The Iceman (15 page)

But Louis Masgay did not return home that night, and his wife started to worry. This was unusual for him. He always let her know if he was going to be staying away overnight so she’d know where he’d be. By midnight Mrs. Masgay had called the Forty Fort police and filed a missing persons report with Detective Henry Winters. Detective Winters asked Mrs. Masgay and her son to try to remember as many details as they could, what Mr. Masgay had said before he left, where he was going, whom he was going to see, how he appeared at the diner in New Jersey, what his mood was—anything they could think of. The next morning Detective Winters contacted the Bergen County Sheriff’s Department in New Jersey and notified them that Louis Masgay was last seen in their jurisdiction.

Several days later Detective Winters learned that Louis Masgay’s
black 1980 Ford Carry Van had been found abandoned on Route 17 North in Rochelle Park, Bergen County, New Jersey. It was found on a narrow stretch of the highway where there is no shoulder, and the van was blocking the right lane of traffic. The cab was locked, and the police had to break in to move it. They found that the primary gas tank was empty, but the secondary tank was full, leading them to suspect that whoever was driving the van did not know how to engage the reserve tank. A hidden compartment in the driver’s side door was also discovered, but it was empty.

Detective Winters pursued the case for more than two years with little satisfaction. At times he felt that the authorities in New Jersey just weren’t very interested in pursuing the case of Louis Masgay. Except for the Masgay family and Detective Winters, no one seemed to care about the missing man.

Then, in September 1983, a body was found in a wooded area off Causeland Mountain Road in Orangetown, New York, three miles north of the New Jersey border. The body was taken to the Office of the Rockland County Medical Examiner, where the chief ME, Dr. Frederick Zugibe, performed the autopsy.

The body had been carefully trussed with tape and then wrapped in fifteen to twenty plastic garbage bags, a task that must have taken some time and effort, Dr. Zugibe noted. One arm was taped to the body, but the other had apparently come loose during the wrapping. This hand was less protected than the other, and it had dried out. In effect, the hand was mummified.

As the final layer of plastic was removed, Dr. Zugibe saw that decomposition had begun and that the flesh was greasy. The color of the man’s skin was putty beige. There was a single bullet wound in the back of the head. The contorted, openmouthed expression on the face was similar to that of the famous woodcut by Edvard Munch entitled
The Shriek
.

When he opened up the body, Dr. Zugibe noticed something very peculiar. The organs were fresh. Decomposition had started
from the outside, which is the reverse of the normal process. Checking the heart muscle, he discovered ice crystal artifacts, which supported his immediate suspicion that the body had been frozen, perhaps by a killer whose intention was to disguise the time of death. Had the murderer let the body thaw out completely before he dumped it, the time of death might have been completely disguised and Dr. Zugibe probably would have concluded that this was a recent killing. The problem was the killer had been too meticulous with his wrapping. The layers of plastic had insulated the body and kept it cold longer than he expected.

By soaking the mummified hand in water and glycerine, Dr. Zugibe was able to rehydrate the fingers and take prints. The fingerprints identified the body as that of Louis L. Masgay.

When Detective Winters arrived at the Rockland County ME’s Office to inspect Louis Masgay’s body, he discovered something very odd among his personal effects: his clothes. They were the same clothes Masgay’s wife and son had said he was wearing on the day he disappeared, two years and two months before. Louis Masgay had apparently been murdered the day he left his home with a hundred thousand dollars in cash, and his body had been kept frozen all that time. Frozen solid.

Detective Winters could only shake his head in disbelief. What the hell kind of monster could kill a man, then keep him in a freezer for two years? It was beyond comprehension. He stared down at the clothes in their plastic evidence bags and just shook his head.

He asked a lab tech who happened to be passing by if there was a phone he could use. He figured he’d better tell the Bergen County Sheriff’s Department about this. Maybe those guys down in Jersey would sit up and pay some attention now. Maybe they’d go have another little talk with this guy Masgay was supposed to have been going to see to buy videotapes that day, Mr. Richard Kuklinski.

John Sposato ran his fingers through his greasy, shoulder-length hair and looked at his watch again. “Why isn’t he calling back, Rich? We gonna wait here all day?”

