chapter fifty four

Chapter 54

word count 475

Uncle Frank pulled his fedora down over his face and got out of the car, peering up and down the street. All looked quiet. Yellow tape draped around a nearby house, indicating the place was a crime scene. Regardless, he rushed up the sidewalk and tried the front door. Locked. Pulling a tool from his pocket, he jimmied it and popped the door to Bud Kramer's house wide open, then slipped in. Not a sound. With short, hurried steps he pushed his huge frame around the room to search the premises, gun cupped in his hands, ready for action. He was a big man, and the activity instigated deep wheezes in his chest. Apparently his people did a good job on that bastard, Ren. Now he just needed to get rid of Kramer, and he could move on and look for that jail guard and the whore.

The bathroom was a disaster of blood smears, like a whacked-out Rorschach Test on the walls. Whacked--ha--no pun intended...he smiled at his own brilliant humor. The body had been removed, of course. Frank nodded in satisfaction. Now where was that son of a bitch Kramer? Perhaps a clue lay around the place somewhere. The sooner he took him out the better.

Bud Kramer stepped into the hallway clutching a police revolver in his hands. His eyes were black marble, glinting with their own light. Without hesitation he lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. Uncle Frank never knew what hit him.

A new morning's sun peeked through the café window as Vic and Jessa drank their morning coffee. They didn't talk. He held the newspaper up in front of his face reading. She, wearing her usual dower expression, stared into space. Now and then she took a compact out to study her face. Pushing brown shell glasses up with one finger, she struck a pose and pursed her lips, now colored in simple pale pink rather than blazing red.

"Oh my Gawd!" Vic flipped the paper down and stared her way.

"What is it?" She asked wearily, studying her plain nails with disdain. This incognito thing of theirs was making her crazy. She felt ugly.

"Uncle Frank is dead!"

"WHAT?" Her mind churned like a clunky machine. "Does this mean we can go home?"

"I dunno. Wait a minute." He read further, his eyes darting down the page. "Holy Hell! They found him murdered at Bud Kramer's house. And Kramer has dropped out of sight." He sat back, stunned. "This is incredible...they're all gone. Maybe we can go back."

Jessa leaned forward, grabbing Vic's hand. "Yeah. I want to go back. I want to go back and break Jason out of jail. You were a guard; you know how. We can do it. We can break him out. It's about time we did something I want."

chapter fifty three

word count: 591

"this whole thing has become a god damn cluster fuck..." uncle frank said out loud,, to no one... he had sequestered himself in his office... decisions had to be made..

"how in the fucking hell had this become so complicated?" it wasn't even his war... he had been drawn into it,, lured as it were, with the ever so long in coming death of that no account, crotch dropping, ruben,, the bane of his and his sainted brothers existence... may he rest in peace...

the body count was on the rise,, so far in franks favor, as just the pawns were going down.. ren, worthless piece of two faced shit that he was, check... bud kramers wife,, now that was out of his hands,, how the hell was he supposed to know the invalid woman was gonna croak on him??? and that fucking crooked doc guard,, what was his name?? white? black? gray? understandable,,, the world is a better place for his leaving....

it was time... frank concluded.. time to get the job done,, and he knew that if he wanted the job done,, and done right,, it was time to strap one on and hit the street..

frank hit the intercom to the boys that stood watch over his door... " tell manny to come in here." he barked into his speaker phone...

as if by magic,, there was an instantaneous knock at the door. "come on." frank called out,, and manny his driver, his body guard, his second,, whatever you wanted to call him, thundered into the room... he took a silent stance on the opposing side of franks desk. locked his arms behind his thickly muscled back and waited...

"i am going to tell you something. something that you will never repeat. i trust you. you know that. but i want to make it clear to you, the importance of the situation. do you understand?"

"yes." simple. silent. deadly. manny was a man among men.

"i am not a violent man. i never have been. i am however a man of action. i have been backed into a corner in this present situation... in this corner,, violence has become unavoidable.. the time has come for me to take action. i have decided that if this whole fucking mess is ever going to be put to bed, i will have to tuck it in personally. do you understand, then, why i have called you in here today?"

manny looked intently at uncle frank. he did not speak.

"it has become necessary for me to take a certain matter into my own hands.. that part i am sure you understand. in doing so,, i accept the distinct possibility that i will have to,, shall i say,, disappear.. for a lengthy amount of time.. very possibly forever.. no one, and i repeat, no one will know my status or my whereabouts... no one but you.. i am in essence entrusting my life to you, manny.. my fucking life... you understand now the importance of the agreement you and i are about to enter into?"

