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I took the folder to the couch and paged through it. Charlie Shine was seventy-eight years old. The other three Boys were in their early eighties.
“Do you think we’re all overly concerned about these men?” I asked Connie. “They all have medical problems, and I don’t see them engaged in a lot of activities.”
“From my firsthand knowledge of Italian mobsters, I can tell you their biggest fear is to get put out to pasture,” Connie said. “The men who are sitting in the La-Z-Boy chairs are still accorded the utmost respect, because they’ve gotten more ruthless with age as they try to maintain the illusion of power. The La-Z-Boys were all assassins and enforcers. There’s less opportunity for wet work in today’s mob, so the four remaining Boys hang at the Mole Hole, watching the pole dancers and talking about the good old days. For whatever reason, they’re now focused on the keys, and I wouldn’t underestimate what they’d do to get them back. For that matter, they could be using the keys as an excuse to flex their atrophied mob muscles.”
“Have you seen Benny the Skootch lately?” I said. “It takes two people to get him out of his chair.”
“Yes,” Connie said, “but he has those two people. In fact, he has a whole posse to help him get the job done, whatever it is. He has people who would help him in the bathroom. He has people to help hold his hand steady while he cuts your heart out.”
“That all is revolting,” Lula said. “I need a donut. Do we got any more donuts left?”
“How could you think about eating another donut?” I said. “You’ve been eating donuts all morning.”
“Donuts settle my stomach,” Lula said. “Some people take that antacid medicine, but I eat donuts. Sometimes I eat chicken.”
I finished reading the printed pages after an hour and a half, and I wasn’t sure I’d found anything useful.
“These men are never alone,” I said to Lula and Connie. “Benny the Skootch is married. It’s his second wife and there’s not much information on her.”
“Carla,” Connie said. “When Benny lost his wife, he married her sister, Carla. They must be married for at least ten years now. She doesn’t get out a lot anymore. She has Parkinson’s, and she’s unsteady. My mom visits her once in a while. The information I gave you about Benny includes what I hear from my mom. It’s tagged onto the end of his bio. He gets picked up every morning precisely at eight o’clock, is driven to the Mole Hole, and stays there until seven at night. He has a woman who tends to Carla during the day. Lights are out in his house at nine o’clock. If he goes out to the doctor’s office, a luncheon, or gets a haircut, he’s driven in the big black Lincoln. He’s short and fat. I know ‘fat’ isn’t a politically correct description these days, but that’s what he is. He’s fat. He smokes cigars, drinks beer with lunch and whiskey with dinner. He eats a lot of bacon cheeseburgers and chili hot dogs. It’s one of life’s great mysteries that he isn’t dead.”
“Sounds to me like he’s leading the good life,” Lula said.
“Lou Salgusta and Julius Roman live alone,” I said. “I suppose I could try to catch them at home, but my blood runs cold at the thought. I’d rather corner them somewhere with people around, and where they aren’t within arm’s reach of their torture tools.”
“We could just camp out in the Mole Hole lot and wait for one of them to leave,” Lula said. “Do we know their habits like Benny the Skootch?”
“Sometimes I see Lou at Saturday night mass,” Connie said. “I can’t tell you more than that.”
I glanced at my watch. “I’m going to check on Grandma and grab lunch.”
“Sounds good,” Lula said. “I’m going to see if the hair salon can squeeze me in early. I’ll call you later, and I think we should try to find Carol Joyce again. He’s ruining our capture record. We were on a roll until he screwed things up.”
* * *
—
Grandma was at the kitchen table. She had her laptop open and was taking notes on yellow lined paper.
I put my bag down and sat across from her. “What’s going on?”
“I’m planning out how I’m going to spend Jimmy’s money. I got a bucket list about a mile long, so I’m trying to prioritize.”
“Do you know how much you’re going to get?”
“No clue, but I figure it must be a lot for everybody to want it so bad. I’m thinking I might buy a house of my own. Or maybe one of those new condos that look out over the river. And I’m going to sign up to visit Antarctica on an adventure explorer boat. And I want to go to Gatlinburg. I hear it’s a hoot.”
“When do you find out about the money?”
“The lawyer said he would schedule a meeting for sometime next week.”
“I guess that’s pretty exciting.”
“You bet,” Grandma said. “I’ve never been rich before.”
My mother was ironing, taking all this in. Periodically she would sigh and roll her eyes.
“How long have you been ironing that same shirt?” I asked her.
