Brood

Brood

Drinking alone at Frigo’s again. I haven’t heard from her in two weeks. Bottom of my third drink, I start to feel buzzed. Just a buzz won’t get her off my mind. Dame like her ain’t easy to forget. Ain’t no dame out there like her. Audrey. The picture of her in my head reminds me why I care.

A beer is spilled on my lap by some sleazy, low-life drunks at the end of the bar making a pass at the bartender. This city is full of them types. Grabbing at what ain’t theirs. Cindy Cindinski ain’t theirs tonight.

“Whaddya say, toots? I got some singles, see. How about a show for me and my pals here?”

Cindy shoots me a worried look. Damn it if I ain’t a fool for a dame in distress. Time to work. The barstool creaks. I’m making my way over to give the guys a real show when I see Johnny already standing behind them. This ain’t gonna end well. Cindy shoots me another look. She’s read my mind. Johnny’s next to the guy that’s doing all the talking and taps him on the shoulder. The cad’s collarbone looks like an uncooked noodle compared to one of Johnny’s fingers.

“You’re gonna be leaving Cindy alone now.” Johnny’s words don’t phase the male suitor. It just gets my goat when guys like this come around and make a scene.

Johnny never has to speak loudly. “One.”

Everyone in the bar turns. This fella’s friends try to stop him, but he’s four drinks too far from listening.

“Paulie, that’s Johnny Onetwothree. We gotta heel it. Now!”

“What’s that? Johnny Onetwothree? I heard of ya. Tell ya what Johnny, I’m gonna give you ‘till the count of three to get your lousy, four flushing face outta here.” Paulie pulls out a six shooter. Put a gun in a guy’s hand, and he’ll always think he’s made his way up the chain of command. Johnny’s a wall. This ain’t gonna end well.

Johnny’s only counting for Paulie, but every guy and gal in Frigo’s feels threatened. “Two.”
“Hey, bub. I’m the one doing the counting here, see. I’m sick of looking at your ugly mug. One, tw–”

“Three.”

I’ve been wrong before. Paulie got off easy. Three broken fingers, fractured wrist, two cracked ribs, broken nose, and I don’t see Paulie wanting to get lucky with the dames anytime soon. Paulie’s blacked out on the ground. His pals are long gone.

“Sorry for the mess, Cindy. I just can’t watch a broad being treated poorly.”

“Thanks, Johnny. Don’t worry about the mess. God, I’m not even suppose to be here tonight! Uncle Frank, where’s Audrey? She hasn’t shown up in three weeks. Sure, I need the dough, but I can’t stand the vermin anymore. You know where she is?”

Three weeks? That picture of Audrey in my head is starting to get fuzzy. I shake my head, “Don’t worry about it, hun, I’ll raise her.”

Johnny’s sitting at the bar again like nothing’s happened. To a guy like Johnny, nothing has. He talks with a bottle to his lips, “Pulaski’s missing?”

Weeks of stale smoke rushes into my lungs in a sigh. “Seems so…Time to rattle the cages, see what squawks. Both of ya put your specs on. Find me if she shows.”

I take Passed-Out Paulie’s wallet and toss Cindy the cash he’s got on him. Five bucks. Cheapskate. I waste no time foolin’ with anymore drinks. Audrey’s never been gone this long. I got that feeling in my bones I get when she’s in trouble. Seems I’m working the night-shift tonight.

Joint like Frigo’s, it’s safer to leave through the back entrance. Less likely to run into a fella whose looking for a fight. It’s raining out; it’s always raining in this city. I don’t own a single jacket neither. The cold clears my head, and I gotta keep my head straight tonight, for Audrey.

If Audrey’s in a spot, I gotta check the hospital. Even if she ain’t there, every two-timing crook and street rat has connections at the hospital. The least I’ll get is information. I walk past
another bar and I gotta double-take when I hear a familiar voice in the dark narrow of an alley. I recognize the scrawny thug in the trilby hat threatening a prostitute.

“Lithten here huthy. I gottha methage for your bosth, courtethy of the Greco brotherth. It’tha two-parter. Firtht, your bosth owth uth thum dough. He thpillth it or we killth it, can ya remember that? The thecond methage ith more of a warning, and I ithn’t worried about you forgetting thith one.”

