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Carlucci almost grinned once more when he saw the shock on Finley’s face.
“What did you have in mind?” Lane said.
“We thought—” Finley began again.
“Actually,” Carlucci interrupted again, “what I had in mind was a multifaceted act, two parts, for now, the second dependent on how the first plays out.”
“I see,” Lane said. “And they are what . . . ?”
“First, we get to Councilman Badde and have him find Skinny Lenny—”
“I’m sorry,” Lane said. “‘Skinny Lenny’ is who?”
Carlucci could tell by the looks on Finley’s and Stein’s faces that they did not recognize the name, either.
“Oh, I thought that you knew Reverend Josiah Cross’s given name was Leonard Muggs. His street name, up until he got sent to the slam for stealing a neighbor’s welfare checks, then beating him, was Skinny Lenny.”
He paused to let that sink in.
“I’m afraid that this is news to me, unsettling news,” Lane said, the surprise evident in his tone. “And he’s now chairman of CPOC?”
“If not for the extenuating circumstances we find ourselves in,” the mayor went on, “I certainly would not bring up that history. He has, after all, paid his debt to society and, at least on the surface, tried to find a better path in life as a man of the cloth. But, as I said, these are extenuating circumstances, and we need Badde to get Skinny Lenny to renounce that incredible notion—I cannot believe that I am actually repeating this outrageous nonsense—that we allow illegal drug activity to flourish as a method of population control. The very suggestion is reprehensible, wouldn’t you agree, Willie?”
“Of course.”
“I thought you would,” Carlucci said, somewhat piously. “And so, if Badde is unable to persuade Reverend Cross to do that, then Badde is to immediately remove Cross as a CPOC member. This could coincide—key word ‘could,’ I yield
to James and Ed on what they believe is the best timing—with the announcement that I am making provision for four more seats on the CPOC board. We are creating a short list of citizens who would make strong additions.”
Carlucci looked at Stein, who, having been caught off-guard by Carlucci’s announcement, was rapidly handwriting notes on his ledger.
Stein looked up and raised his eyebrows.
“Didn’t Cross,” Willie Lane said, “actually proclaim at the rally that he was resigning his CPOC position? That leaves Badde with no leverage on him. Basically Cross is saying, ‘You can’t fire me—I’ve quit!’”
“That’s a bullshit bluff on Lenny’s part!” Carlucci snapped. “He doesn’t have a pot to piss in. I can guarantee that he is not walking away from eighty grand a year.”
There was a long silence, and then Carlucci, in a measured tone, went on: “Now, part two, should Councilman Badde, for whatever reason, not see the wisdom in the course of action you’ve suggested to him, then I believe that the president of the City Council should announce to Badde that he will immediately be transferred from his seat on the Committee for Public Safety, which of course would have immediate effect on any and all of his appointments in such capacity.”
Looking pleased with himself, Carlucci then laced his fingers and put his hands behind his head as he casually leaned back in his high-back leather chair. He looked between Finley and Stein.
“If that two-by-four whack between the jackass’s eyes doesn’t get his attention,” Carlucci said, “then we can threaten his other committee memberships, whatever they may be. And, Willie, when I say ‘we,’ I mean that you can say that I am forcing your hand on this, which would absolve you. How does that sound, Willie, for starters?”
There was a long, awkward silence.
He has to see this as a chance to undermine Badde’s future as a potential mayoral candidate, Carlucci thought.
I’m handing him a slam dunk.
“Any of that,” Lane then said, “certainly could be considered either a sacrificial or symbolic act.”
“I’m pleased that you see it that way, too.”
“I will reach out to Councilman Badde, Mr. Mayor,” Willie Lane finally said. “Do we know if Skin—if Reverend Cross was injured in that shooting at the rally?”
“Our best information right now is, no, he was not shot. But we are not certain. Nor do we know about that rapper singer’s condition. Which is why you contacting Badde is crucial,” Carlucci said, then leaned forward, his finger hovering over the desktop telephone. “Let me know soonest.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
