Triple Shot by Ross Klavan & Charles Salzberg

Author:Ross Klavan & Charles Salzberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new york, crime novellas
Publisher: Down & Out Books

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Twist of Fate

Charles Salzberg

Acknowledgments

I'd like to thank Brian Mori without whom this story would not have taken shape, and Eric Campbell, without whom this story might not have seen the light of day, and Jeff Weber, who got me off my ass and actually inspired me to write this tale.

Chapter 1

It was cold. Cold enough for layers. Cold enough for me to wear the bright red wool overcoat I bought so I would stand out in a crowd. But I was wearing none of that. Instead, I was freezing my ass off wearing just a black wool skirt, black tights, knee-high black boots and a heavy orange wool turtleneck sweater. Vanity. After all, I had to look good and impervious to the elements in front of the camera. This is the image I needed to project. An image of invincibility. An image that said, when duty calls there is no time to dress appropriately. When the news breaks, I am there. Anything for a story. Anything to keep the public informed.

I was standing in front of the Little Roma Social Club, a plain brick building in downtown Syracuse. Syracuse, the fifth most populous city in the state, the home of the New York State Fair, a city roughly a five-hour drive northwest of New York City. So near, yet so far. This was where I worked. This was where I'd worked for the past three and a half years. This was where I desperately wanted to get away from. But not yet. At least not before this or another story I dug up went national.

"Are you ready?" my cameraman Mark asked.

"How's the shot?"

"Don't worry about the shot, okay. That's my job."

"Okay, okay."

"You ready?"

"Hold on." I ran my tongue across the inside my mouth, then bared my teeth to Mark, who was looking at me through the camera lens.

"Anything on my teeth?"

"Your teeth look fine. You look fine. Will you hurry it up already? I'm freezing my ass off here."

"And you think I'm not?"

"Who told you to take off your damn coat?"

"Vanity, thy name is woman."

"Enough of this bullshit. Let's get this done and get the hell out of here."

"What's the matter, Mark, scared?"

"Yes. I'm a chickenshit. Let's just get this over with."

"All right, all right, all right..."

"Rolling," said Mark, as I cleared my throat and threw my best fake smile at the camera.

"This is Trish Sullivan and I'm standing in front of the Little Roma Social Club, hangout of Fat Tony Alcante, reputed head of the Conigliaro crime family. Fat Tony was recently installed after a brief but bloody power struggle, following the shotgun slaying of Carmine Salvatore. Damnit! Where's the damn teleprompter?"

"You said you didn't need it. Remember?"

"Why do you listen to anything I say? You know I'm crazy."

"Yeah, the commitment papers are on my desk."

I looked down at my script, silently moving my lips, fixing it in my memory, then looked back up at the camera.

"We'll fix this in editing."

"Yeah."

"Okay..." I went back to my on-camera voice and picked up right before I fucked up.

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