The Mayor of Lexington Avenue

Eighteen

They were to meet at nine the next morning at Austin Reaves’s office. Both women wanted to be prepared for the negotiation they knew was about to transpire.

A fire was burning in Tracey, a passion to help Elena and save Rudy from the electric chair. But she was also afraid. Rather than embrace the flame, she let the fear consume her. Today had been one of her finest days in the courtroom, but she had since convinced herself that her business was about money and winning, not lost causes. Late in the evening when she was nursing her third scotch, something she rarely did, the realization came to her that this case was a lost cause. She had to get out. She disguised it a little for herself: I have bills to pay and a staff with families who rely on me for support. I have a moral duty to them. If Elena could come up with just ten thousand dollars more, Tracey would stay on. That amount was still a discount for a case like this, but she could live with the compromise. It was the right thing to do, she assured herself. Still, she needed that fourth scotch.

Elena knew that Tracey was staying over until the next morning to talk about money. She remembered the original retainer amount. It was going to take at least ten thousand dollars, maybe more. Where can I get the money? Her first thought was her sister, Marguerite. But Marguerite had been tapped out by the first retainer. Who else? Mike. Mike had provided five thousand dollars the last time. He might have more. But I can’t ask a man whose child I kept from him for seventeen years for money, she told herself. What would I tell him? “Leaving you was the right thing to do, but now your son’s in jail for murder”? What kind of a mother have I been? She dismissed the thought of calling him but as she became more desperate, Mike kept popping up. I can’t call him, she told herself. I can’t talk to him. Her fear kept colliding with what she knew she had to do for Rudy. She decided instead to call Marguerite. Put the idea in Marguerite’s head. Marguerite would make the call.

“Just don’t tell him what it’s for,” she said after asking her sister to call Mike. Marguerite’s first inclination was to argue with her. You have to tell the man something! But she realized it would be no use. When the time came she’d tell Mike what he needed to know. She couldn’t tell him everything, though. He’d be on a plane that night and Elena was clearly in no shape to see him.

“All right,” she told Elena. “I’ll call you later.” Fifteen minutes later she was on the phone with Mike.

“Elena needs more money.”

“What for?” Mike asked. He needed more information this time.

“I can’t tell you.” Mike was furious. He wanted to scream into the phone but he kept his voice calm.

“That’s not fair, Marguerite. If Rudy’s in trouble and Elena needs my help, I’m entitled to know what this is about.”

“I know, I know, Mike, but I just can’t. It’s serious, though, and Elena is desperate. I’m sure that if you can come through this time, you’ll be able to see Rudy eventually.”

“That’s not good enough,” he said, his voice getting angrier. “I feel like I’m being blackmailed to see my son.”

“It’s not like that, Mike. I’d tell you myself if I thought it was best. Elena is overloaded right now. She can’t handle this situation with Rudy and you. Trust me on this. Right now we just need the money.”

Mike didn’t know what to do. He trusted Marguerite to a certain extent but this was getting ridiculous. On the other hand, it was now pretty clear that Rudy was in some deep trouble and it did make sense that Elena couldn’t deal with him and Rudy’s trouble at the same time. He decided to bide his time. Eventually, he’d demand to be involved. He was aching to know what was happening to his son.

“There’s not much I can do anyway. The last five thousand is all I had in savings, and my credit’s been bad for years. I don’t own a credit card.”

“I know what you mean,” Marguerite replied. “I’m maxed out on all of mine.” They were both silent for a moment.

“I assume she needs the money right away?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Give me a few hours. I’ll call you back later tonight.”

Nick Mangione had dinner at Julio’s five nights a week. It was a small Italian restaurant, maybe twenty tables, on the corner of Ninety-third and Second. The word on the street was that Nick owned the building and maybe a piece of the restaurant but nobody knew for sure. From seven to nine, Monday through Friday, Nick occupied the back table at Julio’s and met with whoever came to see him. He was hard to miss. The joke about Nick, told in a whisper, of course, was that he was six feet tall and six feet wide. Anybody caught telling that joke, however, would find themselves six feet under.

