Pandemonia City

"Glad to hear from ya, ol' buddy. Case solved. The lady says she found the dingus. Just misplaced it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Sorry to put ya out of work but I'll have Accounting cut ya a check for the day's pay. Easy money anyway."

"Thanks, Rich. One thing before I let you go. Did Wright mention to you whether she bought the watch or was it a gift?"

"She never said, why?"

"Nothing important, just rank curiosity. I owe you for the referral."

"Don't mention it, just come around and buy me a drink sometime."

"Will do, partner. Be seeing you."

:.

Lady Day was singing on the radio about some good-timing man doing her wrong when I heard a knock at the outer-door and I buzzed whoever it was in. My afternoon visitors turned out to be a couple of mugs from Vinnie Sicily's crew. As is typical of men of their profession, they weren't very tall but they were broad around the shoulders and from the bulges under their jackets I could see they were all rodded up. One guy I didn't know from Adam, but the other one was Big Mouth Feroccio.

"Hello, Titan."

"Well, well, Big Mouth, as I live and breath. Early release, eh?"

"That's right, gumshoe. No thanks to ya."

"Oh, you got that right. If I'd had my druthers you'd've fried."

"Uh huh. One day ya and me'll settle up. C'mon, Let's go for a ride. Vinnie wants to see ya."

"Really? About what?"

"Ya'll find that out when ya see em."

"I'm busy. Have him give me a call."

"Get up, Titan, or we do this the hard way."

"I'd love that, Big Mouth, I really would. I always did enjoy the way you bounce when you hit the floor, but, unless your boss told you to bring me in dead I'm not going anywhere with your fat ass. Tell me where Vinnie is and I'll fly myself there."

Feroccio gave a dry laugh. "So you can tip off the cops? In your dreams, shamus. Get up."

"Stuff it. Since I'm the curious kind of guy, I'm interested in what Vinnie might want to see me about, but I'm not stupid enough to get into a boiler with you headed for parts unknown. Tell you what, I'll take your quiet girlfriend here in my machine and he can give me directions."

Feroccio scowled. I watched him sort out the pros and cons of the matter. "Alright, tough guy, have it ya way." He turned to his partner. "Go with him, Eddie."

"Right."

:.

Once in the gyro-copter the low fuel light came on and I had to fly to a station to fill up. The fifteen minutes or so of delay gave Big Mouth that much of a head start on us. I'd have preferred to've arrived at Vinnie's place before him, one less thug to factor into the equation but Life oftimes throws such curves.

I figured Quiet Eddie must weigh his words by the half-ounce because he didn't spare one but to give directions to Vinnie's place. After a twenty minute flight we arrived over the warehouse district and he directed me to land by one in particular. Once on the ground, I checked my automatic to be sure the safety was off before I slipped it back into my shoulder-holster. Then, I got out.

We walked to the warehouse door and Eddie opened it for me, I stepped in and he followed. There were half a dozen mugs loitering about, Big Mouth among them.

Now, the average mobster is concerned with one thing, money. How to get it, how to spend it, how to get more of it. Their ethic is exactly that of a so-called legitimate businessman. Violence is merely one of many tools of obtaining the lettuce. Even for a professional button man, an assassin, murder is a business, a profession. A hired killer kills for money not merely pleasure.

With Vinnie Sicily's outfit, the Moustache Pete mob, it was different. Vinnie, being a sociopath himself, tended to attract other psychopaths. For his crew violence and mayhem were ends to themselves and money a side benefit. Of all the gangs infecting Pandemonia they were the worse, man for man, and the most dangerous. Even other outfits avoided them because their wild boys' antics tended to attract too much heat.

"He's got a gat," Eddie reported.

"Nobody likes a tattle-tale," I admonished.

Big Mouth held out his pudgy hand as he approached. "Hand it over."

"Kiss my ass."

"Ya don't hand it over and ya'll be wearing ya ass for a hat."

"I already have a hat, as you can plainly see. And if you think I'm gonna give you my gun in the middle of this hood's convention you're dumber than you were before they sent you up."

"Let it go, Big." Vinnie Sicily had stepped out of a dispatcher's office out onto the warehouse floor. "Hey, Theo. Been awhile."

"Awhile, Vinnie. How's tricks?"

"Coming up sixes and sevens. You?"

"Can't complain. What's the idea of sending your girls 'round to my place in the daytime when my neighbors can see them?"

"No idea. Just wanted to talk."

"Alright, I'm here. Talk."

"Still an ornery bastard I see."

"I was never much good at self-improvement. What'd you want, Vinnie?"

