Splitting Nines (1) Read online

Chapter 4. Unfriendly Persuasion

  Ray Disenzo’s eyes were so dark they appeared black at times. He stroked a side of his thick black wavy hair. “Ya should of gotten to that fag before that monstrosity did.”

 

  Mario Mazella, stood in front of Disenzo’s mahogany desk. The large man looked like he hadn't shaved his head in a couple of day. He lit up a Pall Mall cigarette. “I can make him drop out of sight, permanently.”

 

  “Too risky!” Ray contemplated while staring at a photo of Winnie and Dave on his desk. “We can use him. Persuade him to modify his story. And keep an eye on Dave.”

 

  Mario Mazella pounded on the side door. It partially opened. Gene’s pockmarked face appeared through a one foot gap. Mario pushed the door wide open, entered and slammed the door shut. With a hand across Evans’ mouth and one behind his head he lifted the slight man and carried him into the living room. He tossed his chump on the sofa.

 

  Petrified, Gene didn’t know what to do. He just stared up at the big goon and patiently waited to find out why he was there. Though he had an idea what was coming.

 

  “Just keep still and listen,” directed Mario. He picked up a cat. “You didn’t see the boys come out of the house. They were on the beach. Got that?”

 

  Gene nodded as he rubbed his sore neck. “Yes, I was mistaken,” he murmured. "No, the cops must have misunderstood me."

  “Peachy! This is to help you recognize the magnitude.” Mario broke the cat’s neck and tossed the body onto Gene’s lap. He pointed at the cat. “That could be you. Do ya folla?"

  Gene stared at his dead pet and nodded.

  "One other thing." Mario threw an enveloped onto the sofa. "There will be more money after your neighbor is convicted. Now listen carefully on what you forgot to tell the cops about Paine."

 

  Tom Paine was furious when he heard Gene had changed his story. He patiently waited by an eatery he knew the boys stopped by daily.

  Chopping down on foot-long hot dogs, Dave and Jimmy exited the small greasy spoon. Jimmy with his mouth full asked, "Are you sure Red's not talking?"

  "Watch what you say," whispered Dave as Tom approached them. "Hello Mr. Paine. How’s Cookie doing?"

  "What were you kids doing in my house two weeks ago?"

  "We weren’t in your house. We were tossing a Frisbee around on the beach,” replied Jimmy.

 

  Tom got close to Dave. “Look in my eyes and tell me that, Dave.”

 

  Dave glanced up at Tom and then down, embarrassed.

 

  A black Buick came to a screeching halt several feet away. Mario Mazella jumped out and sprinted over to them. As he approached he yelled out, “Do we have a problem here?” Making his way toward Tom he motioned the boys to step aside while he got face to face with Tom, trying to intimidate him.

 

  Tom glared back. “I’m having a little chat with my wife’s murderers. Do you have a problem with that?”

 

  “Yeah, I do. Get in the car, boys.”

 

  “Mr. Paine wasn’t bothering us.” Dave looked up and kept eye contact with Tom. “I’m sorry for your loss. We didn’t have anything to do with it.”

 

  “Get going, now,” shouted Mario.

 

  Jimmy saluted Mario before strolling away. Dave, head down, followed him.

 

  “Later, boys!”

 

  Mario poked Tom hard in the chest. “There isn’t gonna be a later, lover boy. Got that?”

 

  “You touch me again and I’ll put you down.”

  “You think you're man enough?” Mario moved closer.

 

  “I know I am.” Tom appeared confident and prepared to battle.

 

  Mario assessed the situation. He determined his employer would not be pleased if he beat-up Paine in front of Dave. “Ya shouldn’t have messed with my boss’s wife.” Mario turned and headed for the car.

  Tom crossed his arms, observing Mario get into his Buick and drive away.

 

  Jimmy, sitting on the back seat, asked, “Mr. Mazella, were you in ‘Once Upon a Time in America’”

 

  Mario, driving, answered, “Yeah, I was an extra.”

 

  “Good job! You really looked like a hood.”

 

  Mario looked at Jimmy’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Thanks, kid!”

  Jimmy kneeled by a chain link fence and peered through as Dave stood close by. A rat terrier, lying on the grass, observed the boys. Jimmy pushed a dog biscuit through an opening. “Here you go boy, come and get it.” The rat terrier tilted his head to the side. Jimmy moved the biscuit in a circle and whistled. The terrier got up and cautiously strolled over to Jimmy and bit into the treat.

 

  Gene Evans, wearing a powder blue short sleeve shirt with the U.S. Postal Eagle logo, marched toward the boys with a letter carrier bag slung over his shoulder.

  The boys stepped away from the fence and eyed Evans. Jimmy smiled. “It’s old pimple puss, in person. A face only a maggot could love.”

 

  The rat terrier stared up at Evans and growled. He tucked in his tail, his ears went back and he showed his teeth.

 

  “Do you think he did a lot of pimple popping when he was kid?” Jimmy asked Dave, loud enough for Evans to hear.

 

  “Come on, Jimmy, leave him alone.”

 

  Evans looked with contempt at the boys as he walked by. Jimmy reached over and lifted the fork latch on the gate. He swung it open.

  The rat terrier saw the outlet and took off after Evans. Evans turned, reached into his pocket and pulled out his pepper spray. He squirted it into the face of the charging animal. The dog stopped and yelped as he ran in a circle a few times before running back into his yard.

  Jimmy closed the gate. “Ahhh! The pimple puss is mean.”

 

  Evans glared at Jimmy..

 

  “You got a problem, pus face?”