Mike was a full two inches taller than Nick but hardly as thick. His had once been an athletic body, now ravaged by years of alcohol abuse and little exercise. He never ate at Julio’s. The food was good and the prices were moderate but he just didn’t eat out. This night he headed straight for the back table. Nick was alone.

“Mike, paisan, long time no see! Sit down. Angie, get Mike a plate of spaghetti.” Nick certainly gave directions like it was his place. But he was genuinely glad to see Mike. They’d known each other a long time. As Mike pulled in his chair, Nick poured him a glass of red wine.

“No thanks,” Mike said, looking at the wine like it was poison.

“How you doin’, Mike? Tell me this is a purely social visit.” He’d seen Mike at his worst in the old days, bailed him out a few times. They still weren’t totally even.

“It’s not.”

“No, Mike-you’re not back on the sauce, are you?”

“Nothin’ like that, Nick. My kid’s in trouble. He needs money.”

“What kinda trouble?”

“I don’t know.” Mike took out a cigarette and lit up.

“You don’t know? He won’t tell you?” Mike wanted to kick himself. He should have known Nick would ask questions and he should have had a story ready. Now he was stuck with the truth.

“I haven’t talked to him. His mother called Marguerite.”

“That Puerto Rican bitch. You remember the gutter she put you in last time, don’t you?” Mike wouldn’t let anybody else get away with that kind of talk, but there were no percentages in having words with Nick.

“Look, Nick, this isn’t about her, it’s about my kid.”

“How old is he now?”

“Nineteen.” Just then, Angie set a large plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of Mike.

“Mange, mange,” Nick told him, gesturing with his hands like a benevolent despot. Mike dug in while he waited for the next question. He knew what it was going to be.

“How much?” Nick finally asked.

“Ten thousand dollars.”

“Michael, Michael.” The hands were flying again. “Ten thousand dollars! I remember when I used to lend you a couple of hundred to get through the month and you couldn’t pay that. Anybody else woulda had their legs broken. Mike, this is a business. What kind of collateral you got?”

“Me. I’m a hard worker. I’ve got a decent job-” Nick cut him off.

“You know how much you gotta pay for ten thousand dollars?”

“How much?”

“Two hundred forty dollars a week. You probably don’t make much more than that. It’s a death sentence, Mike. I’d have to kill you for that kind of money.”

“I need it,” Mike told him. “I don’t know what the trouble is but it’s serious.” Nick just looked at him. He felt sorry for the poor slob. Pulling himself out of the gutter, then jumping right back in. He wasn’t going to have that on his conscience. Still, they went back a long way.

“I’ll tell you what, Mike. I’ll lend you twenty-five hundred and you pay me back a hundred twenty-five a week for twenty-five weeks. But if you tell a soul, I’ll have to cut your tongue out.” Nick smiled as he said it-the kind of smile that let you know he might be joking, but then again he might not.

Mike knew it was over. He wasn’t getting the money, at least not all of it. He took a drag off his cigarette.

“How about five, Nick?” Nick didn’t answer right away. He just looked at Mike. Took a sip of his wine.

“You know you’re one crazy son-of-a-bitch. All right, five. You pay me the same amount for sixty weeks, but if you miss a payment, I’m gonna treat you like everybody else.” Mike nodded. He’d lived in the neighborhood long enough to get the picture. “When do you need it?”

“Tonight.”

“All right. Be here at ten. Now finish your spaghetti and tell me what’s been goin’ on with you these last few years.”

Mike called Marguerite at 9:30 and gave her the bad news.

“It’ll just have to do,” Marguerite told him. “I know where you’re getting it from too, Mike. Nobody expects you to get your brains beat out.” Mike didn’t respond. He had a picture of little Rudy in his mind. He wondered what he looked like all grown up. Will I ever see him?

Marguerite called Elena right away and gave her the scoop. “I’ll just have to talk her into taking five thousand,” Elena told her sister.

