The story so far:
Jack's pursuit of a mysterious bluesman has put his and Nancy's lives in
danger. Although Delano, the aging musician, is seemingly safe now, his
would-be killers are still looking for him, and ready to do whatever it
takes to finish their job.
Delano fills Nancy in on some of the past, including Everage's plans for
the Hatton family business. Everage brings a gift to a party, and bonds
with some people who share his practical, unsentimental
view of their fellow man.
To start reading from the beginning or to view earlier chapters, go here
A Minor Blues, Chapter 34
"Jack, no! I will not take Delano anywhere he does not want to go... He's
in a men's store, getting some new clothes.... Yeah the t-shirt is funny,
but the kid had to have been wearing it to a rave... An all night dance
with techno music, fueled by ecstasy. ..The point is, Jack, the t-shirt
stunk."
Nancy watched Delano through the store window; he was paying for the
clothes, which he was wearing out of the store. His old clothes were in
the store bag. The cashier laughed at something he said, handed him his
receipt, and they shook hands.
"He's coming, Jack....Ok" She sighed, "I'll ask."
Nancy popped the trunk, using the switch under the dash. The trunk lid
opened, and startled Delano a bit. He shrugged and smiled when he saw
Nancy laugh. "New Technology", he mouthed to her through the rear
window.
Jack was still on the line, and heard the laugh. "You two are getting
along quite well, driving around in my hooptie." Delano climbed into the
front seat, closed the door behind him. Nancy waited until his seat belt
was fastenend to hand him the phone. "Delano, Jack Moonlight is asking
to talk to you."
Delano took the phone. "Mr Moonlight! So you've found me! Yes, Nancy told
me what Melissa did. That was my fault, I should have made more of an
effort to meet her, but Frank didn't want me drawing attention to their
lives in California."...Delano listened for a moment. "The masters
disappeared in 1950, a guy at Raceway Records liked the songs, he was
gonna shop the masters to a national company, then he had a massive
stroke. His relations shut the place down, sold the inventory to a
music studio in Raleigh. Silver Dollar Studios, but they also went
belly-up, and I lost track after that. ....Well thank you sir. Good to
know that even the wire recordings have that effect. Carruthers cried,
too? That beats a royalty check, believe it or not."
"A question about Cummins? That was a long time ago, but ask
away. ...Frank had nothing to do with the fire, or with breaking me
out. All he did was casually mention where his boat might be, and that
the motor and tank were both full of gas." Delano laughed. "Right, just
came up in the course of conversation." Delano listened again, Nancy
turned onto a ramp whose sign promised to lead them to the Atlanta Int'l
Airport.
"I told Miss Nancy all that, and I will fill her in some more,
detective. Trust in her memory, time for my nap." He handed the phone to
Nancy, who listened for a minute.
"Jack, I am dropping Delano off where he wants to go, then making a
beeline back to my honey-buns, ok?... You and Carruthers,.. yes, I can
trust him, okay? You two watch Marisa and Dinah's back, those crackers
may not be chivalrous seekers of the truth...Ok, I'll call later."
Jack hung up the phone. "Damn!"
She still doesn't trust me, does she?" Carruthers sighed. "That's what
can happen when you shoot up a woman's purse."
"Maybe you could write a book, Carruthers. Triggerman Dating Do's And
Don'ts."
Jack turned onto the river road, headed back toward town. If
Jessie and Cal had followed Nancy, then there was too many miles between
them; Nancy was on her own. Carruthers had checked out the train and bus
depots, looking for his former friends. Jack stopped across the tracks from
where Jessie had almost managed to kill Nancy and Delano. The traffic was
light now, it was close to seven. As one, Carruthers and Jack looked at
the skid marks, imagined the train being there. The tracks outlined a
wide parabola, with the locus on the track near the sidewalk.
"Wish we'd been here." Jack said.
"What good would we have done?"
"None, Carruthers. I just wish I could have seen Nancy's face when
Delano hit the accelerator and they tore off in front of that train."
Carruthers laughed and made a Three-Stooges type of scared noise. "Nyah
ah-ahh!" Jack added a '50's horror-movie scream that came off so poorly,
they both laughed.
"I bet Delano wasn't the only one needing a change of clothes after
that." Carruthers managed to say.
"Oh jeez, stop!" Jack had to pull over, let the laughter out, before he
could drive safely. Finally, he took a deep breath, and drove on.
"So where to? Marisa's place?"
"Yeah", Carruthers agreed. We can watch for Jessie and Cal to come by.
Jessie's not above squeezing a woman for information."
"So where to?" Cal asked. "The old woman's place?"
