Find Big Fat Fanny Fast (21 page)

CHAPTER 17

The Melding of the Minds

Junior sat in a booth in the back of the Red Apple Rest on Route 17 in Tuxedo, New York. As was his habit, he sat facing the door so he wouldn't be susceptible to surprises.

With all the warring activities going on in the Lower East Side between the Chinese and the Italians, Junior figured it was wise to meet his sweetheart as far away from the old neighborhood as possible. It was the middle of the afternoon, between the lunch and dinner rush, so the restaurant was almost empty. The only other people in the place were an elderly couple eating bagels and lox at a booth near the front door.

Suddenly, he saw her walk through the front door of the restaurant and all was right with the world.

Lily Low was wearing a black skirt, with a red blouse and black spiked heels. She look pretty enough to be a model parading down a runway at a fashion show. She spotted Junior and walked back to his booth. He stood and she kissed him on the cheek. She sat in the booth opposite him.

“You sure you weren't followed?” Junior said.

Lily put her purse on the seat next to her. “As sure as I can be. I stopped at the Paramus Mall on Route 4. I went inside the mall for a few minutes. Then I left by a different exit and walked back to my car. I had eyes in the back of my head all the way and I couldn't make anyone following me.”

Junior reached across the table and held her hand softly. “That's good. I went over the mountain to Greenwood Lake. Then I made a U turn on Windermere Avenue and came back over the mountain. No one could have possibly been following me.”

The waitress came and took their orders, then left.

“You heard about Crappola?” Junior said.

“Yes. But as far as I can tell, the Chinese had nothing to do with Crappola.”

“That was our work. Crappola had to go.”

“Why?”

“Personal stuff I can't discuss. Let's just say Crappola broke some rules. Rules that just can't be broken.”

The waitress came with their food orders and placed the plates in front of them.

“Anything else?” the waitress said.

“No, we're fine,” Junior said.

The waitress left the table.

Lily took a bite of her hamburger. “The Chinese are up in arms since Yuan Dum Fuk disappeared.”

“Nicky Knuckles disappeared too.”

“Yes, I heard. Do you think there's a connection between the two?”

“It sure looks like it.”

“Everyone is talking about a possible all-out war between the Chinese and the Italians.”

“And your father?”

“He's the one who's talking about it.”

“Yeah, my father too,” he said.

“We have to figure out something before things get out of hand. I don't want my father hurt and I'm sure you feel the same way about your father.”

“Well, I guess it's up to us to put an end to all this nonsense.”

“And now we have another problem,” she said.

“What problem?”

“A policewoman came to our apartment this morning. She gave my father a tape of your father saying he wanted to kill my father. She said the tape was made at Dave's Corner.”

“Yeah, I was there too.”

“Yes, I know. I heard your voice.”

“Well, then you heard I was against killing your father. In fact, I've been trying to talk my father out of it since.”

“And have you succeeded?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. But I do know one thing. Nothing will happen until I find out about it first.”

“So we better think of something fast, before your father makes up his mind,” she said.
    “And what about your father?”

“I don't know. He just got the news this morning that your father is planning to kill him.”

“This policeman who gave you father the tape ... ”

“It was a police
woman
A black, very attractive police woman.”

“How much did s
he charge your father for the tape?”

“Not a dime. She said it was a favor from somebody high in the command of the police department.”

“How high?”

“She didn't say how high.”

Junior took a sip of his coffee. “I bet this goes all the way to the police commissioner himself.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because a few weeks ago, Police Commissioner Blusterman approached my father about cutting a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“He basically offered my father complete police protection, in all things he does, for a piece of the action.”

“And what did you father say to that?”

“My father told Blusterman to go fly a kite. Or words to that effect. My father is already paying off half the cops in the city. Some of that money must be making its way up to Blusterman already. My father figured, why pay him twice?”

“My father is paying off the cops too,” she said.

“Probably the same cops my father is greasing.”

“Probably.”

“So the cops are getting rich and our guys are getting whacked, one by one.”

“It's been this way since the beginning of civilization.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” he said.

She smiled. “Today, we're just going to think about it. After we check into our motel room.”

“Motel room? What motel room?”

“The one I reserved for us in Monroe, New York. A few miles up 17A.”

“Do you think we're ready for that yet?”

She reached across the table and held his hand. “Probably not. But let's give it a try anyway.”

*****

Police Commissioner Keyshawn Blusterman entered the Mott Street curio shop followed by Detective Clarice Jackson. They strolled around the store, checking out various Chinese artifacts, porcelain cups, Buddhist statues and assorted incenses. Suddenly, Blusterman realized they were the only people in the store. Not even a salesperson was present.

He stopped in front of a black lacquer Chinese curio cabinet. It was certainly something he would like for his bachelor pad, but there was no price tag on it.

Like from a puff of smoke, a tiny Chinese lady appeared behind the cash register. She was four foot nothing and maybe eighty pounds. She wore heavy pancake makeup and ruby red lipstick. She had nary a wrinkle on her face and her age could be anywhere from forty to infinity.

“Do you like that curio cabinet, sir?” the Chinese saleslady said.

Blusterman approached the cash register. “Maybe, but there's no price tag. How much are you asking?”

“That sir, is a very rare antique from the Canton region of China,” she said. “At five thousand dollars, we think it is very fairly priced.”

Blusterman's face turned bright pink. “FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS! Do you maybe have a Chinese curio cabinet from the New York City region of China?”

Clarice stepped up to the cash register and spoke to the Chinese saleslady, “Does the word Chu-Jung mean anything to you?”

