Authors: John Nicholas Iannuzzi
Condemned (68 page)
“Hell, I did. That was a perfectly good cigar, and I want it, Pasta Man!” He pushed his face right into Stephan's face. He laughed. “Pasta, Pasta Man,” he tried to sing to the tune of âMacho Man'.
“Here, I've got a much better cigar,” said Stephan, taking a cigar out of his shirt pocket. “A Te Amo, beautiful cigar.”
“Gimme.” Mulvehill grabbed at the cigar with a fist, cracking the thin cigar in half. “Shit. This one broke. Gimme another.”
“That's the only one I had,” said Stephan.
“Cheap fuck. Gimme a light,” Mulvehill said, putting half the cigar in his mouth. Stephan lit a match. Mulvehill puffed mightily, then puffed some more. He couldn't pull any air through the cigar. “Cheap fuck,” he repeated, taking the cigar out of his mouth and throwing it in the street.
“Don't throw it away,” said Geraghty quickly. âYou didn't bite the end of it, you dopey Irish fuck.”
“You can call me that. Not him,” Mulvehill said with a snarl toward Stephan.
“I didn't say a word,” said Stephan.
“Yes, you did, you just did. See what a dumb bastard this I-tie is?”
Becker at the curb raised his arm toward an occupied cab. The cab sped past.
“What are you doing, Chief?” Mulvehill said toward Becker. “I'll drive you home.”
Becker didn't say a word, raising his arm toward a cab with an unoccupied light on top.
“You can't drive, Pete,” said Dineen. “I'll give you both a lift.”
“I can drive,” protested Mulvehill.
“Bullshit,” said Geraghty.
The cab stopped at the curb. Becker fumbled with the door handle, opened the door. “Good night,” he said, not turning, and fell into the cab.
Geraghty began to laugh hilariously. Mulvehill gave him a stiff elbow. “Need help, Chief?”
Becker pulled himself up to the back seat and gave the driver instructions. The cab began to move away. “Good night,” said Becker to a closed window.
Two women turned a corner and were now walking on Broadway toward the group in front of the restaurant. As they saw the tottering quartet, the women's steps slowed, stepping down into the street to avoid the men.
“Don't worry, lovely lasses, we'll not hurt you,” said Geraghty with a courtly bow.
“What's this, two quiff?” said Mulvehill, spying the women. “Hey quiff, you want to play hide the weenie for ten bucks?”
“Don't pay any attention, he's had a bit too much to drink.”
“I'd never have guessed,” said one of the women.
“You don't have to worry. I'm not a drug addict. Just a drunk,” said Mulvehill. He laughed.
“We could easily become drug addicts. We have all the shit in the world back in the office. For free. Maybe you want to play hide the weenie for a bag of coke,” he said toward the women.
They walked faster, trying to get past the men.
“Sorry, ladies,” said Dineen. “He's right. He's just pleasantly a little drunk, not a dangerous drug addict.”
“You guys got some candy?” one of the women said, stopping a few feet away from the group.
“Candy?”
“Nose candy. He said you have all the stuff you want in your office,” said the second woman.
“Unfortunately, we don't,” said Geraghty. “But we'd be delighted to buy you a drink.”
“You gonna let that guy have another drink?”
“No, I'm taking him home,” said Dineen. “Come on, Pete. You go with them,” Dineen whispered to Geraghty.
Geraghty took Stephan by the elbow. “We were just heading to that lovely place down the street for a night cap,” Geraghty said to the women, approaching them.
“Hey, quiff,” Mulvehill called, “I can get you some shit if you want.”
“Come on, Pete,” said Dineen, putting an arm around Mulvehill's waist.
Mulvehill put an arm around Dineen's shoulders. “Don't you want to play hide the weenie with the girls?”
“Come on, let me get you home.”
“You guys cops or something?” one of the women said to Geraghty.
“Why do you say that?”
“That fat guy has a gun.”
“I'm with the D.E.A., he owns this place,” Geraghty said, pointing to Stephan.
“Oh, the D.E.A.,” said the other woman. “You really can get all the stuff you want. You got any on you?”
“Never touch the stuff,” said Geraghty.
“Too bad,” said the other woman. “You want a drink?” she said to her friend.
“I gotta get home to my babysitter.”
“Give her a ring,” said Stephan. “One drink.”
“Oh, okay. One. Just remember, I never kiss on a first date.” The two women began to laugh.
“Neither do I,” said Geraghty. They all laughed as they walked toward the neon lights of the next bar.
Books by John Nicholas Iannuzzi
Fiction
Condemned
J.T.
Courthouse
Sicilian Defense
Part 35
What's Happening?
Non-Fiction
Handbook of Trial Strategies
Handbook of Cross Examination
Trial: Strategy and Psychology
Cross Examination: The Mosaic Art
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2006 by John Nicholas Iannuzzi
Cover image,
New York Cityscape
, by Kurt Schumann
Cover design by Neil Heacox
Distributed by Open Road Distribution
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
