he guessed what the patron was holding up. At one point Jennifer got up and challenged Rocky to guess what she was holding up and took out a condom. In those days woman were not supposed to even know what they were, let alone have one. The room was shocked to say the least. Rocky gamely answered “I think I would be embarrassed if I answered.” The next season when Rocky returned he asked us to hire a singing waitress he liked working with. We hired Spring Meadows and during Rocky’s act she would sometimes sit with him and together they would sing show tunes. I loved Rocky’s act and thought he brought a lot to the club. However, his second year with us we started measuring what business the room did and his room never made a profit. I tried everything, including hiring a cashier and people in the room watching what was happening. I had a man standing by the door, another by the bar and a table of four in the middle of the room, all watching. Nothing worked. Years later, I met and dated one of the girls who worked that room and she told me the bartender and most of the waitresses working the room were stealing with both hands. She told me they would keep a customer’s check open all night. They had to turn in credit card paid bills only when a customer left, but if they kept the tab open, the house did not know that customer had paid his bill. Since ninety percent of Rocky’s people paid in cash the thieves had a piggy bank of their own in Rocky. A single bill might be kept for three of four tables. That way a table that actually turned over twice or more during a night will only show one ticket. They were stealing thousands of dollars a week. This group was so cocky they had their own checks, because we tracked the check numbers. That way we would not be looking for their check numbers. They had a big panic one night I was in the room and one of their tables with their checks walked out without paying, the crooks got robbed. They thought I would notice, but the waitress said the lady left her purse that’s why she chased them and I believed her. This group stole almost half the receipts every night Rocky worked. To this day I don’t understand how we missed seeing it with all the people I had watching. We finally had to throw in the towel and close the room. Because everyone who worked the room, or almost everyone, was stealing it was very difficult to see how they were doing it. We had a cashier whose job it was to watch the cash and catch any theft but, right under his nose they figured out the blind spot and stole without anyone the wiser. The fact is, the cashier was not to blame, and they had it figured perfectly. They simply collected the cash without turning in the bar checks. When you think of it, it was so simple. The bartender was the ring leader. He would drive any waitress out of the room if she did not join in the theft. Unfortunately for honest businesses, employees like we had in that room, can and will, put you out of business. The restaurant business is difficult enough. Just working normally, the odds of succeeding were slim, No matter how hard you work, when someone is undermining your efforts, friends or enemies alike, you don’t have a chance.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Sometimes just watching what was around you, things would literally drop into your hands. At night the parking building behind the club was deserted so I would park in their driveway in front of the elevators. Driving down their driveway I had a clear view of the dumpster side of the club building and our outside dumpster. This particular evening I was in a foul mood from having gone home to sleep and not getting a wink. As I drove down the drive I saw the new cook Sammy a short red nosed fellow walk along the fire escape and drop a wrapped package down into the Dumpster. This was Sammy’s second day and I thought I was impressed with his diligence in cleaning the kitchen at six o’clock in the evening. When I hired Sammy I knew he was a drinker and hoped I could work around it. I warned him, if I caught him drinking on the job he was history. But, something about the way he walked and looked around as he walked made me wonder. When I got out of the car I went up to the dumpster to check what I had seen drop from the kitchen level. As I looked inside I recognized an unopened meat box we recently got from our meat delivery. They are always the same and held fifteen to twenty pounds of prime sirloin steak. I opened the box and found eighteen pounds of prime sirloin steak which is what we serve for dinner every night. This was easily about $200.00 worth of food. Now I was really angry. We were fighting to survive the bad winter and spring’s slow business and this new guy, not even here a week, thought he could rip us off. By the time I reached the kitchen four flights up, I went in yelling, red faced and boiling mad. He looked in a panic when he saw me and what I was carrying. I tossed the box down and started toward him. He was behind the work table near the broiler and kept moving so he had plenty of counter and steam table between us. He denied ever throwing the box into the dumpster. I was so angry I didn’t give him much chance to talk. Since he was the only one in the kitchen it was difficult for him to deny it. Finally I caught up to him near the top of the exit stairs. He was now yelling at me and getting kind of abusive. I guess he figured a good defense is a strong offense. I turned as though to head toward the telephone which was across the room away from him, and said over my shoulder that “I was calling the police and would have him arrested.” He said “I better be careful or he might throw me off the fire escape himself.” I started to laugh and turned back to face him. He jumped at me screaming “I’ll Kill You” Now, here I have to take a minute to describe this guy jumping at me, in my kitchen, with me storming mad, and a bunch of stolen steak on the counter next to us. Is he kidding, I mean really? I’m twenty two years old, 135 pounds at 5 feet 9 inches tall; some would say kind of tough. I’m at the top of my health for my age. Naturally fighting trim, I run up and down the stairs of the club fifty times a day literally and I’m boiling mad. Sammy is fifty years old, about a hundred and ninety five pounds at five feet five inches and a walking lush drinking at least two pints or more a day. Sammy hasn’t exercised in so long he needs to support himself when he’s behind the steam table. I grew up a street fighter, poor Sammy didn’t have a chance. I was five feet away from Sammy and the stink of rye whiskey was almost overpowering. His arms were cart wheeling at me, as he swung them to keep me away. I reached inside his swinging arms and grabbed him by the collar. I first pulled him toward me very hard, which put him off balance with his arms swinging almost out to his sides, ineffectually fluttering uselessly. Then with him hanging from my grip right in front of me, about two inches off the floor, I took a step in the direction Sammy was coming from, and shoved him sharply away from me. The two motions were so fast that Sammy didn’t know what happened. All he knew was he suddenly was not moving in the direction he expected. This maneuver took his legs out from under him as he flew through the air. The next thing I knew he literally flew over the top step of the fourth floor landing. He actually hung in the air for a Millie second before gravity caught up to him. Now, flying “ass over teakettle” he was a sight tumbling down those stairs. All I could think of was this drunk would sue us out of business or worse, get killed hitting his head on the metal radiator at the bottom of the steps. In typical drunken fashion and blind luck, he got up, having missed everything and “swaying drunkenly” started swearing and shaking his fist at me. I bounded down the stairs at him and not to kindly show him the way out. When he saw me coming down at him he shut up and never spoke to me again. The look on his face made me think he had soiled himself. I still can’t get over that he didn’t hurt himself at all. He never came back to collect his knives. This was “another cook who didn’t come back at all.” We were racking up a collection of Chef’s Knives.
That night I explained to Robert that I was taking over the kitchen for a short while. “How come Angy I thought we decided that you’re better used on the floor.” “Yes, and I will be back on the floor very soon, but for now I couldn’t stand the idea of that thief working in the kitchen another minute.” “Also, what the hell are you doing throwing people down the stairs? If we get sued we’ll be out of business.” “I just lost it when he came at me. It was actually funny, but, he rushed at me and the next thing he knew he was at the bottom of the stairs looking up. At the time I was so mad I ran down the stairs and dragged him outside. He never said a word and once outside he kept going.” “Well we’ve been lucky but this luck won’t last forever!” “To tell the truth, I had no intention of getting physical with him but remember he attacked me. I didn’t attack him, I reacted to his attack!” “It doesn’t matter, if we get into court on one of these we’ll be the bad guys no matter what.” “Ok, I hear you.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
About a week after Sammy’s airborne departure, I was working in my office trying to finish the payroll this Saturday afternoon. Suddenly, a young woman burst into the room. She was yelling help me and quickly closed the door behind herself. Huffing and puffing, she was out of breath, shaking and crying uncontrollably. She told me her ex fiancé was chasing her and wanted to kill her. I tried to calm her down and walked around the desk to get close to her. Donna came running in to see what was going on, I told her it was alright I would take care of it. At that point I intended to usher the young woman out. She told me her fiancée, Paul, was coming up the stairs to get her. He’s so big I’m terrified of him, he could kill us both. I said we can fix this, “do you want to leave without seeing him?” I asked. She looked at me as if I was nuts and vehemently said “Yes”. So, my arm around her shoulder, with her permission of course, we walked out of the office. With me leading her to the connecting fire door I told her; “Keep going down the stairs until you reach the street. There will be an outside door leading to a different street than the one out front. The outside door locks by itself. Even if someone is watching from the front of the club they can’t see this exit.” “Ok, thank you very much.” And she disappeared down the stairs. I then went down the stairs in the club, to see her fiancé Paul. As I came to the landing on the second floor I saw this large, obviously drunk individual slam the ladies room door open yelling into the room. I rushed up behind him and pulled him out of the ladies room. He was drunkenly struggling and I calmed him down somewhat. I got him to tell me he was looking for his missing girl friend. I explained that she was downstairs and led him down to the first floor. He docilely followed me down the stairs. When we got to the first floor I opened the outside door and led him out. When we hit the outside air he started to struggle and wanted to know where his girl friend was. I explained that she left the building and that he would have to see her at home. I walked him to the street and left him there. I no sooner got into the club when he hit the front door again trying to get in, but pushing the door the wrong way. I opened the door and stood in his way and told him again to leave and finally got him to start walking toward the street. This time I went out with him and made sure he kept going. He started to walk down the street away from us and I thought finally he was leaving but of course about a hundred feet away he turned around and headed back at me. At this moment Alex the dining room bartender got out of a taxi on the street and headed into the club. He stopped to talk to me and I told him what was happening. He laughed and said; “When Paul gets here just get out of his way.” A minute later Paul reached us and Alex stepped in front of him and, calm as you please, just swung his fist into Paul’s face, as Paul was going down Alex hit him one more time on the side of the face. Paul hit the sidewalk like a sack of potatoes. It took Paul several minutes to struggle to his knees, then to his feet. When he did his face was a mess and he had trouble standing. This time he headed away from the club. Alex went into work whistling, not even a wrinkle on his nice suit coat. I waited outside for about twenty minutes, until I heard a car engine racing and tires spinning and then a crashing noise, except for the crashing noise it sounded exactly like a car stuck in the snow, tires spinning, engine racing and all. I went out to the street to see what was going on and there was Paul in an old black Cadillac parked on Pearl Street but blocked in by cars front and back. He put his car into forward and drove ahead until he hit the car in front driving it forward, then he put his car into reverse and drove it back until he hit the car behind him, pushing it back. He kept doing this opening up the space far enough so he could drive away. Just at that moment a friend of mine came up in his Boston Police Paddy Wagon. He asked me what was going on and I quickly told him the condensed version. He took after Paul and it didn’t take long to drag Paul out of his car and arrest him. Paul never came back to the club. At the time he did not go to jail for drunken driving either. He had not actually gotten out of the space, which at this time was necessary for DUI, and my friend, from a suggestion by me, took Paul in for Public Drunkenness, which is not a major crime, but comes with a one night stay in the drunk tank. When I went inside Alex wanted to know what the hell went on. “This girl came into my office panicked and I helped her by letting her leave from the other building.” “Was that Paul’s girl, is that his name Paul?” “Yes to both, he just wouldn’t leave. I threw him out at least ten times. He came back every time. I thought I would have to make a police report and have him arrest at the end there.” “Really, what nit wit bartender gave him more drinks?” “None of our people did. He never actually made it into the first floor bar. I caught him in the second floor ladies room and dragged him out of there and the building but he came right back.” “It’s amazing how big guys like him go right down when you hit them.” “Not so amazing, you hit him like a ton of bricks, Alex.” “Did the cops arrest him” I thought I heard the paddy wagon?” “Actually our friend Barron came by as Paul was trying to drive his car though the other cars on the street. I told him Paul showed up drunk and when we refused him any drinks he flipped out. This is mostly true. Anyway, I suggested that Barron bring him in for Drunk and Disorderly, rather than Drunk Driving. That way he can cool off in the tank and get over this problem without going to jail for any real time. We’ll have to see if he comes back here.”
Alex observed. “He won’t be back here. He’ll remember his face the way it is for a long time.” I agreed. “Yes, I guess you’re right.”