"i do." sticcado. emotionless.

frank pulled a ring of keys from his pocket.. he pulled off a rather non-descript looking key, and tossed it to manny.. "hold onto this. protect it with your life.. it opens the file cabinet you see by the window, should anything unmentionable go down,, use it. everything you need to know is in there."

he stared into mannys emotionless eyes. the sound of his own heart beating loudly in his ears over taking the dead silence in the room.

"get the car."

chapter fifty-two

Chapter 52
word count: 552

Two divers detached the cement bricks, then tied the bundle with strong ropes. More rugged men on the bridge waited, then tugging, hoisted up the package, their burly arms glistening with sweat even in the early morning sun. It was going to be a hot day. Bud wiped his brow while he rushed closer

"Well, let's see what we got" he yelled. "I'm curious to see who got on Frank's shit list this time. Poor schmuck!"

"It's not all that heavy," one of the strong men said. "Must be a skinny guy."

"Who ever heard of a skinny gangster?" Bud joked as his eyes watched the bundle being lifted over the railing and lowered to the deck. A strange pang shot through him, painful and sad. He shook it off. His line of work demanded objectivity...no room for emotional outbursts. Funny this one should bother him. He inspected gory crime scenes all the time. His cell rang just as he was going to have a look at the victim.

"Hello."

"Bud, you'd better get over here to your place. Ren's here, he's dead." It was his partner, Red.

"What?"

"Yeah, your cleaning lady found him. In the shower. Bullet through his heart."

"What the fuck? We were together. When I left him, he was sleeping on the couch. I gave him something to help him sleep."

"Well, he's sleeping permanently now. We're checking for prints."

"I'll be right there." Bud closed his eyes in disbelief.

"Mr. Kramer, we're ready." One of the strong men stood next to him.

"Okay," Bud replied, pulling gloves from his pocket. He bent over the bundle, pealing back folds of black plastic until a hand was revealed. Waterlogged and wrinkled, it wasn't pretty. A red polyester sleeve covered a delicate wrist.

"Good God! It's a woman," he muttered, gingerly pulling back more shards of plastic. A petite female form began to emerge. Small, but familiar, all too familiar. Bud's heart knew before his eyes confirmed it. Jane. It was his beloved Janie. As he pulled away the last of the black material, tears rolled down his cheeks. Could this be happening?

Jane's eyes were still wide open, frozen in time with fear. Choking, he pulled the lids down to put her at peace. Who had done this? He searched her body in a frantic rush, looking for bullet wounds or knife stabs, some indication of what and who had killed her. But her body was in perfect form, no violations, no bullets, no stab wounds.Then the magnitude of it hit him!

"It's my wife! It's my wife! Whoever did this is going to pay!" He cried. He jumped up and paced, waving his arms in the air. The others led him to his car, sat him in the front seat, hung around to make sure he was okay, waiting for the sobs to stop. Finally, rational thought returned. Whoever did this probably killed Ren, too, and others. And they probably intended to kill him, too. So what? He had nothing to live for.

Later, when he viewed Ren's body in his shower, blasted away with blood splattered everywhere, he was numb. He didn't care about Ren. He cared only about Janie. He'd find her murderers. He'd find them before they had a chance to locate him first.

chapter fifty one

word count: 621

ren rolled over and stuck his hand down the front of his pants... comforted,, he attempted to snuggle deeper into the thick warm mattress,, he reached for the soft down comforter,, but it was no where to be found.. in fact,, he was beginning to doubt he was in his bed at all,, as he seemed to be unable to roll over.. puzzled he opened his eyes and peered out at a totally unfamiliar surrounding...

"what the fuck?" was going thru his brain as he tried like hell to sit up,, only to me held by a set of inviable hands in the wide soft recliner he didn't even remember sitting down in... what the hell was going on,, where was he???

he scanned the room only to realize that he was at the kramers.. thats right,, bud had stopped in to clean up.. he must have fallen asleep here in front of the tv waiting for him... he glanced at his watch... holy shit!!! four hours had passed,, he struggled to find and then grabbed hard on the lever he finally located on the side of the chair and threw it into the upright position...

something was wrong... something was definitely wrong... the thought that he might have been duped,, more than likely drugged somehow too, crossed his mind. knowing full well the consequences if uncle frank found out about it,, he pushed it to the back of his mind and made his way,, staggering through the house room to room,, looking for bud,, but knowing all the while he was not going to be there...

he stopped off in the kitchen and noticed the coffee pot the warmer light was still on.. that was it. that had to be it. he had accepted a cup of coffee from bud,, somehow some way,, that sneaky son of a bitch, bud had succeeded in spiking the coffee... this was bad,, this was really bad....

