Secrets & Lies (41 page)

“Yeah?”

“The income we get for the counterfeit money helps pay for the weapons coming from overseas. That operation will continue. We agree to let you distribute the higher denominations at a 70/30 split. If the war between you and Los Serpientes ends tonight, we will resume the gun sales to you. However, you must deal with our Latin friends here and sell them whatever weapons they desire at your cost. We want to keep our funnel flowing into one receptacle only, and that's you, Bryson. The Heathens. You've done well selling the arms
to other organizations who then distribute them around the country. We won't sell directly to anyone else, not even Los Serpientes, but
you
will. At no profit.”

“Wait a minute—” Bryson said, starting to stand.

“Shut up and sit down!” He did.

“That's not negotiable. Finally, the Heathens will
not
utilize Los Serpientes's routes to Mexico,
except
through Texas.” Casazza looked at the cowboy, who nodded approval. “
But
, Los Serpientes will pay the Heathens fifteen percent of their earnings from all sales south of the border.”

Bryson looked confused. “We can't go to Mexico from California or Arizona or New Mexico, but we
can
through Texas?”

Bartlett stood. “If I may, Sal?”

“Sure, Ricky,” Casazza said. “Go ahead.”

The cowboy addressed Bryson. “The routes
must
go through Odessa. We're backing a good percentage of this operation, so we'll be getting extra shipments of both guns and counterfeit dough for our purposes in Texas and the Deep South, and the Heathens are going to deliver them. In exchange, you'll get a whopping twenty-five percent of what we move.”

That seemed to satisfy Bryson. He folded his arms and sat back in his chair, as did Bartlett.

So Ricky Bartlett was from Odessa, Texas! I figured he must be a big shot with the Dixie Mafia.

Casazza continued. “In addition, regarding deaths of members and destruction of property, both the Heathens and Los Serpientes will call it even. There will be no retaliation for what has gone on prior to this day. Are we agreed?”

Silence. After a few seconds, Bryson stood and asked, “What about the Black Stiletto?”

Casazza nodded. “She has indeed caused a lot of trouble for our businesses. You have Mr. DeAngelo's permission to kill her on sight. The Black Stiletto is a dead woman.”

That
didn't make me feel too good.

“So are we all agreed?” Casazza asked again.

Bryson looked over at Gabriel, who stood. They both walked to the center—and shook hands. Everyone applauded.

The meeting broke up. Everyone dispersed. Leo left with Casazza.

I waited until everyone was gone before slipping out the window and climbing down the drainpipe. By the time I got home it was 4:00 in the morning. I couldn't sleep. Now it's 7:00. I'll wait an hour and call Barry to tell him what I learned.

Then I'm going to get out my road map and drive to Las Vegas. It's a six- or seven-hour drive. Vince DeAngelo is going to have an uninvited guest at his New Year's Eve party.

I can't wait to confront Leo and tell him what a lowlife he is. Such betrayal. Such lies. All along he was a
criminal
. I should have trusted my very first instincts, and Lucy's, too! The bastard. I hate him. I hate him.
I hate him
.

There will indeed be fireworks tonight. Wish me luck, dear diary.

T
HE
P
AST

I was a little nervous about tonight, even though everything was in place and ready to go. The party would start at eight, the fireworks at midnight, of course. Apparently the soiree would be limited to a hundred people, tops, as DeAngelo wanted to keep it more “intimate.” It'd be mostly family and close friends and a few business associates. That was good.

I knew what we were doing was a risk. A goddamned big one. If we failed, we'd be dead. If we succeeded, then we'd be set for life. Christina thought it would work. She was confident it was a good plan. She was excited about it. When it's all over I'd be in a strong position within DeAngelo's organization. If only Paulie would slip on a banana peel and break his neck, then who knows?—I could be running the business sooner rather than later.

Christ, I can't believe I'm gonna do what I'm about to do. Especially, after last night. That rattled me. I hadn't expected Sal to hand me that gun to whack those two goddamned traitors. But I did it. I didn't hesitate. I had to do it. I was family now, as well as part of the Family with a capital F. It was the only way I could gain respect. And tonight was how I was going to return it.

It had to work. Or I was a dead man.

It was one hell of a week. On Christmas Day, I got married to
Maria. She looked beautiful in her white satin wedding dress. 'Course, she ain't no virgin, but we were all Catholics, so what the hey. It was a real nice ceremony, too. My best man was Boone, because I didn't have anyone else to ask. I had approached Charlie, but he acted all huffy and said I treated Judy badly. Yeah, I know, but I'll come to that in a minute. Maria didn't ask Christina to be in the bridal party, which didn't make me too happy, but I could live with it. Christina didn't give a shit. She hated weddings. Maria's maid of honor was that cousin of hers from Santa Monica. There were about fifty people in attendance.

It damned near didn't happen! Maria found out about Judy, and it wasn't pretty. We had a huge fight and she spent a day crying in her room, but then we made up and she forgave me, mainly because I think she didn't want to go through the embarrassment of canceling the wedding. Some asshole bitch friend of Maria's in Hollywood told her. She had heard the skinny from someone at Flickers that I'd been seeing Judy. When Maria confronted me about it, I told her, yeah, I
had
been seeing Judy Cooper, but that was over and I hadn't seen her in weeks. Maria wanted to know if I'd slept with her, and I was honest and admitted I had. That's when Maria got all upset. The next day, though, Maria asked me if I loved
her
and I answered, “Yes.” Then she told me that if my fling with “that whore” was truly over, then the wedding was still on.

