Class Act

15

Vinnie sat in his box seat at the post at Hialeah and, using his binoculars, watched the herd turn into the home stretch. He glanced at the board to get the final odds and was pleased. His bets were well-placed. His phone rang, but he waited for the winner to cross the finish line before he answered.

“It’s Vinnie, talk to me.” He had a pencil and pad ready to take the bet.

“It’s Manny,” he said.

Vinnie winced. Manny didn’t call often, and when he did, it was always about something Vinnie didn’t want to do. “Morning, Manny.”

“That guy,” Manny said.

Vinnie knew who he was talking about but pretended not to. “Which guy?”

“That guy I just made a gift of a mil.”

“Manny, it wasn’t a gift. It was his money, and we made a bundle off it while we had it.”

“I want it back.”

“You want his money back?”

“You hard of hearing?”

“No, and I’m afraid I heard what you just said.”

“Tell me what I just said.”

“You said you want a client’s money back.”

“See? You can hear just fine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“You want to come over here and have me explain it to you in person?”

“Manny, can I tell you some things?”

“If you can do it in less than a minute of my time.”

“This guy took care of Eduardo Buono in Sing Sing for over twenty years, and Eduardo never took a punch for all of that time. He lived like a king, and Johnny was his prince.”

“So what? I still want his money.”

“I told you how Johnny and I communicated.”

“With throwaways, so what?”

“I met with him just once, in a diner, where he handed over his mil. So, I never knew where he was, and I don’t know now.”

“Find him,” Manny said.

“Manny, this guy is very, very smart. Who could go into Sing Sing broke and come out with millions?”

“Eduardo’s millions. And Fratelli ain’t the kind of guy to spend it all. He’s still got it, and more. I want everything he’s got.”

“Manny, you call me up and tell me you want back a guy’s money who dealt with us straight, and then decided he wanted out, for whatever reason. And now, you want...”

“I know his reason,” Manny said, “and I know how to find him.”

“You mean, you know how I can find him.”

“Your hearing is still good, Vinnie.”

“And how do I do that?”

“You know Tiny Blanco, in Brooklyn?”

“Yeah, or I used to anyway. He’s a real piece of shit.”

“I don’t care what he is. He’s got a client named Mickey O’Brien...”

“A cop. I knew him, too; degenerate gambler.”

“Ex-cop. He wants Eduardo’s money, too, and he knows how to find Johnny Fratelli.”

“So, you want me to call Tiny Blanco and tell him we want his client? Then he’s going to want a big cut.”

“You’re right, and that’s why you don’t call him. You call somebody else who knows Mickey from when he was a cop and find out where he lives. Then you have a conversation with Mickey.”

“What’s Mickey’s motivation for telling me where to find Fratelli?”

“ ‘Motivation’? His motivation is he gets to keep living and walking around on two legs without crutches.”

“Okay, I’ll make inquiries.”

“Get your ass on a plane to New York, and call me when you’ve got your hand on Mickey O’Brien’s throat. Your number two can handle Hialeah, until you’re back.”

“I won’t be responsible for what he does while I’m gone.”

“I’ll see to that. Call me when you get to New York.” Manny hung up.

Vinnie sighed. His number two walked up and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“I got a call from Manny’s guy. He says you’re expected in New York.”

“If you screw up while I’m gone, Manny’s going to cut your balls off. You know that.”

The backup guy knew that.