Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2) (25 page)

***

Egan and his crew
started to leave. His V.P. opened the door first and the squeak of rusty hinges
was followed by a deafening boom. The man fell backwards into the room, holding
his midsection and screaming. Blood saturated his shirt and started collecting
beneath his writhing body, mixing with the dirt on the floor. His legs were in
the doorway, preventing the door from closing and more bullets came at us
through the opening. We all scattered, diving to the floor to avoid being hit.
Egan crawled over and pulled his friend out of the way, kicking the door shut.
Bullets hit the metal, but didn’t penetrate. This reprieve gave us time to
regroup and start yelling accusations at each other.

           
“Is this a fucking trap, Grabano?” Egan yelled. His hands
were covered in blood as he put pressure on his friend’s wound. The guy had
stopped moving and had grown quiet. Judging by the gray pallor of his skin, I
knew he was going to be dead soon, if he wasn’t already.

           
“No it’s not a trap.” I ran up to one of the windows and
peered through the dirt. Big Tone and Little Tone were in the parking lot,
flanked by Telly’s brother, Salvatore, and Ronnie, one of Marco’s loyalists.
Big Tone raised his shotgun and fired, shattering the glass, missing my head by
inches. I dropped down to a crouch and frog walked over to Grant and Dante who
were shielding Miranda. When I told them who was firing on us, Miranda let out
a slew of expletives. The shooting stopped and minutes of silence ticked by. I
crawled back over to the window and quickly popped my head up. They were gone,
but I heard sirens in the distance heading our way.

           
“Those were some of Marco’s men shooting at us just now.
It’s an internal problem that will end tonight. It won’t affect our agreement,”
I said to the other leaders. Egan grunted and looked down at his man who had
indeed died. Grant and I helped carry the corpse out to Egan’s Camaro. He
popped the trunk and we laid his friend inside on top of an old army green
blanket that was riddled with holes and rust colored stains. “I’m sorry, man.
If you want a shot at Big Tone, you got it.”

           
“Yeah, I do.” Egan cracked his knuckles. “Call me when
you have him.”

We all left before the
cops arrived. Miranda climbed into the backseat behind Grant to ride with us.
“So, sounds like we have some issues to resolve,” she said.

           
“Yeah and I know who we need to talk to.” I turned onto
Broad Street and started heading towards South Philly.

Salvatore tried to run,
but he didn’t have anywhere to go. Grant kicked in the front door to Sal’s
apartment and we followed him inside. Salvatore ran from the living room down
the hall towards the bathroom and I followed. He tried to close the bathroom
door on my face, but I slammed it open with my shoulder. Sal turned, backing up
until his calves brushed against the edge of the bathtub.
 
A clear plastic shower curtain decorated with
brightly colored tropical fish rippled behind him.

           
“Dom, I’m sorry! It was Big Tone’s idea. We didn’t mean
to shoot nobody. We was only sending a message.” Sal held his hand out towards
me as he pleaded for forgiveness. I didn’t enjoy killing, but knew this had to
be done.

           
“Oh yeah, well I have a message too.”
 
Raising my gun, I put a bullet in his
forehead. Blood and brains exploded onto the shower curtain before he slumped
backwards and slid into the tub, taking the curtain with him. Part of it folded
over Sal like a blanket. I turned to leave only to find Grant and Miranda
crowding the doorway. Miranda was looking everywhere except the dead body in
the bathtub and seemed particularly interested in the green hand towel hanging
from a brass ring next to the sink.

           
“You good?” Grant asked.

           
“Yeah, that’s one down.” The prospect of hunting down
Maurice, Little Tone and Big Tone just made me feel bone tired, but I knew it
needed to be done. Leaving the carnage behind, I followed Grant and Miranda out
of the apartment. We passed a few people on the street, but they knew well
enough to keep their heads down and eyes averted.

We spent the rest of
the day looking for the other three loyalists. Maurice was easy to find holed
up in the corner bar at the end of his block. He was well on his way to
blackout drunk when Grant yanked him off the bar stool by his neck and dragged
him into the alley behind the bar. No one interfered and right before the back
door slammed shut behind us, I saw the bartender clear away Maurice’s glass;
even he knew the chances of Maurice coming back to finish his drink were
nonexistent.

Big Tone and Little
Tone were nowhere to be found. Grant and I searched until after two in the
morning before calling it a night. There was one person who I thought would
have a lead on their whereabouts and we were going to pay him a visit.

A new casino was being
built on the riverfront and while this might put a hurting on our gambling
business, Grabano and Sons Construction got the bid for the project and it only
cost a few thousand in bribes. My dad was outside the job trailer talking to a
foreman when we arrived. He had a scuffed up hard hat on, steel toe boots,
jeans and a denim shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He was looking every bit the
construction man my grandfather groomed him to be. He was bent over an iPad and
in deep discussion with one of the crew when we approached. He looked up in
surprise when he saw us and quickly ended his conversation.
           