When I got upstairs Donna wanted to know what happened and when I told her, she got all excited about the exit through the other building. She said there’s a group of battered woman’s shelters that need a place where women can disappear. We made plans to contact them and make our exit anomaly available to Boston’s Battered Women. For the women the problem is they cannot go anywhere without their husband’s or boyfriends knowing where they are and being able to get at them any time they want. Normally, a night club has a front and back exit. A batterer can almost watch our front and back entrances from one spot outside. What they don’t know is if someone uses our exit anomaly they completely disappear. The exit from the other building is so far away from the club it is impossible to guess that it’s there. Looking from outside you cannot tell the buildings are connected. So, when someone enters the front door of the club, it looks as if they must exit either the front or back doors sometime. With our anomaly they can be out of the building within five minutes. They need to walk up three flights of stairs and through the cross over and then down three flights of stairs and out. The battered women’s organization have set up a system where they have a cab drop them off in front of the club and while they are going through the buildings another cab is arriving at the exit door on the other side of the building block and two streets over. The exit is a hallway with two glass fire doors without any way of opening them from outside but an unlocked push bar from inside opens the door. The women can wait inside the fire doors if the cab has not arrived when they are ready to leave the building. So their outside exposure is minimal. The women are instructed on where to go and told not to talk to anyone in the club as they go through, but they are usually accompanied by a member of the Battered Women’s League. Inside the club no one knows what’s going on so when the batterer gets curious and starts asking questions no one can answer and if they get out of hand we simply call the police. I love when we can help someone. In a small way it’s almost like a community service. Donna usually is the only person in the club to know when someone will be going through our secret exit anomaly
Chapter Twenty Nine
In the North End of Boston, at a very successful Pizza place named Crystal Pizza, a group of business associates were meeting when a newcomer arrived. The boss of this group is Andrew Diamante, who was the head of the Boston Mafia; his associates are local thugs and criminals who follow Mr. Diamante’s lead.
“What do you want Rocco?” “Sorry Boss”, Niko’s here, he wants a sit down.” “Right now; is he an asshole? We’re having a meeting.” “Tell him to come in, but if it’s about money again I’m gonna shoot him right here.” Niko Spoleto swaggers past Rocco and enters the room to stand in front of Andy Diamante. “Hey Andy how yah doing?” Niko is standing there with an arrogant smile on his face. Andy doesn’t miss this and decides this is another reason to have this asshole whacked. “Great Niko, what’s on your mind?” “The same old shit, I can’t make ends meet like this, I gotta make more money.” “I told you before, take your crew and hit more trucks out of the airport or something. You’re your own boss, use your men.” “There are not many opportunities out there now. The cops follow every truck out of the airport.” “Niko, what do I gotta do to teach you? You’re your own boss do what you gotta do just don’t forget to give me my cut, understand? You’re getting on my nerves now Niko. I’m beginning to think it will be easier to just whack you than put up with your shit. At least it will be a lot cheaper. Do you understand Niko? “Ok Andy you’re the boss here. No need to get pissed.”
Niko walked out of the office angry and less confident than when he entered.
“That asshole is gonna get himself whacked if he don’t watch out.” Andy said to no one in particular. The air is charged in the room, Andy is fuming and everyone else is walking on eggs trying to avoid getting his attention. When Andy gets angry he is unpredictable.
Outside, Niko got into his waiting car. Pauly, Niko’s driver pulled into traffic as they left Crystal Pizza.
“That asshole told me the same shit, use the crew, well this time I’m gonna hit some night clubs, we’ll see if he likes that. I’m thinking I should whack Andy and get all this arguing over with.” “Geez Niko you know Andy said to leave the night clubs alone.” “Well this time he ordered me to do it myself. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do, fuck him.”
Niko and his driver arrived at their headquarters on Bennington Street in East Boston. As they walked in the office Niko called his men together for a little talk.
“I just got through talking to Andy and he said to “Use you guys to make more money.” Well that’s what we’re gonna do. I want to hit some night clubs for insurance money. Start thinking about which ones we can go after that will have enough money to make it pay for us.”
Suggestions started popping up from Niko’s crew.
“We better start discussing which ones will pay us off.” “That Bull and Finch makes a lot of money and they’re old and falling apart, the guys running it, they’ll roll over fast.”
One of the guys wrote down Bull and Finch as they continued talking.
“That new one, Gas Light Club is jumping, they have great business and the owner and manager are both new to the business. They’re real young, they’ll pay.” Pauly suggested.
“We might want to skip The Gas Light Club; Andy says he likes the guys who run that place.” Marco suggested.
“Fuck that, I don’t care who or what he likes. I’m thinking of hitting Andy myself.” Niko shouted getting angry again.
Everyone started talking at once.
“Niko lets not start a war here, we just want money not a bullet.” Frankie put in.
“Ok, let’s put any whacking on the shelf right now, we don’t whack anyone right now unless they don’t pay. Understand?” Niko said.
“How about “Your Father’s Mustache” they do great business on the week-ends.” Marco suggested, diverting their attention a little.
As they talked they came up with a list of six different night clubs and decided to approach them all for insurance money. They also figured if they approached the corporate offices the companies would be less likely to have a crew on hand to defend themselves.
Niko told his guys to say: “It’s for Niko’s insurance, to insure that we don’t break your heads and legs.”
The first suggestion was to send a small crew to each corporate office and demand a payment in cash right away.
Marco suggested.
“We need to make up statements on some phony stationary so we can present it for payment, these corporate offices will pay a bill but send us packing if we demand money which they don’t have on hand anyway.”
“Fuck that, we want cash not a check. If we gotta start shooting then we will.’ Niko broke in.
“Niko, do you want to shoot someone or get some money? If we go in that way we will have to shoot someone and where do you think they’re going to get the money? They’d have to go to the bank because all the money from these places is put in the bank every night. We would have a lot of shooting and then we got everybody down on us. Let’s do this smart and go in with statements. Some of them will pay and never say a word.”
“You know what I think, we can make an example of a few of them, and then everyone will be anxious to pay us right away.”
Niko decided he wanted to hit the Gas Light Club and Fathers Mustache as examples. All the rest will fall in line after that. It was decided to approach the Gas Light Club Corporate office first. Someone said that the offices must be the Cataldo Food Suppliers Company on Ferry Street. A crew approached the office and made sure the people there knew what was wanted. Unfortunately there was no one from Gas Light management there. Niko’s crew decided to give them a message for the club manager Angy and the message was, “Niko wants his money.”
When they got back to Niko’s office he was furious.
“What the Fuck did you let them off for? You should have shot someone. Let them know we mean business.”
Marco interrupted. “There you go again shooting someone. We just want money. If you shot someone the place would be crawling with cops, and maybe even the feds. Plus, even before we get any money you would have let Andy know what we’re doing and believe me he’ll be pissed off. Let’s move slower but make some money.”
“Get the men together a week from this Friday night we attack the Gas Light Club and start killing people.”
“At least let’s call in a “bomb scare” to the fire department that way the building will be empty except for management. If we go in there blasting with a club full of customers the cops will hunt us down forever.”
“Ok, ok pansy, we’ll do it your way.
As Niko headed to his car he decided that they would start shooting, people or no people. When Niko got to his apartment he was still angry at Andy and called the local FBI office. “This is Niko Spoleto and I want to talk to someone about Andy Diamante.”
It took twenty four hours before someone got back to him. “Hello Niko Spoleto?” “Yes, who is this?’ “This is Special Agent in Charge, Peter Calhoun of the Boston office of the FBI. I’m returning your call about Andy Diamante.”
“Good, I want to talk but, I want immunity first and maybe witness protection.” “Well that depends on what you have to say.” “No way, I get Immunity and witness protection or I don’t talk about anything.” “I don’t even know who you are how am I suppose to give you immunity and witness protection.” “Maybe I have the wrong number here; if you don’t know who I am I got nothing to say.”
“Ok, I know who you are, let’s get together to talk.” “Alright, I’m busy this week-end but, I’ll call you Monday and we can set up a meeting.”
After the call from Niko, Peter called Hugh O’Grady, the Boston DA and told him about the conversation. Together they agreed to have Hugh present when the meeting occurred so the Boston District Attorneys office would be fully in the loop.
After Hugh got off the phone with Peter Calhoun from the FBI he called Andy Diamante’s office and let him know what was going on. This is a small community and there are some interesting relationships going on.
Back at Crystal Pizza ‘That asshole Niko he drives me crazy. No one can get me going like he can. Someday I’m going to shoot him myself.” The phone is ringing in the background. “Andy, it is Hugh O Grady on the phone for you.” Rocco is holding out the phone to Andy. “Hello Hugh it’s good to hear from you. How can I help the Boston District Attorney?” As Andy listens to the caller his face begins to get redder and redder. You can almost see the steam coming off the top of his head. Andy is so angry he’s shaking. “I’m sorry Hugh; I’ll take care of it.” He listens again and begins to nod his head. “Ok, I won’t do anything, I told that asshole to leave them alone. Ok Hugh I’ll do it.” Andy hands the phone to Rocco; you can hear the caller hang up at the other end. “That Cocksucker, why didn’t I shoot his head off? Tell me that Rocco?” “I want a contract out on that asshole right now. Get someone to whack him tonight.” “I don’t care what it takes. Just get it done.” “What’s going on Andy is there anything I can do?” “That asshole Niko is shaking down those two Italian boys, Cimino and Cataldo at the Gas Light Club. Those are the two I like with all the great looking broads. I told everyone to leave them alone. That asshole Niko has the Boston Police, the State Police, the Fire Department and the FBI involved now. On top of that he’s talking to the FBI about me. What the fuck does he think; I’m not wired into the Boston FBI office and the DA’s office? That fucking asshole is driving me nuts.” “Rocco, I want a crew after this guy tonight. Tell them a hundred grand to the guy that shoots him tonight. That should get him dead!”
Chapter Thirty
Wednesday afternoon I got a call from my father, Salvatore Cataldo. He was angry and said my insurance men where in his office demanding payment and they said they would not take anything but cash. “Dad, why did they go to you?” “They told me it was your insurance account Angy.” “I don’t owe any insurance, I had decided against insurance for the apartment”. The club had corporate insurance and Robert’s office took care of that. Dad insisted and said they gave me until Friday when they would be back. I asked him if they gave the name of the company and he said they just told me to tell you it was for Niko. At first I had no idea who they were, but Niko, sounded familiar. After a while it hit me. Andy Diamante was having a problem with one of his thugs, Niko Spoleto. I couldn’t understand why they would call me but I guessed that maybe Andy Diamante was actually trying to get in touch with me. So I called him. I found Andy at his Pizza place on Ferry, and when I explained what was going on he started swearing and yelling. Apparently Niko tried to hold Andy up for more money and Andy told him to go to hell. Then Niko went to the FBI and had several meetings with the Boston Office. The FBI and the mob share an interesting truce. They both watch each other constantly. The FBI knows everyone that Andy talks to and Andy knows everyone that the FBI sees or hears from. When Andy found out Niko was talking, he put out a contract on Niko but had not heard anything yet. I told him that it might resolve itself. Niko has given me a deadline to pay up or else by Friday this week and I have no intention of paying. I called the Boston DA, Hugh O’Grady and told him what was going on and he was aware that Niko was causing problems and that Andy had a contract out on him. This shows what a small community the law and criminals actually are in Boston. I told Hugh that maybe the local police and I could take care of this problem this week if they would cooperate. Hugh agreed and said he would have the officer in charge of Boston Gangs get in touch with me. I said “I’ll let Andy know what’s going on so he doesn’t get in the middle and Hugh agreed. My conversation to Andy was a bit funny, here I was telling him the local police would take care of one of his bad help problems and he was all for it. To set up a plan I needed to involve the local police and fire dept. The police were no problem after Hugh talked to them, but the fire dept was not happy and needed several calls from Hugh’s office to convince them. We figured that Spoleto would try to shoot us out or bomb us out and he would wait until the end of Friday Night. That way the police would be busy with typical Friday night nonsense and I would be unsuspecting and the club would be full of patrons with unpaid bills. In the middle of all this planning my buddy Bobby Long called and said he heard I was in trouble. I told him the story and he said “Don’t do anything until I get there.” Bobby arrived an hour later, with six of his toughest detectives. We sat and planned and had a great dinner together. Bobby and his crew would show up Friday noon and stay until everything was over.