The louse about to hit this dame is Benny “The Lisp” Greco. One of the three inseparable Greco brothers. They’re not low on the food chain, but they’re not at the top neither. Last I heard they was smuggling weapons and buying hot items. Low level stuff, so I kept my nose outta it. And I heard they was opening some respectable night clubs where the gals are cheap and the beer is cheaper. Real classy joints. Earns them a sliver of favor among the remaining honest men of this city. The youngest Greco, Benny, ain’t dangerous, but his brothers are. Benny’s just a messenger. Lucky break. If anyone can get the word out on Audrey, it’s gonna be the Grecos. Benny’s grabbed the umbrella out of this gal’s hand and is about to beat her with it. And I ain’t about to let a broad be bruised for no reason.

“Raise your hand any higher, Benny, and you’re tellin’ me you gotta hankering for tasting gun metal.” Benny’s used to threats. Might have to use some warranted force on this one.

“Thith ain’t your bithneth, Uncle Frank. I ain’t bothering you, quit bothering me.” He returns to the quivering dame. Benny, you stupid son of a bitch. In a drop of a hat, I got Benny pinned, making him taste all the rain and sewage the alley has to offer.

“Take heed, Benny, never take your eye off a mick with a gun. I got a message of my own needs sending. Put the word out, Uncle Frank’s looking for Audrey Pulaski.” I feel every muscle in Benny’s scrawny body tighten. He squirms like a worm on a hook, but he’s got no muscle behind him. He knows something about Audrey.

“I ain’t got nothin’ to do with no broad named Pulathki.” His eyes go as wide as a working hussy’s mouth when I rip off his middle fingernail like I was opening a beer.

“I thwear I don’t know a thingle thing!” I got Benny right where I want him. I let him go.

“Jethuth Chritht! My hand…My hand! Look what you did to my hand! You’re a goddamn dead man, you pieth of thit! Dead!” Like the dog that he is, Benny runs with his tail between his legs, right back to his master. Benny, you stupid son of a bitch.

I aim to ignore the dame behind me and follow Benny when dainty fingers grab my wrist. “Real intimidating stuff, pal. What are you, some sorta Dick Tracy private eye?”

“Listen up, doll, because I’m only gonna say this once. I ain’t no sleazy private eye. I ain’t no cop, and I sure as hell ain’t no Dick. Name’s Frank. Anyone with half a brain knows to call me Uncle Frank.”

“Hey, wait big guy. I know that gal you’re looking for. Me and Audrey worked the new Greco brothers’ club every other night together. Ya know, The Cobalt Club. Only she hasn’t shown her face in about a month. Last I heard, she was gone to meet the big guy himself.”

Joey Stachino. He’s far from the “big guy” in stature, but he’s got his greasy fingers dipped in every pocket of the city. Cops, judges, you name it. Ain’t no one I heard of bigger than that. No way this goes that high up. Audrey knew better than to poke around with his type. Dames and gossip. I got a rat to follow. I don’t got time to play detective with a mouthy dame. I flip her a coin for her help.

“Gee, thanks…Dick.”

I’m as patient as they come in this city, but a fella can only take so much from a dame. I take the coin back and grab her umbrella that Benny dropped. I break it in half. “Like I said, I ain’t no Dick. The name’s Uncle Frank. You’re gonna remember that now.”

I walk out of the alley just in time to see Benny taking off in a black Continental. I can’t make out the driver. My jalopy is parked less than thirty feet away. Following them ain’t a problem. Together the Greco brothers may be tough, but they ain’t smart. After five minutes of following them through downtown, I musta been had because their Continental takes off in a puff of exhaust fumes. Their tires kick up a rock. It jams my windshield wipers. Damn! My only hope is to run them off the road, level the playing field. My foot hammers down on the accelerator when I hear the crack of lightning. My shoulder explodes in searing hot pain. Gunshot. Only one man makes a shot at that speed in this weather. Tommy “The Gun” Greco.

Oldest of the Greco brothers, Tommy’s a crack shot sniper. The only time he misses is when he’s not wearing his bowler hat. Tommy ain’t ever been without his bowler hat. Says it’s a God given blessing, but there ain’t no God. Not in this city. That’s the devil he’s praising.

My arm involuntarily jerks. I veer off into a ditch. I pull my way out of the wreckage. The wound’s above the collarbone. Bullet passed in and out. I’ve had worse. Tommy couldn’t have known about his brother yet, I was shot for another reason. I stand and that reason becomes all too clear.

The gates to Joey Stachino’s mansion are twenty yards away. On the roof of the mansion, I see Tommy tip his hat. As I run out of range of Tommy’s gun, I see Audrey’s car parked out front. Joey Stachino, the Greco brothers, Audrey… It doesn’t add up. All I know is I’m gonna need backup. It’s stopped raining.

