Charlie Opera Read online

  Francone looked puzzled. “Rizzi?”

  Cuccia frowned through the pain in his jaw. A large man blocked his view of the woman he was watching. “You set Rizzi up. You make him feel good about himself. Like he’s in, you know. Bring him along, pump him up. Then you can whack Rizzi when we get back to New York. He’s starting to hold back his cash anyway. What good is he without that? We’re better off we get rid of him instead of squeeze him. We squeeze him, he might talk. He was a score. The score’s over. We’ll see what he brings out here with him. You bring him with you to get Pellecchia. Let him do it, you think he’s got the balls, except I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Cuccia wiped drool from the corners of his mouth. “Hey, you pull it off, this Pellecchia prick and Rizzi when we get back home, I’ll bring it to my uncle. I’ll see I can’t get you made without waiting around the rest of your life.”

  A smile crossed Francone’s face. Cuccia shot him a wink before he looked down at the pool again. The big man had moved. Cuccia could see the woman in the pink thong again.

  “The things I could do with that,”he said.

  Francone scouted the men at the pool for muscle competition. He focused on one guy who was huge. “Steroid freak,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “The guy down there. He’s juiced.”

  Cuccia furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh, Joey, you got nothin’ better to look at down there?”

  Chapter 20

  Jerry Lercasi fixed his grip on an Olympic bar as he lay on the bench under the weight. He sucked in air as he tightened his grip. He gasped loudly and pushed the bar off the rack. He steadied the weight before lowering it and blew out air as he pushed the bar from his chest. He did it again and again, in slow, measured repetitions, before reracking the bar.

  “Morning, Hercules,” Detective Albert Iandolli said.

  Lercasi was wiping sweat from his forehead with a Vive la Body hand towel. He looked up from the bench to frown at the organized crime detective.

  “The steroids do anything for your dick?” Iandolli asked.

  Lercasi stood up from the bench. He was a few inches shorter than the detective. His body was well defined with muscle. He made a point of flexing his biceps as he wiped sweat from his neck with the hand towel.

  Iandolli pointed at the Olympic bar. “How much is on there?”

  “Three-fifteen,” Lercasi said. His voice was rough. “You wanna give it a try?”

  Iandolli shrugged. “What’s the point, Jerr? You get all beefed up like that and somebody puts two behind your ear someday, like Benny Bensognio. You’re as dead as a ninety-pound weakling would be, no?”

  “You got a point,” Lercasi said. “This a social call, or you want to join? We’re running a special for city employees this month. A third off on a year.”

  Iandolli sat on the bench as Lercasi added weight to the bar. “Cute, Jerr. You’re a funny guy. Except I have a situation came up the past few days I’m concerned about.”

  “My attorney already spoke to the police about Mr. Bensognio,” Lercasi said. “I knew the man casually. I had no idea he was a bookmaker. I never placed a bet in my life. In fact, I was at a private dinner last night with two City Council members. If I’m not mistaken, some snoopy reporter was there and took pictures. I live in Las Vegas because of a respiratory condition. I have no idea why anyone would want to kill Mr. Bensognio. I sent flowers to his funeral out of respect for his wife and children. I’m sure this is a terrible time for them.”

  “He was probably skimming off your book operation,” Iandolli said. “But Benny isn’t why I’m here. Some guy and his wife were assaulted. They’re from New York. Know anything about it?”

  “Why would I know something about that?”

  “I don’t know. Except the guy was assaulted at the Palermo construction site. One of the workers there found him behind the model.”

  Lercasi stopped adding weight. “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack. That’s your turf, Jerr, the Palermo. And that’s a big no-no, assaulting tourists on their vacation. Even if it is mob-related.”

  “What’s mob-related? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Right. Anyway, just so happens, a couple of the boys are in from New York the same day the unlucky couple were assaulted.”

  “Couple of the boys? I don’t know any boys.”

  “You know, Jerr. That dumb-ass fraternity you’re involved in that don’t exist? The one where they rat on each other every time one of them gets busted? The one they made all those movies about?”

  Lercasi continued adding weight to the Olympic bar.

  “How much you got on there now?” Iandolli asked.

  “Three-thirty.”

  “I wanna watch. You mind?”

  Lercasi lay on the bench, took his grip, took a few deep breaths, and grunted as he lifted the bar from the rack. He brought the bar down to his chest slowly. He set the bar on his chest, held it a split second, then grunted as he pushed the bar up. He lifted the weight two more times before reracking the weights. When he sat back up on the bench, he was breathing hard.

  “That really give you a woody?”

  “You made your point,” Lercasi said through gasps of breath.

  “Good. Because if this Palermo thing comes back to you, my friend, you’ll be lifting your weights inside the joint.”

  Lercasi wiped himself with the towel. “I don’t know nothin’ about it.”

  Iandolli mocked gasping for breath, as if he were about to lift the bar himself. “But I bet you’ll ask around now, won’t you,” he said, squeezing the words from his lungs.

  Lercasi picked up a ten-pound plate to add to one end of the bar.

  Iandolli let out a long mock exhale of breath.