While we were making plans Brian, from Your Father’s Mustache, a great night club across town, called me. Brian said he had been threatened by Niko and just heard that I had been also. I told him it might be to his advantage to close very early Friday and he agreed. So now we are tightening the net. I called Andy Diamante several times as our plans changed so that he would keep his people out of harms way. Niko planned to attack both Your Father’s Mustache and the Gas Light Club, figuring no real opposition. Now, father’s mustache will be closed limiting Niko’s focus. I had State Police, local police; Fire Dept and possibly some FBI on the fringes watching the action. As the week progressed I had the waitresses and bartenders taking Friday night off and replaced them with Police. We put up signs that we would close at 10:00 PM on Friday for repairs. At this point the Stage is truly set. At 10:00 PM we put on taped music and kept all the lights blaring. From outside you would swear the place was loaded with people and jumping. My biggest worry was putting innocent people in harms way. I made sure we had people on the street cutting off anyone headed to the club. Any attack would come from the darkened parking garage behind us.
At a little after 11:00 PM six large fire trucks arrived, with police and an ambulance. A contingent of Firemen came to the front door with axes and yelling to evacuate the building. I stood outside and they surrounded me. I would not let them pass by me. I kept yelling at them, “It’s a hoax!” The fire chief confronted me and loudly spelled out that if they don’t enter the building I was personally responsible for whatever happens. He made sure I understood that if a single person died I would go to jail for that person’s death. With my assurances and nothing more to go on, they left. As the firemen walked down the little mall, their trucks were moving out of sight. Inside the State Police got the signal from the crew following Spoleto that his crew had arrived and were positioning themselves along the parking lot side of the club. On the street side of the mall the fire department was setting up their hoses and putting up barricades. They were ready to repel any shooting with a heavy stream of water.
At this point the building was already evacuated. Within minutes of the fire department walking away from me the front windows of the club exploded inward, with something heavy being thrown through them. Next a Molotov cocktail was thrown through the broken windows. It landed on the fallen curtains and didn’t break. We put out the fire in seconds. Pretty soon, shots rang out and in minutes it sounded like world war three. About four Molotov cocktails hit the front of the building and these ignited and got a serious fire going. All the windows in the first floor of the building were being shot out. Lined up across the now bullet riddle front wall Bobbie, two of his men and I are returning fire.
Bobbie is on the landing to my right shooting through the holes in the window wall. The other two men are at the far left side of the bar shooting through the window and I’m just behind the door in the middle. The privacy wall along the side of the parking garage is a perfect hiding place for Spoleto’s men giving them 12 inches of brick and concrete to hide behind.
The front door is fascinating to me as it’s being torn apart by bullets from the crew outside. Little by little the door is actually disintegrating before my eyes. The pistol shots barely make it through the two inch solid oak door but the rifle slugs have no trouble blasting through and will damage anything in their path. The door is now kindling and certainly no protection from invaders. In a minute it will be completely gone. Behind it I have nothing to shoot at and watch in fascination as the last of the wood, splinters flying, leave an ever growing hole where a solid door stood not 10 minutes ago. As the last of it falls away I rush through the gap looking for targets to shoot back at. Once I’m outside Spoleto breaks cover 70 feet away and comes at me shooting two handed like a cowboy. I return fire and am amazed that none of Spoleto’s bullets have hit me yet, of course speaking too soon, a bullet grazes my right arm skewing my aim, but actually my shot hit him square in the chest. Incredibly he flew backward with the hit and lay dead on the ground. The enormous stopping power of my 45 cal. Colt model 1911 strikes again. To my left a movement in the corner of my eye turns into a gunman who is quickly bringing up his gun with me as his target, when a roar from Bobbies shotgun sends him flying. The fire hoses are spraying everywhere now knocking men down and soaking us, making further shooting impossible. Bobbie’s shouting: “Drop your guns and put your hands up.” Finally, after a tense few seconds of indecision the remaining men show themselves with their hands high over their heads and are taken into custody.
For the first time in three years I thought about Brooks institute. Why didn’t I go there? How the hell did I survive this? These were all unanswerable questions. Later, when I had time to think about all this, what saved my life more than anything else was my turning and shooting with the smallest profile possible and an angel sitting on my shoulder.
Looking around out there in the mall, three of Spoleto’s men were dead and Spoleto himself. Four bad guys dead and no good guys seriously hit. This is the way all crime fights should be. About ten others of Spoleto’s men were being handcuffed and carted off to jail. The front of the building was a complete loss. The Molotov cocktails did a lot of damage, and what they missed, the bullets got. There was not one single window intact. Robert would be furious because of the cost. At least the fire department is already on hand and has put out the Molotov cocktail fires almost before they did any damage. When the smoke cleared the FBI tried to have the US Marshall Service arrest me for killing their witness Spoleto. The Boston Police loved me and wanted to give me a parade and Andy Diamante was trying to hire me for other “wet” work, while waving a hundred thousand dollars cash at me.
At the end of the day I was so drained I couldn’t understand how law enforcement people could do this type of thing and come back another day. I’ll remember Spoleto dying the rest of my life and it certainly is not one of my better memories. A moment before, he was this raging animal shooting two fisted to kill me. With a gun in each hand and shooting at me he looked satisfied as if he was doing what he was born to do. The next moment he flew back dead.
When I went in to give my statement to the police the following day, one of the questions was “Why did I go outside and stand where I did? I looked at the interrogator as if he were crazy, what the hell are you talking about “go outside” I didn’t remember doing that at all. “I didn’t go outside” was my answer, but of course I had. At least thirty, police, firemen and FBI saw me standing there returning fire. “Angy, can you explain what started this thing with Spoleto?” “Honestly I have no idea where he even heard my name.” “Did you meet him somewhere and don’t remember it?” “If I don’t remember it, how am I going to remember I don’t remember it?” “Do any of Spoleto’s men frequent your place?” “I never saw any of them that I can remember. That type of person would have stood out in our place. If you’ve ever been to our place you would know one of Spoleto’s guys would stick out like a sore thumb.” “What are your ties to Andy Diamante?” “I see him all the time in Copley Cafeteria and around town. I haven’t ever had more than a hello or good bye conversation with him in my life. Everything I know about Andy I read in the papers until this week. However, this week I have had several conversations with him regarding this action. He knew Spoleto intended to attack me, but he couldn’t tell me why. My guess is Spoleto thought he could get easy money. Andy Diamante offered several times to have his men here to protect us. I declined.” “You may have a problem with Andy in the future. Take care.” “I intend to.”
Just then a State Police Captain came in and told the officer questioning me that he was needed outside and the Captain sat down while the officer left the room. The Captain said: “Hi, I’m Jack Riley and Bobby Long is my best friend. Bobby told me to get my ass over here and help you. So here I am. Let’s get the hell out of here.” There was nothing I could say to that except thanks. Before we could leave I had to arrange a crew to nail up plywood over the front of the building. There was so much damage it was difficult to find a solid base to nail the plywood to. The carpenters finally nailed strapping to the shards and pieces of wood remaining from the shot out windows. It took hours with men on ladders moving wood up and down the front of the building to close us up for the night. Robert called, but refused to stop by. At my suggestion, he didn’t want to see the damage. We actually were insured for most of the damage and we had a serious problem coordinating the clean up crews and the repair carpenters. Of course the club would be closed for about two weeks I guessed.
Chapter Thirty One
Getting back to work after the Spoleto incident has been difficult. Andy Diamante has been calling me none stop. He wants to pay me for killing Spoleto and have me do other jobs for him. I’m walking a very tight line right now, I don’t want to insult Andy, but, by the same token, I don’t want to encourage him and become indebted. If I accept the reward for killing Spoleto I will be forever in Andy’s employ. If I refuse, he might take it as an insult and my funeral will be next.
The rules and regulations the men of the Mafia live by are governed by the local boss or Capo. In Boston that man is Andrew Diamanti. As long as the local capo does not break Omerta (this is the pledge of one’s life as guarantee he will not tell outsiders, especially law enforcement, about the activities of the family.) he can run his family as he wants. Generally there is a regional council of Mafia chieftains, but they don’t interfere with local matters unless those matters affect the regional members directly. Commonly the men of the Mafia live by intimidation and strong arm tactics. It is standard practice for a Mafia boss to take over a business if the owner of that business asks for help with anything. This also applies if an outsider helps someone in the Mafia. It is not uncommon for a Mafia boss or under boss to take over a business he is frequenting and he sees as a successful enterprise. They usually begin with money loans at interest rates that are impossible to pay back and move on to physical help with the operation of the business. This physical help is only loyal to the Mafia family and eventually the original owners are replaced by the family. Niko Spoleto felt it was alright for him to force me to pay him a financial tribute because he could damage my business or kill me. Now that Niko is dead Andy Diamanti may decide that I must be in his employ if I am willing to murder for him, since he ordered Niko’s death and I shot Niko. As an employee of the Mafia my life is not my own anymore. In the real world the best policy is to not have anything to do with people in the Mafia.
I’ve decided to have a face to face with Andy. This way I’ll either fix the problem or be dead. At least this tension will be over. I feel compelled to leave instructions with Donna, my secretary, as to what to do if I don’t come back. Donna has been with me for several years, since we opened Gas Light Club, and will know who to contact and mostly what to do, but, there are some things that we never discuss and now’s the time to clear the air. “Hello Donna?” “Yes Hello” “I need you to call Andy Diamante and make an appointment for me to see him face to face. Will you do that for me please?” “Sure, Angy, is there anything special you want to talk about?” “He’ll know, honey, just make the appointment. OK?” “Alright, any special time you want it?” “Tell him at his convenience any time in the next couple of days.” “Ok. By the way, Bobby Long has been trying to reach you. What should I tell him?” “Give me his number I’ll try to call him now. Also, the combo to the safe is right 22, 45, 89, and 98, just in case.” “You’ll be back, you better be” “I hope so. Thanks sweetie, have a great day”
I hope Animale, Andy’s Brother, isn’t there he makes me nervous. Could a human being be larger and more intimidating than him? I don’t think so. Animale looks like he eats babies for breakfast and their mothers for lunch. These thoughts have me worried as I anticipate my meeting with Andy.
Donna made the appointment for 6:00 PM tonight at Andy’s Pizza place. His entire crew will be there. What a shame, I love the pizza from Andy’s place but I can never enjoy it. The only time I was ever there my stomach was in such turmoil I got sick, and I can’t let Andy see that. Arriving at Andy’s pizza, Crystal Pizza, I’m thinking, Ok, lets do this. His men wave, I say, “Hi guys” “Come stai?” (how are you? In Italian) “Molto bene, grazie. E tu?” (very well thank you, and you?) “Bene, bene grazie” (good, good, Thank you) Andy, waves and indicating a chair for me says; “I got your message, what are we talking about?” As Andy was talking he was going through the ceremony of lighting a cigar, snipping the end etc… “I want to clear up this Spoleto thing, but I don’t want to insult you or get myself dead.” “Ha, ha, who’s gonna kill you now, I owe you big time. Anybody touches you now they die at my hand personally. Besides, I hear you’re pretty good with a gun yourself.” “Andy you know I have great respect for you but we both know what will happen now if I accept any money or help.” “Madonna, you don’t mince your words. You get right to it. I like, that you don’t do a dance I’ll accept your refusal of my hospitality and gratitude. If you’re sure that’s the way you want it. You understand I’ll never offer again?” “Yes, I want to make my way as before, with hard work and normal luck. I want you to know I value your friendship and look forward to a relationship of mutual respect. But I want to keep business separate.” “Va bene, (OK) Will you enjoy a pizza with me?” I laughed “You know, I was just thinking how wonderful the pizza smells. Mi piacerebbe molto una fetta di pizza (I would greatly appreciate a slice of pizza)!” “By the way, any of your girls over at the club interested in an older man?” “You and Robert always have the most beautiful women with you at the Copley.” “You know Andy I think my girls are too old for you. I see you with the cream of the crop and I wish I could get you to send me your leftovers or at least your discards.” “A diplomat too, Hey! This guy’s OK!” “Are you sure I can’t hire you?” “Yes, but thanks for the offer.” We sat for another hour enjoying the pizza and shooting the breeze.
GOD, I didn’t think I would get of there with my life. Andy is such an intimidating guy. I could never get totally comfortable around him. Andy has this plastic smile, his craggy face, pockmarked with childhood acne, looks like it’s smiling, but the eyes never thaw out. All the while he was saying nice things his eyes never changed. They stayed black and piercing, never leaving my face. The pizza was great though! When I got back to the club Donna was happy to see me. The first thing she said was “What did he say, tell me everything?” “Donna, he wants to be friends and accepted my refusal of his money. He was very nice, SCARY, but nice.” We agreed to leave things as they were before, no debt given or taken by either side.
