Read Online Murder Takes Time by Giacomo Giammatteo - Free Book Online

blamed it on the nuns beating him with rulers, and though it didn’t make sense, it earned the nickname. Paulie Shoes was another story—he loved shoes. When he was a kid, he spent all his money on them. He had ripped pants and shirts with frayed collars, but his shoes were always new. Paulie Shoes was a 50/50 shot, but if he won big Tony would be in business.
    Suit got Tommy Tucks and Patsy. Frankie got The Nose and Pockets. And I ended up with The Face and Doggs. I was hoping for Jimmy the Gem, but he didn’t show; still, I wasn’t unhappy with the pick. Face could do good if he caught cards, but Doggs was too tight. Only way he’d win big was if the other guys got drunk or went on tilt.
    Before we started, Doggs brought out a coffee can with a lid. “I just caught eight goddamn cockroaches in the back room,” he said. “I’m gonna let the fuckers go. The one who kills the most bugs wins ten bucks.” Doggs knelt on the floor, turned the can upside down then opened the lid. Eight roaches ran like hell as soon as they hit the floor.
    Frankie’s eyes lit up. “That ten bucks is mine.”
    Tony and Suit laughed like hell. This job was tailor-made for Frankie.
    The Donovans had the misfortune of living next to the DiNardos, who reigned over an empire of cockroaches, water bugs, flies, and an assortment of other pests. That would’ve been okay if the bugs had respected property lines. But those German roaches must have inherited more than an ancestral name, because they always tried grabbing new territory. No matter how much concrete sealant or stucco Mr. Donovan put on his basement walls, those bugs found a way to breach the barrier. During hot summer nights, when everyone had their windows open, the screams of the Donovan girls echoed for blocks whenever a roach ran across the floor or, God forbid, across the bed.
    Frankie was invisible to his father. The only praise he earned was for killing bugs, so he got good at it. Got to be so he could out-think a roach, knowing which way it would turn before it moved. He could stomp a roach and catch a fly at the same time. Doggs didn’t know it, but he had entered a fixed race.
    Frankie went into action, stomping, whacking and even using the broom handle to kill the bugs. Within a few seconds, Frankie killed every roach before anyone else got one.
    Mikey the Face laughed so hard he choked. “What the hell was that? Did you see that shit? Frankie killed them fuckin’ roaches like he had a machine gun.”
    “Frankie, hell,” Doggs said as he peeled two fives off his wad of bills. “Gentlemen, meet Bugs Donovan.”
    While Doggs congratulated him for a good show, Face peeled a five from his stack and tossed it to Frankie. “Here you go, Bugs. One helluva job.” Everyone laughed, but this time the laughter held a note of respect. Killing was killing. It didn’t matter if it was roaches or people; killing took finesse, and these guys respected it.
    Frankie finally had a name. We tried forcing names on him before, but they didn’t take. Names weren’t like that. You couldn’t force them. Had to come on their own. ‘You gotta earn a name’ Paulie Shoes always said.
    Doggs checked to make sure the doors were locked then took his usual seat, back to the wall so he faced the main entrance. “You hear about Moynihan getting whacked?”
    I plopped a drink on the table in front of Knuckles. “Not sorry to hear that. He always busted my balls.”
    “Guess that’ll teach him to pick on Little Nicky,” Doggs said. Everyone laughed, as if they knew a joke we didn’t.
    I looked over at Tony and Frankie, but they shrugged. Guess they didn’t know either.
    The game kicked off at eight. Before long they were heavy into play. By ten, Knuckles was up a grand. He tossed Tony a ten-spot and a leash. “Take Pisser for a walk. And make sure he does it all.”
    Tony stuffed the ten in his pocket. “What kind of fuckin’ name is Pisser?”
    “Watch your mouth, you piece of