Jessie thought for a minute. "She probably knows very little, Cal. And my
guess is that Delano is going into the deep thicket after this muck-up."
He cursed his old friend under his breath. "No, you know that storage
center up from Jim's house? He always seems to come home that way. Let's
go park up in there away from the lights and watch for him and the
detective."
Cal decided it was best not to argue with Jessie. They were on more
equal terms since he busted Jessie's jaw. He knew, however, that he had
a lot to learn, and Jessie and Carruthers were the best teachers.
"Whatever you say partner." He was gratified when, for once, Jessie
didn't roll his eyes at the very idea.
------------------------
"What to say about Everage?" Delano mused. "He was a sociopath, for
sure. And blessed with excellent senses and reaction time. Stronger than
he looked, and he looked strong enough. Crack shot with a rifle, as good
as one can be with a pistol, and a fighter the likes of which I've never
seen since. And fighting's my game, Nancy."
"And he sold you out to the New Orleans mafia?" Nancy interjected. They
were maybe 30 minutes form the airport, but the traffic was moving
slower than a televised golf game. She wanted to hear as much of
Delano's story as she could, and remember as much as she could so she
could relay it to Jack.
"Pretty much, that's what he did. And I am fairly certain that he
planned on killing Frank, or having him killed after the deal with
Marcello went through.
"And that is something I am not too clear on, Delano. What, exactly, was
this deal?
--------------------------
August 5, 1950
Bertucci's was not a touristy place, hidden as it was in Metairie, away
from the attractions of the French Quarter. But it was well-known to the
locals as a fine place for a wedding party, a reunion dinner, any family
gathering that involved good food and imported wine. Locals also knew
not to go without reservations, nor to argue when a reservation could
not be made. Lunch on the 5th of April was one of those times, and the
two men in cheap business suits were ready to tell the black guy with
the package to take it around the back.
"I'm hear to see your boss. I am expected, and I am going through that
door to meet him." Everage was polite, even-voiced, and patient.
"Errico, go check with 'Nacio." The suit in charge turned back to
Everage. "You gonna tell me I can't look inna da box now?"
" 'Nacio, he's your boss?" When Frankie declined to answer, Everage
added. "He can look when he gets out here."
"He look then. I'ma look now." But he had barely touched the lid when
Everage had his arm behind his neck. Suddenly Frankie's head was against
the door, which happened to be opening. Everage walked himself and
Frankie into the foyer. Errico and a man in a better set of threads
pulled guns out, trained them on Everage.
"Okay, be calm." Everage released Frankie, who shoved back against
Everage. Any further retaliation was called off when Frankie fell back
like he had been pushing on a wall.
Everage ignored him, and turned to the crew boss, the capodecima,
'Nacio Farentelli.
"Thanks for setting this up, 'Nacio."
'Nacio smiled, Everage had given him ten large to arrange the meet.
"Yeah, when they thank me," Nacio said with a jerk of the thump behind
him, "That's when I can relax. By the way, Nice work on Santos' crew,
rest their souls. So what's inna box?"
"A gift for your bosses. Eyes only."
"I got eyes, I gotta look, you understand, ha? No surprises at the
council. Gotta frisk you, too."
Everage motioned for 'Nacio to come closer. He lifted the edge of the
lid of what appeared to be a hatbox from a pricey store.
"Minchia!" 'Nacio closed the lid. "Go. Through that door. They are
expecting you, but say nothing until you are called forward, capisce?"
"You said I needed frisking."
"Fuggeditt, soldier. You okay." He leaned toward Everage and said in a
conspiratorial whisper, "You are the first Negro to meet with the
council. Some are unhappy. Carlo, he is a businessman. You talk to him,
be polite to all." Everage nodded, and 'Nacio indicated to Errico that
It was time to let Everage in the private dining room.
The tables were set in a "U". The attendees were as carefully placed as
a dinner of New York Society philanthropists would be seated. No one
with a grudge was next to the source of that grudge, and no one was in
doubt of his place in the scheme of things.
On the right side of the "U", looking from Carlo's seat, were his
trusted ward capos, in order of their earnings as of late. One did not
want to be in the last seat more than twice in a row.
Across from the capos were two representatives from Sicily, here to
accompany the guest of honor, Sylvestro Carollo, back into exile as ordered by
the Federal judge. On either side of Carlo sat his trusted lieutenants,
Salvatore Liberto and Nofia Pecora. There was another man there, more
important than all present except Carlo, and Chicago or Tampa or New
York would deny even that exception. But, because Meyer Lansky was not
Sicilian, it would have been improper to have him sit at Carlo's side.