  Charlie decided to tell Samantha what was going on. He told her about the fight in the New York nightclub and about his wife being mugged. Samantha flinched when Charlie described what had happened to Lisa.

  “My God,” she said.

  “She’s been in and out of surgery.”

  They were sitting at the kitchen table. Samantha was wearing white shorts and a navy blue blouse. Charlie wore gray Dockers and a maroon polo shirt. He had brought a navy sports jacket for dinner later. The roommate, Carol, was taking a shower.

  “What does the DEA want?” Samantha asked.

  “Who knows? Except I don’t trust them. Not their motives. The guy I met was making a deal for the creep who assaulted Lisa.” He lit a cigarette. “I wasn’t sure if I should come here. I’m still not sure I should stay.”

  “Are you feeling guilty about your wife? Be honest.”

  He took one of Samantha’s hands. “It’s not about Lisa.”

  She tried to smile. “I like you, Charlie. But I don’t want to get involved where I don’t belong.”

  “It’s not about Lisa.”

  Samantha nodded. “He said you were safe, the agent, right?”

  “It seemed more important to him that I didn’t go to the police,” Charlie said. “He was much more concerned about his gangster than me.”

  Samantha took one of his cigarettes. “I haven’t done this in five years,” she said. She examined the cigarette a moment before sliding it back inside the pack. “Not even a filter?”

  “And I didn’t start smoking until I was thirty. How’s that for stupid?”

  “Pretty stupid. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll stay away if that’s what you want. It’s why I’m telling you all this. You need to know. Obviously I don’t want anything to come back here, to you.”

  “That’s so unfair. No, I don’t want you to do that. Why would they come after me? No, that’s ridiculous.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  They held each oer’s hands. Samantha took a deep breath. She asked, “Did you get to see her?”

  “She was in recovery.”

  “Are you going back to the hospital later?”

  He could sense
she was still concerned about how he felt about his wife. He shook his head.

  “It was a little uncomfortable,” he said. He told her about John Denton and the history of his wife’s affair. Samantha seemed somewhat relieved.

  “I’m not going back,” he said.

  Samantha took another deep breath. “I feel like the walls are closing in.”

  “I’m not pressuring you, Sam. I understand how you feel.”

  She reached for the cigarettes again. This time she lit one. She took a deep drag on the cigarette and coughed. “It’s like breathing fire.”

  “You’re cute when you cough.”

  She continued to cough. “I’ll bet.” She put the cigarette out in the ashtray. “Aren’t you afraid to go home?” she asked. “To New York.”

  “I haven’t thought about that. I guess I want to believe it’s over. They wanted me, they got me. What the DEA agent said. Not that I trust him any farther than I can throw him. But I’m not going to the police.”

  An uncomfortable pause followed. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her.

  He asked her if he could have an ice water. He watched her move around the kitchen. Her leg muscles flexed as she stood up on her toes to reach for a glass. Charlie looked up her legs to the hem of her shorts.

  She turned to him. “Get it all in?”

  He felt himself blush under his bruises. “I didn’t think it was that obvious.”

  “Well?”

  He looked down at a bruise on the top of his right hand. “Sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be,” Samantha said as she smiled.

  He could fall in love with that smile.

  When she brought him the glass, she sat on his lap and kissed him lightly on his lips. She removed his sunglasses and kissed him again, harder this time.

  “Ouch,” he said.

  They made love as soon as Carol was gone. They had stood at the door and waved to Carol as she pulled away from the curb. Then Samantha closed the door as Charlie took her into his arms. Their kisses were passionate. They never made it to the bedroom.

  They did it on the couch the first time. Samantha was vocal during their lovemaking. Charlie was more focused. They each wanted the other too much to engage in foreplay. When they were finished, they lay exhausted on the floor at the foot of the couch. Samantha cuddled against his chest.

  “I wanted to do that since last night,” she said.

  “Me, too,” he said.

  “It was nice.”

  Charlie glanced down. He said, “We need more time before we can do it again.”

  Samantha poked him. “What do you mean ‘we,’ Kimosabe?”

  It was slower and more deliberate in the bedroom. Samantha guided Charlie to where she wanted him. She pulled at his hair when she was close. She moaned loudly when she reached climax. Then she took over and brought Charlie back so they could both enjoy each other a third time.

  They napped in Samantha’s bed afterward. When they woke up, they were both hungry.

  “How’s the Chinese food in Las Vegas?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said. “You want to order in?”

  &ldqu;That’s what I was thinking. My treat.”

  “Big spender, huh?”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “I have to check out tomorrow.”

  Samantha frowned. “You going home?”

  “Unless you don’t want me to.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  Chapter 21

  Detective Gold approached Officer Michael Wilkes in the parking lot of the Denny’s alongside the MGM Grand on Las Vegas Boulevard. Wilkes was out of uniform, on his way home after a ten-hour shift. Gold’s shift had hardly ended from the day before. Except for a few catnaps, the senior detective was living on caffeine one more time.

  “Mike, we need to talk about something,” Gold told the officer after sipping black coffee from a container.

  Wilkes was about to open the door of his car. He turned around and leaned against it instead. He took Gold’s right hand in his own to shake. “Sure, what’s up?” Wilkes asked.