“Now I need to go home and curl up in a ball and stay like that forever. I just refused a hundred grand because I was too afraid of what it would mean to take it.”
Chapter Thirty two
Granlargo Mass. at the Lakeside Diner, the two congressmen from this part of Western Massachusetts have breakfast most mornings at this diner. The distinguished congressmen, Edward de Roche and Congressman Franklin Spaulding are in attendance again holding court at their favorite table. They are also partners in a realty trust that owns several parcels of land between the Quamac Reservoir and another feeder lake the state is trying to connect with The Quamac Reservoir. If “The Quamac Reservoir Land Acquisition and Appropriations Bill” passes, these two men stand to make millions of dollars because the state of Mass. will need to buy or lease the land from them to run a pipe or a canal from the lake to the reservoir, giving the Quamac Reservoir another feeder water supply. This morning the discussion is with Calvin and Roderick about having the land the two congressmen own together surveyed. If they start a survey, it will look as if they are actively planning to develop the land. Once the state sees that the feeder lake may be lost because of this development they may move faster to stop the development and buy the land.
The problem is, everyone in the Granlargo area and even in Hampshire county of which Granlargo is the major city, are aware that there are easier and cheaper ways to go. The feeder lake they’re proposing is contaminated and will need major filtration to make it drinking water quality. This is not widely known outside the immediate area. Whenever samples are taken, they are actually done in another lake, but the states water quality crew doesn’t know they are sampling the wrong lake. This little bit of misdirection was engineered by the two Congressmen when they supplied the public works people to assist the state crew in taking the needed samples.
The two Congressmen are working out a plan with the two handymen they occasionally use for local work. The two handymen are Calvin Coleridge and Roderick Spinks, Cal and Rod who will do anything the congressmen need done, including murder and intimidation among other more mundane and less colorful tasks.
The two congressmen have been working a psychological campaign to get their bill passed in the House of Representatives in Boston. They’re short about six votes, all of which, Representative Edward Brakeman controls. Brakeman is not particularly against their bill but he is suspicious. Spaulding and de Roche have given up their campaign to convince Brakeman and have decided to use more circumspect methods. They plan to use Cal and Rod to approach Congressman Brakeman’s daughter. Cal and Rod will find a way to put Congressman Brakeman’s daughter in trouble with Barron College, her school in Bathurst Mass. Their thinking is the Congressman will be so worried about his daughter he’ll concentrate on her and not pay much attention to the “The Quamac Reservoir Land Acquisition and Appropriations Bill.” While the little group is talking Franklin de Roche arrived and kissed his father on the cheek before he sat down and joined their round table. “Good to see you son, how long will you be here?” Asked Congressman de Roche. “Actually I’m leaving right away dad, I have a ride to Kansas City from a friend, and then I take a bus to Denver.” “Will you at least join us long enough for breakfast?” “Sure, Dad. How’re you guys doing Cal, Rod Congressman Spaulding?” “Good thanks.” “Great Frank.” “Cal and I will get back to you later Congressman de Roche, Congressman Spaulding.” Roderick Spinks announces to the table at large then he and Cal Coleridge rise from the table and leave. Congressman de Roche is thrilled to have the opportunity to talk to his son before Franklin heads back to school. He is attending the University of Colorado at Denver, majoring in Engineering and the Congressman is very proud of him.
This breakfast was to plan the overall campaign against Marilyn Brakeman and have Barron College kick her out. The Congressmen postponed their planning until Franklin left for Denver later in the morning. Franklin de Roche’s arrival and presence was not expected and they did not want to include him in their planning sessions.
When the original four men get together again Congressman Spaulding reiterates what they had decided at the morning meeting, including the proposal to attack another girl and leave evidence that Marilyn Brakeman was responsible for it. Then congressman Spaulding reminds them that they need a way to get her out of trouble to pay Brakeman back if he votes their way. After all, the House of Representatives is a small community and personal memories are long. Cal Coleridge says; “Well we can have Rod do the actual beating, but wear a hooded sweater, which will obscure his identity, and I could take movies of him doing it. It will show at least that he’s a man and it couldn’t be Marilyn.” de Roche says; “That could work. If we need it that’s what we’ll do.” Spaulding closes the meeting with; “Ok, I think we have an agreement of how this should work; if anything else is needed we’ll meet again and fix whatever comes up. Everybody Agree?”
Everyone nodded yes and the meeting was finished.
Franklin de Roche After having a great breakfast with his father and Congressman Spaulding, Franklin still feels uneasy about the conversation he heard before they knew he was there and could hear them. There is something wrong with whatever they’re doing with Calvin Coleridge and Roderick Spinks. After several hours of internal debate Franklin decides to search out Cal and Rod to see what he can learn. Franklin entered the Lake Side Tavern in his search for Cal and Rod and was successful. The two handymen were seated in a corner table away from the doors.
“Hi boys! How are you doing today?” “Good Frank, I’m surprised to see you, I thought you were on your way back to school?” Asked Cal. “Fine Franklin, How you doing?” Chimed in Rod. “I’m doing great and yes I’m picking up a ride later today back to Denver. You guys are working hard for my dad, what’s he got you doing, anything interesting?”
Cal, ever the spokesman for the two answered Franklin. “You know this and that. He keeps us busy. Where in Denver is the school Franklin?” “It’s in the Aurora district of Denver.”
“How much longer before you get your degree?” “I’m a junior, so one more year then on to graduate school for two years then done.”
At least it keeps you busy, I hated school, in my day they hit you with a stick if you made them angry.”
“What’s this Cal I hear about a girl at the local college, is she giving my dad trouble?” Rod Spinks spoke up before cal could answer. “We have to get that guy Brakeman, the Congressman from Boston, to vote for you father’s bill. So, we’re making his daughter get kicked out of school to take his mind off congressional business and pay more attention to his daughter’s problems.”
“How exactly will that work out, do you have to hurt or kill her?” At this question Calvin Coleridge spoke up to answer, stopping Rod from answering. “We decided that I will need to slap her friend around a little and put the blame on the daughter. Then leave evidence that the daughter did it.”
“But, don’t you need to have a way to prove she didn’t do it, so when this Boston congressman does vote your way you can get her out of trouble as the pay off for him?” “The plan is Rod will take 8mm movies of me doing the assault. I’ll be disguised but the viewer can see that it’s a man doing the beating. When the vote goes our way we deliver the movie and the daughter gets off.”
“Wow, that sounds complicated and confusing.” “Yeah, I guess it does, but your father and congressman Spaulding think it will work.”
“Boy, I hope it works, it sound so complicated. Wouldn’t it be easier to just hurt the daughter?” “Your dad is afraid that Congressman Brakeman might go ballistic and come after us if we do that.”
“Well good luck, I hope the plan works.”
Chapter Thirty Three
From the attack to the aftermath, the Spoleto affair has everyone on edge, especially me. Now that Brooks Institute is a distant memory, Robert has offered me a partnership in the Club for one dollar. Robert wants me to stay here in Boston, connected to the club, and the partnership will guarantee that. For one dollar I become a full partner. Not bad if I do say so myself. He needs me to supervise the rebuilding and reopening of the Club, something I look forward to doing. After all this publicity I have a lot more influential friends in this city on both sides of the law. Although the local press had been brutal over the incident, it took only a week for another news story to push me and the club off the front pages. We live in turbulent times.
People in trouble are calling me to help bail them out. This is a good by-product of the publicity, a lot of investigative job offers. Robert thinks I should open a detective agency, I could even have an office in the club. At first this sounds like a crazy idea to me, until Bobby Long heard about it and offered to help me get started. Bobby is enthusiastic and sees the agency as something he and I can do after we retire, especially him. So, with Bobby’s help, I applied for and got a Massachusetts Private Detective’s License. I then expanded it into an agency License so I can hire others to work with me. Now that I have the licensing I’m listening more closely when people call. Some I turn down because their problems are not the type I can help with. Most, I give suggestions of things they can do to help themselves. My first priority is getting the club straitened out and reopened.
The first step for the club is to get a new manager. Advertisements in the local papers are bringing tons of calls but none are very promising. I’ve finally got a crew from East Boston working on clearing the front of the building and another crew waiting to start rebuilding as soon as the clearing is done. We decided to go with replacing the façade as it was. I talked Robert into putting Lexan, a clear plastic that is incredibly strong, in place of glass windows. We are putting a wood frame over the Lexan sheets to make it look as though we replaced the small windows, but actually, the Lexan is one large sheet of three quarter inch plastic with a wood frame over it. It looks exactly the same as before but a sledge hammer couldn’t break through it. Each wall also has an eighteen inch high, row of crank out windows, at the top of the Lexan layer. The crank out windows is a source of ventilation when needed. The workmen have started at the fourth floor and are working down. They’re doing a great job, but it seems like it’s taking forever. It’s taking two days per floor, so they won’t be at the first floor for another week. Cleaning inside has been pretty fast, although we’re not completely done, we only have finishing touches to go. Robert and I have brought the regular employees in to do the cleaning and what ever else needs to be done inside. This way they get a good pay check instead of a lay-off and we get a needed job done.
In the middle of all the construction work I’m interviewing people for manager of the Club and have not found anyone that interests me yet. This is tougher than I expected; everyone sounds too young or not experienced enough or something. I’m really not taking any investigative work until I find someone to manage the club. Not that they’re breaking down my door with job offers, but with the current publicity investigative projects are being thrown at me, and this public awareness of me won’t last forever. The next two weeks are hectic as we finish the construction and the façade is finally painted and ready to reopen. I brought all the employees in to prepare the club and themselves for the opening. It’s the end of November and although it is freezing out everyone is getting ready for Christmas.
The advertising was very successful and the “Grand Opening” couldn’t have been better. Although our first task is to change the Thanksgiving ornaments, we just put up into Christmas ornaments we’re finally open. We’re off and running again without a new manager.
Bobby Long sent in someone this morning we both know from Revere as a management potential, Joseph Russo. Joe has been a good friend and confidant for as long as I can remember. We went to high school together and at graduation Joe went on to college and I bought a sub shop. The name Russo might be familiar, it’s the name of the pizza place Bobby Long and I love in Revere. Joe’s the owner’s brother and has been a steady worker and stand-by manager there for years. Over the years we all envied Joe, working on the beach with beautiful bikini clad girls in one hand and a great slice of pizza in the other. Could any man ask for more than that in life? When I talk to Joe I can see the perfect manager. Joe’s about one hundred ninety five pounds at five foot ten, but looks thinner than his weight would suggest. The smile on his face all the time gives him a happy friendly look. Darkly handsome, Joe never had trouble getting girl friends. Add to this Joe’s friendly attitude and he makes friends instantly. Luckily, he also agrees with my approach to handling people. He already knows who he can approach alone and who he will need assistance to sweet talk. All in all I couldn’t find a better manager.
Joe is smart and well educated, he has a degree in accounting and fifteen years business experience. He can be tough when necessary; I’ve seen him manage his brother’s place a hundred times over the years. Long week ends, vacations, illnesses you name it Joe’s been there. It didn’t take me long to make a decision, once I knew he wanted the job my mind was made up.
After two weeks Joe is doing a better job than I was. Everyone likes him and the place has never run so smooth. I’m jealous, or should I be proud and patting myself on the back for finding the right man for the job? With Joe working full time, the reconstruction done and the club opened and running full blast, we’re back!
Apparently I can now start taking investigative jobs and I know where I’m going to start. The first job I’m going to take is for Mr. Edward Brakeman, of the cut tongue fame. Also, Mr. Brakeman is a good friend, and customer. He and his wife spend a lot of time in the Club, and last but not least Mr. Edward Brakeman is a Congressman of the great State of Massachusetts. His daughter is being hassled at her college and he wants me to see what the hell is going on.
