The Mezzogiorno Social Club by Ercole Gaudioso

Author:Ercole Gaudioso
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781771831666
Publisher: Guernica Editions Inc
Published: 2017-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

Marms traded three thousand dollars worth of bail for a lam to Toronto. Maurice made his bail and followed her, leaving Simone and her dancing tits jilted and happy with the Restaurant Du Grand Vatel, where Joe now headed to meet Benny Bats.

In window reflections he watched himself strut — ’na bella figura — derby, suit, fresh shirt and collar, and the bull’s cazz’ that he now gripped without scheeving. He turned into the restaurant, its front windows stocked with a half dozen noisy parrots, canaries and cockatoos.

At a table away from the birds, Benny Bats sat with coffee and cognac.

“What’s with the circus stick, Joe?” Benny asked.

Joe sat, poured coffee and splashed cognac into it. “Walking stick. You know it?”

“No.” Bats put a paper sack on the table. “Sawdust.”

“We don’t need it, we got it.”

“What the hell.”

“What the hell? When was the last time you called?”

“They’re watching me like a hawk since you nabbed Strachi.”

“Getting too successful without the guy you say is your only friend?”

“All right, all right. Come on, have coffee. You’re my friend, I know.”

Joe set a finger on the sack of sawdust. “When did you get this?”

“Just before.”

“Anything interesting?”

“One or two guys at that shit bar. I had a glass of wine that gave me agita. I been guzzling Brioschi.”

“Cognac, coffee and Brioschi. Nice. Strachi been in touch?”

“Letters to Carmine Tonno, some for the house uptown that I deliver.”

“What’s he saying?”

“I don’t read the letters, Joe.”

“Any word about him getting out?”

“Not that I hear.”

“What’s Carmine saying?”

“Nothing. He don’t like me, but he likes what I bring in. His kid likes me.”

“Mootzi?”

“No, fuck him. The other one, Dominic.”

“What about him?”

“He’s making his father proud. He’ll do good.”

“Vito San Martino. What’s he been doing?”

“Vito Red’s up Carmine’s ass all time. Carmine’s the only guy who likes the little fuck. He’s still with the unions, nothing new there, keeps things secret, except when he makes and breaks strikes, and he strong arms membership dues with The Ox.”

“Ulino?”

“The Digger. I don’t think he knows too much, except to keep his mouth shut. Him and Gaga, fags, I think.”

“Anybody talking about the painting?”

“Not that I hear. But Vito visits the fat man.”

“Peppone?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that mean?”

“There was talk after you guys hit the stable, that the guy who smuggled it in the country was one of the bodies. Was it?”

Joe shrugged. “How do you know what you know?”

“Who else? The Ox. But he don’t know more than that, how much it’s worth, how they got it ... was supposed to be for the communists, I told you that. So maybe Peppone knows.”

“How’s that?”

“Vito was an organizer, you know that too.”

“Go on.”

“And Peppone’s a communist too, and they got together.”

“When?”

“A few weeks back.”

“You said nothing to me about them being together.”

“You didn’t ask anymore about the painting, I figured it for bullshit.”

“The widow. You ask her about the painting?”

“Yeah, I told you right after I asked her. Months ago, when I got a couple of suits. That maybe the tailor had it, but she says no.

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