Barely Legal

33

Alonzo’s meat cleaver froze in mid-chop. He blinked at the man coming in the door and wished he were somewhere else.

“It’s Payday!” Mario announced, and Alonzo trembled.

“Take care of your customers, Alonzo, take care of your customers. Do not let me disturb you.”

There were three customers in the butcher shop. Carlo put the CLOSED sign on the door to be sure there wouldn’t be any more. One of the three customers read the situation right and left without buying anything. The woman awaiting her lamb chops would have done so, too, had she not been in mid-purchase.

Alonzo swung the cleaver, made the chops. They weren’t anything close to even, but no one cared. The woman grabbed them gratefully, flung money on the counter, and fled.

The last customer, finally recognizing the situation, decided there was something he would rather do. He beat a dignified, albeit hasty, retreat.

Carlo locked the door behind him and pulled down the blind.

Mario lit a cigar. “Alonzo. You don’t look happy to see me. It’s payday. Don’t you have the cash?”

“I got the vig.”

“Hear that, Carlo? He’s got the vig. But there’s principal involved. Wouldn’t you like to pay it down?”

“I’ll have it Thursday.”

Mario looked shocked and offended. He spread his arms and shook his head deploringly at the butcher’s faux pas. “You’re asking me to come all the way back here on Thursday because you are not prepared? That is a serious breach of etiquette. And how do we deal with serious breaches of etiquette, Carlo?”

Carlo looked like an unprepared student who had been called on by the teacher. “Real well?” he guessed.

Mario chuckled and shook his head ruefully. “Well, that’s certainly true. But how do we deal with a person who has made a serious breach of etiquette?”

“We remind him?”

“Exactly. We remind him. We point out the error of his ways. Which is what we need to do in this case.” Mario smiled at the wretched butcher. “That’s a real dangerous profession you have, chopping meat. How many fingers do you have left?”

Alonzo trembled and tried to hide his hands.

Mario said sweetly, “Could Carlo borrow your cleaver?”

The sun was shining brightly as Mario and his goons came out of the butcher shop.

“Who’s next?” Carlo said. Carlo felt exhilarated, as he always did after chopping off a finger.

Mario consulted his notebook. “Ah. Herbie Fisher.”

“Who?”

“The guy who didn’t want to pay.”

“They all don’t want to pay.”

“Idiot. The lawyer you hung out the window.”

“A lawyer. What do you do with a lawyer? Hit him with a gavel?”

“That’s very funny. You know why you find that very funny? Because he is not holding your ninety grand.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

“Yes, it is. That’s not like a few hundred dollars to a butcher. That is serious cash. It requires a serious reminder.”

“You want me to shoot at him again?”

“Ah, Carlo,” Mario said. He shook his head deploringly, but almost fondly. “Try to learn something. If you hit him, he can’t pay. If you miss him, he knows you don’t mean to hit him. What’s the good of that?”

“I could shoot his girlfriend.”

Mario blinked. “He has a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. She was with him in the restaurant. They looked like they’re in love.”

“You might have mentioned this before.”

“Why?”

“It’s called leverage, Carlo.” Mario blew a smoke ring. “So. That’s excellent. I gave him twenty-four hours to pay, and he has not done so. I can’t let someone stiff me on a debt of that size. It makes me look weak. A man in my profession can’t afford to look weak.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“We are going to set him up, Carlo. We are going to make him wish he’d paid.”