  “Jennifer Gentry,” Gold said, getting right to it.

  Wilkes’s face turned to stone. “Who?”

  “Detective Gentry’s wife. I know you’re seeing her. I watched you embrace half a block from her office. I know what it’s about, so let’s skip the denial part of this.”

  Wilkes’s face showed defeat. He licked his bottom lip as he shook his head. “It’s one of those things,” he said. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’m not here to chastise you for falling in love or for getting a piece on the side,” Gold said. “That’s your business. And hers. But you gotta realize what you’re playing with here before it explodes in your face. In all our faces. Gentry is a detective. He’s a fellow cop. To go one further, not that it really makes a difference, but he’s also my ex-partner’s son. His marriage problems aren’t my concern except for what could happen if it gets out of hand. I don’t know how long you’re involved with his wife, but he’s aware of it. You should take this into consideration. He’s aware his wife is cheating. He might not know who you are yet, but he knows there’s somebody.”

  “You gonna tell him?” Wilkes asked.

  Wilkes’s concerns were justifiably selfish. Gold liked that. It was a good sign. Maybe it would deter some of what was going on. At least it might put a pause on the affair while the married couple separated or divorced.

  “Not who you are, no. But I’m also going to talk to his wife now. Right from here. If she’s gonna leave Gentry, she should do it already.”

  “She says she wants to.”

  “What about you and your wife?”

  “We’re split up already. Almost a year now.”

  Gold nodded. “Well, I just thought you should be aware of what’s going on. And don’t think you’ll find friends inside the department this ever comes out the wrong way. There isn’t a good way to handle this, but there sure is a wrong way. Use your head, whatever you do.”

  Half an hour later, Gold was at the home of Detective Donald Gentry, where he knew he would find the detective’s wife alone. He rang the bell twice before she answered. Her face told him she already knew what he was there for.

  “I’m sure Mike Wilkes called you,” Gold said.

  Jennifer Gentry didn’t answer.

  “I’m not here to threaten you,” Gold said. “Your husband asked to look into who’s having an affair with his wife. He knows about it. You weren’t careful with your diaphragm gel, for one thing.”

  Gold waited for a response. When there wasn’t one, he said, “I won’t bullshit you, Jennifer. My concern is for your husband. You know who his father was. I’m advising you to either separate or divorce or get some counseling or whatever. But do something now, before something worse than a divorce happens. I’ve seen it before with cops. It can get ugly.”

  “Am I supposed to be grateful about this?” she asked.

  “No,” Gold said. “You’re supposed to smarten up.”

  It was the kind of thing he hated, getting involved in a marital crisis, but he saw it as the best possible chance to keep the situation from becoming violent.

  “I’ll talk to Donald,” Jennifer Gentry said.

  Gold nodded and she closed the door on him.

  Officer Michael Wilkes told Allen Fein they would have to make different arrangements to meet in the future. They were standing at a pay telephone in a minimall on the Strip. Fein made believe he was talking into the receiver. Wilkes made believe he was waiting for the phone.

  “There’s another cop watching me,” Wilkes said. “About a woman I’m seeing. Some other cop’s wife. I have to lay low for a while.”

  Fein turned away from Wilkes. He spoke loudly into the receiver. “That’s up to you, Officer,” he said. “Maybe the cop’s wife isn’t worth it. In the meantime, do you have anything on the blotter?”

  Wilkes was still thinking about Jennifer Gentry.
He was in love with her. He didn’t like it that Fein referred to her in so casual a manner.

  “The name you gave me didn’t show,” he told Fein. “Not even at the Hertz in the airport.”

  “You checked with the organized crime unit?”

  “I’m not in the organized crime unit. I asked a friend with O.C. He said he never heard of this Lano.”

  “You sure?”

  “I couldn’t go in and ask like it was my business. I asked my friend about the name you gave me. Lano. I told him there was a guy from New York looking to sell something. I said I got it from a kid I picked up driving a stolen car yesterday. My friend never heard of him.”

  Fein turned away from Wilkes. “What about that thing at the Palermo? There a police report or not?”

  “Nothing.”

  “And you’re sure about Lano?”

  “The guy’s name hasn’t come up. How many times you want to hear me say it?”

  Fein hung up. When he stepped away, Wilkes could see the familiar manila envelope. “That’s yours,” Fein said.

  Wilkes looked around as he stepped up to the phone. He cradled the receiver against his neck as he tucked the envelope into his rear pants pocket. He fished change from his front pants pocket and dropped it in the coin slot. He dialed Jennifer Gentry’s home number as he watched Fein drive away in a black BMW convertible.

  “Jenn?” he asked when someone picked up. “It’s me.”

  Whoever picked up wasn’t answering.

  Wilkes quickly hung up. He leaned into the phone until his head was touching the receiver. He closed his eyes tightly and felt a wave of panic rushing through his body.

  Chapter 22

  It was nearly midnight before Agent Thomas could talk to Cuccia in private. The New York gangsters standing at a roulette table watching the action among a group of Asians playing a fifty-dollar-minimum game. Thomas noticed that Cuccia was shuffling two black chips in his hands.