My car is being repaired for an engine problem, so I rented a car and drove down to Barron college in Bathurst MA Marilyn Brakeman is a pretty, blue eyed, twenty year old Barron College junior living at the Munson Dormitory on campus in Bathurst Massachusetts. According to Edward, since the beginning of this semester, she has been having problems. It started with a break-in of her car, which she leaves in the college parking lot. Whoever did it also disabled the car, which is now being repaired at a local dealership. Marilyn is being accused of breaking into her psychology professor’s office to steal the mid term exams for his class. Campus security found Marilyn’s ID card among the rubble in the professor’s office. The office was completely trashed along with the theft of the current semester's mid term exams. Lastly Marilyn’s room was broken into over the same week end as was the psychology professor’s office. Many of her things were trashed, destroyed or stolen. When Marilyn reported the trashing of her room she was told about the schools suspicions of her involvement in the psychology professor’s theft. Because of the timing of. her report as opposed to the school’s notifying her of their suspicions, she looks less guilty but, suspicion is now attached to her, as well as confusion over the timing of the reports. Out of respect for whom Marilyn’s father is and the lack of solid evidence, the school is not taking any action against Marilyn at this time until a complete investigation can be done. When I arrived at the school in Bathurst I found the Bathurst Police on the campus and an investigation getting underway to find an attacker. A young student named Judy Traynor, had been attacked in her sleep, bound with duck tape and left in her own closet unconscious. Her roommate found her several hours later. Still alive but hurt very badly, Judy is now in intensive care at the local hospital. Meanwhile her dorm room was ransacked and robbed. No one is sure of exactly what was stolen, since Judy has not regained consciousness yet. I learned all this because I’m nosy, but I hope none of it has any thing to do with Marilyn.
After asking around for a while I was directed to the Mullins center, a college all events building, where I found Marilyn Brakeman studying. She was alone and deep in thought when I approached her.
Chapter Thirty Four
“Hi, are you Marilyn Brakeman?” “Yes I am, who are you?” “I’m a friend of your dad’s; my name is Angy Cataldo from the Gas Light Club in Boston.” I held out my hand to shake hers. Looking at Marilyn, I could see her mother’s beauty and her fathers determination, perfectly blended. Marilyn is slim and well toned; her face is very beautiful in the fresh washed college girl look. With here brunette hair and natural eyebrows she is the personification of the girl next door. She could be the brunette on the cover of the college Students brochure, or a national soap advertisement brochure announcing beautiful people and a happy way of life. She also is the living model of the pretty young thing that every man wants to bring home to momma and papa. Shaking my hand she said; “Oh Wow, you’re the guy who killed all those murderers in Boston.”
Talk about something taking me down a peg or two that comment showed how infamous I’ve become.
“Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, that wasn’t really what happened. I shot one of them, the others were shot by the police.” “Boy, that’s not what the papers said.” “I think that tells you a lot about the papers. Marilyn, I’m here to help you out. What’s going on with you?” “I guess your shooting people is more interesting to me than my stupid problems here.” “That’s not one of my favorite subjects, frankly like you; I would prefer to work on your problems than think about my own.” “The fact is I’m not proud of what happened to me in Boston.”
“Ok, don’t get all defensive. How much do you know about what’s going on with me?” “Your dad told me about your room being robbed, your car being trashed and you being accused of stealing tests. Is there anything I forgot?” “No, that’s all of it. Whoever is doing these things knows a lot about me. When they robbed Munson Hall, they took my ID and left it in the dean’s office where they took the midterm psych exams.” “If I hadn’t listed the ID in the police report I would have been blamed for the midterms. As it is security thinks I could have done it anyway and made the report to cover up my guilt.”
“Off the top of my head, my first impression is someone is very mad at you and trying to get back at you for something. Was there anything stolen from the car that could help them and hurt you?” “Well, actually there was. They stole my original semester notebook, with all my class schedules, all my activities schedules and my complete address book.” “I don’t like that at all. They know where you will be at all times. I want you to think about how you can change all your class and social schedules. I know it’ll be difficult but, it’ll be a lot safer.” “Jeez, this is the end of the semester. Another week and we’re into finals.” “The changes are something you need to work over with your class advisor, but since it is the end of the semester we might also have me tag along with you. At least for the last two weeks of the semester then you won’t need to make as many changes. “That sounds better.” “Ok, just remember, with your personal address book whoever is causing you these problems also knows all your friends and acquaintances, and can attack you through them. Now I’ll need to see your room. Have the police found any evidence: like fingerprints on the car or in the room, anything left in the rubble of your room that didn’t belong?” “They found some finger prints, but they were from my friends. The police think any other prints could be from parties we had or left over from last semester. The prints they found were all from present or former students. They haven’t found any fingerprints of anyone that shouldn’t been there.” “Ok, I’m going to hang out with you for a while, tell your friends: I’m the long lost boy friend from Boston, or a cousin from the Bronx, or the milk man from your old neighborhood, whatever you think they’ll buy. Just let me know so I can play along.” “Ok, I like the Long Lost Boy Friend especially when they recognize you as that guy from The Boston Gang Wars.” “You’re a killer, I’ll be infamous” “I hope they don’t recognize me. We don’t need the hassle.” “Listen, this works out good, tonight there’s a big game at the Mullins Center you’ll come with me to see the Barron College, UNH hockey game. You can meet some of my friends there.” “That’s a good idea. I want to see how everyone reacts to you and me together as a couple.” “Don’t get creepy, your not a college boy, you’re an old man trying to rob the cradle.” “Thanks, I’m not that much older than you. At my age I would now be in Graduate School right on this campus. Besides, as an adult, I don’t date infants!” Marilyn pokes me in the ribs. “Hey, Marilyn!” Smiling Marilyn says; “Watch your mouth buster. You may be a friend of my dad’s but the jury is still out with me.”
Marilyn is Ok, I can see and hear her dad every time she opens her mouth. If I wasn’t sure Marilyn was innocent before our conversation, I’m now positive she couldn’t have done any of the things she is being accused of. The Brakeman’s are too straight a family. Now, I just have to prove it.
At the hockey game Marilyn introduced me to several of her friends: “Angy, this is Andy Carter, Lorelei Franz, Beth Anne Coleman, Mel Shatner and my best friend, Leigh Lonagan. The Hockey game was pretty good, but I’m not a fan of either team, The Boston Bruins are my team. Other hockey teams just don’t interest me. However, at this moment meeting Leigh, caught my eye, turned my head and got my full attention. I’m not a guy whose head is easily swayed, but, Leigh is everything I look for when I dream of the ideal woman. Blond hair, blue eyes, slim build and bubbly personality it’s exactly Leigh I see in my mind. At five foot four, slim and athletic build, Leigh can be anything she wants to be. Her face can only be described as Angelic her light blond eyebrows and beautiful natural blonde hair creating a halo around her incredible face. Her smiling bright blue eyes are searching my face and looking into my soul. Her incredible rosy cheeks are just slightly pink from the cold and I’m holding my breath hoping her voice matches this incredible visage. As though from a distance I hear her say; “Hi, I’m Leigh, Marilyn’s friend; it’s nice to meet you, Angy? did Marilyn say?” I almost can’t answer, the voice completes the perfect person. I’m literally overwhelmed. Finally; “Yes, Sorry, I lost my voice for a second there, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you.” The two of us staring into each others eyes, I don’t know how long we stood like that, but Marilyn’s poke in my ribs woke me up and made me jump getting both Leigh and I laughing at my awkwardness. That laugh was the last of it. I almost melted on the floor. This girl is perfect; I couldn’t help blurting out; “Are you married, excuse me, dating anyone?” Still staring into her eyes, I know I’m here for a reason but, for the life of me I can’t remember what right now. “No, silly, I’m not married, I’m only eighteen, and I’m not going with anyone right now either.” I’m finally getting myself under control and say, almost in a whisper; “That’s wonderful, I intend to see a lot more of you from now on.” “I think I would like that very much, Angy” Suddenly I blew the Marilyn’s boyfriend excuse and became the visiting cousin almost against my will. Staring into each others eyes, we were ready to walk off into the sunset together, hand in hand as the violins played in the background until Marilyn pushed in between us and said out of the side of her mouth to me; “Down boy, you’re coming on too strong.” Changing the subject, I began asking about the hockey teams. When I mentioned my Bruins preference to Marilyn she asked if I get to see the Bruin games live very often. Marilyn and Leigh have me cornered and are cross examining me now about the Bruins. I’m not feeling any pressure from the grilling, two beautiful women cross examining me and hanging on my every word. I think the question is. “What’s not to love?” Getting myself under control and happier than I’ve been in a while, I’m really enjoying myself.
Anyone that talks about the great 1960s Boston Bruins Hockey team, in the United States, can’t help talking about Bobby Orr, the greatest defenseman of all time. I told them I see about every other game. Marilyn and Leigh were jealous, not being able to see the Bruins in person very often. Marilyn says; “I cheer for the Barron College Hockey Team while I’m here, but my heart will always be with the Bruins in Boston. Bobby Orr is a dream. Did you know we’ve met him hundreds of times? Leigh’s been at my house when Bobby and his wife have been there. My father is Bobbies biggest fan. And Bobby thinks my father is great.” “Bobby and his wife have been to my house for dinner and things at least a hundred times. He’s always kidding with Leigh about adopting her and his wife pokes him in the ribs every time.” “Marilyn, you and Leigh are really lucky girls. Bobby is probably the greatest defenseman of all time.” Me and my lame comments, I know I already said that, but while my face is smiling like this my brain won’t get back into gear, it’s like a record stuck in a single groove.
After the game Leigh, Marilyn and I walk back to the dorm together. Marilyn already whispered to Leigh, who I really am and what I’m doing here. Marilyn asked me if I have a plan; “Sherlock is there a plan afoot or do we just wing it? “Now is the time for fact finding. After we know something we can plan. How’s that sound?” “A little like a know it all, but it makes sense.” “Sorry about that. Are you sure there’s no one trying to advance themselves, or trying to step over you, that you’re stopping. No one running for office or trying for a scholarship or something and you’re standing in their way? Even unknowingly on your part could be a problem.” “No, no one or ones like that. Most of the kids I know are trying to just get by, everyone is working hard.” “I’m just another student here, nothing I do or say effects anyone else, but me.” “Ok, tonight, think about what I asked and we’ll talk about it later. Who knows something, however remote, might pop into your head.”
Marilyn went into her dormitory. After saying our goodbyes, Leigh and I walked off toward Leigh’s dorm. Leigh and I talked about Marilyn’s other friends, who we both agree are Ok. I didn’t see any bad reactions to her or any real animosity.
I particularly like Marilyn’s best friend Leigh Lonagan. The more I see and talk with Leigh the more I realize she is my ideal girl. Petite, bubbly, beautiful and likes me! That last of course is the most important thing. Not only is she beautiful, but also very bright and fun to be with, also a good judge of character, after all she likes me. Did I say that before? I can see why they’re best friends. They answer each others questions and finish each others sentences. I think I’m falling for Leigh in a big way. My heart skips a beat every time she grabs my arm and looks up at me with those blue search-light eyes of hers. She seems to be looking right into my psyche. careful! careful!! Will I ever learn???
A strange thought just nagged its way through my head, I’m glad Marilyn doesn’t like me or she would be jealous of Leigh and that would be terrible. These college kids are not so bad after all.
Leigh and Marilyn are getting together first thing in the morning to make plans, there are no classes scheduled for the next day Saturday. I moved into a bed and breakfast in town close enough to be walking distance from the college. The next morning, while contemplating my navel, I’m sitting in the Lotus Position, trying to figure out my next move when the phone got my attention. It’s a return call from Donna, my secretary at the club. I called her a while ago to have her make some calls, one of which was to Captain Bobby Long and see if he has any friends here in Bathurst. “Hey, college boy, what are you learning?” “Hi Donna, I’m just stirring the water here. Nothing is jumping out at me. Do me a favor will you? Find out from Mr. Brakeman if he’s into anything either personally or professionally, that would lead, someone to become belligerent or aggressive enough to want to physically harm him or his family? From the outside looking in, this looks like some penny ante brain attempting to put intense pressure on the Congressman.” “This is only a first guess on my part, there is no evidence for it just shadows hiding around the next corner. By the way be sure and tell him his daughter is a beautiful and intelligent woman who will make him proud! Marilyn and Leigh have become my new best friends and I’ll not let anything bad happen to them. Now back to business.”
“The Congressman is an important man and has powerful friends and enemies. Ask him if anything is going on where someone will lose money because of him. Also check with his wife with the same line of questions. Up here Marilyn is just another student. She is not standing in anyone’s way that I can see? She is definitely keeping a low profile.”
“By the way, give Bobby Long a call and find out if he has any local friends, I know I asked before but, maybe at the nearest State Police barracks? Up here in Bathurst that could grease the way with the locals who, for some reason, find my sterling personality abrasive rather than comforting.”
