Bigger Gangsters by Aaron McClelland

Author:Aaron McClelland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: organized crime
Publisher: Aaron D McClelland
Published: 2021-05-09T00:00:00+00:00

15. I love Shelly like a crazy sister

16. I love Frankie like a big brother

17. I am getting healthier

chapter twenty-four

♪

(Whiter Shade of Pale)

May stretched into June and with it came warmer weather and an influx of the latest batch of gypsy hippies to Vancouver. Many had finished their studies at high schools, colleges, and universities and wanted to explore this new idea of freedom and rebellion. And of course, they wanted drugs.

By pulling heroin out of the downtown east-side, I had made it a chic drug of choice, an alternative to LSD and mushrooms that gave you an incredible body high as opposed to just tripping inside your head. How many abused it to the point of creating a dependence, I didn’t know, all I knew was that the demand was constant and each week lockbox number six was down to a few last bundles before I restocked it with two new kilos ready for processing.

My distributers were happy, because it had tripled their incomes. They kept the weed and hash flowing even though compared to heroin it was cumbersome and a lower profit margin. With pot, if you got sloppy and got raided, there was no way to dispose of it as the cops kicked down your front door. But with heroin wrapped in rice paper bindles, if you were smart, you kept your stash in a watertight container in your bathroom and with one or two flushes your house was drug free, and the frustrated cops would give you a beating instead of jail time.

Frankie had warmed to the heroin trade mainly because it paid well. As soon as he had the cash he went out and bought himself a new fire-engine-red Cadillac convertible with a white leather interior. Both Vic and I cautioned him about having such a flashy car that could easily be identified by any witness. Myself, I went the opposite direction; I was worried that the Camaro was a heat magnet, so I went out and bought a solid 1966 Chevrolet Caprice from a mechanic friend of mine. It was dark brown and had a couple small dents in it but I had my mechanic friend maintain it so it was healthy. I kept it parked on a side street and it blended into traffic so it was perfect to transport the heroin.

I also bought Carrie her own car and she picked a rich yellow 1969 Triumph Spitfire convertible. It was small and peppy, and she had fun driving it. I made her promise to never be holding when she took it out, because like Frankie’s Caddy and my Camaro, it might attract the attention of the cops, plus she was a bit of a lead foot when she drove.

As the weather got warmer I started hosting bar-b-que parties for my crews on Sunday afternoons. We would rotate the get-togethers through the backyards of dealers who owned their own homes and I had a guy who would deliver a large bar-b-que and sound system to the parties and pick them up Monday morning.

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