a shit. I mean, they’ll give him the usual funeral, bagpipes and bullshit, but they’re not gonna go to war over him.”
Gino just sat there, his face like one of them Easter Island statues. Carmine could tell he didn’t care how hard the NYPD would try to find the cop’s killer.
“The thing is, and the reason I wanted to see you tonight, is I found out the cop is playing poker Saturday night at a warehouse down on the waterfront in Red Hook. It’s a high-stakes game and he plays almost every Saturday, even though he loses almost every time. The warehouse will be the perfect place to take him out.”
“I’m not going to kill him with half a dozen people around,” Gino said, looking at Carmine like Carmine was nuts.
Carmine knew that Gino always worked alone and always picked a spot where there wouldn’t be witnesses. He would plan a hit for days, sometimes weeks, to make sure the setup was right.
“You don’t understand,” Carmine said. “I know the guy who owns the warehouse. He’s one of my connections for bringing dope into the country and he stores the dope in the warehouse before we move it out. I already called him and told him I don’t want them playing the game there this week.”
Carmine really did know the guy who owned the warehouse and he really was one of his dope connections, but the warehouse was never used for poker games.
“I also told him,” Carmine continued, “that I don’t want anyone to call the cop to tell him the game’s been canceled. So Saturday night, about ten, the cop’s going to walk into this big warehouse, then walk down to the office in the back, and there won’t be anyone else there. You get there first and when he walks in, you take care of him.”
Before Gino could object, Carmine went on: “The other thing is, it’ll be noisy down there. They’re offloading a ship and there’ll be trucks driving around, forklifts, cranes, all that shit. This is good because nobody will hear a shot. But that means, of course, you have to make sure nobody sees you going into the warehouse.”
When DeMarco just sat there staring at him, looking skeptical, like he wasn’t enthused by Carmine’s idea, Carmine said, “Hey, you got two days to check the place out. If you don’t like it, then don’t do it there. I’m just trying to help you out here, but do what you want.”
8
Joe met Marie at a bar near her mom’s house. She was wearing a red sleeveless blouse—she always looked good in red—and white shorts and sandals. Her lipstick was bloody red to match her blouse. She had laughing dark eyes, incredible legs, and her dark hair was longer than when he’d last seen her; he liked it when she wore her hair long. He couldn’t help but notice the top two buttons of the blouse were unbuttoned and showed off a little cleavage. The first time he’d touched her breasts, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
He was hoping that after he bought her a drink or two, they could go back to her house and have sex. Her mother was usually out in the afternoon, shopping or playing canasta with her girlfriends. But wouldn’t you know? Not this afternoon.
As they sat there, he was seriously thinking about proposing to her but decided that this wasn’t the sort of place where you proposed, not to mention that he didn’t have a ring. Also, maybe it would be good if he had a job before he proposed. Instead of proposing, he just talked about the future, which he hoped would be their future.
“I’ll be graduating in another couple of weeks, then I’ll have to spend the summer cramming for the bar exam, but I’m hoping come fall I’ll have a job down there in D.C. Virginia, actually.”
“You want to live in D.C.?” She said this like Washington was an Eskimo village near the North Pole.
“Yeah. There’re a lot of opportunities there.” Then realizing that maybe his career opportunities weren’t at the top of her list, he added, “You’ve always had a good time
Gino just sat there, his face like one of them Easter Island statues. Carmine could tell he didn’t care how hard the NYPD would try to find the cop’s killer.
“The thing is, and the reason I wanted to see you tonight, is I found out the cop is playing poker Saturday night at a warehouse down on the waterfront in Red Hook. It’s a high-stakes game and he plays almost every Saturday, even though he loses almost every time. The warehouse will be the perfect place to take him out.”
“I’m not going to kill him with half a dozen people around,” Gino said, looking at Carmine like Carmine was nuts.
Carmine knew that Gino always worked alone and always picked a spot where there wouldn’t be witnesses. He would plan a hit for days, sometimes weeks, to make sure the setup was right.
“You don’t understand,” Carmine said. “I know the guy who owns the warehouse. He’s one of my connections for bringing dope into the country and he stores the dope in the warehouse before we move it out. I already called him and told him I don’t want them playing the game there this week.”
Carmine really did know the guy who owned the warehouse and he really was one of his dope connections, but the warehouse was never used for poker games.
“I also told him,” Carmine continued, “that I don’t want anyone to call the cop to tell him the game’s been canceled. So Saturday night, about ten, the cop’s going to walk into this big warehouse, then walk down to the office in the back, and there won’t be anyone else there. You get there first and when he walks in, you take care of him.”
Before Gino could object, Carmine went on: “The other thing is, it’ll be noisy down there. They’re offloading a ship and there’ll be trucks driving around, forklifts, cranes, all that shit. This is good because nobody will hear a shot. But that means, of course, you have to make sure nobody sees you going into the warehouse.”
When DeMarco just sat there staring at him, looking skeptical, like he wasn’t enthused by Carmine’s idea, Carmine said, “Hey, you got two days to check the place out. If you don’t like it, then don’t do it there. I’m just trying to help you out here, but do what you want.”
8
Joe met Marie at a bar near her mom’s house. She was wearing a red sleeveless blouse—she always looked good in red—and white shorts and sandals. Her lipstick was bloody red to match her blouse. She had laughing dark eyes, incredible legs, and her dark hair was longer than when he’d last seen her; he liked it when she wore her hair long. He couldn’t help but notice the top two buttons of the blouse were unbuttoned and showed off a little cleavage. The first time he’d touched her breasts, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
He was hoping that after he bought her a drink or two, they could go back to her house and have sex. Her mother was usually out in the afternoon, shopping or playing canasta with her girlfriends. But wouldn’t you know? Not this afternoon.
As they sat there, he was seriously thinking about proposing to her but decided that this wasn’t the sort of place where you proposed, not to mention that he didn’t have a ring. Also, maybe it would be good if he had a job before he proposed. Instead of proposing, he just talked about the future, which he hoped would be their future.
“I’ll be graduating in another couple of weeks, then I’ll have to spend the summer cramming for the bar exam, but I’m hoping come fall I’ll have a job down there in D.C. Virginia, actually.”
“You want to live in D.C.?” She said this like Washington was an Eskimo village near the North Pole.
“Yeah. There’re a lot of opportunities there.” Then realizing that maybe his career opportunities weren’t at the top of her list, he added, “You’ve always had a good time
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