"Watch how ya speak to da boss, melanzana," said Big Mouth.

I don't speak much Italian, but I do know the word for eggplant, melanzana. because of its dark purple skin it's an ethnic slur among Italians toward Black folk. "That's pretty funny coming from a sawed off grease ball like you, fatso."

"Lay off," Vinnie said. "He didn't mean nothing by it."

"The hell he didn't. Want'd you want, Vinnie?"

"Stop trying to be such a tough guy, Titan. I just wanna talk. Siddown. Have a drink."

"No thanks. Get on with it, I've got some delicates soaking back home."

He frowned. "I heard you got kicked out of the D.A.'s office."

"You heard wrong. I left the staff. I don't work for thugs, whether they call themselves District Attorneys or olive importers."

"Still cracking wise. One day somebody's gonna fix that smart mouth of yours."

"As I recall, your Uncle Paulie tried. He had a beautiful funeral."

"Yeah, I remember. I still owe you for that."

"If you owe me anything it's a thank you. My killing him made you boss of this little outfit. Paulie was begging to be put down, there was a line of guys a mile long waiting to plug him. I just put the pill in him first. But, that's ancient history. What'd you want?"

"A certain broad has you looking for a watch. It'd be better for your health if you stop looking."

"Save your threats, Vinnie. I'm off the case. The doll says she found the dingus. I've been paid off."

"Yeah? That on the square?"

"Sure, That all?"

"That's all. You know, Titan, you ain't half as tough as you think you are."

I scoffed. "Neither are you Vinnie. Neither was Paulie. You should remember that. Be seeing you." I turned to the door, my hand on the knob, then I played a hunch.

"Funny thing is, a watch matching that description was pulled off the wrist of an old Judy a couple of blocks from the opera last month. She gave the cops a pretty good description of the thief. I don't suppose you know anything about that. The opera house is in the Scaliari territory, isn't it?"

Vinnie's lips drew into a very thin line. "You was leaving, gumshoe. Why don't you walk out the door while you still can."

"Later for ya, Midnight," Big Mouth said.

I smiled. "Midnight. You know that's funny, too. You're a real comedian, Big Mouth. Reminds me of a joke I heard once about Italian cars. They go up-hill, they go down-hill and when they hit a hole they go wop, wop, wop."

I was ready for the punch when Big Mouth threw it. I stepped away from it then went under his open guard and punched him hard in his expansive gut. I've always found it advantageous to hit a guy in the breadbasket if possible, it saves a world of wear and tear on the knuckles. As he woofed and bent over he ralphed up what looked like a lunch of pasta and chicken. It was hard to tell. As the vomit splattered down on the concrete floor, I grabbed him by the collar and pulled his gun from his waistband, clicking off the safety.

"Whoa, ho-ho," I said, seeing the rest of Vinnie's gang leveling their artillery in my general direction. I put the muzzle of Big Mouth's gun to his temple. "Looks like everybody's got a heater. But, no matter how this ends, Mr. Personality here gets it first. Your call, Vinnie."

"Put 'em away, boys." His troopers reluctantly obeyed.

"Excellent choice," I said, shoving Big Mouth away from me across the warehouse floor and throwing his gun after him. "Be seeing you boys. Ciao." And, I walked out the door laughing.

:.

Part 2

It was around sundown, subdued light of brass and orange and gold was shafting through the grimy office windows and slat blinds, when I heard the hall door open and close before there was a knock at my inner-office door.

"Come," I said, sliding open the desk's top drawer where I kept my extra automatic. Dealing with gangsters had brought out the cautious side of my nature. And, for all I knew, it might've been Big Mouth wanting reimbursement for his lost lunch.

The door opened, revealing Claudia Storm. She looked even better the second time around. Her skirt suit was a tailored number of mourning-dove gray suede, detailed with black velvet at the lapels and cuffs. A hat of the same color scheme was set aslant on her head, dark red hair tumbled from under it to her padded shoulders. Her shapely legs were encased in silk stockings rather than nylon. Her handbag and high heels matched her suit.

I smiled, I couldn't help it, and stood up behind the desk.

"Damn you know how to light up a room."

She lingered there in the doorway, one hand on her hip, and slowly grinned. "Why sir, you'll turn a girl's head."

I gestured to the chair in front of the desk. "Come on in, gorgeous. Have a seat."

"Thanks." She moved with easy grace into the room and sat prettily on the chair. All woman.

"Have a drink?"

"What've you got?"

"Some half decent brandy."

"Sure."