Marguerite paused before responding. She didn’t know if this was the appropriate time, but it needed to be said.

“You know he went to a loan shark to get this money.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I just think you should know, that’s all.”

Elena had arrived at Austin Reaves’s office a few minutes early so she could get the lie of the land before Tracey showed up. She was dressed in black, another purchase from the local thrift store. She’d read in a women’s magazine that it was a power color, and she wanted all the help she could get for the upcoming negotiation.

Tracey swept in promptly at nine. She also wore black, a suit. She invited Elena into the spare office and sat behind the desk, a definite power move. Elena could tell from the dark spots under her eyes that Tracey hadn’t slept well. That was a good sign. Maybe Rudy’s case was getting under that thick skin.

Tracey wanted to avoid Elena’s eyes as much as possible. She didn’t want to think of her mother and that one little picture on her father’s dresser. She didn’t want to recall the beautiful dark-haired woman of her childhood dreams. This was business. This was the essence of who she was. Or was it? Perhaps today would be the day she would find out. She took her father with her for insurance-perched him on her right shoulder. She needed his voice of reason in the event Elena’s eyes caught her off guard.

She began by reiterating how well the hearing had gone the day before. It was a move Elena had expected. She then talked about the additional evidence they could put on at trial.

“I think we can focus on this Geronimo guy. I believe he is the murderer. We can tie the police department’s failure to find Geronimo in with their desire to frame Rudy. I think the jury will pick up on that fat little detective’s lazy-ass methods. I don’t think it’ll be hard for them at all.”

It was a good speech and it had the desired effect. Once again, Tracey had raised Elena’s hopes. What she failed to mention was the fact that the only admissible evidence had Geronimo down the street drinking a beer. Joaquin Sanchez’s conversation with Pablo at Rosa’s bar was all hearsay and totally inadmissible.

Elena didn’t respond and they were both silent for a moment. The subject of money was floating around the room like a hawk hovering over a crafty prey. Finally, Tracey had to move in for the kill.

“Elena, we need to talk about the retainer. The money’s all used up and then some. You remember our agreement. The retainer has to be replenished.” Tracey was prepared to accept ten thousand but not right away.

Elena was ready with a rapid-fire response. “I’ve lost my job, had to move out of my home. I’ve got a lump in my breast and I can’t even afford to go to the doctor, for Christ’s sake.” She wasn’t putting her five on the table either. Tracey sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Elena, I know this has been hard on you.” You don’t know shit! Elena wanted to scream, but she kept her composure. “But I’m running a business. I’ve got an office full of people and their families that I have to support. I can’t work without getting paid.” Tracey could hear the words coming out of her mouth. She knew how hollow they sounded. Knew this shouldn’t be about money for her either. But Daddy was whispering in her ear now, telling her she was doing the right thing. She had no choice. “A case like this, Elena, would normally cost at least fifty thousand dollars from start to finish. That’s why I normally require a twenty-five thousand dollar retainer up front. You’ve paid me fifteen thousand dollars. Pay me another ten and that’s all you’ll have to pay. You’re basically getting my services for half price. That’s the best I can do.”

Elena just sat there. Now was the time.

“I may be able to get five from my son’s father. He hasn’t seen his son in seventeen years but I think I could convince him to give me the money under these circumstances. He doesn’t have much, though.”

Tracey could see the play. She knew Elena already had the five but no more than that. She probably worked the phones last night. She’s a smart woman. She knew what was coming this morning. Deep in her heart, Tracey wanted to make it right for Elena. What was an extra five thousand dollars anyway? All she had to do was say yes. It was a win-win situation for both of them. But then there was Daddy. She could hear him sitting there on her right shoulder. Don’t take the bait, honey. Don’t let her get away with this! Another sigh.

“I’m sorry, Elena. Five thousand won’t do.” Tracey hoped that Elena had a few thousand more in her repertoire. If she did, Tracey would take it. Anything! Daddy be damned. But Elena just sat there silent. A moment later she stood up and walked out the door, leaving Tracey alone with her ghost.