“Also lastly, how is everything there at the club, any problems I should know about? Is Joe Russo in?”
“Joe never leaves. Did you know he sleeps here sometimes?” “No, how come, he just lives in Revere? That’s not a long ride away.” “I think he loves it here. He’s always poking around trying to find a way to do something better or make more money. He’s driving Paul, our cook, nuts suggesting new lunch time meals and always trying something new.” “Well we knew he was smart. I’ll call tomorrow, you have my number if you need anything in between.” “Angy, before you go, you’re pretty close to Woodstock NY, is there any talk about the festival? You know, it was only a couple of months ago. Find out if any of the kids went to the festival while you’re there? Some of the pictures I’m seeing are pretty wild and the music was the best.” “Ok Donna, I’ll check out Woodstock. Donna, it was just a concert, only this one was on a farm instead of a stadium.” “Yeah, Angy, except this one had a half a million people on a six hundred acre farm for three days. It’s a sixties happening, Angy. Something that will be talked about for the next fifty years.” “Great Donna, but while that happened we worked twelve hour days.” “Ok, someday you’ll be sorry you missed Woodstock.” “I’ll save being sorry about something I didn’t do, for later Donna, right now I have a congressman’s daughter to look out for.” “Bye Angy.” “Bye Donna.”
I’ve been here three days and found nothing at all, not even anyone that went to Woodstock. I don’t know what Donna is thinking, Woodstock, NY is a hundred miles away from here. Back to Bathurst, this is a typical College town with a wide open campus, anybody can go anywhere. Just like all the schools in Boston; no visible security anywhere. Marilyn is in class five days a week and mostly studies when she is not. She only goes home once a month, Boston is pretty far away, about a hundred miles, as the crow flies. I’ve seen her everyday and I can’t find anything suspicious happening. I’m trying to convince Marilyn to ask Leigh to walk with her, whenever she can. This way, I get to see Leigh more often, and the two girls together are less likely to have a problem. Together they can help protect each other. I intend to stick to Marilyn like glue, wherever she goes, I go, at least until she flips out and banishes me.
Meanwhile, I better think about what happened when I first met Leigh. That was a first for me. I never got tongue tied like that before, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It was nice to see she reacted almost the same way. I wonder where this will lead. Well, first things first.
Chapter Thirty Five
This morning Edward called me early at the bed and breakfast to tell me his daughter Marilyn had been arrested. Apparently the Bathurst police found some blood evidence at Judy Traynor’s place and they think the blood on it is Marilyn’s. They’re not positive it’s hers yet, blood tests take about three weeks to trace it to a specific person, but, this blood is the right type.
Judy Traynor is still in intensive care but is getting slightly better everyday.
My PI card got me in to see Marilyn but no one is very friendly here, they’ve got me sitting in an empty corridor. So far everyone I’ve talked to has bitten my head off. There’s so much growling I think I’m in a dog pound. The Bathurst Police station is one of thousands like it, nothing standing out but bad attitudes. Every cop is walking around with a ruler out trying to measure up. When I finally got to see Marilyn; “Well, what do they have to say? What made them arrest you?” “Actually, I wasn’t arrested, I can leave anytime. They had questions and needed me to answer them. Nothing makes any sense. I only know Judy very slightly. She’s in my class along with about two thousand others. If she were awake she could tell them it wasn’t me. They found a used tissue with blood on it in Judy’s waste basket.” “How did the tissue with your blood on it get into her waste basket? Do you have any idea?” “No, Darn it, I’ve never visited her. I don’t know her dorm, it’s at the other side of the campus from mine. I really don’t know anyone in that dorm. I’ve never been in it.” “They think I got a bloody nose while I was beating Judy up.” “Yes, I guess that’s the great deduction of the day. Are you ready to leave? Let me get you out of here.” “Yes, they said they were finished with me for now.”
“From now on I think you better get advice from a lawyer. If they question you again tell them you want your lawyer first. In fact tonight call your dad and tell him what I’m suggesting and get his advice also. I know it doesn’t look great, to the police, when you get a lawyer but, if someone is framing you we need to head off his moves and protect you from them.” “OK, I’ll call him now. You want to wait and hear what he has to say? If he tells me to not get a lawyer what should I do?” “Ok, I’ll stay while you call him. If he tells you to answer their questions you do what he says. Your father is a lawyer and knows what should be done better than I do.” We walked to Marilyn’s Dorm and Marilyn got on the phone to her father. It took Marilyn about fifteen minutes to get her father on the phone, between the State House switchboard and his secretaries. Marilyn spoke to her father for several minutes and they agreed with me to get a lawyer for any further questioning. Edward asked to talk to me and just wanted to know how I was doing and if there was anything I needed. To which I answered nothing and hung up.
A little later Edward called Marilyn with the name of a local lawyer. So far Marilyn’s only connection to Judy Traynor’s attack is the blood on the tissue which was easily planted. When Judy wakes up that frame will be lost. When I realized this, I decide to head over to the hospital to make sure Judy is protected. Her testimony is too important to Marilyn to leave her unprotected. Before I left I made sure Leigh was with Marilyn. I also asked Leigh to wait for me to walk her back to her dorm later on, or stay with Marilyn tonight.
The hospital is very protective of its patients making sure no one visits after visiting hours. I almost had to wake up the Administrator to get in. Judy is in Intensive care and being watched constantly. Her vital signs are being monitored by a machine, any change will alert the nurse immediately, or so they told me at the front desk. As I entered the floor with intensive care and approached the intensive care section I could see blinking lights through the glass wall of protecting the section. Once inside the Intensive Care Unit I now hear a beeping noise from the nurse’s station across the dimly lit unit. The closer I get to the nurses station in the center of the unit, the more urgent the flashing lights look and the louder the beeping sounds become. Once I’m past the last bed’s curtain and can fully see into the nurse’s station, I found the nurse on the floor unconscious. Quickly I checked the nurse to be sure she was alive then, after shaking her a little I realized I had no idea what to do to help this unconscious nurse. Frantically looking around, I tried to guess which patient was Judy Traynor, with no luck. At a loss and without immediately finding Judy I ran out into the hall to yell for help from security or anyone who could hear my voice. It didn’t take long for other nurses to respond, also, someone did call security because they’re here now and giving me the third degree. All hell is breaking loose. I watched as the downed nurse was put on a gurney and wheeled away. All the while the security guy in front of me was still babbling away cross examining me. He couldn’t understand what I was doing here. Security has also called the campus police and more nurses and doctors are arriving by the minute. Once the campus police arrived they took over.
When I told them Judy might be a target, but I didn’t know which one she was, they immediately checked her and found her intravenous tube pulled out and her respirator turned off. The nurses immediately put every thing back as it should be, and got the doctors over to her. Fifteen minutes later, Judy’s breathing leveled off and her vital signs moved back to normal. After a half hour they managed to check everyone else in intensive care and found no other problems. Lastly, the emergency exit had been opened and beeping this entire time, so they closed it. The only things out of the way were Judies tubes, the life support system and the emergency exit. Using a wall phone, I called over to Marilyn’s dormitory and got her on the phone. She has been talking to Leigh for the last two hours and had not moved. I told Marilyn to say hello to Leigh for me and not to leave where she was. I told the campus police they should check on Marilyn to either catch her red handed or eliminate her as a suspect and they agreed. After talking to Marilyn, Leigh and several of Marilyn’s neighbors on her floor; the campus police were satisfied it was not Marilyn that did this to Judy. I finally had them looking elsewhere.
Now, it was obvious that someone had attempted to kill Judy, twice. Whoever made the attempt on Judy escaped by the emergency exit when they heard me coming.
Now that it was apparent someone might attempt to kill Judy again the police stationed a security guard at her bed. If I’m correct and the attack on Judy is connected to Marilyn, the attacker’s next move is obvious. Either he’ll kill Judy or if she survives the attacker or for some reason he can’t get to her, he will be forced to kidnap Marilyn. I think that would be moving their time table up. Things have changed now that Judy is protected, she can’t be used to incriminate Marilyn any further. If my hunch is right the attacker now has to kidnap Marilyn, that is, if keeping Mr. Brakeman terrorized is the objective. We’ll soon know what the objective is.
I called Boston and got Donna on the phone. “Donna there is a strong smell coming from this setup. Something big is going on and it is beginning to refer back to Boston or The House of Representatives or both. The things that are happening here are too vicious and profound, to be simply mindless thugs plying their trade or angry students getting back at one another. When I arrived I found the local police investigating an attack on a young girl in her dormitory room. The poor girl was so viciously attacked that she is now on life support.” “A tissue from Marilyn’s room with Marilyn’s blood on it, was found in the girls room, apparently tying Marilyn to the first attack.” “Now, a few minutes ago, the same young girl was attacked again in the hospital and this time they removed her life support, which would have killed her if we hadn’t gotten to her in time. These vicious acts are pointing at Marilyn as the attacker, but, she’s never met the victim and tonight she was in her own dorm room with others as witnesses while Judy was attacked the second time.”
“The first thing I’m going to do is learn more about Judy Traynor. I need to eliminate her life style from any of these attacks. Then I can concentrate on any connection between Marilyn and Judy”.
“Donna, look at projects The Congressman has in the works and see how they are proceeding through the house. Also, get bobby to look at The Congressman’s personal life, I don’t expect to find anything but we need to eliminate that as a possibility. Then, we can concentrate on finding out which way the political muscle is moving. We should be able to figure out who is applying all this pressure and why. The more we can eliminate side issues the more time we can spend on the relevant ones. At this moment, it’s our job to learn what each of those is exactly. These State House bills are usually tied to projects around the state where they are being maneuvered by locally powerful men, usually for their own gain.” On the political side everyone is jostling and maneuvering to keep projects moving in a way that will be most profitable to themselves. This results in the tug of war that politics usually ends up being. Mr. Brakeman will know the ins and outs of what is going on. I hope he can give us some clarity in all this.
Donna called me later with a list of three bills pending; The general consensus is: the following Bills are the ones that stand out as potential problems. Donna Continued. “Let me just speculate here. There are four bills The Congressman is involved in directly:
1, The first bill is the reform of the Campaign Contributions Bill. 2, The second bill is The Planning and Design Replacement of the Central Artery. Spending and Appropriations Bill. This bill is allocating 7.7 Billion dollars. 3, the third bill is the investigation of the “Boston Common Parking Garage Spending and Appropriations Bill." 4, the fourth bill is The Quamac Reservoir Land Acquisition and Appropriations Bill. Billions of dollars are involved in all of the above projects and all involve the Congressman directly. Someone is about to lose a large amount of money if his pet project does not go the way he wants.
1, all single members of the house will lose millions of dollars in campaign contribution, if a serious accounting must be made of those contributions. Part of this bill calls for the overages to go into the general coffers of the members or back to the party coffers. This bill or one like it has been before the House the last fifteen years. No chance of passage by anyone this century.
2, this project, “The Planning and Design Replacement of the Central Artery,” has 7.7 Billion dollars so far allocated to it. If any have a potential as a source of political intrigue, this sure has. With this much money involved anything can happen.
3, this is a serious investigation by the State GAO to account for the extra millions of dollars spent during the Construction of the Boston Common Underground Parking Garage, to add a major parking facility in the heart of the city under the Boston Commons. This one has room for a lot of graft, but the Congressman is not involved in any of it. Since this involves all contractors the impact on House members is peripheral at best and no direct action will be contemplated. In the end, this one the Congressman has little impact on one way or the other. The outcome of this one is up to law enforcement.
4, this project is the expansion of the Quamac Reservoir adding two rivers as contributors and expanding the Quamac service area. This project has individual Senators and Representatives in a position to win or lose large amounts of money, by whether the state goes ahead with the project as proposed or changes the choices or cancels it.” It didn’t take long to find out there are a lot of individuals in line to make serious money. If the current favorite choice is not chosen, a lot of money will be lost by those who own the property involved.
The second choice is worth looking into if only for the huge amount of money involved. Also, a highway project this large will impact Boston for the foreseeable future. This project could take five or ten years. This project will impact all of the northern section of Boston, including most of the water front.
This third choice is worth looking into. The men and woman who stand to gain or lose need to be investigated very closely and there are a lot of people who are in line to gain. This project is important enough to kill several someone’s over, it is worth extra study. However, with this much money involved there already is a small army checking every move made by anyone. The last choice The Quamac Reservoir Land Acquisition and Appropriations Bill has some very specific beneficiaries if it goes through. There are only a few real beneficiaries from the affected area in the state.