“What are you doing here?” he
asked, but his voice was swallowed up by the excavator running in the background.
He gestured for us to follow him into the job trailer, which rocked slightly
when we stepped inside off of the small metal steps. It was moderately quieter
and less dusty in the cramped quarters, which smelled of burnt coffee and stale
cigarette smoke. My dad sat behind a metal desk covered with blueprints, a
stack of invoices and a few Styrofoam cups half full of old coffee.

           
“How’s it going Dad?”

           
“Good. You know, I’m kinda glad things turned out the way
they did. This is a big job and it needs my oversight. How are you doin’, son?”

           
“Aside from just getting shot at by Little Tone and Big
Tone, who killed K&A’s second? Things are great.” I filled my dad in on who
else was involved with the shooting and the arrangement we had secured for the
heroin trade. He took his hard hat off and scratched his head, leaving his salt
and pepper hair in disarray.

           
“I’m not surprised about Big Tone and those guys. They’re
definitely loyalists to Marco and I heard they were trying to stir up shit.
They didn’t screw up the deal, did they?”

           
“No, but I need to clean house and fast. Maurice and Sal
have already been taken care of, but Big Tone and Little Tone are M.I.A.”

           
“What do you want from me?”

           
“I know they’re lying low. Do you know where?”

He leaned back in the
office chair and rocked back and forth while he thought about it.
 
He stopped rocking and leaned forward,
placing his arms on top of the blueprints spread out on the desk in front of
him. “Tell ya what…I’ll make some inquiries and see what I can do. There are
still a few who think I’m a loyalist too, but honestly, you’re doing a helluva
a better job than my brother did. Give me a day and I’ll find out where they
are.”

           
“Thanks Dad.” He stood and I shook his hand before we
filed out of the cramped trailer.

It took him less than
twenty-four hours to track them down.

***

Big Tone and Little
Tone were hiding out in Pennsauken, just over the bridge in New Jersey. One of
Little Tone’s girlfriends had a small split level home in an older
neighborhood
 
located right off of Route
38 and they thought it was a good idea to lay low there. They weren’t hiding
enough since it only took my dad three phone calls to locate them and get an
address.

Egan and I sat in my
Mustang down the street from the house. Grant and Dante were parked behind us
in Grant’s Lexus. It was almost dusk and people were getting home from work.
Streetlights flickered on as we sat there. Gray and crusty snow banks clung to
edges of most driveways. A pizza delivery guy drove past us and stopped in
front of Little Tone’s girlfriend’s house. He got out with two pizza boxes and
walked up the front steps to ring the doorbell. We waited.

Moments later Little
Tone answered the door. After a heated exchange, the pizza deliveryman ran down
the stairs, practically dropping the pizzas as he scrambled to get in his car.
Calling in a false order was one of the oldest tricks, but still effective. As
soon as the delivery guy pulled away from the curb, we got out and walked down
the sidewalk.

Egan rang the doorbell
and stood out front in case Little Tone checked first before opening the door.
Fortunately for us, the dumbass didn’t. He yanked the door open and looked like
he was getting ready to tell the delivery guy to fuck off, but the words caught
in his throat when he saw us. In a delayed reaction, he tried the shut the door,
but Egan rushed it and flung it so hard, the doorknob became lodged in the
plaster wall behind it and got stuck.

           
“Tony!” Little Tone cried out before Egan’s fist
practically broke his face. Bone crunched beneath scabbed knuckles and Little
Tone fell backwards down the stairs that led to the bottom floor. Grant and
Dante followed and were on him before he had a chance to regain his
footing.
 
A shadow moved along a wall on
the second floor so I ran up the steps, taking them two at a time and spotted
Big Tone disappearing into a room at the end of a hallway. Egan was behind me
as I approached the room with my gun drawn.
 
I didn’t hesitate and kicked the door in. Big Tone was trying to squeeze
his fat ass out a narrow window; a sweatpant clad giant wiggling in the frame.
We ran over and hauled him back into the room. Egan nailed him with enough
punches to subdue Big Tone and we dragged him down the hallway and down the
stairs to the bottom floor. We found Grant and Dante in the home office where
they were in the process of duct taping Little Tone a chair. I was pleased to
see his mouth was already taped shut. His face took on an unusual shade of red
and his broken nose made a wet whistling sound as he attempted to draw in air.

Egan forced Big Tone
into the other plain wooden chair. Dante handed him the roll of duct tape and I
held a struggling Big Tone in place so Egan could strap him in. He started with
the mouth before moving onto the feet, taking the sneakers off before taping
Big Tone’s ankles to the front legs of the chair.

We had just finished
wrapping his wrists together, so his arms were stuck behind him, when a door
slammed upstairs. “Be quiet,” I whispered and crept closer to the hallway.

           
“Tony, I’m back and I got your fucking KFC,” a woman
yelled in a voice so nasally and high pitched that it could shatter glass and
make babies cry.

           
“Jesus Christ, how can you listen to that?” I asked
Little Tone. He mumbled something and shrugged his shoulders. Dante snorted and
shook his head. “We can’t do this shit here, can you get them ready to
transport?” I asked Grant.

           
“Yeah, go run interference. This will take a few
minutes.”