So he was relegated to the right-table seat closest to Carlo, close
enough to pass the bread dish and exchange notes. Lansky, the Mafia's
main accountant and money-washer, was not put out at all by the
arrangement. He was more interested in the business to come.
Carlo tapped his glass. All conversation stopped, and all present looked
to the head of the table. "A toast, to our friend who goes home
tomorrow." Marcello indicated Sylvestro, who was unhappy with his
impending deportation, and his loss of influence to his former
lieutenant.
"My Mother's Mother, god rest her soul, was a gardener. She worked all
year in her little plot, even though she only got two crops a year.
"Calogero," She told me. "The garden needs care the most when it does not
provide. Work it then, it will work harder for you." Carlo paused,
looked around the table, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the man at
the foot of the right side of the table. It was Benny 'Trapper'
diTrapani's third seating at the end, and all present knew he was losing
his territory soon.
"And that is what we do, we cultivate, we grow, we push the land to grow
more for us, fpor our families, for our thing here. Mama Josita also
said to me, many times, "Aprili fa li ciuri e le biddizzi, l'onuri l'havi
lu misi di maju." The door at the end of the hall opened, Carlo kept
speaking as he watched the other reason for this meeting walked in. The
pinstripes on the nice-fitting black suit contrasted well with this
one's equally dark skin. He dismissed a casual image of him smoking
cigars with the mulinyan, talking tailors and territories, as quickly as
he did his wife's complaints about his weight.
With a nod to Meyer Lansky, he translated. "April makes the showers, but
May gets the credit. Stand up Sylvestro." When the guest of honor had
done so, Marcello finished quickly. You are the April, we are the May.
Believe us when we say know who deserves the credit us being in the
place we are, the garden where we work to secure the future." All
present at the table stood and raised their glasses, then quaffed the
contents, a quality red brought from Sicily by the moustaches
surrounding Carollo, who sat back down as soon as it was polite to do
so, maybe a second sooner.
Carlo sat back watched as the well-wishing and secondary toasts faded
away. The first to notice Everage had nudged their neighbors. The new
boss of the New Orleans Crime Family let the silence gather. 'Nacio
started to speak, but was silenced by a shake of Carlo's head. He waited
for someone to break the tension, hoping it would be the right one.
It was. "Hey, What's this? The plates are already cleared!" Benny
laughed as he pointed at Everage. Too late, he saw that no one else had
laughed. Indeed, no one had cracked a smile.
"That gentleman," Carlo had never used that word in conjunction with a
black before in his life; it sounded wrong, but he went on. "Is our next
order of business. "Nacio, could you introduce your friend to us now?"
Nacio was nervous, Carlo knew it. He was only a sub-capo, but had
prevailed on Marcello to hear Everage out, based on on his having done
ten years in Angola for the Family. If Nacio was right, this makakah, as
his maid in Tunisia, where he was born, had called them, this Everage
fellow was going to make his Family even more powerful.
"Mr Everage, ah,.. Samuel Everage, Mr Marcello."
Marcello waved him forward. Everage handed the box to 'Nacio as if it
was a foregone conclusion that he would take it. Nacio manged not to
drop the unexpected burden as Carlo waved Everage forward. He did so,
stopping where there would have been a lectern had this been a Chamber
of Commerce luncheon. "Thank you for making time to see me." Carlo liked
that he did not use his name nor any salutation. "Mr. Everage, for
business, one makes time. I sort of doubt, though, that you ever cleared
plates." Quiet chuckles arose from several chairs.
"Only for my Mother." Everage replied, with a look at Benny.
This was the best response Everage could have given. No one present had
ever disparaged their mothers, nor allowed anyone else to do so and live
painlessly.
"Always for your Mother!" Carlo's laugh boomed out, filling the room.
The old men from Sicily laughed with him, and the others joined in a
beat later. Everage just smiled, tapped the thick sheath of papers under
his arm.
"So, tell us what business you and we might have together." Carlo knew
the broad strokes, as told to him by 'Nacio, but the others were in the
dark. "I assume that manuscript under your arm is pertinent."
"This," he said as he dropped the bundle on the table next to the
unfortunate Benny. "is the details of Dr. Hatton's, my former boss,
entire syndicate. The businesses controlled, who runs them, the
historical earnings and prospects going forward. The politicians who are
bought, the ones who can be. The judges, mayors, councilmen on the
payroll, and the secrets that keep others off our back. It covers
Mississippi, Arkansas, and parts of Tennessee and Alabama."
"And you would sell us this business?" Sally, seated to Carlo's left
asked. He passed the mass of parework on to Carlo without looking at it.