he was beginning to come around and realize that he had to do something... but what?? he had no idea where to look for bud,, and he sure as hell didn't want to run into any of uncle frankies guys out there on the street,, with no bud kramer in tow... fuck... he couldn't think.. his head was so clouded.. a shower,, a nice hot shower,, that would wake him up and maybe then he could decide in what direction he should take this thing...

ren stripped down and hopped under the pulsating stream of hot water and steam.. he let the water pour over him,, he massaged the top of his head as the invigorating hot water and steam enveloped him,, struggling all the while to get a handle on his situation.. he grabbed the bar soap and lathered his short cropped hair,, he rubbed the soap gruffly over his face and throat... , and then leaned his thick arms against the wall surrounding the shower head for support as he stuck his head under the hot spray..

as he leaned there trying to decide between the better of the few evils that awaited him,, he felt the hint of cold air on his back,, it rose to his neck,, causing the hairs to stand on end.. he peeked out under his arm,, looking in back of him for the source of the brisk air,, and was surprised to see the slider door behind him ajar a few inches... ..

if he noticed the muzzle of the 38 as it let off a single silenced shot that connected almost immediately with his heart... no one will ever know....

"stupid fat fuck." tony grumbled as he exited the bathroom,, hot steam from the shower still rising....

chapter fifty

Chapter 50
word count: 610

Frank took the last bite of fritatta and laid down his fork and knife with care. He snapped the clean linen napkin out of his collar and waved his hand for Luigi. The harried chef rushed in from the kitchen.

“Get me Tony.”

“Yes, Uncle Frank.”

Luigi rushed to a phone on the kitchen wall. It didn't take long for Tony to arrive. Frank's “staff” were generally on the premises, cocooned in its terse corridors and closet-like enclosures.

“Uncle Frank?” The grim fellow stood, waiting for a nod of Frank's head to indicate he should sit. The nod didn't come.

“Tony. I want you to take them out—Bud Kramer and that imbecile, Ren. And find DiMarco and that whore—get rid of them, too. Take as many men as you need.”

“Yes, sir, Uncle Frank.”

“Now get outta here!”

As his minion made tracks, Frank leaned back and enjoyed his cup of steaming coffee. Ah, peace at last...


Bud burst through the door of McDonald's with Jorge in tow, his eagle-like eyes scanning the room before he was all the way through. The place was empty except for a couple seated by the window. The man's back was to them, but the hair was DiMarco's coal black. The girl was no prize, but Bud had no idea what the whore was supposed to look like.

He turned and grabbed Jorge by the collar and hissed in his ear. “Is that your buddy?”

“I don't know...could be. I can't see his face.”

“Well, let's find out, shall we?” Bud rushed up and spun the man around, then flinched. The man wasn't Vic.

“What the fuck you doing?” the guy screamed, pulling himself free of the man's grasp.

Bud pulled back in horror. What was he doing? Accosting innocent people, bullying them. What was happening to him? His intensity about Janie was making him a crazy bastard. He had to get a grip.

“Look man, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Get away from me, you son of a bitch!”

Bud grabbed Jorge and dragged him out of the restaurant. He felt the anger broiling in his chest again. He pulled Jorge close. “Are you bull-shitting me or was he really supposed to be in there?”

“That's what he told me! I wouldn't shit you, man!”

“Yeah, right!” Bud leaned against the building in exhaustion. What next? His eyes rested on the boulevard out front. He bolted up. A black Cadillac was cruising toward the red light. “That's Uncle Frank's thugs! I'd know that car anywhere!”

“So what! I don't want anything to do with them!”

Bud grabbed Jorge and shoved him in his car. “Yes, you do. We're following them. I'm not taking my eyes off you, so you're coming with me.”

The Cadillac wove through city streets with ease. It never missed a green light and flew just above the speed limit getting from point A to point B with style and grace. Bud was hard put to keep up. He was surprised when the car turned onto a desolate bridge on the edge of town and stopped. A fast-moving river flowed beneath it. Bud knew full well what would happen next.

Two men got out of the car and opened the trunk, lifting a large dark bundle out and with a heave-ho hoisted it up and over the railing. The Cadillac sped away before the waters calmed.

“Looked like we're going to have to get a crew down here to fish that up and see who Uncle Frank has bumped off now,” Bud murmured, reaching for his cell. “Poor soul!”

chapter forty nine

chain fiction chapter 49

word count: 523

frank malleo replaced the receiver.. this was a mess.. a fucking mess.. how the hell did all of this happen as a result of one dead junkie?? sure he was his brother wally's kid,, god rest his soul... but he was a filthy piece of drug addict shit,, and truth be told frank had wanted to kill the little son of a bitch on more than one occasion himself...