Richard Kuklinski looked up at the sky. He was leaning against the fender of his white Cadillac in a supermarket parking lot in Millville, New Jersey, sipping coffee from a styrofoam cup. A flock of honking Canada geese flew overhead in a V formation. He didn’t answer until the geese had passed and couldn’t be heard anymore. “Don’t worry. He’ll call.”

Sposato started pacing in front of the phone booth. He’d already shredded his coffee cup, and the pieces were all over the ground. “I’m gonna get something to eat,” Sposato suddenly said, and he started toward the supermarket. “I’ll be right back.”

Kuklinski caught his eye, and Sposato froze. He didn’t have to say a thing.

“This is nuts, Rich. The guy is bullshit. He ain’t calling back.”

Kuklinski muttered behind his coffee cup. “Dominick is not bullshit.”

“Then why ain’t he calling?”

“He must be tied up.”

“Tied up with what? This is bullshit. The guy’s yanking your chain, Rich.”

Kuklinski just stared at him. Sposato blinked and had to look away.

“He’s not bullshit, John. You know ‘the store’? Dominick walked in there one day with two hundred grand in cash. Lenny DePrima saw it. Dominick is for real.”

“Okay, so he’s for real. But he ain’t calling us back, so what’s the point?”

“It’s not worth waiting a few more minutes for a half million bucks?”

“C’mon, Rich—”

“No, John, you c’mon. The guy wants all kinds of guns and shit. Last time I talked to him he told me he’s buying for some broad in New York who’s with the Irish Republican Army. They want big stuff, a big order. I’ve already told you all this, John. You don’t listen.”

“No, Rich, that’s not true. I do listen. I do.”

“Then you don’t listen the right way. You only hear what you wanna hear. That’s your whole problem.”

John Sposato shook his head, but he wouldn’t look Kuklinski in the eye. “That’s not true, Rich.”

Kuklinski grinned behind his coffee cup. He knew Sposato was thinking about what had happened after he’d made the mistake of going to his house with the two Puerto Ricans that time. He knew not to cross Richard Kuklinski again.

“You really think he’ll come up with that much cash, Rich?”

Kuklinski shrugged. “We won’t find out unless we try.”

“Yeah, but—”

Kuklinski closed his eyes and shook his head, and Sposato stopped talking. “Listen to me, John. Do what I tell you, and this’ll work out nice for the both of us. When Dominick calls, I’ll give him to you. I’ll tell him your name is Tim. Okay? That’s all he
needs to know. You tell him about all the guns you can get for him. Don’t tell him you can get him everything he wants because then he’ll start to think
you’re
bullshit. Make it sound real, but keep him interested. Give him all that NATO jazz, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know what you mean.”

“We’ll get him a sample of something, something small, anything, just something to show him we’re for real. Then we set up the big deal, tell him to bring cash. We’ll do it down in Delaware, at the warehouse. When Dom’s not looking, we shoot him in the head, take his money, and then dump him. The more we get, the more we split. Simple as that.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Believe me. Just keep it simple, and it’ll all work out. I’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, I know. You told me.… Okay. We’ll see what happens.”

Sposato was nodding, looking at the ground. He was finally coming around. Kuklinski could tell. He’d seen it happen before with plenty of other guys, and it always amazed him when it did. People believe what they want to believe. It’s human nature. Sposato really wanted to believe that Kuklinski was letting him in on his plan to rip off Dominick Provenzano. It was amazing how stupid people get when it comes to money.

“You know, Rich, I was thinking—”

The pay phone started to ring, and Sposato jumped.

Kuklinski grinned as he got off the car and went to the booth. “There he is. You ready, John? You know what to say?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ’head. Answer it.”

“Take it easy. I got it.” Kuklinski reached into the booth and answered the phone. “Hello. Dom?”

“Rich?”

“Yeah. How ya doin’?”

“All right. How about yourself?”

“I’m okay.”

“Where are you? Down south?”

“Yeah, I’m in south Jersey. Listen, I have a fella here with me who will tell you all about the product they have here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“His name is Tim.”

“Tim?”

“Right. And I told him your name is Dom. All right?”

“Okay, fine.”

“Hold on.”