"I would, but you don't want to buy the business." Carlo was looking at
the State Seal of Mississippi on page one of the 'Current State of
Organized Crime in the state of...'. The man was right, the information
was what was being peddled.
"What would you have us do with this information? Wait out the
inevitable roll-up by this 'Strike Force' mentioned here? Then move in,
take control, bring order back...?" This was asked from Carlo's right,
his trusted friend and best earner, Nofia.
"You could do that without this information. And you would have no
better advantage than your friends in Tampa. Or," Everage continued.
"You could let me sell this information to Trafficante. we have already
been in communication..."
"I heard about your 'communication'. Another reason we decided to listen
to you. But why in hell should we let you sell this to Santos? Why the
fuck should we let you live?" Carlo smiled. "I know you have an answer
for me."
"The raids are months away. There is currently disarray in the
Mississippi Department of Justice."
"Yes, the missing prosecutor. He is a penga, that one. Talks about me in
his speeches, insults our heritage."
"So, I talk to Tampa, say I am tired of fighting them. Truly, I cannot
win in the end. I let them buy us out. I get a half-mil from them for
the operation, a half-mil from you for the information. Then the raids
finally happen, Tampa is taken down, Mississippi is wide open, and you
have no one to share the spoils with. I can do what I say. Nacio, the
box, please."
Nacio looked from the black giant to Carlo, who nodded. He set the box
down next to the oldest of the Sicilians, a former capo headed home to
die from the cancer that was eating him. Carlo would miss this one, a
former caporegime with an impressive record of earnings and creative
problem-solving on his resume.
Carlo knew that the African had paid a hundred G's for this meeting.
"So, you bring us another gift?"
"Not a gift you will want to keep, but you may enjoy it nonetheless. It
is proof that I can do what I say."
Sylvestro was interested inspite of his non-involvement. He removed the
lid from the box, looked in. He dropped the lid on the table, and looked
in again. He turned the box slightly on its side, so the old man could
see the contents. He smiled, said something to Syvestro in the old
Sicilian dialect. "He says he thought it was maybe a cake.", Sylvestro
translated for the ones who did not speak the old tongue. He passed the
box down. Each looked in, One capo looked quizzically at the one to his
left. "è il procuratore Mississippi." Another wagged his fingers in a
mock-womanly style. "è omosessuale, quell'." All looked at Everage with
more respect. Carlo, who did not look in the box, said to Everage, "You
are correct, we do not want this on our mantle or in our den. But we do
like the thought behind your lovely gift." Everyone laughed but Benny,
whom Carlo next singled out. "Benny, don't you need to go collect from
your people? Judging by the take last month, you may be forgetting a
couple of pick-ups. Mr. Everage, take his seat, and let's figure out how
best to play this game of yours."
As Everage sat down, Benny slunk out of the room. His seat taken by a
goddam spade. Never had he been so humiliated in all his life, and now his
lifespan going out was a worry.
Carlo excused the Sicilians, Sylvestro, everyone but Sally,
Nofia, Lansky, who was already making notes in the margins of the report,
and Nacio.
"Grappa!" Carlo yelled, and a waiter appeared with a bottle. Everage
took the proffered glass. He was not going to refuse to drink with these
men.
Carlo grinned as Everaged drank. "Good Stuff, eh?" Everage managed to
say "Tasty" without choking too bad.
"Tell me, young fellow, do you smoke cigars?"
"Only Cubans, Carlo. Only Cubans."
-------------------------------
Delano had been talking for half an hour, and they had barely moved a mile.
"This Everage was a piece of work."
"That is quite the understatement, Nancy."
Delano looked out the window, and saw that on the road below, traffic
was moving smoothly. They were a car-length past an off-ramp that led to
the terminal marked 'Arrivals'. The next off-ramp was 'Departures', but it
would be an hour just getting there at this rate. That was fine for what
Delano had planned.
"Miss Nancy, I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me
today. No, don't say anything, you saved my life and..."
"And you saved both of ours at the train crossing. We're even, okay?"
"Okay, my lady. Still that does not make what I am about to do any less
rude." He saw that a semi five cars ahead of them had started to move. It
was time. He opened the door and, picking up his laptop case, stepped
out into the street.
"Delano, what are you doing? You'll get hurt!"
"Miss Nancy, I am sorry. I do trust you, but I see no need to endanger
you further by letting you know for where I am bound. Go get Jack, and
the two of you go back home." And he closed the door, turned and
walked towards the off ramp. He was out of sight in less than a minute.
Nancy pounded the steering wheel in frustration. When the cars behind
her started honking their horns, she closed the gap between her and
the next car. She had sure wanted to hear the rest of the story.
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