           
“Tony? Where ya at?” the woman called again and a dog in
the neighborhood started to howl. I didn’t think it was coincidence. Heels echoed
on the hardwood floor upstairs as Little Tone’s girlfriend started to search
the house.

           
“This is the last time I’m nice and go get you fried
chicken!” This declaration resonated off the walls, followed by the smell of
greasy food. I heard her descend the stairs so I stepped into the hall, closing
the office door behind me. Little Tone’s girlfriend came to a sudden stop when
she reached the bottom floor and saw me. She wasn’t bad looking with doll-like
features and petite curves, which I noticed once I got past her hair, a style
last seen in an eighties metal band music video.

           
“Who are you?” she asked and I didn’t miss the way her
eyes slowly raked my body so I decided to use this to my advantage.

I casually leaned
against the wall and slipped my hands in my pockets. “I’m here to talk to Big
Tone and Little Tone. And you are?” I asked letting my gaze roll over her body
and she straightened up, sticking her chest out for further examination.

           
“I’m Ronnie, but you can call me Veronica.” She twisted a
crispy curl of brown hair around her finger.

           
“Veronica, did you know Little Tone and Big Tone have
been bad boys?” I smiled enough to display my dimples, which according to
Natalie, would make any girl drop her panties.

           
“Really? How bad?” She threw a pout in with the hair
twirling.

           
“Bad enough to be punished, but I don’t think you want
that to happen here in your house, do you?”
     

She shook her head and
then gasped. Her eyes grew wide and she released her hair. “Those fuckers! I
knew they had done something the way they were acting all cagey and shit. They
brought trouble here, to my house, didn’t they?”

           
“Afraid so, Veronica.” I moved closer and caressed her
cheek. She leaned into my hand and briefly closed her eyes before stepping away
from me and crossing her arms over her chest.

           
“What are you going to do to me?”

           
“Nothing, as long as you keep quiet. We’ll take the boys
out of here and mete out their punishment elsewhere. I have a feeling you don’t
want blood everywhere.”

           
“That’s it?” she asked.

           
“Yes and you never saw me.”

           
“You never told me your name.”

           
“You’re better off not knowing. Do you have a cell
phone?” I asked, switching gears on her. It took her a second to catch on since
she was distracted by the grunting coming from behind the closed door, but she
finally nodded.

           
“Yeah, it’s upstairs in my bag. Do you need to make a
call?”

           
“I’m just going to hold onto it until we’re out of here.”

She turned to go
upstairs and I followed close behind to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid
like run out the front door screaming. Veronica handed me her cell and I
slipped it in my back pocket. I gestured for her to take a seat at the dining
room table that was in need of refinishing. A bag from KFC was on the kitchen
counter so I brought it in to her.

           
“Are you hungry?” I asked. Veronica’s hands twisted on her
lap as she fidgeted with a diamond ring too big to be real.

           
“No, thank you.” She looked up from her hands. “I bet
whatever trouble Tony is in, his cousin was behind it.”

           
“Big Tone?”

           
“Yeah, Tony doesn’t stand up to him.”

           
“I know.” Little Tone’s nickname could have applied to
the size of his balls.

I was leaning against
the doorway that connected the kitchen and dining room waiting for someone to
come up to let me know we were ready to leave. They were taking too long.

I pulled out my phone
and texted Grant. Minutes passed and he didn’t respond.

           
“Fuck! Come on,” I grabbed Veronica by her upper arm and
brought her back downstairs with me. I heard muffled yelling before we reached
the bottom of the stairs. “Stay here,” I ordered her and opened the door to the
office.

Big Tone was lying on
the floor in a puddle of blood. His face was unrecognizable and he clearly
wasn’t breathing. Grant and Egan were in a stand-off while Dante made sure
Little Tone remained duct taped and seated. I didn’t think Dante had anything
to worry about. Tears streamed down Little Tone’s face as he stared at his
cousin’s lifeless body.

           
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded, making sure to
block Veronica’s view into the room.

           
“Egan lost control,” Grant answered through gritted
teeth, not taking his eyes off the Irishman.

           
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I exhaled sharply and ran my
hands through my hair. “Okay, Egan this is your mess and you’re cleaning it up.
Dante, pull the cars into the driveway and grab the blankets.” I tossed him the
keys and Grant handed him his, then I turned my head and looked at Veronica. “I
need you to open your garage.” Fortunately, she had an attached garage, but
we’d have to carry a bloody corpse through her house first. Veronica went with
Dante and as soon as she was out of sight, I stepped into the room, locking the
door behind me. I quickly surveyed the scene to see what clean-up was required.
The floors were laminate and would be easy to clean. Since Big Tone wasn’t shot
and his throat slashed, there wasn’t any blood splatter to deal with on the
walls. Egan had basically crushed Big Tone’s skull with his fists, but head
injuries were notoriously messy. We needed to wrap his head before moving him.
I texted Dante instructing him to grab some garbage bags from Veronica.

           
“This was supposed to be a quick job, but now we have a
witness,” I said.

           
“Go, I’ll take care of this,” Egan said

           
“What do you mean?”

           
“You told me I have a mess to clean up. I got this.”