The Chinese saleslady smiled. Clarice had said the magic words.

“You
lo fan
surprise me with your knowledge,” The Chinese saleslady said. “Chu-Jung is the Chinese God of fire and of executions. He rules over justice, revenge and death.” She motioned with her hand. “Please follow me.”

The Chinese saleslady pushed past a curtain and they followed her down a long winding hall that ended with a floor to ceiling curio cabinet. She turned a knob on the door of the curio cabinet and the cabinet swung to the right, exposing an entrance.

“This way please,” she said, stepping to the side to let the two cops enter first.

Blusterman whispered to Clarice. “I hope this is not a set-up.” Then to the Chinese saleslady, “After you please.”

The Chinese saleslady made a short bow. “As you wish.”

They followed the Chinese saleslady down steep, winding steps to a room below. As he was heading down the steps, Blusterman detected a sweet, pungent smell he couldn't exactly place.

At the bottom of the stairs, Blusterman saw Hung Far Low sitting at a desk, inhaling from a clay pipe.

Hung Far Low offered Blusterman the pipe. “Care to indulge?”

The Chinese saleslady pointed to two chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “Please be seated.”

Blusterman and Clarice took their seats.

Hung Far Low extended the pipe to Blusterman.

Blusterman waved his hand in dismissal. “Not for me, thank you. What kind of weed are you're smoking anyway?”

“Not weed,” Hung Far Low said. “Opium. Very high grade opium. Straight from the motherland. Maybe the lady would like to try?”

Clarice shrugged. “Why not?”

Hung Far Low handed her the pipe and she took a deep drag. She wrinkled her nose as she exhaled. “Not bad.”

“Please, you try too,” Hung Far Low said to Blusterman.

“Like the lady said, why not?” Blusterman said.

Clarice handed Blusterman the pipe. He took a long, hard drag, taking in too much smoke, which caused him to cough violently. It took him a few seconds to get this breath back. “Wow, that's some serious shit.” He handed the pipe across the desk to Hung Far Lo.

Hung Far Low placed the pipe on the desk. “Now what is it you would like to see me about?”

Blusterman leaned back in his chair. “As you know now from the tapes I had Detective Jackson deliver to you, Tony B and the Wops are planning to take you out and take over your operations.”

Hung Far low smiled. “That is not possible. Even if I were to be, as you say, taken out, the Italians have no knowledge of our Chinese operations. Our gambling is very different from their gambling. Our drug supplies are quite different from their drug supplies. There is very little overlap in our operations. Very little.”

“But if the Wops are successful, you'd still be very dead,” Blusterman said. “And that can't be a good thing for you.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hung Far Low said. “Are you familiar with t'ien-ming? The Mandate of Heaven?”

Blusterman shook his head. “Never heard the expression.”

Hung Far Low folded his hands on the desk. “Us Chinese believe, if you have lived a virtuous life, Shang-ti, the Supreme Ruler, will welcome you into Heaven.”

Blusterman smirked. “And you believe in that hocus pokus?”

A thin smile appeared on Hung Far Low's face. “Like you said before sir, why not?”

Blusterman leaned forward. “Supposed I were to get someone to take out Tony B, would that be of help to you?”

“Only in the fact that it would eliminate someone who is trying to eliminate me.”

“And if I were to do so, what would you do for me?”

“What would you want from me?”

“One hundred thousand dollars cash. After the deed is done. Then ten grand a month after that.”

“That's a steep price to pay.”

“Not for staying alive it isn't. Plus, I will guarantee you will have no problems from the police in any of your illegal endeavors. And you know the problems I could cause you, if I wanted to do so.”

Hung Far Low picked up the pipe and lit it with a match. He took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke up into the air. “Give me some time to think about your offer.”

“How much time do you need?” Blusterman said.

“A week, two weeks maybe.”

Blusterman stood and Clarice did the same. “You've got a week. After that, I'll have my guys stir up the pot here in Chinatown. And you know what that means, don't you?”

Hung Far Low stood. “Yes sir. I know what that means. Lots of trouble for me.”

“You better believe it,” Blusterman said.

*****

It was near dawn and the black sky was turning gray with tinges of red. Big Fat Fanny stood in a doorway on Doyers Street, which was at one time, the deadliest street in America. She popped three pieces of Bazooka Joe bubble gum into her mouth, chewed hard, and in seconds, blew a bubble as big as a volleyball.

Named after Hendrick Doyer, who ran a distillery there in the early 1800's, the street became known as Doyers after some stupid sign painter somehow omitted the apostrophe. The narrow lane, which ran between Chatham Square and Pell Street and dissects Pell Street in half, is shaped like an inverted L, making it easy to ambush and kill an unsuspecting foe. So many murders were committed on Doyers Street during the Tong Wars of the late 1800's and early 1900's, Doyers Street became known as “The Bloody Angle.”

Pell Street started at Chatham Square and ended at Mott Street, almost directly opposite 33 Mott Street where Peggy Soo lived. At the precise time Big
Fat
Fanny was trying to squeeze her huge frame into the Doyers Street doorway, Shorty Stitchhead sat in a four-door Lincoln Town Car on Mott Street. He had a birds
-
eye view of the doorway of 33 Mott and was waiting for Peggy Soo to start her early morning jog, which always led her down Pell, right on Doyers, then straight across Chatham Square to Catherine Street. Taking various routes and jogging back, Peggy Soo's run was about four miles total, which she did in a brisk forty five minutes, give or take a few seconds.