Kuklinski stepped out of the booth and handed the phone to Sposato. Kuklinski went back to the Cadillac and leaned on the fender, crossing his arms over his chest and listening to “Tim” make his pitch.

“Twenty-millimeter? Yeah, sure, I got some. I got a million two hundred rounds, twelve lengths. I got four hundred thousand rounds, fourteen lengths. That’s hermetically sealed, electric primers. NATO stuff … You need C-4?” Sposato glanced out at Kuklinski. “No, I don’t have any right now.”

Kuklinski nodded to him. He was doing okay.

“Machine guns? Maybe. Someone’s making me an offer right now, but it’ll be a couple of weeks before I can check this stuff out, so I don’t want to make you any promises until I know the merchandise is good.…”

Kuklinski looked up at the sky and watched a cloud passing in front of the sun as he listened to Sposato telling Dom about all kinds of military arms he had access to, telling him how he did business, telling him that he required a 30 percent deposit on all deals, telling him that yes, he could also get him small handguns fitted with the “quiet things,” silencers. Sposato had a good line of shit. He looked like a pig, but if you didn’t have to see him, he could sound very knowledgeable, almost like a Harvard grad. He was a clever guy, no doubt about that. But not quite clever enough for Richard Kuklinski.

Just like everybody else in the world, John Sposato was greedy,
and his greed was going to be his downfall. Kuklinski knew that in his mind Sposato already had the money spent that they were going to take from Dominick. But that’s just the way some people are. Money makes them stupid.

Richard Kuklinski shaded his eyes as the sun started to beam through the wispy ends of the passing cloud. When the time came, and he put a couple of slugs into Dominick’s head, Sposato would be jumping out of his skin, his eyes bugging out, thinking about all that money they were taking. But Kuklinski couldn’t wait to see Sposato’s fat face when he turned the gun on him and put a few slugs into
his
head. Two birds with one stone. Dump the two of them and the whole kitty would be his. Could be as much as five hundred grand. Not too bad. It would be the biggest score he’d ever pulled off by himself. Not bad at all.

“Hey, Rich. Rich.” Sposato had his hand over the mouthpiece. “He wants to talk to you.”

Kuklinski took the phone and exchanged places with Sposato in the booth. “Hi. Dom?”

“Hey, Rich, I told Tim what I needed. Now tell me the truth. Is this guy gonna deliver? I don’t wanna hear a lotta promises, then get a lotta excuses down the line. You know what I’m saying?”

“You don’t have to worry, Dom. If he says he can get you something, he’ll get it. If he can’t, he’ll be straight with you.”

“All right. I don’t wanna end up looking bad on this. My IRA girl, she looks like a schoolteacher, but she can be a real ball-buster. You disappoint her once, that’s it, no second chances. She’ll find somebody else. And I’m telling you, she’s one customer I do not want to lose. You understand me?”

“I hear you, Dom. I hear you.”

“Now I understand that Tim’s got all his heavy stuff in the Mediterranean, so it’s gonna take some time to get us some samples. But let’s keep my girl happy, okay? Get me some silencers so I can show her something. Just something I can show. I’ll pay you for it—don’t worry about that. But just get me something.”

“Did Tim tell you he had silencers available?”

“Yeah.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t worry about it. We’ll get you something as soon as we can.”

“Okay, but don’t make me wait. I’m telling you. We can both make a lotta money off this broad. Let’s not screw it up. Okay?”

“I hear you. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, Rich, let’s stay in touch—”

“Say, Dom, you didn’t get any word on that stuff I was looking for. You know what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah, I know. I talked to my people, but they’re all nervous about this Lipton soup thing.”

“Why? That was a couple of weeks ago.”

“They heard that there’s a lot of federal people going around asking questions about all that shit. Now I know they got a chemist who gets that stuff for them, but like I said, they’re all nervous. I got stuff like that from these people before for other customers of mine, so I’m pretty sure they can get it. They just wanna wait till this Lipton soup thing cools down before they’ll give it to me. In the meantime, I’ll get you the other stuff, the—you’re on a pay phone, right?”

“Yeah, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, of course. Now the coke I can get you, but the other stuff, the cyanide, you gotta be careful because, you know, I don’t know how you fucking want to use it. But that’s your business, Rich. I’m not asking.”