 

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

 

  Imitating a girl and bending a wrist, Jimmy said, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

 

  Evans held back his anger. “When you’re old enough.” He turned and strutted away.

 

  The shadow of a very large man covered Jimmy. He turned, looked up and shaded his eyes with a hand. “The circus is back in town.”

 

  “We’re still not talking to you,” Dave said to Shortman.

 

  Shortman grabbed Jimmy by the shirt and yanked him off his feet. “You’re coming with me.”

 

  In one corner of Gene’s second floor room by the windows facing Narragansett Bay was a telescope. A weight machine was in the other corner. A stuffed man’s shirt hung from a punching bag pole. Gene stood with his feet together six feet from the hanging shirt. On the wall behind him was a samurai sword in a black wooden scabbard. Gene jumped and kicked the shirt with both feet and landed on the floor in a standing position. He lost his balance momentarily and regained it. Several cats watched while one rubbed against Gene’s leg. He admired the cat. “In a couple of years I’ll be kicking that smile off that punk’s face.”

  Jimmy sat in a small interrogation room and showed Shortman his Cheshire cat like smile. With a telephone book, Shortman whacked the back of Jimmy’s head.

 

  “Ouch!” Jimmy cried out as he rubbed the sore area.

 

  “Attacking a postman is a federal offence, a felony.”

 

  “Yeah! Right! I attacked him.”

 

  The large book struc
k again. Thump! “Ever been to Buttonwoods?”

 

  “Yeah, to play basketball there and I’ve been to Job Lot a few times.”

 

  Shortman stood next to Jimmy, moving the phone book around. “I’m interested in a break-in two summers ago. A woman was stabbed to death. Does that ring a bell?”

  “I heard about it.”

  “Did you hear about the recent Victoria Crane murder?”

 

  “The one by Ann and Hope? Who hasn’t?” Jimmy looked up at Shortman, then down, shaking his head. “No more questions. Call my lawyer.”

 

  “Do you know Craig Price?”

 

  Jimmy ignored Shortman. He faked a yawn and looked around the room.

 

  “He gave you a black eye, didn’t he? Was that for moving into his territory?”

 

  Jimmy examined his finger tips, trying to tune out the giant. "Fee-fi-fo-fum. I smell trouble coming from a very tall policeman."

 

  Whack! The phone book struck the back of Jimmy’s head. “Keep ignoring me and you’ll be brain dead by the time you slither out of here.”

 

  “Okay! Okay! We had words after a basketball game. That kid’s a psycho. He hit me for scoring points. That’s all! He’s a big bully. Kinda like you.”

 

  Shortman raised the phone book.

 

  Jimmy protected his head with his arms and hands.

 

  “We have a witness who saw you and Dave in Buttonwoods by the victim’s house the day of her murder.”

 

  “That’s a lie. Price lived two doors down from her. I heard he boasted about slicing and dicing some white bitch that caught him thieving.”

 

  “How do you know he lived by her?”

 

  “A reporter interviewed him. Dah! Don’t you read the papers? Can you read?”

 

  The phone book connected again. “Have you ever been inside the Alpine Ski and Dive store?”

 

  “Yeah, Crane threw me and Price out of the store the day she was killed. You knew that, I’m sure.”

 

  “Give me the names of those who heard Price boast about slicing and dicing a woman.”

 

  Shortman paced around his Captain’s office, extremely angry. He pointed at the folder on the desk. “There’s reasonable doubt there.”

 

  “That’s for a jury to decide - not you! Get that thru that mammoth head of yours.”

  “Prove adultery is all a jury needs for a murder conviction in this state. They’ll find Paine guilty, no doubt, and we’ll be responsibility. Just give me a little more time.”

 

  “Okay, but leave those kids alone. Our hands are tied. Like it or not, they have the right to remain silent. It’s the law of the land and one kid’s lawyer can be an immense pain in the ass. Understand?” The captain waited patiently for a response.

 

  Shortman glared at him. “Understood.”

  Cookie wiped some sweat off her forehead, then crouched with a racket in her right hand, ready to receive. A yellow tennis ball ripped just over the bright white line on the black asphalt. She shouted, "Out!"

  Linda, a very pretty girl with twinkling lavender eyes, black hair and a cheeky smile, pulled a ball out of her tennis skirt. She tossed it into the air a couple of times, eyeing her target. Then she tossed the ball up in front of her. Taking careful aim as the ball came down she stepped forward and smashed it with all her strength.

  The ball landed fast and hard barely inside the line, just out of Cookie's reach.

  "Ya nearly had me that time," Linda yelled out.

  "Good game. Let's take a break."

  Exhausted, the girls moved slowly over to a bench by the net and sat down. They grabbed a bottle of Gatorade out of a small cooler, removed the cap and took a sip.

  "How ya holdin' up?" Linda asked.

  "Fine! No further questioning by that giant. I haven't spoken to Dave yet. I'm surprised he didn't attend her wake or funeral."

  "He'll be sniffin' ya out like a dog in heat before long. Ya can count on that. Did ya know there’s a nude beach in Charlestown?" Linda rubbed her bottle across her sweaty forehead.

  "No, I didn't." Cookie drank some more of her red beverage.

  "It might be fun to check it out. Besides, that pale body of yours could use some sun."

  "Look who’s talkin’. How about tomorrow?"

  "Okay. I should work on a full body tan in case I have a nude scene this year."

  "Yeah, that’s gonna happen at Pilgrim High." Linda arose from the bench, picking up her tennis racket. "I'm ready for another quick set."