I'd bet Maria told her daddy about it. It's probably why DeAngelo ordered Casazza to make me pull the trigger on those two bastards last night. I'm glad I stepped up to the plate and handled it like a man. At least now the war between the Heathens and Los Serpientes would be over, and business would be back to normal. We were producing counterfeit dough now like chickens laid eggs. It was going to be very lucrative, now that our deal with the Texans was solidified. Everything would be great as long as the cops and the Black Stiletto stayed out of my hair. And I'd be dealing with her shortly too.

So we got married. I was mostly interested in my father-in-law's gifts. Maria's daddy gave her the Florentine Diamond for Christmas, just as he said he would. He'd had it set and put on a silver chain to wear as a necklace. My God, it was beautiful. And worth a fortune. I asked her to wear it tonight at the party. Vince gave me fifty percent of the new casino he was going to start building this year, plus the hundred grand he promised. With his connections to “investment advisors,” I wouldn't have to pay any taxes on the cash. I was learning all kinds of things about hiding income from the government.

But all that for what price? I knew I didn't want to actually be married to Maria. I'd known it all along. She was a spoiled, snobby, rich daddy's girl before the marriage, and she remained a spoiled, snobby, rich daddy's girl afterward. She refused to move out of the ranch house. I had to live with my in-laws! Sure, it was a nice place, it was a mansion, and we had servants and luxury, but it wasn't my idea of how I wanted to live. And, besides, I couldn't abandon Christina. When I brought up the subject of Christina moving into the ranch, too, Maria was dead set against it. As far as Maria was concerned, Christina was beneath us. It's gotten to where I can't stand my new wife, no matter how gorgeous she is. The marriage wasn't a week old and already the situation was driving me crazy.

I missed and wanted Judy.

I'd foreseen all of this. It's why I've been planning tonight's job for months. Some people were going to get hurt, no question about it, but it had to be done. Beginning January 1, 1962, it was going to be very different around here.

I wanted to somehow convey the message to Judy that I would return to her in the future. I went to see her, even though I was a married man by then. I thought—screw it, lots of guys had candy on the side. Judy and I had a fantastic night together; the sex was as good as it got, even though she was mad at me for being “missing in action,” as she called it. But the next morning, I had to tell her the truth—that I couldn't be with her for a while. I didn't admit I was
married
, I'm not that dumb, but I supposed I felt a little bad that I wasn't telling her everything. The main thing was that I
would
be back, if she'd have me. That wasn't a guarantee. Judy was the type of girl who might hold a grudge. And if that was the case, well, there were other fish in the sea.

Now, for tonight.

I was a little nervous.

T
HE
P
RESENT

Dad and I flew home last night and took a cab to his place. Maggie came over and I went and stayed at Mom's house, but this morning I drove one of her spare cars, a VW, back to Dad's so we could have breakfast together and then go see Grandma Judy at the nursing home. Dad wanted to drive his own car, but Maggie didn't think that was a good idea just yet. He kept whispering that he was fine, that the only thing wrong with him was that he sounded funny and it was still uncomfortable for him swallow. He joked that now he could go on that diet he always wanted to do but never could manage.

We got to Woodlands—Maggie drove her car separately—and the three of us went to Grandma's room. They'd already dressed her and she had finished breakfast. She sat in the rocking chair she liked so much, and someone had put on a CD of Elvis music for her. When we walked in, she was rocking with her eyes closed, dreaming away to the music with a slight smile on her face. She looked peaceful and happy. Many times when I first walked in the room, she appeared old and sad, but usually she lit up when she saw me.

“Hi, Grandma!”

That startled her and she flinched. But then she recognized me and grinned widely and held out her arms. I went over to her, bent over, and gave her a big hug and kissed her cheek. “Mmm, you smell nice, Grandma.”

“They gave her a bath and shampooed her hair yesterday in anticipation of your arrival,” Maggie said.

“Hi, Mom,” my dad said as best as he could. Grandma Judy looked up at him and her brow wrinkled. “It's me, Martin.”

“That's my dad, Grandma,” I reminded her. “He sounds funny, doesn't he?”

There was authentic concern in her expression. “What … what …” she tried to say, not quite knowing how to express it.

“What's the matter?” I prompted.

“What's the matter?” she mimicked.

Dad pointed to the bandage on his neck. It was smaller now, not so scary-looking. “I had an injury to my throat, Mom. I'm okay. I'll be hoarse for a while, that's all. It'll get better with time. How are you doing?”

“What?”

“How are you doing?” I repeated.

“Oh, okay. I was—” She looked over at the boom box and struggled for the words.

“Listening to your favorite music. I know!”

She beamed.

“Who is it, Mom?” Dad asked. “Who's singing?”

She thought for a moment, blinked, and then answered, “Elvis.”

“That's right!” I said. We all looked at each other and smiled. Dad had told me she'd taken a turn for the worse, but it seemed to me she was doing just fine. “I'm going to turn him down a little so we can talk.”