“Donna, please contact Captain Long and ask him to give me a call at this number. Tell him I’m leaning toward the Quamac Project as the money behind Congressman Brakeman’s problems with the Barron College situation and it will not go away until The Quamac thing is resolved. However, The Planning and Design Replacement of the Central Artery, is a viable contender as well.
With so much money involved the Political Jackals won’t be able to restrain themselves. This certainly will impact the entire border into the North End. Little Italy as the North End is known, will become a welcoming retreat from the hustle and bustle of the glass and concrete “idols” of the downtown insurance industry, rather than the solitary island fortress it now is. With the Central Artery curving around downtown between the downtown section and the North End the North End of Boston has been a prisoner locked in by the Central Artery on one side and the Boston Harbor on the other. Although these geographical walls have added to the North End’s fame and mystique, they have barred no one’s entry. Now their removal, by adding a proposed park and open area where the Central Artery is, will underline the North End’s uniqueness and add a welcoming atmosphere not felt before.
“Also, call The Congressman and tell him what I’m thinking please. I will be in Boston this week for some local Birdies pizza, and find out if he would like me to drive his daughter in with me?” “I think he is aware Marilyn’s car is still being worked on and unavailable, if not Donna please remind him.”
“Ok Angy, will do, but are you really coming all the way to Boston for Birdies Pizza.” “Of Course, Guy, Samantha and the boys make a great pizza. I need the distraction they provide. Besides, you know there are only two pizza makers in the world for me, Birdies in Boston and Russo’s in Revere. Don’t tell Joe Russo I’m going to Birdies.” “OK see you.” A short time later I got a call from Captain Robert Long of the Mass. State Police;
“Hi Bobby, I’m glad you called me. I need some things and we need to talk. This thing with The Congressman is bigger than I thought and involves political corruption. It must be pretty big for all the things they’re doing. Now listen….”
I told Bobby what I’d learned the last couple of days. I explained what I wanted and we discussed what I suspected. After a few clarifying questions, he agreed both projects could be the source of our Bathurst intrigue.
Later, Bobby got back to me with some names of probable candidates for trouble makers from Granlargo which is the primary town near the Quamac Reservoir. And a list of about twenty names of Bostonians from the North End who could be potentials. I passed on the names Bobby gave me to Donna for her to get the word out I’m interested in information on any and all of them.
As soon as I heard back from Donna, I got in touch with Marilyn and asked her if she wanted to go into Boston this week end with me, Marilyn said “Yes.” I called Leigh and let her know I was driving Marilyn to Boston this week end and asked; “Would you like to come in with us?” “I’d love to but I have to finish a paper for Eng. 301. I can’t leave until next week. Please give me a rain-check? “Sure, have a great week end. I’ll call as soon as I get back here.”
I then took the rental car and drove onto campus to pick up Marilyn; “Marilyn, I’m glad you wanted to go to Boston this week end. It gives me time to talk to you.” “This situation in Bathurst is actually an extension of something going on in Boston. I just finished talking to Captain Long of the State Police and he agrees. All of the crap going on here started with several bills in front of your father. Two especially, “the first Bill: “The Planning and Design Replacement of the Central Artery” has 7.7 Billion dollars to play with and there are several different plans, each with its own group of cheerleaders. With this much money in the starting budget, invariably some of the money will find its way into the pockets and coffers of local power brokers. A project this large and far reaching will have a quarter of the budget earmarked for Community Improvement.” “This category can hide enormous amounts of money moving in so many directions that no one is certain where it all goes.” “This bill has more than twenty different people in line to gain a lot of money. I personally am leaning away from this bill as the problem because there are so many ready to gain. The more hands out the more eyes watching every move. Boston is not a corrupt city, but no one has ever been able to stop the little bundles of money from changing hands and minds, where public projects are concerned.”
“The Quamac Reservoir Land Acquisition and Appropriations Bill” Is the second possibility. There are provisions in this bill that give local, preexisting businesses an advantage because they will be grandfathered in and not required to meet the new restrictions. Without the same amount of scrutiny that new local businesses will be required to provide. The people behind these businesses want very much to have this situation go through as it is. The rivers they’re proposing to add to the water supply are polluted and everyone in Granlargo is aware of this problem. The State has done a water analysis on these proposed rivers and their report states; "if the state connects this river to the Quamac Reservoir it will be necessary to add a very extensive filtration system before we can again use the Quamac Reservoir to supply Boston's drinking water." “In order to add the filtration necessary for this choice to be acceptable, the Boston water supply will need to be interrupted on a steady basis over the next several years while the construction is completed and the filtration is implemented.” “On the other hand, there are those in the State House who feel there is a fourth river whose water passes several miles from the reservoir that can be connected without changing the water quality at all. The problem with this last choice is it is about two miles further away and will require extensive additional piping. The piping will be able to travel over State owned land so there are no local winners here.” “Without local winners there is no one clamoring for this fourth choice. This fourth choice is the better choice, but since no one can make money on it, it is not wanted by anyone.” “The political jackals, who are clamoring for the first proposal, have land they own and control right in the middle of this proposal, and will make money if this is chosen. The land in the second proposal is already owned by the state. In the end money is what makes progress move forward, even if it’s really a step back”
Chapter Thirty Six
“The Quamac Reservoir Bill is probably the source of your protagonist Marilyn, because it is controlled by a smaller group of people without any real opposition. There are several hundred million dollars involved, Chicken Feed by the central arteries standards, but still a lot of incentive to behave badly. Your father is standing right in the middle of all this. Until Bobby dug up the land deeds and old Land Grants we didn’t really know who was behind it all. The position that you and I and your dad are in right now is with knowledge comes awareness of danger. For example; now that Judy Traynor is under constant protection you personally are under greater danger. They can’t continue to discredit you and keep your father occupied worrying about you by using Judy any longer. So, their next step will be direct action against you, like kidnapping. That way they can hold you until he complies with their wishes. I wanted to convince you to take a semester off from school and do some traveling. We could get you a passport and papers with your mother’s maiden name and someone trustworthy to travel with you while we scramble to tie these guys up. At the very least I want you to stay at home with your parents, I can have a twenty four hour guard detail at your house. It should take no more than three or four months, one semester at worst.” “What does my dad say about all this?” “Well, the fact is he can’t deny what’s going on. His main concern is you and your mother’s safety. Remember there’s a lot of money at stake here.” “Well, travel would be nice, but with the danger involved I’d rather be near my Mom. If they can’t find me they’ll come after Mom next.” “I agree. We’ll see what your father thinks as soon as we get into Boston.” “Tomorrow I’m asking for an FBI investigation of threats to a State Congressman’s family by domestic terrorists. I don’t know how much effect our request will have but it could help involving the FBI.”
At that moment there was a loud bang. The front of the car swung wildly of its own accord and before I could regain control we smashed through a guard rail. What looked like small pine trees on the side of the road a moment ago now turned out to be the tops, of hundred year old massive pine trees 60 feet tall at least. These pine trees are growing on a steep slope that’s dragging us into the black swirling mist filling our windshield.
I had all I could do keeping us from slamming into the pine trees flying by us on either side as we careened headlong down the slope. I managed to scrape the side of the car into several large pine trees near the bottom of the ravine, slowing us down. The car came to a precarious stop at the bottom, several hundred yards from, and at least 500 feet below the road we just left. Now we’re only inches away from a swiftly moving river swelled by the local incessant rain. We had little time to bail out of the car and pull out what little luggage we brought with us. I figured whoever shot out our tire would find the car empty soon enough and know we survived. With our gear out we pushed the car the last few feet into the river and watched it, first ride high in the swiftly moving river, then hit a rock or something and slide over on the drivers’ side before it completely disappeared. The whole process for the car from, going for a swim to slipping under the fast moving black water seemed to take only seconds. Now, if someone comes looking for the car, they won’t find it very quickly, or maybe ever, so we have some time, if we keep moving. They won’t know if we’re dead or alive, something we can use later. As we walked away an idea came to me.
Where we ended up there are no roads or paths to follow, the sound of the river is our only guide, and is loud enough to cover most other sounds. Before we pushed the car in, I looked it over very carefully and found the right front tire was blown out by a gun shot. In my hurried search that was the only damage I could find, not caused by sideswiping trees. We were on a curve at the exact moment of the shot on rural Route 47 heading to State Road 91 which in turn would lead us to State Road 90 (The MA Turnpike) and directly into Boston. We got quietly away from the now submerged car as quickly as possible. Whoever shot at us was in the vicinity of the impact with the guard rail, on the same side of the road as we are now, by the fact it was the passenger tire that was blown. He or she is sure to come investigate his handiwork. If for no other reason than to verify it was our car. During this march away from where the car went into the river we were not more than a half mile away from our attacker. Who would like nothing better than a second chance; if he found out we survived. At the moment we went off the road the distance from the road to where the car came to rest was about eight hundred yards. On foot traveling down hill it would take a walker about ten minutes of careful picking and dodging to get around the trees and boulders along the route, and keep from falling head long down the ravine. Getting out of the car and pushing it into the water took about a minute, and then we were moving directly away from its last resting place. So, the eight or nine minutes head start we have is all that stands between us and another, and maybe this time fatal attempt on our lives.
Cold, wet and shivering uncontrollably yet trying to be quiet, we froze on that trek away from the river’s edge. For the first half mile we could hear someone or something crashing through the brush above and behind us, then slowly the sound falling further behind and in time, fading into quiet forest sounds.
I had us take the suitcases because it would be very cold outside of the car and also the bags with our clothes make something dark we could hide our shiny faces behind as we ran. Not that I thought the bags would stop one of the rifle bullets that would be shot at us, but, when there is nothing else, the suit cases were something.
After a while we came to some very scattered houses, mostly totally dark except for utility pole yard lights. I suggested we bypass the first few houses and find something further away from the car and river. Kind of unsure of myself temporarily, I’m discussing everything we do, as much to calm myself as get Marilyn’s input. Marilyn was fantastic here, she didn’t complain or ask silly questions even when I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, she stayed right next to me, unafraid, running by my side.
Eventually we came to a solitary single family cabin a little off the road that had several outbuildings and a lot of broken down vehicles lying around. December weather in the Massachusetts hills, like the one we are on, is typically freezing. I wasn’t sure about the cabin or the people so I felt if we waited until morning we could better figure out who we had stumbled upon. Even I don’t appreciate an after midnight knock on my door. One of these old cars will shelter us for the night.
Marilyn has held up well, I still can’t get over that she hasn’t complained. We’d walked several miles through the freezing cold and damp, constantly stumbling over unseen stumps and rocks. Trying to avoid any loud noise and to keep warm enough to make it to morning. We were lucky; it was not freezing rain or snowing, both very common occurrences this time of year in Massachusetts. The car we chose had one full seat which was helpful. We both put on everything in our suitcases we could squeeze into. I then had Marilyn lie with her back toward the seat back, after I pushed the rest of our clothes behind her. We had packed mostly cotton and wool clothes which made a good protector for her from the cold vinyl seat. Then we spooned with Marilyn behind me and her back against the seat cushion covered with our clothes. This way we survived the sub freezing night using our body warmth.