I got out the desk bottle and luckily had a clean glass in addition to my usual one, which I never bothered to rinse, given the fuzzy logic that booze is a sterilizer. I poured and pushed her glass across the desktop.

"Cheers," I said in a toast.

"Happy days," she rejoined. We drank. Or, rather, I swallowed all of mine and she took a delicate sip of hers.

"So, what brings an angel like you all the way cross town into this poor sinner's life?"

She smiled again and I felt my balls roll gently in their sac.

"The other night I told some tales out of school about Johnnie. I'd just as soon you forget I mentioned it. Johnnie's a sweetheart and he's the real thing. He's being scouted by Hollywood. He can make the big time and I'd hate to be the one who nixes it for him."

"Don't worry about it. Thurman tells me the dragon lady found the watch. Says she misplaced it. So, like the Bard said, all's well that ends well."

Storm narrowed her golden eyes. "She found it?"

"That's the story, morning glory."

"Hmm. Well, okay. Good, then. You're right. All's well that ends well." She looked around the office. "So this is it, huh? A little low-rent, don't you think?"

"I'm a low-rent kind of guy."

"Hey, don't get grouchy. Sometimes my mouth runs off before my brain catches up with it. I don't mean anything by it."

I smiled to show no hard feelings. "Yeah, I share the same affliction."

"You're sweet to say so. How about if I treat you to dinner."

I gave it some thought, for about a half-second. "Sure." I wasn't the kind of guy who got invited to meals with drop dead gorgeous women everyday of the week. "C'mon," I said, grabbing my hat. "I know a place."

:.

We ate Chinese take-out from Hong Kong Junk's. We were seated at a table on the bottom of the drained swimming pool in my penthouse, while Ella cooed young love for sale on the phonograph. The pool's lights were the only illumination in the large room. Beyond the floor to ceiling windows the gap-tooth skyscape of the city glittered against the dark of night.

I waited until Claudia swallowed a bite of pot-sticker before I spoke.

"Tell me something. Did Tessa Wright ever mention to you whether she bought the watch or if it was a gift?"

She blew air through pursed lips. "It was a gift all right. When she first started wearing it she wouldn't shut up about how it came from a wealthy admirer. Why? You said she'd found it. Aren't you off the case?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm off the payroll but my brain's still on it, if you know what I mean. Just wondering."

"I suppose I can understand that. What I don't understand is how a man can have a penthouse apartment with a pool that has no water in it and half the rooms are barely furnished."

I shrugged. "The office and apartment were a package deal. This isn't the safest neighborhood in town anymore, so rent's pretty cheap. Also, I'm hardly ever home and I can't swim."

"Can't swim? Why don't you know how to swim?"

"Because I never learned how."

"Well, its such a sad sight to see an empty pool. If I were you I'd fill it."

"If you were me you wouldn't know how to swim so what would be the point?"

"For when company comes over. You never know someone might want to go skinny-dipping."

"Is that a request?"

"Yeah, I guess it is. What'd you think?"

"I think you can beg better than that."

She gave a smirk of a smile. "Ah. And I suppose you want me on my knees."

"That would be a mark in your favor," I said with a straight face.

She gave a derisive laugh, tossing her fiery red mane. "You think a lot of yourself."

"That's besides the point. I'm not the one who wants the pool filled."

"Let me guess, you're a Dominant."

"Right on the first try."

"Too bad for you I'm not a submissive."

"Far as you know. Could be you've just never had a man who knows how to break you."

"I don't need breaking."

"No, you need water in the pool so you can go swimming naked and show off that gorgeous body. Now you know how I expect you to ask for permission. The only question is how badly you want that swim."

"You are the most arrogant man I've met and I've met some doozies."

"Thank you."

"Oh my god, and he takes that as a compliment."

I smiled and chewed on a couple of forkfuls of stir-fried rice before I spoke again. "So, what'd you do with the dingus? I'm betting you threw it into the first sewer grate you came across last night after you left the Palace. I can't see you keeping it, you just wanted to deprive her of it. Am I right?"

Her eyes widened and she nearly choked on the rest of her pot-sticker. Once she cleared her throat her normally husky voice squeaked. "What?"

"You heard me. I should've suspected you then and there but, frankly, you dazzled me. But, you gave yourself away up in the office. The way you reacted to hearing that Wright claimed she found the watch because you knew damn well she hadn't."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. You didn't come over here to polish up Romano's image. You wanted to see if you were a suspect. It's a classic criminal blunder. Knowing you're guilty, you never stop committing the crime in your mind. So, you begin giving yourself away."