"i shoulda' just wacked the little mother fucker years ago... none of this would have happened...." frank allowed himself to dream for just a moment...

something had to be done.. something to put an end to all of this now.. once and for all.. over.. out of sight out of mind... that was it... bud and ren and di marco and that fucking whore,,, gone.. all of them.. the end.. put this whole thing to bed,, "and then," frank thought to himself as he surveyed the deep circles that were forming around his already sunken dark eyes,, "then i can get some rest...."

the call had been placed.. one small matter of business remained unfinished here,, and then he would have a nice breakfast.. food had always made him feel better.. he had his mama to thank for that....

as frank strode thru the kitchen,, he told luigi he was feeling especially down today,, "a nice frittata might be just the thing.. oh and a side of hot cakes,, yeah,, that ought to do it...." said frank with his forever embracing warm smile,, and that spark in his eye,, that let luigi know,, whatever had the don down,, he was no part of it...

with relief and a feeling of reinforced security,, luigi opened the large side by side,, and surveyed the contents.. this would have to be the frittata to beat all frittata's.. luigi would personally see to it that it was...

frank continued on thru the maze of hallways in the back of the building,, hallways that were specifically designed years ago,, to more often than not,, go no where.. hallways that had on more than one occasion meant the difference between freedom and captivity to frank himself,, and life and death for many others..

he finally stopped in front of a pair of metal doors,, no handle,, no push bar,, just doors.. he removed a brick to the right of the doors,, slipped a key off his vast ring in the slot, and watched as the doors disengaged.

he kicked the door noisily out in front of himself,, as if to surprise anyone that might be laying in wait on the other side..

no one was there... no one accept a useless scrap of a man,,there on the floor... still hog tied,, still blindfolded,, laying shivering in a pool of his own piss...

frank slipped the silenced 38 out of the rear waist band of his dark brown silk pants, and fired five shots.. he stepped back,, swung the door closed, replaced his revolver,, and proceeded to the kitchen to see how luigi was progressing on his breakfast...

a nice frittata sounded like just what he needed....

chapter forty eight

word count: 550

"Look at me! You've got to be kidding!" They stood outside Macy's window, gazing at their reflections. Jessa clenched her fists and stood rigid, glaring, ready to explode. Her hair, flattened and combed down straight went perfectly with the "sunday-go-to-meetin'" pants suit which boasted a silk blouse with a matching scarf tied in the front and, of course, 'practical' shoes. Tiny eyeglasses perched on her nose in a blatant aura of intellectuality.

"You'd better rip that jewelry off your fingers...and those fake nails, too."

"No freakin' way!"

Do you want them to find us and kill us? That get-up is a dead giveaway that something's up." He tilted his Fedora and buttoned his top button, next straightening his plain blue tie.

"We look like Lois Lane and Clark Kent from those old TV shows."

"That's better than looking like who we really are. We'll blend into the office crowd downtown here. Now I just have to figure out what to do next. I want to get the fuck out of town."

Jessa surveyed the secretaries and desk clerks milling all around. They did fit in. "Why don't we catch an Amtrak or a bus?"

"I thought we might, but that's so easy to stop and search. I got another idea." With that remark, he turned on his heel and waved for a taxi. A rattling yellow cab pulled up.

"You on the clock? I need to go about 50 miles. Can you handle it?"

"Sure. Hop in."

As they settled in the back, the driver asked, "Where to?"

"I'm not really sure. Just head north." He leaned forward and handed the guy a wad of bills. "As far as this takes us."

The cabbie grabbed the money with a big smile. "No problem."

Jessa leaned close and whispered in Vic's ear. "What the hell we going north for? Why not south? I mean, who goes north, for Gawd's sake?"

Vic smiled back, a cocky grin. "Exactly, 'who goes north?'--you get it? They'll never think we'd go north either."

He relaxed. It felt good to be off the street where they might be spotted. Ever since he called Jorge from the restaurant, he had an uneasy feeling. Not that he didn't trust Jorge, but hey, these were desperate times. Anything could happen.

The whore leaned closer. He could feel her body heat blending with his, streaming along his thigh. Her hand tickled between his legs. The wench, teasing him. He could feel his body reacting... hardening, aching to be satiated. If he could close off the front of the cab and have the back seat free from view, he'd push her down on him and get relief. Oh fuck...he needed to do that... his breath caught in his throat. The sensations emanating from his groin were beginning to overpower...there's be no denying "little Vic" soon...

He bolted up! Outside...the cab was passing McDonald's where he and Jessa had been earlier. Walking through the front door was Jorge, and he wasn't alone. Bud Kramer sprinted by his side.

Vic ducked low in the seat, pulling Jessa down with him. The two men didn't see him. They were through the door before the cab got close. "Get this buggy moving, dammit!" he told the driver. "I want out of town fast!"