Hostile Witness

“Who is this girl?”

Dominic shrugged. “We don’t know, but when he told me this I could see that he was scared.”

“Victor, what we are telling you is the truth. Use this information however you want. But what I don’t want to hear anymore, Victor, is anything about my family in this trial. Do you understand?”

“I didn’t bring it up.”

“No, Jimmy’s lawyer did. But I have had representatives speak to Jimmy already and he has given his assurances. What I want from you is your promise that you won’t bring my daughter into it either. Can you promise me, Victor?”

Jasper leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You should promise the man, Sport.”

“I promise,” I said.

“That’s good, because I know you to be a man of your word. I know that Victor. And the reason I know that is because Dominic and Jasper also heard that promise and these are men who believe nothing is more important than keeping one’s word.”

“Nothing,” said Dominic.

“I understand completely,” I said.

“Yes, I think you do,” he said calmly. “I am not a violent man, you must believe that. I should have been a sculptor or a farmer, anything but what I have become. I don’t really have the temperament for it. But sometimes, when it comes to my family…” He shrugged. “When that happens, I become like an animal. Listen when I tell you this, Victor. It’s been known to happen. Now there is something else. You know that while we do much for the community…”

“We protect and serve,” said Jasper. “No different than the cops.”

“Though we do much good,” continued Raffaello, “we are not a charity. Like all businesses, we are forced to take our share of the economic benefits our protection allows.”

“A modest sum,” said Jasper.

“And we require that those involved in activities that aren’t government sponsored and thus not subject to normal taxation pay an even larger share.”

“Think of it like a baseball game,” said Jasper. “And we’re home plate. No matter how big a hit, you need to touch base with us before you score.”

“Do you understand the concept?” asked Raffaello.

“Yes, sir,” I said quickly.

“Now, our information tells us there is a quarter of a million dollars unaccounted for, money that was given by Mr. Ruffing but never received by Jimmy Moore’s organization. A quarter of a million dollars. Whoever ended up with that money never touched home plate. Inadvertently, I assume.”

“Mr. Raffaello is a very forgiving man,” said Jasper, shifting closer to me and leaning so close to my face that I could smell garlic and a touch of rosemary on his breath.

“But still,” said the boss of bosses. “We expect our share. Now one third of a quarter of a million dollars is…”

“Eighty-three thousand,” said Dominic. “Three hundred and thirty-three.”

“Let’s call it an even hundred thousand,” said Raffaello. “I always liked clean numbers. So, Victor, we’re missing one hundred thousand dollars. It is as if someone walked into my house, opened a drawer, and took one hundred thousand dollars from me. I’m a forgiving man, Victor,” but now his voice rose until he was screaming once again, “but to just march into my home and open a drawer and take from me, that I ca

“What happened to the money, Sport?” asked Jasper, still leaning close to me.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Find it for us, Victor,” said Raffaello, “and I’ll forget all about your disrespect for my daughter. You see, I can be forgiving.”

“You should thank the man,” said Jasper into my ear.

“But I don’t know where…”

“Find it, Victor,” said Raffaello, interrupting my pathetic whine. “And we’ll forget about the unpleasantness at the poker game. Otherwise…” He shrugged.

“Thank the man, Sport.”

“Thank you,” I said obediently.

“All right, we’ve taken care of our business,” said Raffaello. “Le

“Sure thing, Mr. Raffaello.”

Le

“This is for you, Victor,” said Enrico Raffaello. “It’s a ca

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, trust me, Victor, you eat it right, you’ll like my ca

With that the door opened and Jasper jumped to the street and jerked me out with him. “See you later, Sport.”

I leaned back into the car. “Thank you for the ca

Raffaello leaned forward in his seat and smiled as sweetly as he could with a face such as his. “Victor. If we had taken a shot at you, you wouldn’t be around to ask such a question.”

35

ENRICO RAFFAELLO WAS almost right about his ca

The Sporting Club was swank, which wasn’t exactly what I wanted in a gym. Gyms should be sweaty, smelly places, where muscle-bound lugs grunt as they move around great discs of metal and the rubbery thwack thwack thwack of a basketball echoes from the court. That wasn’t the Sporting Club. The Sporting Club was swank.

“I’m interested in joining,” I said. “And I wondered if I could look around for a bit.”

“Of course,” said the woman in the membership office. She wore white, her top stretched by a very fit pair of breasts, worked out, I was sure, on a Nautilus breast machine until they were every bit as taut as her thighs. “Why don’t you fill out this form first.”

They wanted to know my name, my address, my credit card, they wanted to know what I did for a living, who I worked for, my estimated yearly income. It was almost like the way potential dating partners sniff each other out at a party or a bar. Out of pride, I lied to make myself sound like a better candidate for their club, even though I had no intention of joining.

“Well, Mr. Carl,” she said, “let me give you a little tour.”

“How about if I look around myself, get a feel for the place, would that be all right?”

“Of course,” she said. “Take this pass and go right through there. The men’s locker room is on the left and there are signs to the various rooms.” Her gaze drifted down to where my chest would have been had I had one. “Be sure to check out our free weight room.”

I smiled back anyway and left the office, waving the pass casually at the beefy man in white guarding the entrance.

It wasn’t very crowded at seven in the morning, a few haggard souls trying to sneak their workout in before they were awake enough to realize how crazy it was to take an elevator seven floors just to bound up an endless flight of mechanical stairs. In the men’s locker room I grabbed a couple of towels and found a locker and stripped. I couldn’t help but look at myself in the mirrors that surrounded the room. What I saw was pathetic. I would need to join a gym someday, but not this one, not one so swank.