Her eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. "Suddenly, you bore me, Mr. Titan. I think its time I left."

"That's just fine. Your secret's safe with me. Nice having you over. Remember what I said about filling the pool."

"Don't hold your breath, buster." She stood, then angrily climbed the ladder out of the pool and quickly thereby vacated the premises.

:.

In the morning, a man in a very good suit was waiting outside my office.

I'm a connoisseur of clothes, of sorts. It's the only thing I really invest money on. I figured the guy was wearing about a thousand dollars worth of Italian designed silk/wool blend. And his calf's skin shoes were easily five-hundred bucks. A high roller with taste.

"Mr. Titan, I presume."

"Most of the time. And who might you be?"

"My name is Joseph Getti. I work for Mr. Frank Scaliari."

That explained the good suit and shoes.

Francis Salvador Scaliari was the boss of bosses of Organized Crime, the national chairman of the Syndicate. Not a cargo net was offloaded on the docks of Pandemonia that he didn't get a percentage of its goods, not a garbage truck rolled down the City's streets that he didn't get some profit of its business, not a stitch was sewn in the Garment District nor a brick mortared on brick in the construction trade that his coffers weren't enriched by it. In his young Turk days he was called Bullet-proof Scaliari because he survived three hits by rival bosses without a scratch. These days, everybody called him sir.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Getti?" I asked with honest interest.

"My employer would like to see you."

"Alright." You accept the invitation when royalty invites you.

Once up on the roof, I saw that Getti's gyro was just as high-end as his suit. He opened the door and gestured me into the machine first. He was a suave sonofabitch, I had to grant him that. I climbed into the limo and my ass sank into the supple leather cushion of the seat.

"Would you like a drink?"

"No, thanks."

As we flew over the City the pilot kept well clear of the other airships, heli, gyro, dirigibles and the like. Getti maintained a pleasant professional smile, not attempting to force conversation. I looked out the window at the buildings and streets passing below, speculating what the boss of bosses could possibly want with me.

Less than a quarter-hour later, the machine began to descend toward a large walled estate and landed in the midst of a manicured emerald lawn. Getti and I stepped out. He lead me across the grass and to the front door of the house. A couple of mugs stood sentry in the front hall and I surrendered my gun to one of them, but still had to suffer a body frisk. Deemed safe enough, I again followed Getti and was finally conducted into the presence of Don Scaliari.

The old man sat in a chair. It was the face familiar to me from a dozen magazine articles and newsreels about the first generation mob. The aged kingpin looked like someone's kindly grandfather, dressed dapper in a suit which had been in fashion around the turn of the century.

Scaliari gestured toward an overstuffed armchair. I sat.

"What will you have to drink, Mr. Titan?" His manners were Old World and his voice measured.

"I'll have a brandy, if its not too much trouble, sir."

"No trouble at all."

The servant was quick, quiet, and efficient. After bringing me the brandy in a snifter he retreated from the study.

"It's my understanding that you're looking for a ladies' gold watch."

"No sir, not anymore. She said she found it."

The old man nodded. "How's the brandy?"

I took a sip. Nodded. It was much better than the stuff I could afford. "Excellent."

"She's gone missing," the old man said.

"Sir?"

"The tramp. She left the radio station last night and no one's seen or heard from her since."

I didn't waste my breath asking how he knew that.

"Do you have children, Mr. Titan?"

I blinked at the non sequitur. "No sir. I've been a bachelor all my life."

"Not being married doesn't prevent you from having sired, but I congratulate you on your caution and morality. However, I'd urge you to start a family. Children fill out a man in ways you can't imagine. God has seen fit to gift me with three daughters, unfortunately, no sons. But, I gladly count my blessings. My little girls are the joy of my life. They are my life.

"Still, a man naturally yearns for a masculine child to carry on his name. Lacking a son, I've fulfilled the yearning by, well, adopting one, Johnnie Romano. Oh, I don't mean legally, but I've taken him into my heart and treated him as if he sprang from my loins. In my mind, he is my son. You understand, yes?"

"Yes sir, I believe I do."

"Excellent. A man will do much to protect his son, Mr. Titan. This whore, this Wright woman, she's no good for Johnnie. He tells me there is nothing serious between them and I believe that, but associating with her even platonically is no good for his reputation. She's a cheap gold-digger, trouble in a skirt. A woman like that is doomed to meet a bad end and I don't wish her troubles to become Johnnie's. He's about to become a big star, which is his dream. And his dreams are my dreams. They want him in the moving pictures and I intend to see that happens. A father naturally wants to see his son attain his dream, yes?"