The minute I saw the fellow come out of his house in the morning I was glad we hadn’t knocked on his door the night before. He may be a great outdoorsman, another Daniel Boone and even a pillar of the community, but, by the look of him, tall, tattoos on his neck, two day beard, slovenly dressed and buzz cut hair. Plus as he walked away from the front door he took the time to turn and slap the woman he left behind, yelling at him. The slap was with enough force that we could hear the sound as if it were right next to the car. The woman certainly wasn’t happy she didn’t stop yelling at him until he went back and hit her again, this time, close fisted. She went down and was quiet for a long time, while he carelessly walked to another car nearer the house, and drove away. In the mean time Marilyn and I were hiding in the back of a junk car, I can now see is a fifty two Ford four door, about seventy five feet away from the front door. As the little love scene played out at the door Marilyn and I struggled to keep totally quiet. Once the woman dragged herself off the porch and into the house, we bailed out of the car and headed into the thickest part of the forest around the house. I figured since we left the highway we were retracing our steps, heading back to the Bathurst area. We next came to a dirt road leading away from the dirt driveway of the house so I figured it might lead to a store or something at least a larger road. Dodging in and out of the woods as cars went by us, we finally came to a small country store. I had my gun with me and a few hundred dollars. I haven’t used the gun up to now because it’s a small thirty eight chief special with a one and a half inch barrel and we had nothing really to shoot at. It’s not very good at any long distance. The short barrel is not accurate but for close up shooting it will stop most people very quickly. Here in the wilds of Massachusetts, I’m familiar with the people, they’re good people for the most part and very helpful. But, they also have guns and are not afraid to use them. Their guns are going to be mostly big rifles designed for large game in the moose or deer size range. One thing they all have in common; they’re suspicious of strangers, especially if these strangers arrive through the woods in the middle of the night, wet and disheveled as we were. If we had time to explain what was going on they would be on our side maybe, but, time was something we didn’t have. I was hoping I could get us a ride back to Bathurst and from there police protection all the way to Boston. Unfortunately Bathurst is about twelve miles from where we went off the road. Soon, we came to a country store. We sat outside shivering and hugging, to keep warm, while we studied the comings and goings at the store with the familiar looking lone car in the parking lot. I was looking for tell tale signs of any affiliations with groups or people, that might be troublesome to us. When we finally entered the store the clerk was busy away from the door, which I was counting on, with the hope he would not see the near empty parking lot and wonder. The remoteness of this shop entirely eliminated people just walking in. I was ready with a story about going off the road, but when I saw the home owner we just left shopping alone, I made sure I didn’t say anything. In fact we dodged around the shop avoiding being seen by him. If he saw us, for sure he would have questioned the lack of our car in the parking lot. This remote shop doesn’t rent rooms. Not many other choices of where we came from. After the home owner left I approached the clerk to pay and noticed that he had the same tattoo “Eagle Holding the Pitch Fork” on his arm as our just departed home owner had on his neck. I knew the gun would bale us out of a confrontation, but once it’s pulled out, you never know how these country people are going to react. It would be just our luck the store owner is a woodsman hero and pull his own gun to shoot it out with us, or his wife is just inside the curtain at the back of the store and come to the store clerk’s rescue blasting away. We left the country store without incident and had to walk almost entirely in the woods the rest of the way because now the road had a lot of traffic on it. We couldn’t be sure the driver of a car we flag down, wouldn’t be the shooter that lost us earlier, trying for another chance.
We actually were in a tough spot here. We didn’t see the shooter who blew out our tire, so anybody we meet could be that shooter. Or, for that matter anybody could be related to, or a friend of, the shooter. In the end it was safer to hide in the woods as we traveled and not take unnecessary risks.
Somewhere in Granlargo Roderick Spinks called Congressman Spaulding at home and is reporting in. “Congressman Spaulding, I’m absolutely positive their dead. I shot their front tire out and they hit the guardrail immediately after. The car then went down the slope at forty miles an hour. I ran after it down the slope and when I got to the bottom the car was just disappearing into the water, nothing came up. I followed down river for about a half mile but nothing came up, I could see the car roof the whole time until it went under and nothing came up anywhere near it. “Will you tell Congressman de Roche about this, are you going to see him?” “Don’t worry about him, he’s right here with me now and can hear every word you’ve said.”
“Well Spinks, what the hell do we do now? How am I going to tell Brakeman he can have his daughter back when he votes our way and she’s already dead?” Asked Congressman de Roche.
Congressman Spaulding is shaking his head and looking questioningly at Congressman de Roche. Congressman de Roche is silently giving him the open handed arms wide gesture, signaling he also doesn’t know what to do.
Spinks again. “Why can’t we bluff and say we’re holding her and demand he vote. After the vote goes our way we tell him we’re bluffing, we don’t know where his daughter is?” “We’ll be blamed for her murder you idiot. Who do you think they’ll blame?” “Congressman, how will they know she’s been murdered?” No one will ever find that car. I wouldn’t be able to find it myself and I followed it all the way to the bottom.” “All we have to do is say we heard he was looking for his daughter and took advantage, but there is no proof we had anything to do with her disappearance.”
Congressman de Roche spoke up at that moment. “Frank, he’s right from what’s happened they’ll never find that car, the daughter is gone for good. We just need to hold on strong and bluff our asses off.” “Get that voice changing thing from Calvin and test it. I want to make sure no one can identify our voices.” “Hell, we’re so shook up right now even I can’t identify our voices Edward.” “That’s no help Frank. We must be positive, this is murder now, I didn’t want us to go this far.” “Now Edward, the last conversation we had with the boys we told them to be sure and get it done no matter what it took now didn’t we?” “You’re right Frank but I only wanted her to be kicked out of school, not murdered.” “Well it’s too late to worry about that now. It’s done, now we have to move on.” “Ok Frank, I agree with Rod, and like I said before, we just bluff our asses off.”
Back in Bathurst Three and a half hours later, Marilyn and I made it to Bathurst. The first thing I did was get us back into my room and started making calls while Marilyn, still freezing, sat right next to the hot radiator. I called Bobby Long, to let him know what the hell was going on, then to Congressman Brakeman so he wouldn’t worry, and lastly to Donna to find out what new disasters are occurring while we’ve been strolling around the scenic countryside. Since very early this morning, while we’ve been dodging bullets and traffic, two small time politicians have been firing up everyone within earshot on the floor of the House of Representatives in Boston by telephone. Trying to get movement on the bill. Edward de Roche and Franklyn Spaulding are the moving force behind this revival of The Quamac Reservoir Land Acquisition and Appropriations Bill The telephone lines between Boston and Granlargo must be burning by now with all the calls Spaulding and de Roche have made this morning. These are the two land owners Bobby found had interest in The Quamac Reservoir Land Acquisition and Appropriations Bill. I asked Bobby to find what he could on them.
While the fireworks were waking up the House in Boston, here in Bathurst I was renting another car from Hertz. They were not very happy when I told them where the last one was. Then I called Bobby back to get us an escort into Boston. He said; “I’m going to direct you to a nearby airport. I’ll be there in ninety minutes and you’ll leave the Hertz car right there until we get back to Quincy where I will have cars for us and you will call Hertz in Boston and tell them where to pick up their new car. Comprendo Amigo? “Sure Bob. I like it when Bob has it all under control.”
True to his word, Bobby was landing his Cessna 170 right in front of us ninety minutes from the call. Two and a half hours later, Marilyn and I were sitting across from her parents explaining all that had happened to us over the last twenty four hours. Both Brakemen’s listened very attentively, by turns frowning worriedly, smiling or outright crying with fear. When I finished they both let out a sigh of relief. “What do we do now?” How do I protect my little girl? My family?”
“Let me give you my full idea. These cretins don’t know what’s really happened to Marilyn and me, so let them think the worst. By pushing the car in the river, they don’t know if we survived. They sure as hell didn’t try to recover the car.” “If you get the word out that you don’t know where Marilyn is and are willing to do anything to find her these cretins might think they got lucky, and Marilyn and I are both dead.” “If we have a little more luck they’ll try to take advantage of Marilyn’s disappearance and make their move. All we need is their calling you or approaching you in person, and threatening Marilyn’s non-return, or safety, if you don’t pass this bill. That would be classic blackmail, Marilyn’s life for the bill’s passage.”
“In the meantime we’ll have the FBI tap your phone, record the blackmail and we have them. The FBI can have a contingent of agents in Granlargo to move in as soon as we have an address and arrest everyone in sight. In reality you should kill the bill quietly.” “I like the idea and I’ll call my office right now.”
The Congressman spent more than an hour on the phone explaining that with his daughter missing he wanted to clear this Bill off his docket and spend the time looking for his daughter. Shortly after he made the call to his office the FBI arrived at the house and when they heard our proposal, they called Bathurst and had the local police and a single FBI agent, get on the road near the homes of the two suspects. As this little troupe staked out the suspects a larger contingent of FBI drove into Bathurst from Springfield to stake out more locations.
A few hours later, the Congressman’s private phone rang and it was a voice being disguised. The Congressman kept the idiot on the phone for ten minutes going over details so he would get everything exactly right. While the call was in progress, the FBI kept the radio waves busy keeping the stakeout crews aware of the blackmail conversations going on in real time. The idiot caller acted like he had Marilyn and made it clear the Brakeman’s would not see her again if they didn’t help pass the bill. The FBI tap was able to record every word and get the location of the caller. Once they had the exact location of the caller, another one of the stakeout teams, from the FBI, walked in on the caller while the call was in progress. They found Mr. de Roche on the other end of the call. Mr. de Roche couldn’t wait to implicate Mr. Spaulding. Pretty soon the two of them were singing a full symphony about each other and the goons they had hired to do their dirty work. All of them are guilty of attempted murder on Judy Traynor as well as black mail, intimidation, and two more counts of attempted murder on both Marilyn and I. After the criminals were arrested, I called Leigh to make a date and headed back to Bathurst.
When I got to the B&B in Bathurst I found Leigh in my room waiting. She and I had our own investigations to perform and miracle of miracles I found the best way to banish the chill I picked up as I watched the rental car sink below the surface.
The two of us were so completely impressed with each other we couldn’t wait to immerse ourselves in whatever our relationship was going to be. This was an incredible instant attraction, something we both had read about and never believed existed. The moment I saw her I knew without a shred of doubt. She said the same to me. There was a calm and welcoming feeling that felt just like getting home from college for Christmas. Neither of us had any second thoughts; we took two days but both of us finally left the room smiling, starving and hanging on to each other like our lives depended on it. We found a local “bed and Breakfast” that served the best waffles in the world and we ate as if we hadn’t eaten in days. Is it lust? No, not really, when we got back to the room from our long overdue breakfast, we undressed and got back into bed. But, instead of making love again, we entwined ourselves together and promptly fell asleep for some rejuvenating rest. Now our internal clocks took over. After several hours of needed sleep we awoke and couldn’t keep our hands off each other, then entwining again we slept and this was how the rest of the day and night went. Finally the next morning we awoke smiling and truly happy, in a word satiated. It was time to come back to the real world. I now actually understand that word satiated.
As we left Bathurst I was thinking “What a wonderful way to celebrate.” For the first time in my life I was extremely happy and enjoying being with someone truly special. For the first time in my life I could actually understand the euphoria that the couples I photographed as they got married must have felt. For a moment I thought of the wonderful children we could make and smiled all over again.
Now back to the real world. The pressure on the Brakeman Family should be over. This was a sticky case which got resolved mostly with luck and a lot of help from the State Police and the FBI. However, it certainly didn’t hurt my investigative reputation. They were knocking down my door after Bathurst. As a bonus the State of Massachusetts declared the case a major crime against a Congressman and made me an official Officer of the State House Security force with prodding by a certain Congressman, my biggest fan. This gave me some police authority and my boss is my friend Edward Brakeman, Congressman. Edward said I don’t need to show up in the State house office unless there’s a problem, so I can continue to work out of the club. There is no pay unless I’m on assignment, but I get a lot of official standing, I guess I can’t have everything. Robert will be happy about that.
Marilyn, no longer needs protection, since the kidnap threat was eliminated. She has a lot of friends in Bathurst as well as Boston. It’s time she got on with her life. Right now, Marilyn has the semester break in front of her and doesn’t have to be back in Bathurst until the end of January. A trip to Europe might be in her future. I think this incident has impressed Marilyn with the incredible power her father has and how important it is to be involved in how the State is run. Mr. Brakeman and his wife are very pleased with the resolution of this situation. In fact they are taking a trip to Europe and if he can convince Marilyn, she’ll go with them. And, lastly, I am very pleased, The Congressman was very generous and incredibly grateful, as are both his wife and daughter. For me, aside from the fact that I was able to successfully help Edward and his family, I met Leigh and, by all accounts, I’m hopelessly in love with her.
Leigh and I are spending every minute together. She’s decided to transfer from the Bathurst Campus to the Boston Campus. I’m making it easier by getting her a job at the Gas Light Club so she can afford the higher prices in Boston, and her rent is very reasonable, since I’m her landlord, her rent is one smile every morning, even I need the sunshine on a regular basis, vitamin D you know.
Leigh really doesn’t need the job but she’s not telling me that. With her at the Gas Light we can spend more time together. As I watch Leigh work at the club I realize I never felt any of this incredible connection to any of the other girls I dated, except maybe Janet and it is more intense with Leigh. I hope we live to a ripe old age; I need that much time to show her how much I love her.
|
|||||