* * *

“Sure thing, boss. Mind if I play the box first?” Back at Frigo’s, the neon juke stains Johnny’s face a dirty yellow. He plays some Benny Goodman song I ain’t heard before. Catchy. Pays to have a friend like Johnny in this city. He’s loyal. Anyone crosses his friends and their crossing their t’s on their death certificate. Johnny’s not much a man of words. Probably why I can still stand the guy. We take Johnny’s Plymouth and park it a few blocks from the back entrance to Joey’s mansion. Back of Johnny’s car is loaded with pistols, tommy guns and enough ammunition for five fully loaded fellas. Two pistols for our holsters, a tommy gun slung around our shoulders and one revolver tucked in our trench coat pocket. The side of the gate ain’t even guarded.

“Johnny, give me ten minutes. See if I can’t grab Audrey without bloodshed.” I ain’t much on stealth, but I got one up on them. They don’t know I’m coming.

“Wait.” Johnny holds his hand up. He points to a wire running up the length of the metal fence I’m about to jump. On top of the gate is a microphone.

“Damn!” No doubt the work of Sonny “The Lobe” Greco. Middle brother, born a mute. With a build like an overripe peach, Sonny’s obsessed with recording everything. Rumor is he hears anything within a hundred yards, says his hearing extends as far as his elongated earlobes. “The Lobe” is never caught by surprise. “Looks like we go in hot. Ready, Johnny?”

In the upper left corner window of the mansion, I spot Benny “The Lisp” with a tommy gun. He’s shouting something from the window I can’t make out. “One.”

Window next to that I sight Sonny “The Lobe,” hands holding his headphones to his ears. Two lugs on each side of him got pistols aimed straight down my throat. “Two.”

Next window, Tommy “The Gun’s” crouched under his rifle. Sights on me.

I’m coming Audrey.

“Three.” Three wise guys.

Johnny’s two pistols pierce the bitter night air as he clears the gate. I make my move over the gate and plug two louts running towards me before my feet hit the ground. I take cover behind a planter when three more of Joey’s boys pour from the back double doors. Shards of pottery rain down on me like hail as I reload. In the roar of gunfire, I can make out Johnny repeating “One, two, three” over the howling of his tommy gun, like a symphony he’s orchestrating on the fly. Shattered glass falls from the windows as three of my rounds find home in their targets. Johnny takes a shot below the elbow. Lug like Johnny, one gunshot ain’t even a flesh wound. Like a broken record, Johnny counts to three and takes out two more with his bare mitts. I ain’t wasting ammunition with the distractions. I see an opening to the door and make my move. Then I’m hit by a sledgehammer as my left thigh erupts. I look up to see Tommy Greco tip his hat and reload. I’ve got no time for pain. Without stopping for a breath, I burst through the bullet-riddled door and into the grand foyer.

Wallpaper is shredded and lights shatter in a rain of glass as I make one more on the staircase to my left. Sonny Greco barges down the stairs in a silent scream. I take aim and put one right through his beloved headphones. His body goes limp and tumbles down the stairs in a jumbled cartwheel. I catch the corpse and use it as a shield as I make my way up the stairs. Round after round pummels into Sonny’s face, softening it into a bloody pulp. His earlobes flop when each bullet connects. I blindly shoot from behind the stiff and take out two guys at the head of the stairs.

I hear the clod of feet behind me followed by a, “One, two, three.” Turning, I see Johnny crack the skulls of two lugs together. At the top of the staircase, I toss Sonny’s body over the railing. Dashing down the hallway, Johnny and I reach the master bedroom. Empty. The gunfire’s stopped. There’s a ringing in my ears. I hear shuffling coming up the stairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a gun barrel push its way out of the wooden shutters of the closet.

“Get down!”

My advice goes unheard. Johnny is already charging the closet. Tommy doesn’t have a chance to take a shot. In a splintering of wood, Johnny’s got Tommy in his grip. Without his gun, Tommy’s a dead man. Johnny throws the oaf against the opposite wall. Tommy’s body slams to the ground in a sickening crunch. Johnny slides feet first into Tommy’s ribs.

“One, two, three.” Johnny shoves his knee into Tommy’s stomach as he puts his thumbs onto Tommy’s eyes. A high-pitch, primal scream forces its way out of Tommy. My veins freeze. I’ll hear that scream for the rest of my life. Johnny’s thumbs slowly force their way into Tommy’s eye sockets. His thumbs disappear into Tommy’s skull. I hear another scream come from outside the window. This one’s coming from a gal. From the top floor window, I see a Cadillac peel out of the garage below me. Benny’s driving. Two people are in the back. One of them is Audrey. The other is Joey Stachino himself.

The door behind us busts open in a barrage of gunfire. Johnny and I shoot the glass as we leap out the window.

* * *

The bellow of the engine. The squeal of the tires. The shriek of the wind. Johnny’s Plymouth tears through the empty backstreets into the warehouse district, leaving behind the mansion, the bodies, the pain. The Cadillac is in our sights. A hail of bullets discharges from the tommy gun held by Joey. A bullet connects with our front left tire. We skid into a warehouse wall and smash through it. I shake myself off from the crash. Stumbling out of the car, I hear the doors to the warehouse opening. The boxes around me are labeled “XXX.” I can barely make out two, mumbling male voices. I hear the stifled cries of a female. Johnny’s limp in the car. I’ll come back for him. I follow the noises I hear through the labyrinth of containers.

“Lithen here, Uncle Frank, Johnny. You’ve put your fingerth in the wrong bithneth and your fingerth are abo-”

“No! You listen here, you two, lousy, no-good, yellow, dirty, rotten, ugly, two-timing, pushover, street rats. I ain’t leavin’ here without my niece. And I ain’t dying until everyone who’s harmed her is dead at my feet. So the way I sees it, you got two options. Die now or die later.”

Sparks fly when a bullet ricochets off a box near my head. Beer spills out of the fresh bullet wound.

“Sorry, sorry! That was a misfire. We ain’t trying to kill ya.” Joey, always knew a guy like him would have no backbone. “Benny, he aims to kill us, we gotta scram.”

“Thut up, Joey! If we don’t die here, then your bosth ith gonna kill uth both. Our only chanth ith killin’ thith louth and makin’ off with the gal.” The voice is coming from behind a stack of packages in front of me. I got six rounds. That’s three for the both of ‘em.

I feel the hot opening of a gun barrel on the back of my head. Benny’s got the drop on me. “Take heed, you thcumbag, never take your eye off a mick with a gun.”

“That’s good advice. Onetwothree.” I turn in time to see Johnny grab Benny’s tongue and squeeze. The roar of a gunfire goes off. A hole the size of a felt fedora in Benny’s stomach is smoking. Benny’s gurgling what’s left of his tongue as he drops to his knees. Johnny’s standing behind the body with a smoldering shotgun.

Looking into Benny’s dying eyes I tells him, “Name’s Uncle Frank. You’re gonna be remembering that now. Thanks Johnny, I thought I was made for sure.” Benny’s corpse grows cold before it hits the floor.

“Don’t mention it.”

I hear muffled cries. I can’t make out the words, but I know Audrey’s crying out my name. I’m here. It’s all over. I see Audrey dash by an aisle of boxes, followed by Joey. She is headed to a corner. Thatta girl, Audrey. By the time Joey’s grubby fingers clutch Audrey, Johnny and I got him cornered.

Joey knows he’s a dead man. He’s shaking like a leaf. Joey’s got Audrey on her knees, tears streaming down her grimy face. Holding onto her hair with his pistol on her left temple, he tries one more desperate plea. “I’s only following orders. I swear! I’m the fall guy, the scape. You gottsa believe me. Look, look, we can strike up a deal, see.” His hair is matted down as sweat pours from his face. “You let me go and you can have Audrey. I won’t bother you again, hear?” I don’t say a word. Joey’s body starts convulsing and his grip on Audrey’s hair tightens. “I-I’ll give ya money, dames. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I was only following ord-” The gun in Joey’s hand barks. Audrey’s face and brains splatter on the box next to her. Her body drops and Joey is left holding a chunk of her hair connected to a scrap of her scalp. “No, no! I didn’t mean to do that! Have mercy.”

“This is mercy.” I unload three in Joey’s stomach and three in Joey’s mug.

* * *

“It’s over, ain’t it?” Johnny talks through a bottle again. Yeah, it’s over. Audrey was the last family I had. I protected her and, in turn, she loved me. Ain’t no more unconditional love. Not in this city. The picture of Audrey in my mind is gone. Replaced by a never ending loop of exploding flesh. I bottle the night up in a shot glass and guzzle.

“No, Johnny. This ain’t over. I can’t get Audrey back, but I can find every crook in this city that got Audrey killed. Find the bastard that was in charge. I don’t got all the answers, but I aim to find ‘em. All I got left are my mitts. Time to break some deserving teeth.”